A yellow truck

We ended up on a sunny beach.

There was a double strand of tiny food trucks, as I saw so many of them, around the streets.

This smallness is certainly a necessity: houses are often lean-tos, with little space around them and, indeed, sometimes space for cars is carved out under the house, building stilted.

But it is also, it seems to me, a matter of pragmatism: bigger trucks, perhaps, in some cases, are actually not needed.

They served onigiri, some of these food trucks: rice triangles held together by rice starch, the filling of which you can choose. Beers and drinks, too, and other things I didn't pay too much attention to.

And French fries, coming first in a French fry contest: rankings abound here. With sometimes hilarious effects: for example, when you notice the sign on the street there to the right, they make "The Second Most Delicious Ice Cream Melon Bread in the World."

The important thing is to participate, they say. I think they're right.