From the Diary of Hazel Bucklin 1923 - 1924
Donald and I got in to the rickshaw again, and we went on to see a man, Mr. Kanaga who runs a social settlement. We found his house, but he was out,
so we did not see the settlements. We passed many little stores. There were rolling shops, with motors, and in these were great tubs of rice and
meal, all open to the dust, and there was much fruit. There were a lot of delicatessen stores too; I noticed the absence of those in the Motomachi.
There were many houses too. They did not have real walls; all the houses here are very open, and these had only “slats”--that’s the only way I can describe them--flat bars about an inch wide, and quite close together, perpendicular to the ground--with inside a quite transparent screen like a porch screen, so that we could see the people inside fairly plainly. There were straw mattings on the floor, and the rooms were quite bare.
Whenever we stopped or paused a second, the people crowded around us, staring, smiling, and talking, as much interested and as friendly as could be. It was a section where few foreigners go. We left the rickshaws, and went by street car to a foreign restaurant, where we had a most peculiar table d’hote dinner. I think it must have been French. Donald ate the soup (potato or bean), bread, ice cream, and grabbed a little cake before I noticed--just stuffed his mouth with it. He was very tired, and quite bad; the tops were life savers for a while, he was so pleased with them. Much of the dinner I couldn’t eat, but it was all well-cooked, and nicely served. After dinner we took rickshaws and came back to the ship. Donald was very tired and went right to sleep. The rickshaws are very comfortable, with big rubber tired wheels, and the trot the boys take is quite fast, and as easy and even as a train. The idea is unpleasant at first, but one soon gets used to it.