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About Nagoya

What suprises me? How normal it feels. Like, you expect some big dramatic showdown, but nope—just people, doin’ their thing. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way, like happy little trees growin’ in the cracks of a busted sidewalk. Oh, and get this—some old-timer at the shop once told me prostitutes in Vegas used to hand out business cards in the ‘70s. Straight-up professional! Cracked me up, imaginin’ Candy with a stack of ‘em, like “Call me, sugar!”

Are your guests 18 years of age or older?

Then, the craziest thing happens. I’m walking back, and I see this street performer on the corner of Odori. He’s juggling, and I’m like, “Okay, cool.” But then he drops a flaming baton! Fire everywhere! I’m freaking out, thinking, “Is this how I die in Morioka?” But he just laughs it off and keeps going. I mean, talk about dedication!

Q+A: Hiroshi “Morris” Morioka