The next day, after thanking the Lee household for their enormous hospitality (and loaning me some cash), I said my farewells to Osaka and the comforts of home living. I got on the Japan Rail system for the last time to get to my next destination: Hakata, Fukuoka where one night at a hostel and a ferry to Busan, South Korea awaited. Fukuoka is a big port city with tons to do, but unfortunately, I only had one night. I got to my hostel at around noon, took my shower, noodled on their guitar and asked what was good to do in the neighborhood. Immediately, they said ramen. ramen ramen ramen. Luckily, as a college student, I quite nearly live for good ramen. And Hakata boasts some of the best. They directed me to this place by the station called Daruma. For cultural context, Darumas are traditional dolls that look like this:
I bought a bunch of them in Tokyo. They are symbols of perseverance and good luck and are modeled after Bodhidharma, founder of Zen Buddhism... which I find hilarious. These are the angriest looking dolls I've ever seen.
I ordered a bowl of pork ramen from a machine (obviously), handed the counter my receipt and was given a steaming hot bowl of fukuoka ramen within ten minutes. The fumes were perfectly intoxicating and borderline nauseating with richness. After taking ten enormous bites, I remembered this blog and you few, darling readers and had the wonderful foresight to take a picture of my spoils.
Mind you, future Fukuoka-goers, this ramen is not for the faint of gut. I can't remember the last time I finished a meal feeling like I was going to vomit out of overindulgence. But it was so delicious, I couldn't stop!
Meal had, I headed out on the town. There was supposedly a very famous underground shopping mall that was very beautiful and impressive. But I couldn't tell you - I never got there. I did end up in many mall basements that I thought were the underground shopping mall. I was tantalized by the desert aisles and the ridiculous Japanese kitsch culture.
After a night of some serious noodles, and some serious window shopping, I was ready to wind down back at the hostel. Unfortunately, this was not the case. I was instead accosted by my new bunkmate, a Japanese chorus teacher from New Mexico, who thought me the proper receiving end of her talk-box. I woke up early next morning to get to the ferry terminal. The hostel owners took some photos of my departure.
Goodbye, Japan! Helloooo motherland!
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