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I went to the UN Memorial Cemetery for the Korean War in Busan last July. It’s a cemetery in Korea for Korean War participants from a dozen countries or so. Very few of the graves are for Americans as most of those were moved to the USA long ago.
The experience was very moving. Several Korean people there asked me where I was from and when I told them the US, they were very thankful. When I told them my dad was in the Korean War they were even more appreciative. I explained that my father’s job during the war was more or less a desk job in Japan, but they said they didn’t care. The fact that he was involved in any way was all that mattered. One guy got down on the ground and started bowing and crying. He made me cry too.
I love bacon. I love a good pulled-pork sandwich. However, I don’t like to see where these items came from. I like to buy my bacon sliced and wrapped in a refrigerated section of a grocery store, not outside in a plastic basket (for who knows how long) on a hot and humid day with bugs swarming and smells so intense that your nostrils are singed. Marketing is a bit different depending on the culture I suppose.

May 18th National Cemetery
Today’s photo was the scene as I departed 天王寺駅 on the night before I was to fly to Korea last summer. I had an early morning flight so I figured Tennoji was a good place to stay in order to get to the Osaka Airport (KIX) quickly the next morning.
With so many choices of things to do (3-story 24/7 McDonald’s, pachinko, love hotels, and on and on) I opted for none of these. Instead I found a Yoshinoya and enjoyed a 280 yen bowl of gyudon.