Hula hoops and raw fish…

It was a quiet and unassuming wooden sliding door that sat before us, blending in anonomously with the neighboring shops.  Here in Japan buildings have a habit of doing that, looking exactly like the one next to it and creating a seemingly endless wall.  With little fanfare we opened it, entered and were greated by glances from a group of older men sitting around a U-shaped wooden counter.  The normal sounds of the place quickly resumed and we took some seats in the corner.  The mama-san (older female proprietor) slid up to our part of the counter, handed over the tradtional shibori (warm wet rags meant for cleaning your hands before eating) and asked ‘What’ll you have?’

We ordered a combination of dishes recommended by the mama-san and my friends normal fare.  They came out shortly and we proceeded to dig in.  It the first time in Kyoto that I had experienced such good sashimi (raw fish) both in quantity and quality.  Normally when you go out for seafood such as sushi you’ll get the frozen stuff thawed that day, but here it seemed that it had been bought at the fish market that morning.  Normally for that kind of food you’d pay an arm and a leg but later when we stood up to leave the bill was easily manageable.

We worked through our food relishing each bite, joining with the other patrons in conversation.  The atmosphere was warm and friendly, also quite rare in Kyoto, and were soon given some food by the older salarymen sitting beside us, stewed Tai (a type of fish that is considered a delicacy).  In my travels I have yet to experience anywhere else the free-for-all atmosphere that is common here in Japan.  The guy sitting with his back to you at the beginning of the evening may turn into an impromptu drinking buddy with both of you trading drinks and outlandish stories before the night ends.

The salarymen soon left to return to their wives waiting for them at home leaving us alone with the mama-san, a younger server, and the 4 or 5 chefs in the back.  From here the conversation bounced between the traditional ‘Where are you from’ to business, politics and everything in between.  We once again found ourselves on the receiving end of a seemingly endless line of free dishes of vegetables and small glasses of alcohol.

Our stomachs soon hit their limit and we headed out.  The night was still relatively young (10:30pm) and we decided to have a few more drinks before calling it quits.  My buddy took me to a hole in the wall bar off some side street with no name.  It was tiny and seemed like it could only fit nine or ten people, a common type of place in Kiyamachi (drinking area for younger people in Kyoto).  We only stayed a short time before once again heading to the gathering place next to the Kamo River.

As we sidled down the ramp to the riverside, beer in hand, we were greeted by the sound of a small brass band belting out some nameless  tune and were even more surprised to see a group of young people dancing and goofing around with hula hoops.  Mind you, it is about midnight on weeknight.  The group was a mix of a French tourist and Japanese college students all beaming smiles and enjoying the last bits of summer.  Unfortunately my fun with them was cut short as I realized that I only had a few minutes to sprint to the station to catch my last train.  Luckily I made it.

Only in Japan.