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About Sapporo

Alright, mate, buckle up! So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout findin’ a prostitute—wild, right? As a sign language interpreter, I’m all about hands talkin’, but this? This is next-level communication, haha! I mean, imagine translatin’ *that* gig—fingers flyin’, misread a gesture, and boom, you’re in a pickle. Probs why I’d suck at it—too busy overengineerin’ the signals, ya know?

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First off, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with all the fresh fish and veggies? I’m strollin’ through, and BAM! The smell of grilled yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling, man. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, I see this dude spill soy sauce all over the place. Like, c’mon, bro! It’s a market, not a slip-n-slide! I’m tryin’ to enjoy my food, and now I’m dodging puddles of soy. Ugh!

Hundreds take part in Tomé Hill pilgrimage