Sex and mystery go together like sushi and wasabi— and Japan is a particular focus of Western erotic curiosity and yearning.
This story and photography are by Donna George Storey, recalling her recent return trip to Japan, and her life there looking at "the floating world."
I wrote about this curiosity in “Ukiyo,” my short story about an evening in Japan’s floating world that appeared in Best American Erotica 2006.
I so enjoyed peeking through an ever-naughtier series of sliding screens in that story, I extended my search into a semi-autobiographical novel, Amorous Woman, about an America woman’s journey through Japan’s sexual landscape, first as a horny housewife, then a bar hostess, a mistress, and finally, a prostitute.
I recently had the good fortune to return to Japan to revisit some of my favorite locales from the story and the novel. One misty April evening after sunset, I headed to the entertainment district of Gion.
As I crossed the Kamo River, I saw a small, but familiar silhouette in the far-off window of an exclusive restaurant— a genuine geisha party.
I was glad to see that even in the twenty-first century, traditional culture still thrives in the old capital.
Since I first lived in Kyoto more than twenty years ago, a new service for tourists has sprung up and is reportedly quite popular. For about $200, anyone can be a maiko (apprentice geisha) for a few hours.
Foreigners, too, can plop down their yen and be done up in a kimono, a wig and white face— professional photos included. During the daytime, I’d seen many of these temporary maiko roaming the streets.
They fool you at first, but look closer and you’ll see the make up is uneven, the long-sleeved kimonos wrinkled and faded. The final giveaway: they’ll stop and smile for a picture.
The real maiko is found after dark, hurrying down the streets as if late for her next party. —Or is it to avoid the foreigners snapping away with their cameras?
Still, the genuine version has a grace and splendor that can’t be faked.
The exquisite dinner I describe in Ukiyo takes place in a 300-year-old restaurant by the river called Chimoto, but my Japanese hosts on this night had chosen a twenty-first century example of Gion’s finest cuisine. This new place suggested the long arm of Alice Waters with a menu highlighting local sakes and deconstructed sushi.
However, on a trip to the restroom, I passed a gray-haired businessman waxing eloquent to his forty-something companion, an elegant lady in kimono who was leaning forward in rapt attention. I realized I was observing an off-duty mama-san with her danna or patron. She was showing far too much interest to be his wife. Some things in Kyoto have indeed not changed in centuries.
Later, as I wandered the narrow streets strung with lanterns to celebrate the annual geisha cherry blossom dances, I passed a discreet sign for a love hotel, or couple’s hotel as they are now called thanks to a 1985 change to the "Law Regulating Businesses Affecting Public Morals," that discouraged the whimsical Cinderella castles and Moorish palaces of old.
This more subdued rent-by-the-hour hideaway was called To iu wake de, which means “for that reason”— you’ll note the rates for a short “rest” or an overnight stay.
I later asked several Japanese friends why a love hotel would have such a name. I guessed it might suggest the excuses an errant husband or dutiful twenty-something daughter would give for coming home late.
My friends weren’t sure, but one pointed me to the hotel’s web site (the link is now dead, alas) which confirmed that Japanese women are having more say in fashions in the booming short-stay lodging business. The hotel’s self-proclaimed raison d’etre is for the reason of fostering warm and intimate relations between couples— surely the purpose for the vending machine selling sex toys in the lobby?
Another nostalgic sight was The Banana Room, a modern-day version of the pink salons of my story, but without the yakuza hawkers. Those permed, pinkie-less fellows were chased from the streets by a newer law intended to bring dignity to the streets. Now patrons can ascend the stairs in serenity— but be warned, the advertised eighty dollars for thirty minutes probably gets your banana nothing but a drink and conversation.
Other services are certainly negotiable for an extra fee, and for those of you who don't read Japanese, this establishment advertises itself as an "honest" place. Extras are decided and paid for in advance so there are no nasty surprises or surcharges, and you can count on a traditional warm towel to get your banana nice and tidy afterwards!
Forgoing the pleasures of The Banana Room, I stopped in at a convenience store on my way back to my hotel. Here is where I used to stock up on pornographic comics, my favorite resource to study Japanese language and culture. In the old days, I could leaf through a dozen selections to pick the most interesting, but now the dirty magazines are all bound up in plastic ties.
Of necessity, I settled on the April issue of a magazine with a drawing of a pretty woman in a bikini lounging back, legs spread invitingly— yet another paper door to open. The stories inside did not disappoint as cultural research, including an appropriately seasonal focus on transgressive sex in the park during cherry-blossom viewing parties.
In this example, we see the comic-book heroine protesting that her lover shouldn’t fondle her naked breasts because someone from one of the carousing night picnics might wander by and catch them. But soon enough she gets carried away by spring fever and gives him a blowjob under the canopy of flowers.
In Japan, the social context defines everything, including the pronoun you use to refer to yourself. Sex flourishes in its specially designated spaces— entertainment districts, love hotels, the mysterious shadows at the top of The Banana Room’s red stairway. Sometimes we can slip inside and experience these pleasures for ourselves, but there always seems to be another sliding door beyond that, hinting at new and even more alluring secrets.
The erotic urge is more about yearning than satisfaction, no matter what country you visit. It was appropriate that I left Gion with nothing but my photos and my memories— not quite satisfied, but richer with ideas for new stories to come.
Donna George Storey is the author of the new novel Amorous Woman (Neon/Orion). Her story “Ukiyo” appeared in Best American Erotica 2006.
Photos: Donna George Storey. From top; Geisha tea, glimpse of a private party, fake Maiko, real Maiko, Love Hotel sign, The door to the Banana Room, hlowjob manga, and cherry blossum manga.
