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About Sapporo

So, here’s the deal, mate. Prostitution’s old as dirt—fact! Babylonians had temple hookers, sacred as priests. Wild, right? Nowadays, it’s apps, back alleys, or those sketchy massage joints. You gotta know the signs—lingerie flashin under neon, sly nods. Pisses me off tho—cops bustin girls, not the creeps runnin em. Hypocrisy stinks worse than week-old fish.

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Then I hit up the streets. Oh man, the streets! You got the bustling Nishi-Kasai area, where all the shops are. I’m walkin’ down Nishi-Kasai 3-chome, and I see this little ramen joint. I’m like, “Yesss, ramen time!” I order the tonkotsu, and it’s like heaven in a bowl. I’m slurpin’ it up, and this old dude next to me starts chatting. He’s like, “You know, the secret is in the broth.” I’m like, “Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock.” But I nod, ‘cause he’s old and wise, or whatever.

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