A Night in Sapporo

By Lucas Marquardt 

I’m not saying I haven’t heard better versions of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.” In fact, every other version I’ve ever heard was, from a technical standpoint, much better. But the rendition this Japanese bartender was unleashing would, no doubt, go down as my favorite. 

It was shortly after midnight, and I was sitting in a bar in Sapporo I’d stumbled on by accident. Earlier in the week, I’d covered the G1 Japan Cup in Tokyo, then spent a few days at Paca Paca Farm on the island of Hokkaido. Now, I had a night to myself in Japan’s fourth-largest city, and was intent on doing anything that didn’t involve horse racing. 

I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t know much about Sapporo before visiting, other than the fact its namesake beer is produced here. This, despite the fact that, with 1.9 million people, it’s bigger than all but four American cities. 

As I set out on the streets of Sapporo, it was cold and blustery, so I ducked into a place called RAD Brothers Bar for some hot food and a beer. The name of the place, and its menu, seemed to be informed by the movie Point Break. The top of the menu read, “Come in a get f**ked up,” and each drink option came with one of three emoticons. A map key explained what they meant: RAD recommended, Good Times Drink, Good Night Drink. The Mind Eraser, for example, was a Good Night Drink. Despite the frattish tone, the place was pleasant (if empty), with a friendly local bartender who wore round John Lennon glasses and said he’d never been to the U.S. On a small stove behind the bar, he made me an incongruous meal of tacos and edamame. I ordered a Good Times Drink. A successful start to the night. 

I looked up to find my next destination. In Japan, bars aren’t located just on the ground level, like in the vast majority of those in the States (excepting hotel bars and the like). They might be 10, 15, 20 stories up. That isn’t so odd. But here’s the thing: many of these bars are nothing more than small, 15×15 rooms in an office building that might have more than a dozen such establishments. Without feeling crowded, they hold six, maybe eight people. 

That was the case with Bar Hot Lips, which I found on the 5th floor of a completely nondescript building. (Well, ‘found’ with the help of a guidebook recommendation.) Started in 1979 by proprietor Shigeki Sato, Bar Hot Lips opens at 8 p.m., closes at 5 a.m., and, if this night was anything go by, is frequented by artists and musicians who know Sato well. A few sat at one end of the low bar, chainsmoking and laughing with Sato, while a TV played a live American jazz/fusion performance. (RAD Brothers also was playing jazz/fusion. Weird.) 

I stayed for a drink and thanked Sato–who gave me his card–and decided to take the stairs when the elevator appeared stuck on a different floor. I made it to floor three when I heard some loud music coming from another small bar. Curious, I poked my head in. There sat two couples and the owner, a middle-aged Japanese woman, all singing karaoke. I gestured that I was sorry to bother, and quickly retreated. I didn’t make it halfway down the stairs, however, when the owner came running after me. “Come in, come in!” she said. 

I figured this was an opportunity I probably shouldn’t pass up, and went back in to meet everyone. I didn’t catch any names, but they looked like they’d just got out of a business meeting and were letting down. Everyone smiled and said hello. I ingratiated myself by buying a round of sake, and we spent the next hour doing our best to communicate, all the while with someone manning the microphone. “Boss is crazy,” laughed one of the women, more than once, while pointing at the bar owner. She didn’t seem wrong. 

One of the men encouraged me to pick a song and I politely declined. But when his partner got behind the bar–I’m assuming she worked there, too–and let loose with “Bad Romance,” I naturally joined in with the rest of the group. The fact they didn’t really know the lyrics they were singing didn’t affect their exuberance. The man followed up with a version of The Eagles’ “Take it Easy” that could only be described as pure gold. 

When I left an hour later, the man gave me as earnest a bear hug as a person can give, and his partner and the bar owner walked me down to the main door, waving goodbye as I made my way out into the still-busy streets. 

This is easily the best part of traveling, whether it’s around North American or the world: meeting people that, for the hour or two that you’re in their presence, actually become friends. Even if you don’t know their names. 

I closed things out with a stop at a late-night ramen joint, where I had my favorite dish so far on this trip, a bowl of what I believe was tantamen ramen. It consisted of noodles covered with a thick, incredibly flavorful broth made with chiles and sesame seeds, all topped with minced pork. 

Well, on to Hong Kong with a stop first in Macau. Stay tuned… 

(Oh, one last thing. We typically wait until the end of December to publish the TDN’s annual rankings of exercise equipment. But we felt, after seeing this piece of machinery, we could call a winner with a few weeks left in the year. Discovered in a hotel gym in Tokyo, it is currently being called, by us, The Wizard, after TDN staffer Sarah Andrew’s J-bred OTTB. Or maybe that’s not how it got its name.)