We stayed in a fairly gritty area of Osaka, the kind of place where you could believe that the country had spent most of the last two decades recovering from a burst bubble. Our hotel appeared to cater to a mixed crowd of semi-employed day laborers and international backpackers, and was wedged between dirty noodle joints and stores selling coveralls and split-toed work boots. Across the train tracks was the abandoned Festival Gate, an amusement park in a building, like some kind of surreal empty Super Mario level left to the ravages of time and pedestrian traffic. Next door to Festival Gate is the equally gigantic Spa World, one of the largest Asian bathhouses, functional but still oddly silent and looming.

These mega-buildings form the southern end of the carnivalesque Shinsekai, or "new world" area. Once the area was Osaka's hope for economic development, then it was the focus of a clearly not-quite-successful revitalization effort, now it is a mixed bag of restaurants, bars and shops, all garishly proclaiming their wares with giant signs or figures. The most common eats are kushikatsu, deep-fried skewers of meat and vegetables served with dipping sauce, and fugu, its purveyors easily identified by the comically giant blowfish hanging above their doors.

It is hard to argue with deep-fried, especially with the variety the kushikatsu offers: everything from pumpkin to something called beef "hormone" can be had, cooked hot and tender under their crisp jackets of panko. Luckily, "hormone" is just a poor translation of organ meat or intestine — I'm not sure which — I can't imagine how you would get hormones on a skewer, let alone fry them.

Shinsekai, in turn, is the southern end of the seemingly endless series of covered shopping arcades that parade through central Osaka. The shops get ritzier as you move north, and the restaurants follow suit. We passed on the okonomiyaki downtown ($15 for cabbage and pancake batter? Really?) and instead had some simple and pleasant udon. We only had udon a couple times in Japan, but this was probably the best, with just enough bite to the firm, thick noodles to contrast with the ripping of sweet sponge-like deep-fried tofu.

One of the largest disappointments of our entire trip had to be some tiny stuffed pancakes we bought on a street corner near our hotel in Osaka. Greg and I both love these little griddle dumplings, but often longed for some variation from the ubiquitous red bean filling, which appears in so many Japanese desserts. When we saw an older gentlemen frying these up, we couldn't wait for a taste of the custard, cheese, or cream that was clearly being piped into the cooking batter. So, I eagerly gestured to the cakes, held up two fingers, and handed over my spare change. We were several blocks away when we pulled out the still-warm treats and bit into them, only to find.... RED BEAN!!!! It was the first time I felt truly frustrated to be unable to communicate something so simple.