The flight was short, and we were soon landing in good ol’ weird assed Portland. Even if I hadn’t known the destination of our flight in advance, I could have guessed that it would be Portland by the sheer multitude of fruity looking damn-near genderless hipster kids clambering aboard.
Though barely able to contain two slices of English muffin, in Japan this toaster oven apparently qualifies as “jumbo.”
Following our interlude at Nekouan, we ducked into one of the countless tiny restaurants which dot the streets of Kyoto, and sat down for a bite to eat. It’s remarkable how tightly the Japanese manage to pack such spaces, an effect made possible seemingly only by necessity and sheer will.