Osaka is not a city I could live in. But it's one I keep coming back to.
There’s a specific kind of energy there louder, rawer, less polished than Kyoto, that I find genuinely fascinating, even as it exhausts me. It's the kind of city that demands your attention rather than earning it quietly.
This issue came together across that contrast. A late train, a roastery tucked behind a shotengai, a legendary pop idol turned jazz icon, and a shelf full of miniature strangers watching me work.
Let’s get into it.
01 / THE PULSE - Kitahama, After Hours
Kitahama in Osaka is where I always start.
Before the city fully takes over, there's a window, somewhere between the station exit and the river, where Osaka still feels navigable. The lanterns, the narrow alleys, the signage bleeding red into the wet pavement. It's not quiet exactly, but it's human-scaled in a way the rest of the city rarely is.
I took this frame on one of those walks. It's the version of Osaka I actually come back for, not the spectacle of Dotonbori, but these in-between pockets where the energy is still there but you can breathe inside it.
02 / THE BREW - Coffee Roastery Neel, Kita-Umeda
Osaka's coffee scene has always lagged behind Kyoto, Tokyo, even Fukuoka. But that's changing, and Coffee Roastery Neel in Kita-Umeda is exactly the kind of place that signals the shift.
They have several locations across the city, but this one north of Umeda is the move. Calmer, easier to find a seat, and far enough from the tourist circuit to feel like a genuine local discovery. The facade alone stops you in your tracks, and inside, all curves and warm materiality, it feels more like a design object than a cafe.
The roasting happens on-site, and the beans back up the ambition. But honestly, don't sleep on the pastries. Their chocolate coconut cake has been living rent-free in my head since the first visit.
03 / THE SPIN -Akina Nakamori, AkinaNote
If you want to understand the moody, sophisticated side of 1980s Japanese pop, you look at Akina Nakamori. While the rest of the world hyper-focuses on mainstream City Pop, Nakamori was always the alternative icon, darker, more dramatic, and fiercely independent.
This July, her legendary acoustic and jazz-infused project Akina Note is finally getting a proper double-vinyl remaster. It’s a brilliant, mature reimagining of her catalog, stripping away the heavy 80s synthesizers in favor of smoky, late-night jazz arrangements and raw vocal textures.
Perfect for those quiet Kyoto evenings when the rain hits the machiya roof and you just want to pour a neat whisky. Pre-orders are live, and like most quality Japanese represses, this won’t sit on the shelves for long.
04 / THE SIGNAL - Decole Concombre
I didn't plan to start this collection. It just happened.
The Decole Concombre figures are everywhere in Japan, boutiques, concept stores, the corner zakka shop you almost walk past, and they have this quiet gravitational pull that I've stopped fighting. Small, hand-painted, thematically obsessive. Each series has its own universe: forest animals, rainy day cats, seasonal frogs in tiny raincoats.
Mine have gradually colonized a shelf in the appartment. There's something pleasingly absurd about working on a deadline while a small ceramic bear in a beret watches from the corner. They carry no utility whatsoever, and that's entirely the point.
In a life full of optimized objects and deliberate purchases, a Concombre figurine is a small act of pure, unreasonable joy.
05 / THE THOUGHT - The Productive Disorder
Osaka is often described as the anti-Kyoto. Louder, blunter, less precious. And there's truth in that but what I keep coming back to is how collective Osaka feels.
The chaos there is shared chaos. The queues outside a takoyaki stand at midnight, the salaryman packs crossing an intersection, the market vendors calling out to nobody in particular, it's a city where being in public means being genuinely among people, not just adjacent to them.
Japan is often celebrated for its order and its quiet. But there's another Japan, less discussed, that runs on communal noise and the particular warmth of a crowd that isn't hostile. Osaka is its capital.
It's a reminder that discipline and stillness aren't the only forms of harmony. Sometimes, the most grounded thing you can do is let the city be loud.
And finally, I'd like to share my latest video with you, where we set off to discover a hidden gem near Fukuoka
If this issue resonated, the best way to support the journal is simple: forward it to someone who appreciates the same things. A Japan lover, a coffee obsessive, a city pop convert. They'll know.
Stay grounded, and see you next week.
-Nicolas
