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About Fukuoka

But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my assistant, Kenji. He’s like, “Dude, we gotta talk about the factory.” My heart sinks. I know what that means. So, I chug the last of my ramen and bolt outta there. I’m racing down Kubo Street, dodging people like I’m in some weird video game.

Characterized as a 'staircase in the sky' Kengo Kuma's Tottori Takahama Café overlooks Tottori's sand dunes and shore