Day 7: Tsukenkaku & Botanical gardens
Osaka still feels like Hyderabad to me—warm, unhurried, full of people who don’t take themselves too seriously. But today, something shifted. The novelty of travel has started wearing thin, and the real world—the one I left behind with its problems and responsibilities—kept creeping into my thoughts like an uninvited guest.
A Slow Start & the Osaka Castle Blues
I slept in, giving in to the fatigue that’s been building over days of non-stop exploration. When I finally dragged myself to Osaka Castle, I realized I’d reached shrine saturation. The grandeur of its stone walls and moat? Impressive, sure. But after Kyoto’s temples and Nara’s Todai-ji, it felt like seeing another Instagram post of the same sunset—pretty, but predictable.
Fried Comfort & Tower Fatigue
Lunch at Kushikatsu Daruma was a highlight—crispy skewers of meat and veggies dunked in tangy sauce, the kind of simple, satisfying food that doesn’t pretend to be profound. Then came Tsutenkaku Tower, Osaka’s quirky answer to Paris’s Eiffel. It was… fine. The surrounding streets buzzed with energy, but my enthusiasm was waning.
At the Umeda Sky Building, I balked at the ticket price. Maybe the view was breathtaking, but my travel budget (and my jaded mood) said, "You’ve seen enough skylines."
The Takoyaki Betrayal
Osaka’s iconic street food let me down hard. I’d been excited to try takoyaki—crispy spheres of batter with chewy octopus inside. The first bite was promising: warm, savory, the texture perfect. Then the sauce hit. Some unholy mix of sweet, ginger and... what, fish paste? It coated my tongue like regret. I forced a second ball down, my stomach lurching in protest. By the third, I admitted defeat. Maybe locals love it, but to me, it tasted like someone drowned good seafood in pancake syrup. I tossed the rest, mourning the octopus that deserved better.
TeamLab’s Botanical Illusion
After my takoyaki disappointment, I hoped the TeamLab Botanical Gardens might redeem the day. The concept sounded intriguing - nature enhanced by digital art. But as I wandered through the illuminated pathways, I couldn't shake the feeling I'd paid premium yen for what essentially amounted to a park with some fancy lighting.
Sure, the dancing light projections on trees were pretty enough, and the ambient electronic soundtrack created a mildly hypnotic effect. But was this revolutionary? Hardly. The same trippy visuals kept repeating, and after fifteen minutes, the novelty wore thinner than the crowds on a weekday afternoon.
Maybe I've become jaded after weeks of non-stop sightseeing. Or perhaps no amount of LED magic can compete with Japan's actual, unadulterated natural beauty that I'd experienced elsewhere. The gardens weren't unpleasant - just underwhelming for something so heavily promoted. As I left, I found myself longing for the simple, unembellished serenity of Kyoto's bamboo groves rather than this manufactured wonderland.
Osaka’s Curtain Call
Tokyo set the bar too high. Osaka, with its laid-back charm, feels like the friend who’s great to hang out with but doesn’t leave you starstruck. Or maybe I’m just homesick, my mind already drifting back to unfinished work and unresolved worries.
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