Dark Whisky Techno Geisha

Last Sunday, I had agreed to meet Ikeyan to go jacket shopping for the dance show. Though that turned out as a futile effort, he did manage to buy shoes really cheaply thanks to a friend working in ABC Shoe Mart, and I - having finally received a long-awaited piece of plastic in the mail - managed to buy my Franc-Franc sofa, though the payment only worked using 2 installments. Since I'd been reckoning with 4 installments in my recent budget calculus, this means I'll be broke until February. No problem! Sofa = happiness > money. It's being delivered on Friday morning and I don't know if it will fit through my door.

A bit later, we met up with his ex-girlfriend from a year or so ago, who was tall by Japanese standards, and I realized Mark's statement about the consequences of living in Asia for a while - you grow tall girl fetish - is an unavoidable truth. I've only been here for seven months, but it's noticeable already. Anyway, she was a nice girl and a relatively strong drinker, though not very daring in thought and speech. We went to a yakitori place (first time for me). Food and beer were good, and around 10 we decided to head to another place for drinks.

All I told Ikeyan was "small", though I emphasized that it was not actually that important. He took us to a place around Sanjo, which wasn't that small but was exactly what I'd been hoping for. Special. No sign outside, it was on the third floor of one of countless buildings with bars and/or apartments in them in the narrow streets making up that area. Though we made fun of him for getting lost a couple of times, in retrospect it's amazing he could find the place at all.

After climbing the stairs to the entrance, passing another bar on the second floor that did have a sign advertising its existence, I figured this might be interesting. Having been to tiny bars in Kobe and elsewhere before, I knew that Japanese bars are more often than not plain cool, so my hopes were high. I was in for a pleasant surprise.

The only light in the place came from a bunch of tealight-size candles spaced about two meters apart, and the music was the kind of spacey hiphop I'd ventured into a bit recently, which just begs for the consumption of hallucinogens. Since it's so dark, there's no point in having a drinks list, so there is none. The place has an oblong shape with plenty of seating, but on weekdays (this was a Sunday) there's barely a soul. There was one person besides the three of us when we entered, and we moved to a corner where I was unable to see the bar area - our own little spacecave.

I only drink whisky on relaxed, special occasions, wishing to savor the taste, and this was one of those occasions. Free popcorn, which simultaneously did and didn't fit in with the setting. It took some time for relaxed conversation to come up, since we were tired and couldn't see each other. When Ikeyan finally did mange to break the silence, it wasn't too surprising - circumstances considered - that the topic was my field of study, what with all the beginning-of-the-universe stories and other abstract space stuff. So I had another attempt at explaining in Japanese what it is I study, and I think I did a better job than last time.

At some point, Ikeyan called his ex-girlfriend over and whispered something in her ear, why I couldn't imagine. Turned out that outside my range of vision (which barely existed at all in that darkness), a geisha had just entered the bar in full traditional outfit and was sitting at the bar. Since our experience with geishas was limited to seeing them get in and out of taxis in Ishibei-Koji street in Gion (which Lonely Planet claims to be "possibly the most beautiful street in Asia"), we kept poking our heads around the corner of our spacecave to see what she was up to.

Observing her change from not speaking to anyone to speaking very openly with the bartender, all the while with perfect posture...is the guy next to her her customer? But now he's leaving... Or is she waiting for her next customer? That seems likely, since you usually don't see geishas (especially in their formal outfits) unless they're at work. ... No one seems to be coming, though, and she's awfully chattery with the bartender. Okay, here's an idea ...

And so we managed to figure out by heading past her one-by-one on restroom trips that she had, in fact, come alone.

You must realize that I have no words for describing the change in the already fascinating atmosphere that her presence invoked. But since, gyaku ni (to use a Japanese expression), words are all I have, it's up to you to use your power of imagination and enter the realm of this particular story. To recap, it was 1 am on a Sunday night, with most people off to bed for an early rise the next morning, and we were in a black spacecave whose nature was revealed only by a rough Japanese fellow rising from the darkness every once in a while to refill our drinks. And then a white-faced geisha came in and sat herself at the bar.

We wondered whether we'd be able to strike up a chat, but I was definitely not up for committing a potential social sin by approaching her directly. After all, it's well-known that the only way to meet geishas is through elaborate preparations by a mutual acquaintance, and usually there's lots of money involved. But Ikeyan, being the awesome fellow he is (I'm happy to say we're becoming good friends), headed for the bartender and asked him whether it would be possible to talk to her. As expected, but still disappointing, the answer was no. Oh well, things are interesting as they are already, so let's just enjoy our evening the three of us, we decided.

A couple of minutes later, however, the bartender made a quick appearance, disappearing before he actually appeared, leaving us the words "it's alright". Um, what exactly? And behold, the geisha graciously enters our spacecave. I move over a bit so she can sit. Next to me. The four of us start talking, though we were so flabbergasted she did most of it, while the bartender (who turned out to be a friend of hers) brings us expensive tequila and CDJs a bit in the shadows. It's still Sunday night and we're still in a black spacecave, but now we have techno, tequila and the company of a geisha.

Not just any geisha, as it turns out. Originally from Yokohama, she came to Kyoto when she was sixteen, backed by her mother and opposed by her father, and followed the traditional (and only) way up the ladder towards becoming a geisha. From fragments of information, I was able to gather that she must be around 36 now, though I'm not entirely sure. 36 is a respectable age for a geisha, and since there are so few geisha around in this day and age, I thought she might have a lot of experience. Indeed, she wasn't hesitant to tell us all about it: "You're from Holland? I've never been there .. but I go on business trips now and then, so I've been to Dubai, Los Angeles, Paris and so on." Furthermore, she regularly meets with foreign politicians: "You know the G8? [last June on Hokkaido, with a preliminary meeting of foreign ministers in Kyoto] Yeah, I was quite busy around that time."

In fact, ever since I read Memoirs of a Geisha and some semi-classical Japanese literature which included geishas, I'd been very eager to speak to one myself, since among the many arts they must master (of which tequila drinking sure as hell seems to be one these days) is the wonderful art of conversation. I love conversation, especially good conversation, and I've become very aware over the past year or two that the latter is very difficult to find. So, having imagined a scenario like this (minus the black spacecave) a number of times previously, I was probably the most 'prepared' out of the three of us, and I was eager to make the most of this fantastic opportunity. Still, the combination of being trained in the art of conversation and consuming significant amounts of tequila meant any attempt of mine at feedback or questioning was like trying to jump through a waterfall without getting wet - she was on a roll.

I did manage to ask her things like what she does when abroad for business, since I couldn't imagine the tea ceremony, traditional dance and conversation (she doesn't speak much English, though more than her humility made me think) going off as smoothly in Dubai as they do in Kyoto. I loved her answer: before you set off for another country, study the culture of that country. Once you arrive, deal with cultural differences by compromising between the Japanese and the foreign culture. Thinking about it a bit more, I guess she wouldn't have any other choice, but it was still a wonderful moment of globalization to hear her say that.

She spoke in the friendly Kansai dialect that permits a level of formality in between the informal and the formal of normal Japanese, which fortunately I'm getting better at every day. And she seemed as much at home in our black spacecave as she would be in a tatami-covered tea-house room, all the while maintaining perfect posture and relaxation, pouring drinks and replacing burned-out candles. It was almost like the feeling you have when you know you're close to waking up and you're waiting for your dream to end.

After an hour or so, she found an excuse to leave us and sat herself back at the bar. I had some good spacey conversation with Ikeyan while the lady in our group crashed from the tequila, and the three of us left around 3 am. On the way out, we passed our new acquaintance at the bar, who told us goodbye and made me promise to bring my mother along to the bar someday, since she wanted to meet her. Despite the snow-white make-up, her face made it clear she was well beyond soberness by now, but her presence was still awe-inspiring.

I am very satisfied. Though deeply moved by this woman's presence, I was able to have a meaningful time with her, and though I can't find the right words here, I guess I was able to appreciate her in the way I think the Japanese people, particularly geisha clients, have traditionally appreciated them. A personal experience of a unique aspect of Japanese culture.

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Two notes: 1. The reason why she was in formal outfit was because she'd just come from a party with foreigners (who I can only assume must be powerful people) that required the outfit - even geishas dress normally, normally, when they head for drinks at their favorite bar. 2. I left out her name because I have her name card but can't read it.

P.S. I said I had a wonderful moment of globalization there, sparked by her talking about cultural compromise. Though I love the practice of cultural compromise, I can't help but think that if made into a standard, it would erode the uniqueness of cultures as it exists now. Much as I idolize it and strive to experience it, I fear my utopian version of the cultural mishmash of the future - as beautifully illustrated in my favorite anime Cowboy Bebop - might be a dream never to come true. Your thoughts and ideas are very welcome.