Adventures in Love Hotel Land

In keeping up with the accountability list I posted the other day, I decided to go in search of the “Gang Snowman” Love Hotel. This hotel is kind of underground-famous in Osaka for its Cadillac-converted spa on the roof (the headlights flash and horn honks when the car shakes…) and it’s extreme S&M themed rooms.

First step was to enlist a research assistant (who shall remain anonymous…) and then head to the love hotel district: Tanimachi 9-cho-me.

My research assistant and I came across a few strangely named love hotels, but no “Gang Snowman”…

We found this one for kinky Vegans:

And this one that was a little slightly more appropriately named.

We went and checked out the pictures of the rooms, but there wasn’t anything too exciting, so we kept on.

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Engrish cracks me up… I know it shouldn’t, and I shouldn’t enjoy laughing at other people’s stupidity. Wait, yeah, actually I should. Because it’s damn funny.

Today I saw an Osaka fashion queen girl wearing a shirt that said: Eating Brains Starts Here.

A few other gems I found:

An Advertisement for a club called…

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Since I’m moving to Japan in precisely two weeks, I thought it would be appropriate to look at what I wrote about the wonderful and mysterious land of the rising prices, on my first trip way back in 2002 (reading my old writing, I get annoyed with my too-liberal use of brackets… aw crap.)

-To Japan-

Early morning on April 25th I drove to the airport with my Mom, Dad, and friend Skye, a student from China (originally on exchange to St. Mary’s) who would be participating in the same exchange program as me. After a bad taste of 80`s rock, typical of an unnamed Halifax radio station, the news came on: seems that scientists have discovered evidence to back up the phenomenon of “Spring Fever” — the theory that says males are more aggressive in pursuing females in the Spring season — typically thought of as an old wives tale. They said something to the effect that male hormones actually increase involuntarily in the spring season. “Good,” I thought to myself, as we pulled into the airport parking lot, “not even on the plane yet, and already I’ve got an excuse ready.”

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