Hard Rockin' All Over The World

Hard Rock Café

Fukuoka

After any long stretch away from home, one begins to really miss the home comforts. I’ve gone into this at some length in the past, so I shan’t hark on too much. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve adapted and compromised to a certain degree, and when necessity calls for it, I’ve handed over vast sums of cash-monies for such simple things as cheese and marmite. Recently, however, on thing I’ve really missed is a ruddy good burger, since the Japanese “hamburg steak” is a mushy, flavourless gloop of supposed burger meat.

And so, as part of my Golden Week vacation, I decided to treat myself to that old favourite of mine, the Hard Rock Café. It’s somewhat of a necessity for me as a global traveller to check out Hard Rocks in each new city I find myself in, and in passing through Fukuoka on my way to Korea, I figured I had to drop in.

I cracked a nostalgic smile for my Cardiff days as I approached the Fukuoka Hard Rock, with its neon guitar and crashed Cadillac (not quite as cool as the King Kong that hangs off the roof of Hard Rock Tokyo), and as I was seated at my table by one of the many delightfully peppy young waitresses, I began to salivate with anticipation for what was to come.

After some confusion over my Long Island Iced Tea (why the hell would I go to Hard Rock and order a regular iced tea? Silly girl), I tucked into a hearty plate of nachos, covered in more cheese than I think exists in the entirety of the rest of Japan, and a BBQ bacon cheeseburger, its saucy, beefy magic only marred slightly by the addition of just a few too many caramelised onions.

With my appetite sated, I retired to the giant guitar-shaped bar for a few more drinks; another, less good than the first, Iced Tea, followed by a mediocre Mai Tai. I couldn’t complain though, since the young girl serving was chirpier than an anime schoolgirl.

The one thing that did rather let down the Fukuoka franchise was the memorabilia. Hard Rock is known for its extensive collection of rock and roll knickknacks, and indeed most branches are adorned with some very impressive pieces of tat donated by the rich and famous. Unfortunately, Fukuoka seems to have been forgotten, with the collection here consisting almost solely of old posters and a few golden records. Of the few guitars there were, only that of Peter Frampton comes to mind. But they do have Debbie Harry’s shoes outside the toilets.

Despite the niggles in the décor, Hard Rock Fukuoka was a great night out; food was the standard Hard Rock fare (though a lot less salty than the UK branches thankfully), and the staff were bright, bubbly and happy to help. Stepping out into the night with my bag of merchandise, I felt a sense of warmth and reminiscence that brought a wistful smile that rarely occurs out here in the Nippon.

Hard Rock Fukuoka; been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.