Japan > By train to Osaka

I say goodbye to Will, my American neighbor, and my French upstairs neighbor. I check out and head toward Osaka, but not before having a cappuccino and a sandwich on the terrace of the Excelsior Café. I already feel quite at home at Kyoto Station—how different it was five days ago when I was wandering around looking for directions. I even help two American tourists figure out how to get a ticket to Nara. Funny that I can even tell them the correct platform and advise them to take the rapid train.

Japan - The roads run above the water in Osaka

My train departs from platform five. Here my experience ends. I see all sorts of trains listed on the board, but I can’t tell from the destination whether they stop in Osaka. I think that would be a difficult task for a tourist in the Netherlands too. To be safe, I ask the man in front of me in line. He nods affirmatively when I ask, “Osaka?” and looks relieved that I don’t have any more questions. The train enters the station already full. I squeeze in with my travel bag on my back. I have to stand. I have no idea exactly how long the ride will be or how many stops there are. I’ll see. I could have chosen the fast Shinkansen, but that would have required a reservation in advance. Given the distance, the time advantage is maybe ten minutes at most. After just half an hour, the train arrives at Osaka Station. My hostel is within walking distance, but I can’t figure out which direction to go. A friendly woman at the information desk draws it for me on a map. The HIVE hostel is in the Umeda district, the northernmost part of the city center. After dropping off my bag at the hostel, I start exploring Osaka. I mainly see office buildings and large shopping streets. Clearly, I need to adjust after Kyoto—Osaka is a busier city. In a smaller side street, I notice a sign with dishes listed. The texts are in Japanese, but all prices are around ten euros, so I can’t go wrong.

Japan - The Osaka Temple in Osaka

I climb the stairs. The restaurant is nearly full, but a table has just freed up and is quickly cleaned for me. I use the time to look at the dishes on other tables. I point to a dish for two girls and order a cola. The waiter looks grateful that the language issue was so easily solved. While waiting for my food, I read through the Osaka guide I picked up at the station. I realize I’m close to a park and a temple. After eating, I walk to the Okawa River. On the small island in the river behind City Hall lies Nakanoshima Park, a neatly arranged park with terraces. It will probably be quite busy here in the afternoon and evening. The Osaka Temple surprises me. There is no entrance booth—it’s clearly a local temple where people come only to pray. At the back, I enter a covered shopping area. Numerous small shops, restaurants, and bars fill this street. It has something of a Chinatown vibe. The Ohatsutenenjin Shrine is also located among the shops. It’s more like a small square where people pass through from one street to another. At the shrine, people pray. The path back to the station is also covered. I definitely want to return here one day to eat or have a drink at the German beer pub. Not today, though. I walk back via the station to my hostel. I can check in now. The hostel is a simple place to stay, with dormitories and bunk beds. It looks tidy and clean. In the common room, I meet other residents, mostly young people. One American boy is studying in Osaka for ten months—maybe he lives here permanently. Near the hostel, there’s a bathhouse, a Japanese onsen. I set out to find it. It’s not easy. When I reach the block of buildings, I see nothing familiar. There’s no one on the street. I’m in a residential area.

Japan - The entrance to the bathhouse Do men go left or right

I decide to walk one more block—and it works. I see a lit entrance with drawings of a pool. I go inside. In the hall, shoes must be removed. Then I have a choice of two doors. I assume one for men and one for women, but how do I know in Japanese? I can choose between black or red letters. I choose black and open the door. I’m in the right place—thankfully. The man at the entrance starts saying all sorts of things. The only word I understand is “sauna.” Through the window, I see people in the bathhouse. I also see lockers and realize I can change in this open area. I gesture for a towel. He nods and writes down a price on a piece of paper—around four euros. I go inside. The space is simply arranged with several baths and a row of low-hanging showers along the side. I look around, unsure what to do. An older man smiles at me—I think he’s showing me where to start. I proceed through the baths one by one. I have no idea if this is the proper order, but the water seems warmer in each subsequent bath, which feels correct. I skip the cold bath at the end and take a cold shower instead. What a wonderful experience to bathe alongside the local Japanese people. On the way back to my hostel, I stop at a small café and order a beer. The waiter apologizes for not having an English menu, but points to the pasta on the menu. Why not? Once again, the language problem is easily solved.