Anecdotes # 4: Hostel and Downtown

April 25, 2008

Night 2: Friday, March 21st
Kyoto

In the lobby of the BaKpaK Hostel (or perhaps I should call it the common room?) had two sofas, a coffee table, and a huge TV. There was a computer in the corner with free Internet access. Near the sofa were pictures of famous sites in Kyoto. Near the TV was a collage of Japanese anime video covers.

In the days that would come, we would take over that lobby. In the morning, we’d put our instant coffee or chamomile tea on the coffee table and eat our bread on the couch. We’d flip through the morning news programs to see the weather—but inevitably, Jenny or Hedy would just go online to check. In the evening, we’d drop everything and crash. Jenny would lay across Hedy’s lap like a housecat. Once, Jenny threw a fit in the lobby. Once, we tried on kimonos and took pictures in the lobby. Once, I spoke for an hour to a girl who lived in Germany in the lobby. Other people might pass through, but for the next three days we owned the lobby.

For now, however, we sat in the lobby and tried to figure out our next move. We were hungry. We hadn’t eaten lunch. (“We’ll eat when we get there.”) It was now 4:30 and we were thinking dinner.

“There’s an Indian restaurant on the map. How about Indian food?”

“You’re in Japan and you want Indian food?” I said.

“We’ll have lots of time to eat Japanese food.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I mean, I eat Japanese food all the time.”

We set out. It was beautiful weather and now that we weren’t lost and our luggage had been deposited, we could enjoy it. A river ran through the city downtown. We walked along it as the afternoon cast long shadows.

We never did find that Indian restaurant. We got lost somewhere around the bridge and ended up in the wrong direction. But I spied a ramen shop and we ate there. The shop was small and utilitarian—that is to say, it didn’t have much atmosphere. The ramen was decent, but my friends loved it.

Afterwards I wanted ice cream, but there are few ice cream shops in Japan. We wandered. It was getting dark. We found a street lit with restaurants and wandered down, looking at the people. We found a park with low swings and a seesaw. At some point, we forgot the ice cream and became obsessed with our wandering. We wandered into Gion, home of the geisha, but we didn’t know it at the time.

Once—and I remember this clearly—we saw a woman in a red kimono and white face makeup pass us along the street. I think she was a maiko—a geisha’s apprentice.

I’ve seen ordinary women in kimonos, but they never paint their faces white. I’ve seen girls dressed up as geishas posing near famous temples. But those girls are followed by a photographer. This woman was out at night, walking quickly as if she had somewhere to be. And we were near Gion. In hindsight, I think she was a geisha.

“Quick, take a picture,” Jenny said.

But I froze. I didn’t.