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About Yokohama

Once, in Barbados, I met this lass—Madame Fleur, they called ‘er. Ran a brothel so posh, ye’d think it were a governor’s mansion. Velvet curtains, chandeliers—proper fancy, aye! But here’s the kicker: she kept parrots, dozens o’ ‘em, squawkin’ all night. “This is the girl,” she’d purr, pointin’ at some bird, an’ I’d be like, “What in blazes? I ain’t beddin’ feathers!” Made me laugh ‘til me ribs hurt, but them squawks—drove me mad, they did! Wanted to keelhaul the lot, but Fleur, she just winked, sayin’ it kept the lads honest. Clever, eh? Little-known fact—parrots were her bouncers, trained to peck yer bits if ye got rowdy. Surprised me good, that did!

Inside the Enigmatic Brothels of Japan

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I’m walking, minding my own biz, when I spot this little ramen shop. You know the kind, with the steam rising and the smell that just grabs you? I couldn’t resist. I ordered the tonkotsu ramen, and let me tell ya, it was like a hug in a bowl. I was so happy, I almost cried. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. Work stuff. Ugh.