© David Greenfield
…. a mysterious knock at my door later that
night ….. Who could it be, and why was someone there in the shadows? That
was the scenario at the close of my previous blog installment. Here’s how it
played out.
With breathing temporarily on hold, I cracked the door open in
measured increments staring straight ahead at all times. What, there was no one
there! Actually not true, I only had to cast my gaze downward. Rather than facing
the hulking sinister silhouette I envisioned, it was thankfully only the petite
ryokan hostess, hardly an imposing figure at four feet something tall. She
arrived repeating her one word message – geisha, geisha accompanied by a waving
hand motion beckoning - follow me. Despite her zero command of English, meaning further explanation was
not a possibility, in a flash I put two and two together. Here’s the theory: When first welcomed to the ryokan, my
wife and I passed through a comfortable communal sitting room replete with tea and
goodies. Aha, that’s it … a geisha musical performance was being offered to
guests that night! It seemed quite plausible as we followed along towards the main
entrance. Wait! Why is she now turning sharply to lead us up a darkened narrow
flight of stairs? What now?
Our destination: a suite with private party already well in
session. The revelers, none other than Otaro and my other hot pool friends, were
lolling around on cushions, a table laden with assorted finger foods, bottles
of Asahi beer, and sake was set before them. Two animated geishas were
attentive to their every want. A third strummed on a shamisen, something akin to a distant
guitar relative. Turns out the boys were enjoying a weekend company perk
provided by the Boss, a smiling likable older gent who would not allow my glass
of Asahi to remain only partially full.
We were invited as honored guests. Otaro picked up our hot
pool ‘conversation’ where previously left off. With each mention of Boston,
Uehara, Red Sox, or Tazawa, another round of sake was enthusiastically poured.
As the strumming droned on and the geishas flitted about and the laughter and
good cheer intensified, my wife and I sensed it was time to signal ‘nine
innings, game over’, and gracefully work our way to the exit. Amid
the raucous revelry, somehow we managed to slip out; everyone else partied on.
Before saying sayonara, check out the upper right corner of this page to sign up and automatically receive these posts. Visit my web site anytime to view Galleries, Photo-essays, and read previous blog-posts.
Seventh inning stretch - Otaro, geishas, Carol and me
