Six hours on the right course, and we arrived in Fukuoka. The proper one. It was noon and we could not check in to the hostel for a few hours, so we did not venture very far with our packs. The city has some nice riverfront through much of the downtown. It reminded me of the revitalized Milwaukee banks. We sat down and watched the coy in the dirty shallow water. We drank a soda, I think it was grape.
Dropping bags and putting up the feet for a minute in the hostel, we then ventured out for dinner. The Lonely Planet guidebook directed us to a pub boasting 1,000 beers, and appropriately named Van Beeru. Sounded too good to be true. It was. After walking the block and then walking it a couple times more, we looked elsewhere for our meal.
As an exercise in decisiveness, we opened the door to a Chinese restaurant and committed to the choice. It was prime eating hours and we were the only patrons. The small kitchen had a man making the food, a woman watching figure skating on TV, and a dog watching both of them from the counter. The food was fine, and the three staff saw us off with a smile.
We found an excellent Irish pub that could fit inside my apartment. After a couple guys at the counter left, we were once again the only customers. The beer selection was a welcome sight, and the proprietor was a friendly fellow. He gave us some recommendations for the city and our future trip to Hokkaido.
Each night we stayed out late, as that was when things were happening. And each night we stayed at a new hostel. The Lonely Planet continued to give great suggestions that did not pan out. This included planning our night around a midnight breakfast in a place that was now a dance club, no thank you, and going across town for a museum closed at an odd time.
The missed midnight breakfast was replaced with a 1:30am dinner at a food cart by the river. Fukuoka, above all, is known for its food carts that set up shop all over town. The carts are dingy shanties on wheels that go up as the sun goes down. Usually there are a few of them together on a corner. Along the river, they stretch for blocks. Some have picnic tables, others have seating at a counter inside. The shanty town food courts look semi-permanent, but they are packed up and wheeled off each morning before sunrise. I cannot remember the proper name, so I just call them “feedpods.”
An amazing number of people were out on a Monday night. I could not imagine a weekend to have more. Seemed every corner had a group of men in suits, swaying side to side. Sidewalks of staggering stumblers. Fukuoka is a great place to roam streets at night, and it is different than other cities I have seen in Japan. Fukuoka has more action, but it has more litter. The homelessness is a bit more apparent. Sidewalks are more likely to be sticky.
It was a few days of heavy walking and late nights. There was consideration of shooting south to Nagasaki, but in the end we were spent. We got our Shinkansen tickets and had a pretty straight forward shot home. We even splurged for reserved seats, so as to avoid battling for a spot in the unreserved cars.
A big tower near the Sea.
Touching the ocean at every opportunity is a must for any Midwesterner.
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