By Grande Chef Otto, TOKYO – As you know, hipsters of all shapes and sizes travel all over the world every year lugging their Canadian flag backpacks to and fro. Some of these so-called “backpackers” wind up on the highly-acidified streets of Shimokitazawa, a little ol’ town in Tokyo, I purchased from an ancient Japanese man a few years ago.
The streets, or warrens rather, are bathed nightly in university-level vomit, obtained freshly from the university-level drinking establishments which dot the hillocks and ramparts of Little Tokyo. Japanese, or rather, non-Japanese call Shimokitazawa “Little Tokyo” due to its’ unique resmblance to and situation in, Tokyo.
The Brutal Times forced me to explain everything about the fair city of Shimokitazawa in this first part of a never-ending series. They threatened me a lot. At first I tried to forget about it; I went outside and looked for love. After 4 hours I came back inside. This is my story:
The best place for a delicious cup of coffee is Tapas Tapas. It is located steps away from the south exit of the train station. Go out of the exit and walk spast the Mcdonalds, straight along the big street. Look on the left for a sign with a red octopus on it. If you can’t read English you won’t have understood what I’ve already written.
I ordered pasta with tomato sauce and chicken. It comes with free coffee, which as I have already mentioned is the best in Shimokita. The second best is at McDonalds. More about that later.
Anyway, I ate it. It tasted ok, but I always worry that the chicken, she don’t come from no 100% natural chicken, if you know what I mean. I am suggesting, that it is concievably possible, that the chicken has been added to. And raised, in separate squares. But it tasted ok.
I think a girl sitting next to me was totally like checking me out.
But I could be wrong.
Just to show her, I didn’t say anything; that’ll show her for not saying anything.
Then I left.
Walking down the street – the streets of Shimokitazawa- bowa, powa, zawa – when, boy did I have to poop.
I sauntered on home, “turtling” as Margret Mead calls it, all the way.
Luckily, because of prayer, I made it and deposited my payload properly in the poo poo toilet.
Looking back on the experience, I have mixed feelings. I enjoyed my coffee. The meal was ok too minus my private thoughts on chicken. But cheese louise, to suffer that eruption afterwards – I leave it to you, dear reader, to make the choice yourself. Do the math, as they say.
I’m sleepy now so I don’t really want to clarify my earlier comment on McDonalds’ coffee, but if you go around to every single bar/restaurant/cafe in Shimo that serves it, I promise you that my opinion will still be that Tapas Tapas (south, not north exit) has the best coffee.