Day 9: (Rest Day) Sapporo
(08/07/06)

Business hotels aren't the most romantic lodgings. At first glance they're sterile and indistinguishable, clean but lacking any hint of personality. Stay in enough of them though, and you notice the little differences--the firmness of the pillows, the ceiling molding, three washlet settings rather than two. The clean uniformity becomes comfortable with no hints of someone else's life to interrupt a peaceful night in hiding. After the past two weeks traveling with Emily, business hotels have developed an air of romance--crisp white sheets, smooth molded-plastic showers, air and music controls on the headboard. They're sexier than you'd think.

After a restful night at the Toyoko-Inn, Japan's quintessential business hotel, Emily and I found a sunny little bakery for breakfast. As we were nibbling away, a quiet, somewhat dorky father and son came in for soft serve. They didn't say much, but their closeness was apparent. Something about it reminded me of going out with my dad when I was that age. The whole scene made me wonder if I don't want to be a father someday. It's something that I resisted for a long time, but, like my feelings on marriage, it seems to be shifting a little with age.

Later, Emily and I had a shopping date at Zara and the Loft. Silly as it is, there's something about buying your girlfriend clothes that's a lot of fun. At the Loft we found stuffed animals to fulfill the dual roles of pillow and bedtime buddy. She got a woodland critter in honor of our night in Asahibetsu and I got a (very comfy) shark. The staff gave me a few weird looks as I lay down to test out my new shark-pillow.

(Afterglow)

That night, our last together in Japan, we headed to Odori Koen in search of a good beer garden. For three weeks every summer, Sapporo's central park hosts what must be the largest beer festival in Japan. Asahi, Sapporo, Kirin--all the major breweries have countless rows of tables, endless supplies of beer, and snacks to match. But still, something about them is off. They look more fun than a typical Japanese beer garden (usually a concrete department store rooftop), but are too commercial. The bad pop music drowns out all but the loudest conversation, and mediocre macro-brew drunk from a glass boot is still mediocre. I expected better from a city that prides itself as being part of the Munich - Milwaukee - Sapporo trinity.

And at the end of the park, in the smallest, least noisy beer garden, I found it. The Otaru Beer area was a godsend. A real Hokkaido microbrewery with true pilsner, weiss, and dunkel beers. And pretzels. Real pretzels. The big German kind, crispy on the outside, hot and soft on the inside. After countless months of Asahi and bad bread, Emily and I were in heaven. Matsuyama may not have been the best place for us, but Sapporo, we decided, could make for a very happy summer.