JU/IE DECUYPER

oh, dierbaar belgië belgium, my dearest
slovakia
vuno
borderland
chitta prasadanam
it’s not me, it’s you
︎︎︎ oh-konomiyaki
indonesia on my mind

about julie

︎︎︎scroll down for some words on japan

Japan. my introvert journey from Tokyo to Hiroshima with few social stops along the way; sharing conversations over sake wine with Sonoko and Don in Tokyo, travelling along misty Fuji and hostels with their own private onsen. seeking refuge from Hagibis’ rage, I’ve spend most of my time in Kyoto indoors in the company of hungry thirty-something Vietnamese-Americans. in Naoshima I wanted to stay forever under Nishizawa's spell, but unfortunately ran out of time and money and left Kusama and her pumpkins by midnight. from my reserved train seat, I admired an unfinished painting, falling in love with the almost-fall colors. in between there was enough time for contemplating, taking photographs, lost in translation until my train of thought wandered off to what I would be munching away for dinner later: takoyaki, ramen, gyoza or streetfood-on-steroids. when it comes to food concepts, the Japanese always do it better. the smells at dusk revealing the smallest izakaya’s lit by a single lantern and bustling food stalls. Dotonbori’s sizzling heat announced yet another Osakan night with cravings and way too little budget. but thank you food gods for okonomiyaki; in my mouth the mayonnaise blends together with a perfect crispy cabbage pancake. what a love story!
Japan, until we meet again, i say wakare - farewell.