By Mark
Greetings again. For those of you curious on how I got in this position, see Co-Worker Abuse.
In my preparations for my Japan trip, I attempted to make contact with someone in Japan who could assist me in experiencing the country at a level that eludes many tourists. Thanks to the Japan Guide here, I met my friend Kim, an American who was working for the government in Kamogawa, a resort town on the coast of the Boso Peninsula past Chiba. She was acting as a liason to Kamogawa's sister city in Wisconsin, which was near my home city of Chicago, Illinois.
I had worked hard all week and I was looking forward to getting out of Tokyo and seeing the countryside, and meeting Kim in person for the first time. Having procured my Japan RailPass, I hopped on the View Wakashio train out of the city. The ride was glass-smooth, and the service absolutely punctual. A vendor came down the aisle, and I bought an obento (box lunch) for a few hundred yen. I munched steadily as I watched the industrial complexes of Chiba roll by. My train pulled into Kamogawa a little after 5 pm, and I was met by Kim and one of her co-workers (who I cannot for the life of me remember her name).
It was at this time that they informed me we were all heading out on a karaoke (and drinking) outing with all her co-workers. We drove to a parking lot where we boarded a bus that was heading for the karaoke bar. I was immediately on my guard, not wanting to make Kim lose face because of my poor grasp of her office politics. I was on my best behavior for the night. Her co-workers all assumed I was her boyfriend, which was absolutely not the case. I stumbled through my most polite Japanese, as the bus started rolling.
The trip to the bar was mercifully short, and we were ushered into our private party room. For those of you who haven't had the opportunity to karaoke the Japanese way, it's a treat. In America, you are generally in a bar full of strangers belting it out. In Japan, you get your own booth, and the only people there are your friends and co-workers. It's slightly less embarrassing. There is a phone on a wall that you can order drinks and food with, which gets added to your bill. Like most things in Japan, you pay when you leave.
Drinks and food were immediately ordered, and I knew instinctively it was going to be a long night. Kim's co-workers took the same course as my co-workers, and tested me to see what I was made out of. They put octopus, and sashimi, and other foods in front of me to see if I was squeemish. They continually filled my glasses (sake AND beer) to find my capacity for alcohol. Due to youthful indiscretions in college, I have a fairly large tolerance for alcohol, and the proverbial cast-iron stomach. While the tests were going on, people were taking turns singing. Of course it rolled around to me, and I took the opportunity to roar out 'In Your Eyes' by Peter Gabriel. The reaction was favorable, and it gratified me to see I had not lost my decent tenor voice with all the smoke and drinking.
The end of the evening rolled around, and the time came for Kim to sing again. She chose one of her favorite songs 'Dancing Queen' by Abba, and slammed right into it. By this time, everyone was charmingly wasted, and Kim needed a little help. She pulled me to my feet, and I joined her, swinging our butts as we busted out a fairly offkey but enthusiastic harmony. We got a thunderous ovation, and more drinking ensued.
If I recall correctly, that night I stayed at a ryokan, which is a small hotel that provides traditional (i.e. futon, meals included, communal bath) accommodations. The owner was understandably somewhat leery of me, but I smiled and bowed a lot, and Kim worked her magic. I got a beautiful room, and went to bed.
My bath time was in the morning, so when I woke up I shuffled down to the bath in my yukata and geta. I got naked, sat down on a stool by a spigot and received a valuable lesson. Japanese water in the country is HARD, meaning it doesn't lather or rinse well. I had brought a bottle of body wash specifically for ofuro use, and it didn't rinse off worth a damn. Needless to say, you can't soak in the furo if you don't have all the suds off you. Nothing will cause you more grief than screwing up someone's bath.
I was stuck. Cold, soapy, and grumpy is not a good way to start the morning. Desperately seeking a solution, I looked around the room. At one of the other faucets, I noticed someone had left a bar of soap. I borrowed it, and scrubbed myself clean. This specially formulated stuff did the trick. It scoured the other soap off, and left me clean as a whistle.
With my body free of all contaminants, I slipped into the furo. My first impression was 'HOT!!!'. My next thought was 'This is nice, but I'll never be able to take a bath in America again. We just don't have a clue on how to do it right.' I sighed, slumped down in the tub (though it was large enough for several people), and placed my furoshiki (a small washcloth) on my forehead to cool it. I sat there motionless for many minutes, listening to the sound of the small waterfall in the corner trickle hot water into the pool. I had to meet Kim soon, but I didn't want to get out of the water.
About this time, another resident of the ryokan came in for his bath as I was hopping out. I said 'Oyaho gozaimasu' and smiled. He said 'Ohayo gozaimasu' by reflex and then did a huge double take. I imagine he didn't expect to see a naked gaijin in his bath that morning.
Well, I shall write more of my experiences on the coast soon.
