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About Fukuoka

We talk price—$50? $100? Man, I’m broke, but I’m like, “Steal her mind, plant the idea—FREE!” Total “Inception” move, right? Didn’t work—she slapped me. Worth it! Fun fact: in Vegas, legal brothels got menus—MENUUUUS—like McDonald’s but with ass! Ain’t that nuts? I’m cacklin’—this chick ain’t on no menu, she’s off-book, rogue agent shit.

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Mostly they move on, cordial to a fault— I get an occasional e-mail, or they drop in to tell me about their thesis or gripe about how Abelard holds their papers.

So, I’m wandering around, trying to soak it all in. I stroll down Kawai Street, and I see this cute little café. I’m thinking, “Coffee time!” I order a latte, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting about the lavender fields. He’s like, “You gotta see them in July.” I’m like, “Dude, I’m here now!” But he’s all, “Trust me, it’s worth it.” I’m like, “Fine, I’ll come back.”

Why is Furano in rural Japan home to 8 Michelin-star restaurants?