Next stop: Kobe and Osaka

After the Tokyo leg, I caught the express to Kobe where I met up with old colleague, Master Samuel, who took me on a grand tour of Kobe's streets, shopping arcades and parks. We meandered through Chinatown and paused for a pistachio icecream. As we ate, we watched an old man with his pet squirrel monkey, the latter hopping up a tree-trunk, then nestled against its owner's ear and twittered into it incessantly about monkey-ish topics of the day. We also wandered the sombre memorial parks to the Great Hanshin Earthquake of 1995. Portside, one can find a terrible scar along the prom there, where concrete slabs are rented to pieces and several London-style streetlamps lurch crookedly in opposite directions. The waves lap at the ruins as ferries speed by. Later, we took a ride on a ferry to admire the port and take in the sea air.

The next day, we rendezvoused early with Mistress Katherine in Osaka, and headed to a flea-market at Shintennoji Temple (pictured). This temple market is a delight for the scavenger or treasure-seeker: it was packed with stalls selling old kimonos, fans, secondhand parasols, Japanese antiques and general odds-and-sods. Even scythes were abundant. Mistress K pondered the parasols and we leafed through the yellowed, frail paper of discarded uchiwa fans (shaped like a paddle). K settled on a most elegant parasol fringed with lace while Master Samuel ogled the farming implements. I came away with a kitsune bell: a small, ceramic bell in the shape of a white fox's head, whiskered in gold. The weather was stifling, so we ensured there were many stops for refreshments, fan-paddling and dabbing of the sweat-towel against one's glowing brow.

Later, we meandered through the labyrinthine America-mura, a network of tight alleyways lined with fashionable shoppes, bohemian nooks, cool cafes and teahouses. Over lunch, we watched the bright young things swan by and I have noticed that in both Osaka and Kobe, couples dress in a complimentary fashion, with near-matching accessories and the same colours and patterns. Dropped into a random gothique boutique, where I purchased further supplies of Pillarbox Red which should see me through the remaining summer hols. Finally, we stopped in an English bookshop, Random Walk, where I picked up Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction, which I swear I've read before but enjoyed reading it again. Adored the pesky swans and the spot-on modern cultural references (babyboomers renovating a piggery; 30-something living in loft apartment with glass-brick lav and numerous credit cards maxed out). Adrain always makes me chortle out loud in public!