This was literally the first thing we saw when we arrived by train from Osaka. I was relieved to learn that as aging, map-wielding tourists, we could expect our own personal businessman to guide us through the subway system. (NB: this actually did happen for us more than once—Japanese people really are super helpful!)

Food is everywhere around you in Japan: hot, delicious-smelling, beautifully displayed and ready to eat. But there is no place to eat it: no tables, no chairs, and for sure no garbage cans to toss your trash. We made do by ducking sheepishly into corners, or just plopping down in a quiet corner of the train station, but then there was that one time a guard chased us out. Yep, for eating. No wonder everyone there is thin.

Sounds like doublespeak: “because there are rules, there is freedom.” But the older I get them truer this seems to me. Now, get off my lawn! (shakes fist)

“Aren’t you blocking people getting on and off the train?” Maybe if you made the font bigger I could read it faster and get out of the way?

Is it me, or is the policeman leering at the gal in the regrettably short skirt? Also, the mug shots must be literally the only criminals in Japan. Every city we visited showed the same dozen miscreants. I want to meet the lady in the lower right and learn what her story is—if anyone knows her, please have her contact me?

I don’t know what you did to piss off all these people, but they do. not. like. you. Also, is it me or is the angry western woman at right flipping the bird?