Date

2022-12-13, Tuesday

Distance

33.41 km biked (3513.49 km in total)

We began our day with a bike ride through the heart of Osaka, heading toward the Nanko Port to sort out ferry arrangements for the next leg of our journey — to Kyushu. Compared to zipping around on foot or by car, moving on two wheels opened up a whole new side of the city. We cut through quiet backstreets, watched neighbourhoods waking up, and stumbled upon city corners we would never have seen otherwise.

A particular highlight: to cross a major bridge near the port, we had to ascend a four-level, spiralling highway ramp — like biking up a vertical roundabout. Riding up felt like being trapped in some whimsical urban roller coaster. It was oddly thrilling and felt like something out of a Mario Kart course. Who designed these things? A mad genius, clearly. It was hilariously impractical and completely unforgettable.

In the afternoon, we paid a visit to Sumiyoshi Taisha, one of Osaka’s oldest and most architecturally distinctive shrines. Founded in the 3rd century, it predates even the introduction of Buddhism to Japan. Unlike many shrines that have since incorporated continental influences, Sumiyoshi Taisha has preserved the Sumiyoshi-zukuri (住吉造) style — simple, straight-roofed halls with raised floors and striking vermillion columns. Walking through its gravel paths and crossing the arched Sorihashi Bridge, we felt a calm detachment from the city just beyond the torii gate. There weren’t many visitors during our visit, and the atmosphere was still and dignified.

Outside the shrine grounds stood a literary monument dedicated to Yasunari Kawabata, Japan’s first Nobel laureate in literature. The monument is inscribed with words from his 1968 Nobel acceptance speech — a meditation on beauty, loneliness, and the Japanese spirit. Kawabata had spent part of his childhood near this area, and his roots in Osaka run deep. Seeing this quiet slab of carved stone at the entrance to one of the country’s oldest shrines somehow made perfect sense — a man of delicate words placed beside a site of timeless ritual.

Lunch was at a humble local spot called 梅よし (Ume Yoshi), known for its donburi and udon bowls. As we were getting ready to leave, a kind stranger came over to have a conversation with us, and at the end folded us colourful balloon decorations to tie onto our bikes. A small gesture, but one that stayed with us — Osaka hospitality, loud and cheerful.

By 4 pm, we were back in the city centre to explore the outer grounds of Osaka Castle. The main keep itself, an imposing reconstruction from the 20th century, was about to close for the day, so we saved the full visit for tomorrow, and wandered around the nearby shopping plaza nearby filled with samurai armour replicas, warloard-themed merch, and some anachronistic Edo / Sengoku nostalgia.

On the way to dinner with my friend’s family, we passed Kawabata’s birthplace, now marked with a small commemorative monument tucked into an otherwise unassuming street. The house itself is long gone, but the site is commemorated by the Osaka City government as the starting point of one of Japan’s most internationally acclaimed literary voices. Kawabata's early life was marked by tragedy — he was orphaned by age 15 — and much of his fiction carries that quiet melancholy. Seeing the monument made the earlier encounter with his words at Sumiyoshi Taisha all the more poignant.

The last night before we left for Kyushu, we gathered with family and friends for a yakiniku dinner. As my friend and her family were all foodies with refined gastronomical taste, plates of sizzling beef and pork vanished from the grill faster than they could be served. Locals recommended we try Torikizoku, a beloved Osaka chain known for its yakitori skewers — a note we scribbled down for our next visit.

One thing that really stood out to us in Osaka: the traffic vibe is noticeably looser than in other cities we have ridden through. There’s a certain rough-around-the-edges and freestyle energy. We even spotted a few motorcyclists and cyclists nonchalantly riding in the wrong direction — something unthinkable in Kyoto or Tokyo, as if rules were more of a gentle suggestion here.

Tomorrow, we return for a proper visit to Osaka Castle before catching the night ferry to Kyushu. The city has already left quite an impression — chaotic, charming, and full of surprises.

The full take — 18 more photographs from this day