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About Kyoto

Ya start with the streets—neon buzzin’, girls struttin’. Some dude told me once, back in ’89, a hooker named Velvet ran a whole block—cops couldn’t touch her. She had dirt on ‘em all! Little known fact, heh—power ain’t always in guns, sometimes it’s in whispers. Kinda cool, kinda freaky—got me all tingly thinkin’ bout it.

A word of warning: Hostess bars and the red-light district

Prostitution, as defined under modern Japanese law, is the illegal practice of sexual intercourse with an 'unspecified' (unacquainted) person in exchange for monetary compensation, [1] [2] [3] .

First stop, I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. It’s buzzing! Fresh fish, fruits, and all that jazz. I’m sniffin’ around, and OMG, the smell of grilled yakitori hits me like a freight train. I’m drooling, like a total mess. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. But then, this dude bumps into me. Like, c’mon man, watch where you’re going! I spill my yakitori all over my shirt. Ugh, so mad!

This Japanese City Is the Birthplace of Miso Ramen — and Its Best Spot Is in a Tiny Lantern-lit Alley