SBB’s adopted child

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Strawberry Blonde Bakery @ 114B Grange Avenue, Ottawa, ON

Open daily 8:30am-6:00pm 

Yes, I was once SBB’s adopted child. I say “adopted” because that’s the literal word I used when I wrote a spontaneous email outlining my deep-rooted passion for baking — which in retrospect sounded more like a creepy declaration of love — to star owners, J and C, in my desperate hopes of landing a volunteering position there, once upon a blue moon ago. And Reader, adopt me they did.

I’m still deeply grateful that these lovely ladies and E, the manager at the time, took a chance on me. I didn’t have a baking background or any baking credentials whatsoever; I just had my word and my puppy dog eyes that reflected a desire so real and deep, that they felt it too. The best gift was their belief in me, and seeing how passionate I was and how eager I was to learn, they welcomed me into their quaint little bakery with open arms.

During what little time I’d spent with my SBB family, I was given the opportunity to bake all sorts of desserts, with E and my co-workers to help lead the way. Bakery life was no walk in the park, I realized — as with any job, it requires hard work, discipline, commitment, time-management, and the will to succeed — but at the end of the day, being able to create scrumptious treats and to exercise my creativity in a fun and creative environment, with creative and inspiring people, was the cherry on top.

Fast forward to today.

Would I still want to pursue a career in the baking industry? Probably not. Indeed, there goes my wild, passionate dream. But what I can say with certainty is that I’m glad I pursued different interests after graduating from university, and took a chance on the callings of my heart. That’s the only way I could’ve discovered uncharted avenues within myself: by doing things and taking chances, no matter how absurd. And sometimes, what I think I want, isn’t what I truly want; and my soul, the wisest of the wise, knows, and I trust its wisdom.

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I didn’t mention it yet, but dear vegans and gluten-free people, this is a vegan, gluten-free, and nut-free bakery! The best of its kind in Ottawa, I dare say. Not because I’m biased, but because the mother whale in me has already been around town sampling treats from all walks of life, and this bakery here is a keeper. Plus, as a non-vegan and non-gluten-free nutty, if I purposely come here for desserts, then you know what’s crackin’. Try their cinnamon buns, please and thank you.

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Like a faithful child returning to its parents’ arms, today I went back for another visit. I’ve always wanted to try their blueberry lavender scones because they sound so exotic and I enjoy trying unique flavours; and luckily for me, they were on today’s menu. (I’m a young woman with old lady tendencies — I love tea and scones; in fact, scones are the highlight of my existence.)

Their blueberry lavender scone was kickass. I died and went to heaven, then came back down because I heard a human voice, which smacked me upside the head. “Is it good?” a lady walked up to me and asked, as I was sitting outside enjoying my scone, on cloud-9. “REALLY good,” I said. So good, I returned a few hours later to buy the vanilla peach scone to take home.

They raised me well, and as their long, lost adopted child, even if I’m chasing my tail in circles, I shall never wander far, and will always find my way back to my roots.

Je ne sens pas en sécurité

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I was sleepy and lethargic, but I didn’t want our drive to Rivière-Rouge to end. Besides the fact that I felt an unparalleled level of physical and emotional comfort with my nieces sitting on each side of me (comfy pillows for me to sleep on, let’s be real), the naturesque sceneries were too beautiful to be true. But that’s countryside Quebec for you: a real beauty. And for me, it was my ideal place to spend my summer — my life.

Seeing my parents’ home in small town L’Annonciation, in Quebec’s countryside where they had first settled in 1980, was a surreal and heart-warming experience for me. It was there that my parents had earned their living and adopted a new language and culture upon arrival in Canada. As for my brother (keep in mind we’re twenty-three years apart), as the only Asian kid in a White countryside in the early eighties, he had many tales to tell, too. Some sad, some funny, some embarrassing — all of which made for smiles and laughs in retrospect.

I think everyone cried tears of joy when we arrived at the home, especially my parents and their sponsors who haven’t seen each other in over thirty years. It was my first time meeting Rolande, Laurette, husband and wife Gilles and Huguette, and their children Martin and Nadine, and already, I felt a depth of love and gratitude for them (and also for my new furry four-legged pal). Prior to that, I had only exchanged sporadic letters with them from childhood onwards, and finally being face-to-face, we had many stories and updates to share.

Martin and Nadine were the children of the family, but they were my brother’s age: in their late forties. Frankly, I fell in love with them at first encounter, for they represented what I had never known. Before I was my parents’ child and my brother’s younger sister, they were my parents’ first children and my brother’s first siblings. They had known and loved my family at a time when I hadn’t even existed. I saw in their eyes a world of early warm memories, a world with which I longed to merge.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I felt as if I was reading a book — a memoir. I listened on as each individual, young and old, recounted stories of the past. For my sister and I, it was a learning of our parents’ and brother’s past; for my sister-in-law and her kids, it was a learning of a husband and father’s childhood experience. How sweet it is to learn that Nadine was my nieces’ age when she’d met my parents. Dad would call her Poupée because of her blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and she’d cry, too, whenever my parents came to visit and forgot to give her hugs and kisses.

Like Nadine when she was a child, my nieces were unbelievably shy. Victoria even poked her head underneath her mom’s shirt when we arrived at the house. But when they finally felt comfortable, suddenly the farm became their oyster. They enjoyed the vast acres of farmland and found joy in the little flowers sprouting from the grass and in the critters that inhabited nature’s womb. Except that Magaly isn’t as brave as her little sister. At the sight of a nearby spider on the front porch, she exclaimed, “Je ne me sens plus en sécurité!” and ran back inside. My sister and I, and even little Victoria, began our delicious fit of indiscreet laughter.

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After lunch with the family, Rolande took us out on a country-style drive around her farm to show us her husband Réjean’s outdoor projects, which he held dear to his heart before his passing. His beloved projects included his cabane à sucre where he’d make his own sirop d’érable, and an adorable hideaway cabane in the woods where he was able to sleep, cook, and eat. I listened as Rolande began shedding tears at each mention of his name, and my heart ached for her.

Again, we were one step too late. I wish I had met Réjean and was able to thank him for taking good care of my family at a time even before I came into existence. Yet even though I hadn’t met him, I felt his presence everywhere I tread on the farm: in the hollow winds whistling between leaves, in the rust of the axe that he had lovingly held, in the eyes and heart of his beloved wife. And I felt happy. I felt happy because I understood that what’s physically lost is never truly lost: it lives on in the cosmos — our hearts a doorway to the cosmos itself.

I didn’t want to leave; being here solidified my sense of belonging — that I could be embraced by something larger than myself, something unconditional, unswerving, loyal. Something that could point to me the way back to myself when I was lost and afraid. Here I found solace in gentle kindness — in a home in the countryside, in the hearts of my extended family, and in nature.

Fukuoka, Japan: Breakfast with Moomin

imageCanal City was an ideal place to go for mouth-watering ramen. It houses Ichiran Ramen, a Japanese ramen chain originating in Fukuoka, which is considered to be one of the best shops to eat tonkotsu ramen in Japan.

After buying our tickets at the machine outside the shop, Tweety and I walked in and noted the individual seating booths, with each station accompanied by a curtain that separated the customer from the staff. I loved the idea of having minimal to no interaction with staff, customers, and even my fellow friend. Simply being in the moment with my food, in silence, was a very pleasant eating experience. In fact, for an introvert like myself, it would’ve constituted my ideal eating venue.

imageOnce seated, I handed my ticket to the staff member — whose face was anonymous — and then proceeded to filling out a form where I was asked to check off how I preferred my dish: from mild to spicy, from a pinch of garlic gloves to whole ones, and from soft to firm noodles. I could also save some broth for a second serving of noodles if I was still hungry. I was full of course, but I felt unbelievably satisfied — it was one of the most delicious dishes I had eaten in Japan.

After having ramen for lunch, we walked on and stumbled upon the Moomin Bakery & Cafe. THE MOOOOMIN CAFE! I wish words could do my feelings justice because when I saw it that day, I died; rainbows, stars, and unicorns returned and began circling my head. I mean, look at the big snout of this hippo family — so friggin’ cute I couldn’t deal with my emotions.

I had discovered the cafe a few years ago here on WordPress when I saw a photo of a lovely young woman sitting with a fluffy plush. “I’ve got to go there!” I thought to myself excitedly. Whether the cafe was created to accompany lonely souls, those seeking company when dining alone, or just for the sake of creativity and ingenuity, I loved it regardless — I thought it was darn adorable. It’s not like I don’t dine with my stuffed animals at home anyway, so this idea wasn’t new to me. Move along, friends, move along…

That day, we had already had lunch, so while Tweety was ordering ice cream, I sat on the bench outside the jam-packed cafe and happily observed the commotion inside. Adamant about dining with Moomin, we then made a pact to return the following morning for breakfast. (Bless her heart for putting up with my wild obsession with Moomin.) The food was subpar, but who are we kidding? I came here for the fluffy experience — and a fluffy experience it was.

Fukuoka, Japan: The real Tweety Bird

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Shops selling bento boxes are readily available in train stations in Japan, because there, it’s tradition for passengers to buy a bento to-go for their train journeys, which I thought was really stinkin’ cute. Since it was my final Shinkansen ride back to Fukuoka — a five to six-hour journey, roughly — I bought a bento box for the ultimate Japanese bullet train experience. And boy, was it a cutesy experience, eating from a bento while observing the fine sceneries and dreaming away.

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Being back in Fukuoka felt reassuring; I knew that I’d be returning to Phnom Penh soon. But more importantly, I missed Fukuoka, and came to appreciate its low key vibe only after returning from Tokyo. I was also glad to be back at the hostel — back to beginnings, as they say — and to see familiar friendly faces. Except that when I returned to my old room this time, a new roommate was awaiting me, and her name was Tweety.

That’s one of the best things about hostels: you meet people from all over the world and from all walks of life. Tweety was from Hong Kong and when I learned that that was her name given to her by her father, I died inside because it was too darn cute. “Your dad must have the best sense of humour,” I laughed. Needless to say, we got on well, as if we’d been friends for years. And for what little time we had left in Japan, we spent it together.

Yanagibashi Fish Market

Yanagibashi Fish Market

Seafood cakes

Seafood cakes

<img class="wp-image-5786 size-large" src="https://toumemoir.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/image15.jpeg?w=620" alt="Dango, sweet dumpling made from rice flour (similar to mochi) often enjoyed with green tea” width=”620″ height=”415″> Dango, sweet dumpling made from rice flour (similar to mochi) often enjoyed with green tea

The day that we explored the vicinity of the Yanagibashi Fish Market could’ve been said to be the day I went to dango heaven — I stumbled upon this delicious sweet everywhere I went! I could eat dango all day every day, and Tweety can attest to it, because that’s precisely what had happened.

Hiyoko green tea sweets

Hiyoko green tea sweets

Tweety invited me into a sweets shop that sold these adorable baby chick green tea desserts, as she wanted to purchase them for her brother who’s a big fan of them. I saw them quite often in souvenir shops at the airport and in train stations as well as in department stores, and since I was curious and loved green tea desserts myself, I decided to buy them for a treat for my mother. She absolutely loved them!

Ideal field trip? A Japanese supermarket. Here's our basket of snacks

Ideal field trip? A Japanese supermarket. Here’s our basket of snacks

What took up space in my luggage...

What took up space in my luggage…

Tokyo, Japan: Wakaba not Wakabi

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On my last day in Tokyo, there was a final task that I was set to accomplish: eat taiyaki, a classic Japanese sweet snack in the form of a fish-shaped cake filled with azuki red bean paste. I tried googling some of the best authentic spots to eat it in Tokyo, and decided to venture to the one nearest to me: Taiyaki Wakaba.

Wakaba, situated about a 10-minute walk from Yotsuya Station, is apparently one of the oldest and most popular taiyaki establishments in Tokyo. Go figure, when I asked strangers for directions, they all smiled enthusiastically and were eager to show me the way. “This place must be really good to have locals know its whereabouts upon hearing its name,” I thought to myself excitedly.

Rain was pouring heavily during my adventure to find this renowned gem, but that made the journey ever more exciting. Having warm out-of-the-oven taiyaki on a rainy morning constituted my ideal start to the day. And my ideal morning it was, for when I arrived at the shop, it was nice and empty and quiet — just how I like it. After all, it was still early in the morning and I was the first one there.

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The lady at the counter was lovely; upon entering, I was greeted with a warm smile and friendly questions about my country of origin. In turn, I asked her about the history of the shop. After a brief and pleasant exchange, I ordered a taiyaki to-stay, found a comfortable spot in the corner, poured myself some green tea (complimentary of the shop), and then proceeded to spending the next few minutes in taiyaki heaven.

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After having tried the original taiyaki, I was bent on trying a progressive version of it: the taiyaki croissant, which I came across at the Ameyoko Market. This version had the same red bean filling as the original, but the pastry was a croissant — an exquisite hybrid!

Takeshita Street in Harajuku District

Takeshita Street in Harajuku Districtimage

I knew I wouldn’t be hibernating in Harajuku for long given the monstrous crowds and my lack of interest in shopping in general (there, I said it), but it was a treat to give it a visit nonetheless — very lively and colourful.

Harajuku, as is often depicted in the tickles and pickles of the media and world of Japanese pop culture, is a district in Shibuya, Tokyo bustling with fashion boutiques, restaurants and cafes, and gift shops. It’s no secret that it’s a joint widely frequented by the young and hip generation with a flair for all-things fashion — and with that comes all-things quirky and unique.

First experience eating sushi at a stand-up booth

Tokyo, Japan: Shibuya dance

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A morning stroll along the Meguro River, where cherry blossoms abound in the springtime.

Hooray for having crossed the Shibuya Crossing and doing a little bit of the Shibuya dance! Although I didn’t get to snap a photo of the infamous crossing, I did take some photos of it from different angles. Frankly, I feared that if I stopped I’d be knocked down like a bowling pin.

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It was a ritual for me to unwind at Ueno Park every evening before heading home. One evening, I walked far and wide in the vicinity of the park in search of an ice cream cone, where I later learned that this park was far more gigantic than I had imagined. This search led me to a little amusement park where the perfect cone awaited me: a cherry blossom vanilla swirl! But before getting one, I was prompted to a nearby vending machine to purchase a ticket first — a rather fun process.

The evening was young, the air was warm, and kids were running to and fro; and there I was, sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone in hand, on cloud 9. “I feel like a pedophile watching kids from a distance,” I laughed to myself. But then again, what’s a little girl of 5’0 in a polkadot dress with an ice cream cone in hand gonna do, really? Needless to say, it was a lovely night; I felt like a kid all over again at the amusement part. And the best part? I was alone.

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Wrapping up my evening at the Ueno Toshogu Shrine. The walk through the gateway was surreal; I felt transported to ancient times.

Tokyo, Japan: Love hotels

Kyoto Station, waiting for the Shinkansen to Tokyo

Kyoto Station, waiting for the Shinkansen to Tokyo

When I was in Japan, I didn’t plan my stays; the night prior, I’d simply read reviews about hostels and book and go. This applied to Tokyo, except that since everything was widely dispersed and there really wasn’t one best area to stay, all that mattered was that I was close to a subway station. And luckily for me, I was. Only, after reading more reviews about my district one night, I realized that I was in the vicinity of love hotels. “Oh, great,” I whispered to myself.

Something to note from my experience is that even in the midst of streets crowned with love hotels or the random anime sex shop — which I later learned that my abode wasn’t actually that close to — there wasn’t a time when I felt a sense of unease or discomfort. In other places of the world, I probably would have — but certainly not in Tokyo. Everything felt normal to me. Sometimes I’d even see parents and their kids or an elderly couple walking by these joints — life resumed as usual. These perks were part of Tokyo’s idiosyncratic identity in all its rays of colour, and frankly, I appreciated it.

The only glitch I experienced in Tokyo emanated from my own inadequacy as a human being. I had mentioned it in a previous post, but my sense of direction is abysmal. It was a common theme for me to do a tour around the world before settling into my abode. Again, I couldn’t find my hostel when I arrived in Tokyo, so I ended up walking in circles, and in the process, discovered some interesting love hotels. (Insert sarcastic laugh here.) “Not too shabby,” I thought as I walked into one to inquire about directions. The mysterious lady behind the reception desk and the warm air and smell of cigarettes made me think of Murakami’s novels (as does everything I encounter in life).

If there’s something I appreciated deeply about Japan, it’s the people. This was the second time I couldn’t find my hostel, and the second time strangers would go out of their way to ensure that I arrived at my destination. Even if they didn’t know the directions themselves, they’d ask fellow passersby for help. As with Kyoto, in Tokyo a stranger dropped what they were doing and walked me to my hostel. It’s been my experience that no matter where I went, I found home in the hospitality of the people around me.

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After checking into my hostel and doing my laundry — because that’s the first thing everyone would do when they arrive in Tokyo — I was on my way to Ueno Station to sniff out the Ameyoko Market, which I learned was similar to a Bangkok-style street market. There was a lot of food, stuff, and people. Especially people — so much so that our heels would kiss. Suffice it to say, I left immediately.

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Across the street from Ameyoko Market, I came across a sign outside of a bakery that advertised these cute animal-shaped sweet buns. “My people are calling me home,” I thought as I excitedly walked in. Look at those pandas! I couldn’t resist so I bought one and enjoyed it at Uneo Park. It was a pleasant surprise because it had a sweet custard in the middle.

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Here I could get a glimpse of Uneo Station, the entrance to the Ameyoko Market, and even the bakery selling adorable panda buns. Behind me was a set of stairs leading to Ueno Park, one of my favourite places to unwind in Tokyo.

What’s neat about Tokyo is that the hustle and bustle and the serene parallel each other at every corner. If I wanted to escape an overly crowded commercial area, then nature was awaiting me somewhere, and oftentimes it was only a few steps away.

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Tokyo must’ve been quite a glamorous sight after dark with its usual hustle and bustle, its bodies of people and cars in constant motion, and its infamous nightlife. But I don’t have a single photo of Japan at night — and that’s because I was never out after dark.

If there’s something you ought to know, it’s this: my sense of direction needs crutches, and on top of that, I have poor eyesight. Those two factors mingling together, and you have me: a lady sloth roaming aimlessly at night. I had to take photos of the streets surrounding my hostels just so that I could find my way back; and if that proved challenging during the day — I walked in endless circles every day by the way, which was quite the workout — then when night rolls around, I ain’t comin’ home, that’s for sure.

Nara, Japan: That darn deer

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I had time to kill and a JR Pass to make efficient use of, so I decided to leave Kyoto and explore a neighbouring city for the day. Walking towards Kyoto Station, I didn’t know where I wanted to go; it was only until I arrived at the train platform that I spontaneously chose Nara. And who knew a wild adventure was awaiting me? No one. Except that one deer, apparently.

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If you visit Nara, chances are, Nara Park is one of the sites that you’d want to visit — and for good reason: You get to feed the deer! I admit that this weighed heavily on my spur-of-the-moment decision to venture here. After all, the deer are cute and uber friendly. (So it goes.)

“It’s not every day that I get a chance to feed deer in Japan, so I might as well buy deer biscuits and do some good in my life,” I rationalized when I saw a stand selling deer biscuits for 150 Yen at the crosswalk. Little did I know, I was inviting trouble for myself.

Walking off with a package of biscuits in hand, I found my first pal, a seemingly well-mannered and friendly deer. At first it nodded and bowed its head in compliance, but soon it grew impatient and demanded all the biscuits I had in my hands, plus my clothes and pretty much everything in existence I had on me. Tugging at my shirt repeatedly, its teeth grinded into the skin of my abdomen. (I still have scar marks. Not sure if I’ll die from infections, but hey, at least I got some vaccines.)

I thought one was bad. Then came a second one. “Aw, shit,” I thought. To get Clyde off of me, plus its partner in crime, Bonnie, I did what any sane person would do: feed it my pamphlets and jet. If you have deer climbing you like a tree, you sure as hell ain’t gon’ stand there helplessly. (I’m sure it was a comedic show for bystanders to watch.)

Moral of the story: Don’t trust any deer, or anything that looks cute for that matter.

After the incident, I laughed at myself (a common theme and occurrence in my life). I even bought a coin pouch with a deer on it from a souvenir shop to remind myself of the comical experience, because frankly, there’s no better memory of Nara than this.

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I had spent only a day in Nara, but I loved it, especially this park where I ate lunch and proceeded to spending the rest of my day. With subtle winds brushing against my cheek, it was the perfect atmosphere for me to do what I do best in my natural habitat: zone out, disconnect, and recharge. It was also entertaining watching school kids in uniform taking group selfies.

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Evening rolled around and I made it back to Kyoto. I did what I usually do when I arrive at my guesthouse: sit on the chair outside and just breathe.

Across from me was a local family-owned restaurant that tickled my fancy since the first day I arrived, as it specializes in tonkatsu, a Japanese dish that consists of a breaded, deep-fried pork cutlet, which I’ve been wanting to try. Since it was my last night in Kyoto, I knew I had to give this place a go.

Walking in, I was greeted by a lovely grandmother who led me to my table and gave me a menu. Her daughter, which I’d see playing with a little girl (presumably her own daughter) every day, was the cook. I watched her work her expertise, while wishing that the next plate was mine.

Minutes later, the food arrived. The tonkatsu was served with cabbage, mashed potatoes, miso soup, and pickled veggies. The food was plenty with my side order of rice, and I tried polishing my plate to no avail — everything was delicious.

The establishment exuded a peaceful atmosphere with only the news on the television as background noise, which the grandmother would pause to absorb every now and then. Locals, all of whom were men, ate away in silence; and as a foreigner and a young woman eating alone, I didn’t feel alienated as anticipated — I felt like I belonged.

The night was young, but still, I had some packing to do, so I sheepishly walked out the door and into my guesthouse. The next day was a big day: I was off to Tokyo.

Kyoto, Japan: Gion District

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With the sight of lovely geisha walking down ancient streets lined with traditional wooden-style homes and merchant shops that stood the test of time, you really do feel transported through history in Gion. (Except that the crowds of tourists will kindly burst your dreamy bubble.)

View from Yasaka-jinja Shrine

View from Yasaka-jinja Shrine

Yasaka-jinja Shrine

Yasaka-jinja Shrine

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Continuing straight ahead from the Yasaka Shrine I found myself in Maruyama Park. I didn’t know that this park served as the main attraction site for Sakura or cherry blossoms in Kyoto, until now, when I read about it. This knowledge made me shrivel a bit in sadness, because of all things I wanted to witness in Japan, were cherry blossoms in the springtime.

Kyoto, Japan: Nishiki Market

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Look what I found. I’m a big fan of green tea and red bean desserts, and this little guy was a combo of the two. I don’t know any liaison between two lovebirds more dainty than this one.

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A stroll around Nishiki Market later, led me to this adorable little alleyway between shops and cafes. Hidden alleyways were one of the pleasant things to stumble upon in Japan, and were often very picturesque.