Our last morning in Kyoto and we had arranged to see a traditional Japanese show, with what we had thought would be dancing Geisha. Located close by, but on it’s last day for the season, I had booked online through a booking agent, and there was some confusion about whether the tickets were actually purchased on our behalf or not. The voucher was in Japanese, and despite the valiant efforts of Karen, we were unclear as to whether we had seats booked or not.
At the appointed hour we walked the two blocks to the theatre and were able to exchange the voucher and had our tickets to the tea ceremony and the show! The tea ceremony was short and other than a bean filled fat pastry and some really bitter macha tea the whole thing didn’t really seem like much. Then we were ushered into a waiting area, after having an area to photograph some Maika (geishas in training). During the show we couldn’t take photos, so what you see below is mostly from the program book that I bought after the fact because the play was inscrutable and I wanted to know what it was about.
And after reading the program book I’m not sure that I know even now. Just reading the first page made me confused — you take a look! Something about a warrior leaving his wife to go off to battle and some other men who wanted the woman and some clan wars and some women warriors and a very long death scene. Interminable death scene. Then some dancing and singing and a few other things in Japanese.
Then we caught the train(s) to Hiroshima.
We are staying at the Sheraton here (points at work), and I have to admit to being an ugly American for just one moment. Maybe it’s because I’ve been away for so long, or maybe because the language barrier is so difficult but when wifi didn’t work in the hotel and they first sent up a bellman, and then a concierge and both kept trying to fix my devices, when clearly there was something wrong with their router, I almost lost it. I kept trying to explain that my devices weren’t the problem, and that they should talk to someone about re-setting their routers and they kept fiddling with my phone that I lost it. Took my phone and computer away from the concierge (he sent the bellman away — probably felt that he was saving him from the wrath of an annoying tourist), and tossed them both onto the bed to demonstrate that they needed to address the problem with their device — not mine! Finally some IT guy turned off their router and then turned it back on and guess what — the wifi was back!
And I was still an ugly American. For just a moment.
