It was another rainy night in suburban central Japan, so I decided to take my night elsewhere, namely to the city of Gifu to see what a rainy Friday night was like in that city which I hesitate, but only slightly, to call romantic.

With the rain came some humidity, but still I wore my wind breaker.
Gifu.
Everybody says that there is nothing in Gifu. But, I am there, or, at least, I was there, or, at the very least, I will be there again, so isn’t that something?

The train ride from the suburbs to the city was so dark that I could see only my reflection in the train windows.  My belly was grumbling and I wanted to find a place where I could sit, eat, and write. In Japan, as in America, and, just about everywhere else in the civilized world, there is a common place to go to fill such desires; McDonalds, or as the natives call it, “Makudonaludo“, or simply “Maku“. Read the rest of this entry →