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Kyoto - Memories of a Gaijan.


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Memories of a Geisha Town

 

Early morning bicycle riding as the city awakens. Brisk but warmed by the people. Leaving your bike and coming back to find it. Swarmed by others like Balinese motorcycle travel without the Kijangs trying to turn you to road kill.

 

Four women in their early 20s who work for something-O corp, dressed as full Geishas, make up even with the twin dips at the nape of the neck, hair all perfect wandering the streets of Gion, catching and fooling the eyes of the Gaijan visitors but not the hard nosed locals who know they never travel in packs, nor make a noise.

 

Being one block off the main roads full of Asian hustle minus the incessant horns of the taxis, peddling down the lanes in what could easily be the scene of many movies. Stopping for coffee on small stone arched bridges, feeling its Europe but knowing its Japanese and for the better. Konwichina. Getting lost and loving it. Dragging a stinky piece of cheese with me that features in its own show. The smiles, the waves, the warmth of those back streets in case you warming the soul.

 

Kids studiously devouring Manga at the museum dedicated to this prolific form of literature and art whilst their parents and grand parents do the same. Total concentration. Free access to the books, no Manga police, only in Japan could this happen without gross theft. Seeing a young boy J-walking and an old women scowling about it. Could it all be ending, as underscored by moronic tags popping up everywhere. Emulate Banksy, not Boz from Balcatta or the Bronx.

 

Short skirts, high boots, knock knees never looked so good as they do when paraded by the beauty's found in Kyoto. They seem to have an air about them, a confidence masked by modesty, alluring, divine, nymph like - unobtainable within my moral confines.

 

Young Turks, experiencing Japan ticking off via Lonely Planet - places, temples, bars, proudly stating that they "have done Hiroshima" like it was some cheap tart when the ones who did really "do" this ravaged now resilient city were in Washington in 1945 and they continued the aggravated assault for years later.

 

The youthful enthusiasm of "down town" with Raastas smoking weed in the park by the river with silly young OS visitors who may get stung in a trap needing your friendly Aussie consulate official. Young girls looking Hostesses glamorous, boys looking David Bowie Glam with hair bigger then the old school hair bands and with just as much make up as Robert Smith and the rest of The Cure. All enjoying the night until the street fights start.

 

Across the river to Gion where the youth are still there but not the boys, well perhaps but which light do those clubs have? Thin wooden walled lane ways, doors with no signage but lanterns. Red for public, white for private, ah the pink part of town - yes that's what it's called. Drunk, lecherous, over weight and over ego'd business men buying dresses and other outrageous gifts for young girls with long legs, high boots and poor educations who wear a school uniform during the day and komino at night. In an exclusive club attempted digital assault of a lovely personable school girl who laughs hysterically and says "drog" instead of "frog", by a 60 year old silver back business man and him paying $250 for the pleasure as the host plays the piano and smiles knowing that the girl is learning. Knowing now that I will never experience such youth again unless I too become the silver back.

 

Being stunned by the overall serene beauty of Kyoto and its people, a destination I will return to. Its a city to be in love with and in love with someone when you are here. The romanticism of Paris, the vibrancy of Barcelona, the friendliness of Australia some 10 years ago, the tranquility of Cadaques in Nth east Spain. My favorite places rolled into one. Ah Kyoto, there are now more then memories of a Geisha.

 

Incidentally I did see a "real" one at the end of my day.

 

 

 

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That is a fantastic read, thank you.

Will be visiting Kyoto for the 1st time ever in Feb 2014, and looking forward to it greatly, including a planned bicycle tour.

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