Sayonara Japan

Our final breakfast in Japan is at the soba and udon house our local train station. I have a set of zaru cold soba and Japanese curry with rice. The soba is delicious soaked with the cold tsuyu sweet dipping sauce. The curry is potent with curry sauce and typically sweet. Our server is a cross little Japanese woman reminiscent of Seinfeld's Soup Nazi. In a fortnight filled with smiling nodding always-willing-to-please hospitality workers, it's almost endearing to have a moody woman who jabs at the correct place we should've placed our dirty noodle bowls, and who points aggressively at the waste paper bin where I'm supposed to deposit our used tissues.

We cheer ourselves up with the thought of what lies ahead: a visit to Pierre Herme to worship at his temple of macarons. We make our way to the Seibu department at Shibuya and almost tremor with excitement when we are greeted by the gleaming glass cabinets beholding cream-sandwiched yoyos in a palate of pastels. One of each we decide, and feast on them later on the shinkansen to the airport. We have rose, pistachio, chocolate, citron, vanilla, arabesque (apricot with apricot flowers) and caramel fleur de sel.

The citron is the absolute winner. "It's like a chewy lemon tart" gasps Veruca. They are all exquisite with perfectly crisp shells, moist chewy interiors and decadent fillings sandwiched within.

Some last minute shopping, including a stop at Yodobashi Camera (the shop at Shinjuku is made up of seven buildings!) before we hop on a shinkansen to Osaka and another train to Kansai airport.

Sayonara Nihon. The trip was oishii desu ne.