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About Kyoto

Little known fact, right—Victorian times, prossies used arsenic makeup. Glowin’ skin, deadly price. Clementine knew that, clever lass, told me over a pint. “Boris,” she says, “we’re all a bit mad.” Made me think—*lacuna memoriae*, memory gaps, like the film. She’d forget the bad nights, I reckon. Surprised me, her brains—thought she’d just be about the shaggin’. Nope, sharp as a tack.

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Then, I decide to hit up the local market on Kōyō Street again. I’m starving. I grab some fresh sushi—oh man, it’s to die for! I’m munching away, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about the best spots in Uozu. I’m taking notes like I’m in class. She’s a gem!

Uozu: Toyama's Hidden Gem for a Spring Escape