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Tuesday, Feb 9, 2010
My $5,000 night at the most exclusive geisha house in Japan.
Jun 13, 2001 | My girlfriend Kaori and I are riding the Thunderbird 26 train from Kanazawa to Kyoto when her cellphone begins playing "Waltz of the Flowers." Mr. Nagata is on the line. The conversation is all Japanese to me, but amid the unintelligible torrent I hear the one word that tells me everything I need to know -- "Ichiriki." Kaori gives me the thumbs-up. Tomorrow night, Mr. Nagata will guide us into the inner sanctum of a disappearing order -- Ichiriki, the most famous geisha house in all Japan.
Anyone familiar with Arthur Golden's "Memoirs of a Geisha" will know the Ichiriki, a place few Japanese and even fewer foreigners have ever seen. (The Ichiriki's mistress contends that Golden has never stepped through its doorway.) Much of the action in his pre- and postwar tale of Japan takes place at this doyenne of Kyoto geisha establishments, located in the ancient city's Gion district.
Readers of Golden's beautifully detailed account will be aware that the Ichiriki is no samurai Studio 54. Greasing the bouncer's palm or being Gisele Bundchen will not get you past the lineup. There is no lineup. The right to patronize the 400-year-old Ichiriki is, like the right to Japanese citizenship, a very tough nut to crack, sometimes involving generations of history. It's also jaw-droppingly expensive, but that's just an afterthought -- the real trick is to establish a relationship. Mr. Nagata is president of a company that has patronized the Ichiriki for more than a half-century. That gives him the right to invite guests for an evening's frolic. That and about 5 grand U.S.
Mr. Nagata is a very successful businessman. That he is also a believer in tradition shows not only in his enthusiastic support of Japan's vanishing geisha tradition, but also in his relationship with Kaori -- Mr. Nagata is her go master. Teaching the intricacies of Japanese chess to a select few students is both a hobby and a calling for Mr. Nagata, himself a champion-level go player. Hearing that his student's gai-jin (foreigner) friend was accompanying her to Kyoto, Mr. Nagata felt honor-bound to showcase for us the ultimate in Japanese culture.
Before embarking upon this adventure, Kaori insists, it will be necessary for me to adjust my "Memoirs"-derived terminology. Apparently, no one in Kyoto uses the word "geisha" at all. Here, full-fledged members of this honored sorority are referred to as "geiko" (gay-ko), while apprentices are known as "maiko" (mike-o).
Confusion about the geiko world is not limited to foreigners -- Japanese citizens, too, are more likely to be familiar with baseball's Ichiro than Gion's Ichiriki. Guidebooks such as Lonely Planet and even the official Japan Travel Bureau publication contain misinformation or frequently no information at all. Since the Ichiriki and other ochaya are so difficult to access, it would seem there is little point in educating tourists about them.
One misunderstanding in particular raises Kaori's ire. Throughout "Memoirs of a Geisha" and in books such as "Lonely Planet Japan," places like the Ichiriki are referred to as teahouses. Kaori shakes her head emphatically at this. The Ichiriki, she says, is an ochaya -- a place where geiko entertain. The word "ochaya," it's true, can also be translated as teahouse. But the Japanese language has many words that carry double meanings. "Kumo" can mean spider or cloud; "hashi" can mean bridge or chopsticks. And, Kaori tells me, the Ichiriki is no more a teahouse than the Rainbow Bridge can pluck sashimi out of Tokyo Bay.
The Ichiriki's Japanese renown has nothing to do with "Memoirs of a Geisha," which is largely unknown here. Nor does its reputation come merely from age. In Japan, where thousand-year-old shrines can be found wedged between sweet shops and hunkered down in the modern shopping centers that have grown up around them, 400 years is no big whoop. No, the Ichiriki's prominence comes largely from its role in one of Japan's favorite historical tales -- "The Legend of the 47 Ronin."
According to the story, in 1701 there was a headstrong young regional warlord named Asano-Takuminokami. His samurai, numbering more than 300, were led by the roguish Oishi Kuranosuke, a warrior fiercely loyal to his boss.
One day at the Edo palace of Japan's supreme leader, the Shogun Tsunayoshi, disaster struck young Asano. Goaded into anger by a treacherous old don named Kira Kouzukenosuke, Lord Asano lashed out with his sword, wounding his enemy slightly. The shogun was outraged -- Asano had tarnished the dignity of the palace with his attack. The disgraced young master was forced to commit seppuku, or ritual suicide. Kira had outmaneuvered his naive young adversary in a fatal game of court politics.
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