Japan

My travelling days are well and truly over. One country I enjoyed visiting was Japan; twice, both autumn visits. I loved it - being anonymous in a crowd, the bustle, the order in the chaos, (or is it vice versa), the politeness, the adaptability and tradition, the little restaurants where with sign language and laughter assisted by green tea, coffee or beer one makes oneself understood. Ancient Kyoto is a most exquisite city and the potter Kanjiro’s studio there is a fascinating shrine to art.

My first visit was to a conference at Hiroshima University. I visited the peace park – a group of giggling school girls stepped aside and gestured me to ring the peace bell. What can I say except how I responded to a drunk belligerent Japanese businessman who asked me at Kyoto “Why did you drop the bomb?” I said, “It must not happen again, Kampai.” He poured us both another whisky. “It must not, my friend, Kampai.” We sipped silently contemplating past enmities and shared humanity.

After the conference I travelled where the trains took me. At Tokyo the Tourist Board had given me a chit to hand to a taxi driver. It said something like ‘take this guy to a traditional Japanese inn.” It worked. They had warned me there would be little English spoken and I would have to sleep on the floor. At each hostelry I was treated everywhere with courtesy and great hospitality.

I went as far south as Beppu in Kyushu, a major hot springs area where I had a black sand sauna. I arrived at the bathhouse just ahead of a Canadian girl. I stopped to look around while she went to the entrance. When I followed I discovered she’d been charged for both of us. She said ‘my shout.’ In the men’s area two old ladies undressed and showered me before burying me in the steaming black sand. The young nubile attendant ignoring me hovered near two Japanese businessmen.

After I’d been there a while my two ladies came and unceremoniously pulled me out and led me to the shower. I was feeling very languid and I got irritated as they hurried me through my dressing. At the very moment I emerged into the foyer the Canadian walked out of the women’s area. We briefly talked before going off in separate directions. She’d had the same experience. I could see bewilderment on the receptionists’ faces. Strange Westerners! As far as I could see there had been no communication between the two areas. Strange Asians!

People would approach me in the street, “you speak English” and on my affirmation offer me a coffee or a beer in return for hearing their pronunciation and explaining things in the phrase book. In the trains old ladies seeing I had no food pressed boiled eggs and mandarins upon me. I was male and a stranger on my own. The words of poet James Brown are apposite, “I am important/ and unnecessary.” I felt safe.

In 1995 I went back to discuss the mutual exchange teacher scheme. After meetings I explored Tokyo again, its museums, shops and restaurants. I gave a briefing to language assistants coming to work in New Zealand and Australian schools. There were two side trips, one to earth-quake ravaged Kobe. In the office buildings there were still unopenable buckled doors.

The other was north to Fukushima with which province I was trying to negotiate a new type of teacher exchange. Meetings over I was taken on a tour of the city and countryside Maples and other deciduous trees splashed whole hillsides with colour. They took me to a craft area where I painted a traditional doll to the amusement of a number of middle-aged Japanese woman tourists. One made a comment and others laughed and laughed, it sounded ribald. My guide said, “she says you would make a good Father Christmas with your beard and she would like to borrow you.” I’m confident the comment was more crude than that.