Face-Planting into the Okonomiyaki

For my milestone birthday back in 2016, I decided there was only one place on Earth I wanted to celebrate: Japan. A brilliant idea in theory. In practice, flying east is a brutal, soul-crushing lesson in chronological confusion.

By the time we finally landed in Tokyo and dragged our zombie-like torsos onto a connecting flight to Osaka, my internal body clock had entirely stopped tracking time and started actively plotting my demise.

Naturally, the first order of business upon arriving in the bustling Higashishinsaibashi district was to get some food. We marched into a local restaurant for an authentic meal, which was, of course, relentlessly Japanese. The specialty of the house was okonomiyaki, that glorious, sizzling savory pancake loaded with delicious ingredients and prepared on a scorching iron grill right at your table.

It should have been a culinary triumph. Instead, it became a high-stakes battle against gravity.

As the glorious savory aromas filled the air, my eyelids turned to lead. Every few seconds, my head would heavy-nod toward the table at a terrifying angle. I wasn't just tired; I was micro-napping mid-sentence, bobbing up and down like a plastic drinking bird, desperately trying not to rest my chin directly on the red-hot teppan plate. It was a genuine pity, because by all accounts, the food was spectacular, I just happened to experience most of it in a semi-conscious trance.

Conclusion Travel undoubtedly broadens the mind, but severe jet lag severely limits your ability to keep your face out of the dinner. I might have slept through eighty percent of my birthday feast in Higashishinsaibashi, but at least I provided the restaurant staff with free comedy, and proved that okonomiyaki smells just as good in your dreams.