Kurashiki, 2005
My thoughts with Japan today.
My local newspaper – the one I deliver – isn’t published on Sundays, so I instead get the Toronto Sun. I had a hard time finding anything that inspired me until I came across an actual writing prompt, so I figured what the hell.
The prompt encourages people to enter onto the Sun’s facebook page the story of a memorable hotel stay. I couldn’t decide which one I should write about, so I’ll do them all. Considering how many rooms I’ve stayed in, there aren’t that many that are worth mentioning. After all, how memorable is one room over another in most cases?
There was my weekend with my ex – a rare ‘escape-the-kids’ weekend – when we got a theme room at the Fireside Inn in Kingston, Ontario. The theme itself wasn’t the best part however. What really tickled my fancy was the shower for two, complete with two shower heads, each with its own temperature control. I wish I could say I need one of those at home, but alas… the ex is still an ex.
The only really bad experience I can remember was in Kurashiki, Japan. Since I was headed out to a concert the night I was there, I decided not to rent a lamp… So I went back to the room with my corner-store bought spaghetti dinner and ate in the dark. The next morning when I took a shower, I found the bathtub to be so creaky I hurried as fast as I could through my shower. It would have been a short but embarrassing trip from room 305 to room 205 in that state of undress.
At the Grand Prince Hotel in Hiroshima, on the other hand, I was quite impressed with the bathroom in my room. Not only was the ceramic floor heated, but there was some sort of heating system behind the mirror as well, so there was a spot at just my height (I’m short and stereotypically so are Japanese people) that stayed clear from the steam of the shower. Very impressive. The view from my room was also out of this world.
Sunrise, Hiroshima
The last and second most impressive stay I’ve had in a hotel was at the Chateau Montebello in Montebello, Quebec. (Click the link.) It was really just up the street from where I lived at the time, and I needed a weekend away. My ex agreed to look after the kids so I took the cheapest room in the place, just for myself, for two nights. I was surprised to find a note from the management on the second day to say they’d made a mistake and double booked my room so they were moving me out. Paint a picture of yourself of an outraged, overworked mother, wearing the cheapest of clothing, carrying her luggage half in plastic shopping bags, standing at the front desk of a resort hotel that has entertained Prime Ministers and Presidents, (G-7 Summit) practically jumping up and down at the unfairness of it all. Got that? Okay. Now paint for yourself a picture of a woman luxuriating in the Pierre Elliot Trudeau suite (see the Deluxe River View Room) sitting back on a king sized bed gazing out the window at exquisitely manicured gardens, and beyond, a gorgeous view of the Ottawa River, and you’ve got my wonderful stay in a room for which I paid only a fraction of the price it was worth.
And the best place I’ve ever stayed? Has to be The Hochelaga Inn, in Kingston, Ontario.
So, there you have it. I encourage you to click the links. The only one I don’t have a link for is the one in Kurashiki – I don’t remember the name of the place, but I’m sure I’d recognize it if I ever go back. The town itself is beautiful, so I would encourage anyone to visit. Just check to make sure you don’t have to rent a lamp when you stay there and you should be safe.
Kurashiki, October, 2005
A flight to Tokyo on December 27th and coming back January 9th would cost me $1148.73.
Just sayin’.
Day 9 Prompt – Write a Story in 250 words or less about your favourite City
Now normally I’m not the vindictive type. I usually just let things go. But before my backdoor neighbour has a chance to move out (which she will any day) I’d love to be able to give her a little present in the form of a song.
Here is my letter:
Dear Natasha,
When I met you and became friends with you we had in common the fact that we both have children. You have six of them, which you repeatedly pointed out were little angels, I have a normal teenager who tends to swear (what teen doesn’t?) an autistic teenager who has tantrums, and a Deaf child who wants to be friends with your kids.
I didn’t really notice there was anything wrong with you until you commented on the fact that you’d traveled all over the world but would never go to a country like Japan because they weren’t Christian there. 
After a few weeks of summer break that year, and after having lent you all my DVD’s that teach kids how to speak American Sign Language in a fun way, you gave them back to me, saying that your children weren’t interested in playing with my son (they showed no indications that they felt this way) because of the way he showed his enthusiasm for actually having friends his own age by looking into your back yard and screaming with delight when he saw your kids doing something fun. You then went on to explain to me that I needed to teach him how to behave himself… after all, you didn’t have any problems making your kids behave.
So, Natasha, I leave you with this song. The heathen I am. And a big nakayubi to you.
No love,
Linda
To my readers: Please note, when (and if) you listen to this wonderful gem, the chanting at around 2:19. Apart from the fact that I can imagine myself singing along at the top of my lungs exactly the way Sakurai Atsushi belts it out from on top of the table on my deck, my teenaged son and a few of his friends (if I have my way) would be trudging slowly around a bonfire in my back yard, fully cloaked in robes with pointy hoods. Please also note that the lyrics don’t matter. It’s the thought that counts.
Gossamer Dream
Placed in morning light
Draped in gossamer wishes
I kneel to your pyre
When I visited Japan in 2005 I was struck by the beauty of the land with its mountains and valleys, towns nestled in between as though they had grown up from the ground and the way the Japanese make their culture known, from the most magnificent temples to the tiniest of window boxes.
But what most deeply affected me was the people themselves. Their capacity to give of themselves to a complete stranger without asking anything in return was astounding. I found that all I had to do was stop on a sidewalk and look at a map and someone would invariably come up to me and ask me if I needed help to find where I was going. I had people walk far out of their way to escort me to places I wanted to go. In fact, in Kyoto I did my best to get lost, just in order to have a reason to talk to people. But it wasn’t just the fact that they were helpful, it was the eagerness and the grace with which they offered.
I promised myself when I got on the plane to come back to Canada that if ever I had the opportunity to help a Japanese person I would go as far out of my way as so many of them did for me. Unfortunately that opportunity came in the form of disaster. Two years ago today I grieved when I learned so many of these wonderful, generous people were lost, and all I could do at the time was send money. I hope that I will be able to go back, next time to help with the restoration of a beautiful land laid to waste.
It’s odd, I suppose, that a born and bred Canadian should think of a country almost half way around the world as home. But that, I do. I love Japan and its people.
Itsuka Nihon ni kaerimasu.
Promise from sunrise springs
a new day brings
the sun
lindaghill.com 