The Mall Zoo

The first time I saw a capybara was in Osaka. I was out for a brisk evening stroll along the ocean, making my way towards the light of a distant Ferris wheel. The January air was frigid, and as it blew off the ocean and into my face, I began to deeply regret my decision to go out and explore.

I soon discovered that the base of the Ferris wheel was connected to a small shopping mall. After seeing signs for a petting zoo in the heart of the mall, I felt a magnetic draw inside.

I was greeted warmly by the staff, who insisted on taking my jacket but not my money. I ventured into the first room, which was full of various dogs and a single potbelly pig. The pig was old and heavy, and loved back scratches.

The final room, the melting pot, housed owls perched on wooden stands, kangaroos and joeys, and capybaras. I’m embarrassed to admit that this was my first time ever seeing a capybara. It looked like a giant groundhog, which made me feel inexplicably unsettled but also made me laugh.

As a foreigner living in Asia, I sometimes felt like a zoo animal too. I found myself doing the same things to those animals that were done to me—taking indiscreet photos or touching them as they walked by. They just kept on living life, seemingly unbothered. They were happily eating and basking in the attention. I vowed to do the same.