Japan was a blur of excitement, intrigue, happiness, fun, and sorrow. I may have just thrown a hodgepodge of adjectives into a spiked punchbowl and recited it as my first sentence, but it's kind of true. At least all those adjectives were good except one (which I will equate to tequila). I suppose each day is unique on its own and deserves its own post. Thus, I bring you: Tuesday.
It was a standard trip to Busan and even to the International Ferry Terminal, with a cab driver who was disgruntled because he had to chauffer four Americans (one honorarily so) a few blocks to the terminal for minimum cab fare. The difference between taking a hydrofoil and an airplane is minimal. There is check-in, baggage limits, immigration, and security. Even duty free shops. The only real difference, besides the obvious method of travel, is that you carry your baggage with you and security is a little bit more lax. I guess there's less chance of a hijacked boat crashing into a building than a hijacked plane. Otherwise, there are the lines, the waiting, the seats, the turbulence, the uncomfortable toilets, and the in-cabin movie.
Pretty uneventful early evening landing in Fukuoka. I noticed no difference from Korea except that I couldn't understand anyone. The differences would quickly reveal themselves the further we got from the ferry terminal. I remembered that they drove on the left side of the street (a dwindling trait of only some island nations) which would prove humorously annoying throughout the trip. Japan seemed cleaner, yet a little older. The people were polite (as in waiting for others to exit a subway car before attempting to get on). There weren't people smoking and drinking anywhere and everywhere. The first dinner we had was pretty amazing and I doubt we would have found similar quality from a random Korean restaurant in a random city.
The first night, we went to Tenjin, which is the "downtown" area of Fukuoka. We wandered up and down the streets looking for anything and everything nightlife-ish, but were met with minimal activity. Finally, we decided on a bar advertising Arrogant Bastard Ale, which is a rarity and impossible to find in Korea. Of course, the bar was out of it, so we got a decent pale ale (which turned out to be around $11 with the exchange rate) and talked with the bartender, Mike. He was the only one in the tiny bar. Mike was from New York and had a dirty sense of humor, but planted the idea that would blossom into our plan for the next day.
With the insane prices, we opted to go to another bar which turned out to be closed. Instead, we climbed to the top of the building and sat on the roof for a few hours and grossed ourselves out with our consumption of kit-kats and other various chocolate covered things. I think the next day the cleaners would think a foreigner tornado came sweeping through their rooftop.
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