Preamble (pre ramble?)
Almost a year ago I married a girl who is either a first or second generation Chinese American depending on how you count people who came over as young kids. Over the years I have met many of her relatives, now my in-laws, that lived or made trips to the US. The time has come to meet those who do not and did not. To my great shame I do not speak Chinese.
We're going along with my wife's nuclear family. My mother-in-law and father-in-law, hence MIL and FIL, and her younger sister. The sister is 14 years younger than her and a natural born US citizen. The gap is a result of the one-child policy. While my wife goes by her Anglicized name, her sister prefers using her Chinese one. She's pretty sharp, doing her undergrad right now with plans of going to law school. She talks and acts like you'd expect of any American Zoomer. I think she feels her Chinese identity is a little more precarious and clings to it a little more tightly as a result.
The extended family is mostly in Nanjing and a little bit in Shanghai. The plan is relatively simple: fly into Shanghai through Hong Kong, take the train to Nanjing, meet people for a few days, train back to Shanghai, meet other people, then me and the wife are spending a couple of days in Osaka, Japan on the way back with an old buddy of mine. That's the short plan. The long plan is outlined in meticulous detail in Chinese on a Google Docs form by MIL.
This series of posts will be something like a travel log, or trog.
Hong Kong
The first few days are relatively uneventful. Me and the wife fly separately to Hong Kong. The flight is probably half white and half Chinese people. We sit separately and I don't sleep a wink, sandwiched between two other guys. The website hadn't been willing to accept our visas so I couldn't check in before getting to the airport, so we were left with the bottom-of-the-barrel choice of seats. Despite this, paying $25 for in-flight internet makes the flight fly by as I let the best social media slop our finest engineers can serve melt my brain into a timeless stasis. Time travel is real; it just only goes one way.
We spend around 13 hours in Hong Kong, most of them sleeping. We didn't have enough time to get out into the city proper but we did manage to grab a meal and explore the 7-11 in the airport. For European readers, as they are mostly a North American and apparently Asian chain, 7-11s are convenience stores, frequently gas stations. Think Apu's store from The Simpsons. In America they're not highly thought of, mainly notable for their "slurpee" carbonated slushy machines. However, apparently 7-11 has a social media presence in Asia unlike its presence in the West.
I was once told for international travel that if you're staying long enough in a country it is interesting to try their local Chinese food because it's so variable and the diaspora adapts the food to the local palate. Within Asia this is supposedly how one should think about 7-11s. We bought a couple of Hong Kong-specific pastries and Tsingtao beer. It's an opportunity to verify if I set up WeChat Pay correctly. The beer is a pale lager that I have had before in the States; it's crisp and refreshing.
Shanghai
The next morning we fly to Shanghai and take the local subway to our hotel near the main shopping district. When buying tickets we put one of our 100-yuan bills, worth around $14, in to buy our 8-yuan worth of tickets. The machine instantly shut off and declared itself out of order after dispensing the tickets. No change provided. We learned not to trust machines going forward but as far as lessons go this one was relatively cheap. Supposedly the hotel we stayed at was one of the places Nixon stayed when he did whatever it was only Nixon could do. I was assured our room was not wiretapped. Every time we stopped at a new hotel we needed to present our passports and they recorded our movements into some system. We had a few hours to kill as we waited for the rest of her family to arrive so we strolled down the shopping street to a place called The Bund where one can see a skyline over the bay.
The shopping street is huge and packed. Scattered about are college-aged Chinese people in cosplay. My wife says she doesn't think there is any particular event. It's a Saturday and people just do that sometimes. Every once in a while we see a young, attractive woman in some elaborate dress or makeup with a personal photographer taking staged photos. Where cross traffic is allowed on the strip, the roads are dominated by scooters.
The shops themselves extend three stories up for most of the strip that goes on for at least a mile and in places five or six stories up. It's easily three times as dense as Chicago's Michigan Ave. White people are still regular enough that my presence only attracts minor glances and increased attention by the street vendors. The shops are about an even mix between Western and mainland brands. The food is mostly mainland with a smattering of brands like McDonald's, KFC, and, to my surprise, Pizza Hut. Apparently, the localized phonetic characters for Pizza Hut translate to something like "home of the winners". Eventually, at around 10pm, her parents arrived and we went in search of dinner. We had reservations at a hotpot place they described as "reputable". There were probably ten hot pot places in a block and somehow this was one of the only ones with zero signs.
Her parents execute a basic strategy when going anywhere in China: they ask random people on the street where to go for their destination and go that direction until they run into another random stranger to ask. They prioritize police officers and workers but if none are available they'll ask just about any person on the street. This sounds like a viable strategy but so far the results have been significantly worse than using a mapping app. We spent probably 30 minutes wandering around a block, walking through alleys, asking random people where this specific hotpot place was. Eventually, I'm confident through the process of elimination, we tried an unmarked door beside a KFC and found an elevator to our destination.
For those who don't know, hotpot is a kind of communal meal where everyone sits around a hot pot—almost Chinese names are this literal—full of various flavored broths. You dump things in to cook over time but most centrally you take your chopsticks, pick up some thin-sliced frozen meat and dip them in until cooked, usually 20-ish seconds. Then you dip them in a sauce of your own design and eat.
Racism against white people is usually tame and harmless. As long as it doesn't hold an accusation of wrongdoing I take it in stride. One exception is the idea that we cannot handle spices. This is a harmful untruth that has been used to deny me and my people the flavor we deserve. We subjugated most of the globe in search of spices, and yet our spice lust is denied. The staff at this hotpot place wore devil horns and served us a sour plum juice along with broth that was maybe mild.
Bellies full and bodies jetlagged, we made it back to the hotel. The AC in our room was busted but we were too tired to care and fell asleep quickly. The next day we woke up for the breakfast buffet. Like much of the city, the spread was half Western and half Chinese. The buffet was well attended and for the first hour there were two white guys in the hall and we were both wearing orange polos. After breakfast we walked through the People's Park. They have an advanced form of analog Tinder. There are hundreds or thousands of essentially dating profiles on laminated sheets of printer paper laid out on the path. There are sections for foreign matches and all sorts of categories. Some have phone numbers; some are tended by the prospective matches or, more commonly, their parents, uncles, or aunts. According to the wife, the women greatly outnumber the men. It wasn't clear to me why, given the sex imbalance should lean the other way.
Next we visit the Yu Yuan Park. It's a neat estate with essentially ornate 1700s-era meeting rooms and rock parks. The park is attached to a huge marketplace selling every trinket or bauble you can imagine. One of my quests was to find a couple of copies of Mao's Little Red Book as a souvenir for me and a buddy who I knew would also appreciate one. Unfortunately, the one shop that had them only had German and French versions. I want either a Chinese or English version. The in-laws offered to order one for me but there is a kind of vulgar poetry to haggling for one with a street vendor that holds a special appeal to me.
We grab lunch in the form of XLBs. These are soup-filled dumplings, in this case a crab meat version the area is known for. For good measure we also pick up a couple of pan-fried baos and spring rolls from another shop. It's a warm day so I pop into a 7-11 and pick up a couple of slurpees. They come in 12-ounce cups. China has advanced much over the last few decades but they are not yet ready for the 44-ounce variant available to more advanced nations. Maybe next generation. Slurpees in hand, we took the train back to get our bags from the hotel and then headed to the train station to take high-speed rail to Nanjing. We arrive early and present our passports at the gate to be recorded. When the train arrives, despite the seats being assigned, everyone boards the train in a disorganized rush that I don’t quite understand. The ride to Nanjing is smooth and impressive. I watch out the window as countryside zooms past. The Chinese countryside is not like the American equivalent. There are random clusters of a dozen or so identical 10+ story tall apartment buildings and a smattering of industrial buildings. There are no suburbs; stand-alone single-family homes are rare. Huge factories, complete and operating or under construction, dot the landscape.
Nanjing, the southern capital
We arrive in Nanjing and an uncle picks us up. He's high up in a media organization that, for reasons unexplained to me, owns the hotel we're staying in. His wife is a Party member. These are easily our wealthiest relatives in China.
The Chinese have something of a gift-giving culture. Our bags came over laden with gifts to give out. As a young couple, our obligations aren't so great: some Nike jackets or sweaters for aunts and uncles, slippers and melatonin for grandparents, more specific things for a handful of exceptions. It's somewhat interesting what mainland Chinese people want. Coveted are medicines with what is seen as superior American quality control, brand-name clothing, the kinds of nuts and ingredients one could get at any American big box store.
At the hotel we meet up with the wife of our ride and exchange some gifts. We received a belated wedding gift of several red packets bulging with 100-yuan notes. I feel a little uneasy about taking several thousand yuan from a literal Communist Party member. But she's friendly enough and I'm not here to fight that battle.
Dinner is a bit of an ambush that in hindsight we should have seen coming. We thought we just had normal reservations at the hotel restaurant but it ended up being something like a pseudo-wedding reception. I would have preferred to have dressed better for the occasion but it quickly became apparent that, besides drinking obligations, we were probably among the least important people at the event.
FIL took the head of the table as the head host, surrounded by the other elders of the family and then expanding outwards in accordance with tradition and pragmatism. Naturally, me and my wife were seated not quite at the opposite end, which itself is reserved for an important person, but at the approximate importance of a cousin who had brought her Pomeranian. This is good news; honor is an obligation and we were ill-equipped to bear it, armed only with my wife's vague recollection of tradition.
One thing we did know is that I was expected to drink. The Chinese drink of high occasions is baijiu or white alcohol and the king of baijiu is Moutai. Moutai is approximately 100 proof and drunk in thimble-sized glasses. It tastes and smells relatively sweet and is not cheap, running you around 1500 yuan (around $200) for a 500ml bottle. To waste Moutai is a grave sin. As a relatively young man and the newlywed, it is my duty to drink with every guest, every offered toast, and to continue drinking until the toaster stops.
When not drinking I sat next to a young man around my age who got an undergrad in Syracuse and was pursuing a PhD in computer security. He had opted to not drink anything and was one of the few people able to speak English. I asked what he wanted to do after he finished his PhD and he said anything but computer security. We ended up talking about board/computer games and a little bit into AI alignment. He gave a p(doom) of 95% and Shadowheart was his favorite companion in Baldur's Gate 3.
Some number of hours later, dinner was finished and the last of the guests filtered out and we were compelled to finish the last of the last opened bottle of Moutai. We set an alarm and passed out in the room for another breakfast buffet the next day.
At breakfast it's no longer just a rarity to see another white person. I am the only one. People are definitely looking. Still, the breakfast spread is mixed Western and Chinese. There seems to be a Huawei convention of some sort at the hotel as we leave. Time to visit the wife's two remaining grandmothers and extended family in the countryside.
We leave behind most of the luggage and call two taxis to take us about an hour and a half into one of those clusters of identical ~10-story buildings. We're now well outside the kind of places a Westerner without family would ever find themselves. Locals stare, and kids keep staring even after you stare back. Some of them have never seen a white person in the flesh. I'm not offended by this at all, just an interesting experience. No one is aggressive or rude, just curious. Almost no one here speaks any English unless they've retired from elsewhere. I'm extremely dependent on my wife who does her best to keep me up to speed on conversations. We only stop briefly at her grandmother's house; we'll be back later. First we need to visit her grandfather's grave on her father's side. He passed away a few years ago and my wife has been there since but you're supposed to do it every April if you're local. And if you're not, you just do it whenever you visit.
The cemetery is row after row of essentially upright tablets with the ashes just beneath them. Husband and wife share a tablet; there is a picture of each and the patrilineal offspring's names are laser-etched on them. I don't think there is a way for my name to end up on one of these but I wonder if a Chinese man marries a Western woman how they deal with Latin alphabet names. We decorated the tablet with flowers and plants then took turns kowtowing three times while addressing the dead. It was fine to use English. I introduced myself and thanked him for his part in creating the woman I loved. Then we went to a stall nearby where we lit a fire and tossed fake money to be lit so that he will have money in the afterlife. There’s every variety of bills including good old greenbacks. I was worried that the Chinese afterlife might not accept counterfeit bills so I snuck a real 20-dollar bill into the pyre.
One thing that has fascinated me about Chinese culture is trying to square Chinese Communist ideology with a culture that at every possible angle seems to celebrate success and laud becoming wealthy. I like these people. They strike me as spiritually more American than most of the people I've met in Europe. American rightists would find themselves more at home here than American leftists.
After we finish up we go to meet my FIL's grandmother. She's in her late 80s and my wife, who is a psychiatrist by trade, responded to a question of whether she had early-stage dementia by saying it was definitely not an early stage. Before she forgets who I am she is either able to grasp that I work with computers or in a bank but can't seem to accept their union. When she believes I work at a bank she insists that must mean, as a perk of employment, I get free breakfast, a state of affairs she approves of.
She lives in a grouping of houses somehow tied to some shared ancestor. Everyone in the area seems to be a great aunt or uncle. From the outside the homes look kind of slummy but the interiors are clean and well maintained. Behind her living space is a corridor that is covered but exposed to the elements which leads to a shed and a room that is half dedicated to a chicken coop where she sources fresh eggs and roosters to eat. One unlucky rooster was selected earlier that day to form two of the several dishes we were served for lunch shortly after arriving. Beyond the coop there is an acre or so of well-maintained garden. Last time my wife visited she said they only had an outhouse for a toilet but since then they must have installed a septic system. Most of the people there have scooters or little electric cars to get around.
Lunch is served with a bottle of baijiu and we are joined by a few other family members. Among them is a great uncle who is also in his late 80s and has been deaf and mute since what was described as an antibiotic incident when he was a kid. Despite these setbacks he is in excellent health and appears to do most of the upkeep around the house. After successfully responding to a few of his toasts he takes a liking to me and I feel a kinship with another man who can understand very little of what is said around him. We drink through a bottle of baijiu and my great uncle attempts to retrieve a second bottle from the other room. He nearly achieves success, to the objections of the younger generation, but is eventually disarmed. Although relieved to not be drinking any more at lunch before being made to drink at dinner, I couldn't help but root for him. Eventually we wander out and then are waved into another relative’s house for tea. Supposedly an aunt and uncle but I have no idea how many degrees removed. The man is a retired doctor who used to head a hospital. MIL insists that a while back everyone was moving from the countryside to the city because the entitlements were much better in cities but there's been a reversal in favor of cleaner air and maybe something to do with removing taxes on grown produce and the addition of a farm subsidy 15 years ago. The doctor has what is described as a classic Chinese sword which he claims to use for tai chi and also for protecting himself from bad spirits. It forms a part of a traditional Chinese wall.
After we finish drinking tea there we walk out and FIL shows us around where he grew up while we wait for a ride back to MIL's apartment building. There is a pond he used to catch frogs and fish in as a young kid, under the not-so-responsible supervision of deaf and mute great uncle. There is a sign that says you're not allowed into it anymore for safety reasons, damn liberals. Feral cats are abundant and we run into 4 cats hanging around some trees while two of them work on making a few more. There are plenty of people out and about and I definitely draw some attention.
Back at the MIL's grandma's apartment we have another meal and another bottle of baijiu. An aunt and uncle with their 10-year-old kid join us. The kid practices a little English and welcomes us to Nanjing. He's full of energy and eats quickly. After an hour or so he is sent to the other room to do homework while we continue drinking. Some of the conversations as they're translated for me are almost comically familiar. One uncle notes that not everyone really needs to go to college. The trades are a good career path for many and aren't encouraged enough. Another uncle mentions that the rich have an unfair leg up in schooling.
We receive a few more gifts. I get a set of Buddhist prayer beads made of a black wood that smells nice. The set comes with a scroll that explains in Chinese the significance. My wife gets a fat Buddha bracelet. Supposedly this is a particularly fat version of Buddha that is able to absorb all the bad things in the world into his enormous stomach. We also receive some paintings that are claimed to be from a famous ancient artist and come in official-looking packets. He paid twenty yuan for each one and he is the only one that seems to be convinced they aren't forgeries. I later learn one of his favorite pastimes is buying dubious items on a Chinese bidding site. In any case, they were definitely made by a Chinese artist which makes them authentic enough for me.
MIL, FIL, and sister-in-law will all sleep at grandma's. Uncle drives me and the wife to the nearby hotel that he has a connection with where we stay the night.
The next day we wake up and after a quick breakfast at grandma's we go to MIL's grandfather's grave to repeat a similar ritual. On the way MIL points out the area she grew up and the land that her grand father used to own. The story goes that before the cultural revolution her grandfather got really sick and needed antibiotics. Hard to come by in semi rural China in I think the 50s? They ended up selling a bunch of land off to buy them only for him to die anyways. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the family might have fared worse during the revolution if they still owned all the land.
This time we have more company and a relative who is a Buddhist monk chants while we burn not just the paper money but a set of clothing and some paper representations of gold bars and a tea set. The monk had originally been part of an order but during the Cultural Revolution they shut down his group so he got married and had kids. At some point the restrictions slackened and he's back to performing rituals as a job.
During the part where we kowtow and speak to the dead I said it was an honor to be introduced and that if fortune is favorable we'd introduce him to another on our next visit. Every kid or parent that did the ritual devoted at least some of their dialogue to asking for good grades. After the ritual we all went to get lunch at a restaurant where, of course, more baijiu was shared.
I'm publishing this on the road to our next destination. I will probably edit this when I get home and add pictures either in a substack or X post. I'm trying to give more of an impression than a polished essay.
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Notes -
This was a good read.
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This is a fantastic post - great read. It's definitely made me want to travel to China at some point.
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Baijiu is the devil. Although I agree it's a sweeter drink, the description I'd go with is more gasoline than anything else. One thing I found interesting when I first drank it was that the premier producer of it is a public state owned enterprise (Kweichow Moutai) with a market cap of around $300B USD, roughly comparable with Coca-Cola.
My own first extended trip to China involved me quitting my job and flying out to China to be with a now ex-girlfriend, planning to use the country as a base to travel around for some unspecified amount of time. But three days after my flight landed, there was some kind of flu that was going around, the entire country was entirely shut down, and I ended up staying with her family for a couple months. This was an interesting experience, to say the least. Surreptitiously smuggled produce from the countryside; needing my passport to enter the local Carrefour; teams of hundreds of men spraying down the sidewalks with disinfectant daily; lots of high stakes MJ.
The family itself was... unique, though all very welcoming. It was large; she had five siblings, as the first five children were all daughters. This confused me when she first told me about it--what about the one child policy? But, there are ways around that, as it turns out. The family was extraordinarily well off by any standards (net worth in the nine figures USD). Her father was an impressive character: in his teens and early twenties, he had sold turnips out of a cart and had nothing to his name. Eventually, he started a business with two partners in construction in a small third tier city (population just a couple million), which ended up extremely successful after a decade or two of economic boom times. His partners then betrayed him, removing him from the business and dispossessing him of most of his assets. Somehow, a year later the government investigated them for corruption and restored his ownership of the company, which was a great windfall for him. Them, not so much: when I asked what happened to them, one is still ostensibly in prison, and the other died a couple months after arrest, under unclear circumstances. My ex was reticent when it came to explaining the exact mechanics of how all this happened, so I didn't press too much on this topic.
Her youngest, the brother, was very kind, and constantly wanted to drink baijiu. Having never graduated high school, his only accomplishment for his two decades was an extraordinary sneaker collection. He had an entire room filled up with hundreds of pairs of brand new luxury sneakers. Beyond that, he had a newborn child, who lived apart from him with his wife. At the time, they were separated, but the families were working to reunite them. This involved lots of negotiations: his wife wanted a larger stipend from his family (they were only paying the wife's family ~$15k USD/month, which they felt was rather stingy and should be doubled) and an upgraded condo. (These stipends, unfortunately, were not available to the daughters' partners.)
What a place and time.
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Excellent travelogue. I'm looking forward to future installments.
Hmm.. Maybe I should consider a visit to China at some point. I know literally nobody there, but I might submit offerings to the shrine of Jiankui He. Or more likely, see if the uber-polished cyberpunk vibes of the newer cities holds up on closer inspection.
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Obviously a bit late for your current trip, but the HelloChinese app works pretty well for picking up some basic conversational Chinese. Learning characters is a whole different story, but you can ignore them and just focus on the pinyin. Duolingo for Mandarin is terrible, imo.
I probably understand about 30% of what my in laws say, although in my defense, their pronunciation isn't great and they keep mixing in Hokkien and other dialects.
I understand it's a big ask for anyone to learn a Category V "super hard" language, but he did marry into it, after all... I'd like to learn Chinese someday, but realistically, that probably won't happen. Spanish is probably a better choice anyway.
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Interest travelogue. I went to China with my Kung Fu school about 10 years ago to visit the home school, along with a dozen other places with a tour guide. How's the insane levels of smog these days? When we visited, we could see no more than 3-4 city blocks in Beijing before the smog obscured everything, and even visiting the Great Wall, the mountains were quickly obscured in smog within a mile or two. I'm told it's better these days, but I can't tell if these are flagrant lies from the CCP.
This also struck me when I visited. There was a "Greed is good" sort of shamelessness that was disorienting even for a "Rah Rah Capitalism!" sort of guy like myself.
When I went with my tour group, we had a black guy with us. Random people straight up wanted to take pictures with him, he was so rare. Outside of that, can confirm the staring. Especially when we ventured into the more rural parts on our Kung Fu pilgrimage. One funny thing was, we did get random groups of people out at night coming up to our group, wanting to practice their grade level english with us. We also had a few more worldly, though unable to speak a word of Chinese, people with us who helped us along purchasing things and navigating using the universal language of pointing, shouting, and holding up fingers.
I visited before the CCP fully devoured Hong Kong. Are they still doing separate Visa's for Hong Kong and mainland China? That was certainly an experience for me when I had to do it. Super hot day, one guy was throwing up in line all over my luggage. That sucked.
Super fascinating to read more of an insider view of the region and culture than what we got.
Seems mostly resolved but I hear there are still bad days. Of course I've only seen the two cities.
We did not require any kind of HK papers. The immigration desk just gave us a little 90 days pass. I don't think they even looked at the China visa.
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Nice post, and an enjoyable read.
Where was there a mountain? How many white horses? I assume the dish included dumplings. The electric scooters count as riding, of course.
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What an amazing post. Imagine all the history those old guys lived through. China seems to have replaced India as the land of mysticism in the American public's eye. You married pretty well, if your relatives own hotels and are Party members. I also like how you've managed to visit astoundingly rich areas and also seemingly more poor rural areas, but they all have a commonality in keeping some baijiu in store for such an occasion. For a visitor in your situation, it would be an easy mistake to make to think that they drink it at every lunch and dinner. I hope that when I own a house, I can keep expensive liquors for visitors, too. That's good motivation to try to play around with expensive steaks so you know what you're doing when the time comes.
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Moutai is certainly the biggest brand when it comes to Baijiu, but I learned long ago that price and brand has approximately zero relation to quality. For those who haven't tried it, most people tasting Baijiu for the first time describe it as something akin to paint thinner. Considering that many bottles will go for about the same as a beer, this isn't too surprising. However, even when you get into the expensive stuff, the paint thinner quality rarely goes away. I have had some nice Baijius in my time, but almost never the super pricy ones.
Also some super pedantic notes:
I may have been unclear. I think it was Nanjing street we walked through on our way to the bund.
The family did call it yu park at first but I think some signage at least in English had the redundant spelling.
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Beautiful! I love that you snuck the man a real $20. I bet he appreciates it.
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Very nicely written, enjoyable.
I have an intuition that the global right is a few years away from taking a deep dive into Chinese culture, as I feel the draw myself. As a White person wondering where everything went wrong, and a sense of National/European honor, I’m pulled to an admission that the Chinese have obviously done something very very right as a proud civilization, and feel the answer to our failure can be found there. If my daughter were to have to marry into any other race, I would choose East Asian.
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I didn't remember that I had followed you but I got the notification that you had posted this. So, following people does have some value.
Immensely enjoyed reading this. Do post photos. If you haven't come through Osaka yet I am still here and would be happy to meet, or buy you a beer (unfortunately as you will see there are no Slurpees in Japanese 7-11s.) If you've already passed through, well, next time.
We're flying there march 31 and leaving the 3rd and could maybe coordinate a meet up. We're staying nearish dotonbori. The guy showing us around had a name for the area that escapes me. Dm me a discord or Twitter name or something.
There's an area called Shinsaibashi and also Namba that are in that area, Dotonbori is basically a famous bridge over the river. Lots and lots of Chinese/Korean and now Europeans. I know it fairly well. Even if you have something arranged I can meet for a beer if you're available. I've
sentDM'd you my info.More options
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