okayama nights and vintage finds: a slept-through morning in a city that doesn’t care

i woke up this morning to the sound of rain hitting the roof at 12:37 am. not the poetic kind, just steady patters that made me question all life choices. the temp was 12.54 degrees, which is like a fridge left open in winter. i checked the weather app and it said feels like 11.02, which is fair because i was wrapped in a blanket made of last year’s vintage band t-shirts.

okayama has this weird energy. not the postcard kind, but the ‘you’ll spend half your time complaining about the weather and the other half pretending you’re fine with it’ kind. i heard from a barista at the coffee shop down the street that the locals call it the ‘durian of japan’ because everything’s either super cheap or weirdly expensive. i can’t confirm if that’s true, but i’m 70% sure they’re onto something.

i took a walk to the river nearby, which is just a concrete channel now. no magic, no poetry, just algae and the smell of pigeons. but hey, that’s okay. i’m not here for poetry. i’m here for the vintage clothes i found in a dusty secondhand store. a faded denim jacket with holes in the elbows? buy it. a thrifted kimono that screamed ‘i’m from the 90s but still have energy’? bought that too. the owner said it was from a family that moved to okayama in the 80s. i don’t know if that’s true, but i believed her.

someone told me at the station that the onsens here are all overpriced scams, but then i overheard a drunk guy arguing with a tourist about whether the ‘hidden gem’ hot spring was actually hidden. i didn’t ask for details, but the tourist stormed off muttering about ‘fake smiles’ and ‘overcharging tourists.’ i’m 60% sure that’s a thing here.

i tried to eat at a place recommended by a friend who said it’s the best okonomiyaki in town. the dfd was $5, which is great, but the portions were tiny. i asked a local if it was worth it, and they just shrugged and said, ‘maybe it’s just not your village.’ i haven’t figured that out yet.

the neighbors here are… whatever. there’s this old man who plays loud ukulele music every morning at 6 am. i asked him why he does that, and he said, ‘it’s my way of waking up the ghosts of okayama’s past.’ i don’t know if he’s serious, but i’m 90% sure he’s full of it.

if you get bored, himeji is just a short drive away. or tokyo, if you’re feeling brave. i’d advise against both, but maybe you’ll sneak away sometime.

i heard that the sushi place near the train station is haunted by a guy who wore 80s leather pants. i didn’t go there. too many red flags. but hey, if you’re into that vibe, go for it.

i took photos with my old film camera. the images are grainy and probably look weird, but that’s the point. one shot of the river had a frog in the foreground, another of my jacket half-buried in leaves. i uploaded them to unsplash because i need more likes, even though i don’t care about likes.

here’s a map if you want to find this exact spot:

tripadvisor reviews said the best ramen is at a place called kurobuta, but i haven’t tried it yet.

yelp link for vintage spots. not sure if it’s helpful, but it exists.

diY busker guide because someone might find it useful.

i didn’t sleep at all last night. the air was 45% humidity, which made my jacket cling to me like a second skin. i checked the pressure earlier and it was 1020 hPa, which sounds scientific but probably just means the weather is doing whatever.

i’m leaving tomorrow. not sure where. maybe to a place with better thunderstorms. or maybe i’ll just wander until i find a vending machine with cold beer. who knows?

the city itself? it’s okay. not amazing, not terrible. just okay. and that’s exactly what i needed.

okayama nights and vintage finds: a slept-through morning in a city that doesn’t care

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About the author: Isabella Hart

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