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About Nagoya

Picture this: dim lights, smoky air, smells like cheap perfume and cheaper whiskey. Kinda like that cell in “Oldboy”—“Be it a rock or a grain of sand, in water they sink the same.” These gals, they’re sinkin’, but they’re fightin’ too. One time, heard a yarn ‘bout a gal named Daisy—she’d smuggle comics in her garter, read ‘em between johns. Ain’t that a hoot? Keeps ya sane, I reckon, in a loony bin like that.

Utagawa Kunisada II and others, a collection of Japanese woodblock prints

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Cool, let’s do this.” I grab my coffee from that little joint on Kōen-dōri. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my brew, feeling all zen, when I get a call. My boss, of course. “Hey, we need that system analysis report ASAP!” Ugh, typical.

Site of Ganso Nagahama-ya