One of the first things to know about Osaka is that people stand on the right of escalators and stride up on the left. This distinguishes the rough-and- ready western city from Tokyo, the eastern capital, where people do precisely the reverse. In Japan, where conventions carry the weight of law, it is an act of rebellion, even a declaration of independence. Whenever I pull into Shin-Osaka station, two hours and thirty-six high-speed minutes from Tokyo, I never fail to picture an escalator, somewhere on the border of eastern and western Japan, where the rules are in dispute and mayhem has broken out.

Osaka, by day Japan's second-biggest city, is everything Tokyo is not. I love Tokyo. But I love Osaka precisely because it is not Tokyo - and decidedly so. It is brash and unkempt where Tokyo is refined and prissy. Its cuisine is hot, spicy and fried, not raw, delicate and thigh-thinningly-healthy. Its people are charming and pushy and always ready with a scowl or the brashest of smiles. In Tokyo, you can be bludgeoned to death by politeness.