Osaka, Day 3: Robo-Dinos, Octopus Balls, and Ramen Revenge
Checked out of my dinosaur hotel this morning — and yes, the velociraptor at reception was as polite as ever. I appreciate a hotel that embraces the “prehistoric reptile meets customer service” aesthetic. Honestly, the robot dino had more warmth than most front desks I’ve dealt with.
Then came the train. Japan’s train system is a thing of beauty — efficient, punctual, and utterly indifferent to your confusion. I, of course, managed to mistake exit numbers for track numbers, creating a lovely 30-minute scenic loop of the station. Think of it as an impromptu cardio tour. Made it onto the train with two minutes to spare, feeling like an action hero.
The new SIM card is working beautifully — ¥5500 for two weeks of unlimited data (about £28). Compared to O2’s “£7 a day to exist” roaming fees, it feels like I pulled off a heist. However, finding the Kansai Railway Pass? Whole different story. A scavenger hunt designed by a sadist. After much swearing, ¥3600 bought me two days of unlimited travel between Osaka, Kyoto, and Nara — a deal so good I forgave the emotional damage.
Next stop: Osaka Castle. Gorgeous. Majestic. Timeless. And… surrounded by tents. People are camping out like it’s the queue for Glastonbury, waiting for cherry blossoms that have yet to arrive. I’m about a week too early — nature’s way of saying, “Nice try, tourist.”
Lunch? Time for Takoyaki — the iconic octopus balls sold from street carts. Sadly, Osaka Castle’s vendor served up a disappointing batch of regret. Overcooked, chewy octopus encased in a lava-hot, runny blob that tasted like sadness and broken dreams. No crunch, no umami bomb. More like a gelatinous dare. I’ll give it another go in Dotonbori, where food has a reputation to uphold.
Speaking of Dotonbori — wow. Just… wow. I’ve been to New York. Chicago. Vegas. None of them prepared me for this neon fever dream. It’s part Blade Runner, part food carnival, and part fever dream after eating too much sushi. I need a month here, minimum, to even scratch the surface.
Settled in at Kinryu Ramen Dotonbori, under the massive 3D dragon sign. Creamy, rich, soul-repairing ramen. The kind of bowl that makes you question whether you’ve been living your life wrong up until this moment. Overheard a tour guide spilling some local ramen drama:
Apparently, Kinryu got into a legal spat with a neighboring landowner — a classic tale of “your dragon tail is hanging over my property line.” Kinryu was forced to cut off the tail from its iconic dragon sign, leaving it looking like a tragic, stubby lizard. The neighboring ramen shop celebrated. So now, every tour guide in the area has launched a passive-aggressive counterattack: they guide crowds away from the rival shop, stopping dramatically in front of Kinryu to tell the story, ensuring the rival remains sad, empty, and filled with regret. It’s not just a bowl of ramen — it’s a revenge meal. Every slurp tastes like victory, miso, and pettiness.
Checked into my pod hotel for a quick power nap before round two: Kaiten sushi at Daiki-Suisan Kaitenzushi Dotonbori. Conveyor belt sushi — but elevated. Fresh, delicate, melt-in-your-mouth sushi. The bluefin tuna hanging outside? I wanted to claim it like a medieval war prize. Paired it all with a lovely sake tasting set because life’s too short for bad drinks.
Three days in, and Osaka keeps hitting me with food, chaos, and charm. I came for the adventure — I’m staying for the sushi and petty ramen feuds.











































