The slow regard for silent things or Things I never thought I’d say – “You’re french, celebrating an american holiday, in an irish pub in Kyoto.”
At 7pm I was laying in my hotel bed (royoken futon on tutami matt floors), exhausted but not tired. I didn’t want to eat, it was very cold out, I didn’t pack winter clothes, and the sun had said good bye for two hours already.
I had tackled another lovely hike to the top of mount Inari and the 1000 vermilion gates that lead you to the shrine. This might have been my favorite thing so far.
I had already walked the city for some time but it was cold out and my back pack was heavy. I checked into my Japanese hotel and found my traditional room charming until I realized there were no showers and the cleansing option as the public baths in the basement. (the men and woman bathe separately.) I found I didn’t have it in me for this last adventure/new experience. I needed my cleansing process to be restorative and I anticipated this to be more exhausting with yet another comfort zone being challenged.
It was only 5pm and I opted to find a massage parlor as my pack and all the walking made me body ache.
First of all, of note – I feel that I need to showcase the manor of which I travel. My goal when visiting a city is to absorb, be respectful and participate. I usually try to dress like I am a local, I take public transportation, and do as I am able, understand. In Europe I have been able to get by with these ideals quite well. Here in Japan, I stick out like a sore thumb. It is literally impossible for me to blend in. Kyoto has had a lot more tourists then what I saw in Tokyo, but most days I am the only anglo saxon person I see all day. The culteral differences are just that. It is a whole new world. And while it is delightful and intriguing I find I do not know “how to be” at any given moment.
So I walked into the massage parlor and pointed to a picture of a woman having her bare back massaged. Somehow I agreed to a certain amount of time and after a few minutes I was shown into a room and given a pair of weird panties, a pair of drawstring shorts an a tshirt to put on. At this point Im wondering what kind of massage I’m going to get or if at all as someone comes in with a bowl of hot water for my feet to be put in. I of course am just enjoying the ride but I really do want a massage so I ask the girl who doesn’t understand me. she disappears and another girl shows up and then tells me to undress and keep my weird panties on and lay face down through a version of charades and giggles from both of us. She leaves the room and I undress. I realize their tables are not like our tables back at home and I’m unsure if I’m supposed to be on top of the sheets, under the sheer sheet or under the towel on the bare bench. I struggle for a moment with how to proceed and then decide on under the sheer sheet since all I have is my weird undies on. I guessed wrong. She came in and gasped a little (at least I think. I was laying facedown with my bare backside+ weird panties to be viewed) and added a towel on top of me. I wanted to laugh so hard but it was an open air parlor and didn’t want to disturb anyone. As I held in my laughter it slowly turned into tears and I lost my control to keep them in as she began to massage aching back.
I lay there for the next eternity letting each tear take acknowledgments of my discomforts for the last 5 days of not knowing, the expenditure of energy in figuring things out and being careful to be gracious and kind to everyone around me. Let me tell you, this takes it out of you.
Post massage (which proved to be great) I popped into a restaurant where I was able to figure out the touch screen ordering system and leaned on the example photos and guessed as to the ingredients of what exactly I just ordered. Except french fries. I know it’s cheating to order these when I should be trying new things but I needed a comfort good. As I sat down I noticed a anglo saxon man sitting two seats over looking tired and ragged as myself. Without words I felt I understood his exhaustion and in my head I found myself wanting to ask him to join me for a beer. There was no way for me to conveniently do this because of the layout of the seats and the noise level of the place. So I sat at my seat staring at the wall in front of me waiting for my food to arrive. I felt that he noticed me too and for a second our camradary was shared – ” the look book for ‘lost in translation’ Two foreigners meet and find consolation with each and proceed together with their naïvety of the culture and language”. I felt his gaze again as I dug through my pocket and hoped he would say something. I gave him a half glance and smile that said ” I too am traveling alone in this foreign place. While I am brave and embracing all these things, I welcome your camradary ” … At that moment my french fries were plopped in front of my face and I feel their presence broke the spell between us. I was no longer the wayfarer pioneer but the young lost thing ordering french fries for dinner. Before I even popped a fry into my mouth he was at the door hat in hand and as the door shut my fish head soup and what I think is chicken over rice is also placed in front of my face.
I didn’t want to go out drinking, which is a sure way to meet people. But I also didn’t want to call it a night at only 7pm. I knew if I had a travel partner I would be in a bar somewhere drinking sake or the like so I decided to just do it. It is hard traveling alone as a female! You are either perceived as hitting on people when you interact with the or being hit on. Maybe It’s just my perspective.. maybe. I found a bar and ordered a Japanese beer. I sat there for awhile listening to the couple next to me speaking english. Expats.. but for some reason I didn’t feel like intruding into their catching up session. Not long after I heard someone ask “where are you from?” and I turned to find a geeky looking Japanese guy asking inquisitively. His name is Jun he comes to this area to practice his english on foreigners. He had many questions and each time I answered his eyes would pop wide with excitement (which made me laugh). I got to ask him how to say “cheers” and “lets take a selfie” and it felt nice to chat with someone as I realized it had been a few days since I had had that ability. I finished my beer and said good bye. It was stil only 9:30pm and Halloween night. They city was bustling with the Saturday night fever and despite the cold the youth were out in force.
I opted for one more stop since it was on the way and I found myself walking into a very packed, halloween filled irish pub. I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer and then found a corner to observe. There was a costume contest and I had arrived just in time for the judging. There was a white guy trying to get past me and I was tired of waiting for conversations to happen and this point and so I jumped in and asked him where he was from. “I am french” he says and I laugh myself silly….
