23 IN OSAKA (The Kitchen of Japan)

I stayed in Osaka for a week-long induction as a visiting JICA fellow 20 years ago.

Back then, I'm not yet the seasoned and adventurous frequent traveller that I am now so the farthest I ventured was to the train station nearest to the JICA Center with the intention of visiting the Osaka Castle.  

That failed excursion haunted me so 20 years after, I led Pugad Baboy to a revenge tour of the Osaka Castke (circa 1583), scaling all its 8 floors for a panoramic view of Japan's 3rd largest city where he image of two oversized samurais from Bakal 2 were imprinted as eki stamps.

It was there where the wife fell for the dango. 

Before that, the uncertainty in the Strait of Hormuz jeopardized our carefully curated trip to Japan.

it was not until Bulan passed through the gates of Kansai International Airport after his declaration was interrogated twice that the trains to Tengachiyaya, Tenjimbasisuji Rokuchome, Awaji, and Omiya delivered us to a where a blonde Thai receptionist who welcomed us with plastic passport covers and the key to the hotel's sole famiy room with a balcony. 

Having registered as Boy Ramen, we were next led to a small ramen shop whose young chef demonstrated the preparation of their signature cihicken paitan ramen --- our first authentic "Made in Japan" meal.

Only after that we went back to Osaka to celebrate Balong's 23 years, reporting first at the ticket counter of the Osaka Castle before the enticing smells of a grilled Wagyu beef skewer, a slice of sweet cantaloupe, and pan-fried tokiyaki, obanyaki, and okonomiyaki reeled us to the Kuromon Market where Balong hosted a birthday lunch of unagi, sukiyaki, yakitori, sashimi, kare, and Wagyu steak.

I mostly paid for the trip so I also got a shot of sake and a mug of highball. 

These were the starters for an aperitif of extra cold Asahi Super Dry, a Pilsner Urquell, and a Peroni at the  Asahi Beer Museum, just compensations for going through a high tech interactive recap of the brewery's history. 

But Balong's aspiration for a donburi dinner in the madhouse known as Dotonburi failed to materialize depsite our prayers at a Shinto shrine and the purchase of the first weird Kitkat flavors we intend to bring home. 

So we closed the day in a crowded izakaya where with the help of Google Translate, we correctly ordered tempura, grilled mackerel, a plate of assorted sashimi, a bowl of ginger beef, and a slimy okra-based Japanese salad.

The boys had ginger ale, I had a beer and a highball.