“Salad for breakfast, yeah?” I raise an eyebrow at Trix, she rolls her eyes and gives me the “yeah of course, that’s what I was planning anyway” look.

“Also bacon and pancakes. Yeah?” was the actual counter. Fair enough, I’m planning on also having hash browns, eggs and a croissant.

We find the location for our sushi making class, almost, and must be looking at lost as we feel when our instructor appears out of a building that looks nothing like what we were searching for. Turns out we’re the only ones there, in a (relatively) spacious kitchen with lots of lovely looking food laid out in front of us.

Our teacher speaks excellent English, with an endearing version of “back and forth” when cutting things (“back and horses” is how it sounds).

We make dashi from kombu (seaweed) and dried bonito shavings, tamagoyaki (omelette from egg, dashi, sugar and soy sauce), a tuna, cucumber, lettuce and crab stick maki roll, a pressed sort of sushi, and finally nigiri with an assortment of fish that appears from a large fridge in the corner.

Despite the breakfast my stomach’s been rumbling since the omelette, so when we sit down to eat our creations I’m very happy.

Trix’s creation is unsurprisingly neater and better presented than mine, arranged in proper rows, the pieces in descending size order. Very aesthetically pleasing, compared to my jumble of fish and rice.

No matter, it tastes amazing and I’m treated to an extra raw scallop nigiri as Trix isn’t so keen after de-shelling so many on Jura (they pulsate disturbingly when you pry them off their home…)

We wobble off about 12:30 and find a nice looking cafe for a sit down and coffee / milkshake, before the main event of the afternoon. 

Cup Noodle museum! One of us is more excited than the other, but it’s all good. Custom pot noodles made, smiley faces, and we start wandering back towards Ikeda station, when… 

It’s sunny! The sky is blue! It’s not raining! There is a big hill….right there! Ok maybe a mile away, uphill, but…

I park Trix outside the botanical gardens, a peaceful spot surrounded by well kept trees and shrubs, some gardeners pottering around in the afternoon warmth. We made a firm agreement that I’d be back within 50 minutes.

Up up up. Jeans and fashion trainers, non running rucksack, cotton t-shirt, as badly equipped as I could possibly be, I hiked and ran through the dense forest as fast as I could. I knew there would be a view somewhere, the sun dribbling in through the foliage was enough to have me sweating within minutes. Up up up…

I found it! Near the top of the hill was a platform raised high enough to peek over the tree tops. All of Osaka laid out in front of me, the view I wanted yesterday in Kobe but the weather decided otherwise. Lovely.

Happy I carried on and managed to loop back down a different route, placing each foot carefully so I didn’t slip on the piles of leaves and tip into the dark canyon beside me.

“That was quick”, Trix looked up as I appeared at the rendezvous point with 20 minutes to spare. Next stop, Rikuros, both ready for some cake.

The walk to Ikeda transported us both to another Studio Ghibli film, either (or both) of “The cat returns” or “Kikis delivery service”; quiet clean streets, buildings that could have been built yesterday or 50 years ago, uniformed school children and old men on bikes. We felt like we lived there until we remembered we were oh so obviously tourists.

Our Osaka train and tube skills kicked in and it was a smooth journey back to Namba station, popping out at precisely the right exit to join the long queue outside the instagram friendly wobbly cake shop.

When you buy a freshly baked cheesecake, that is a warm jiggly mound of sweetness and air, do you put it in the fridge to have after supper? Of course not!

Trix was tired and sore, her injuries have taken a toll; falling on the wet cobbles in Nara park bruised her tailbone, deer bites on her arms and legs, full of snot and tickly cough. She opted for instant ramen while I was determined to get something more interesting in Kuromon market.

It was mostly closed, but one stall happily served me Wagyu beef skewers, gyoza and beer, using their “Supervised by Michelin restaurants” sign to charge me an eye watering amount of yen.

Not exactly full I meandered until I found a yakitori bar, much more like it. Skewers of freshly grilled bits of chicken and ice cold Sapporo. Sorted.

Back to the hotel, fold up the laundry (which Trix kindly supervised the cleaning of), think about packing, another beer, and making plans for the journey to Hiroshima tomorrow.

Happy and tired.