Mental Scars
I think that one of the things I will regret as I look back on my time in Japan is not having taken more solo trips. It's not so much that I like traveling by myself, but odd, interesting, and occasionally frightening things seem to happen to me when I do.
The past few days I went to Hiroshima. There, I saw images that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I went to the Peace Memorial Museum, and its images of what happened after the bombing were truly haunting. I highly recommend anyone to go there, as it was informative and impactful... but that's not what disturbed me during this trip.
I got there on Wednesday, and promptly went to the Peace Park. It was, like I said, informative, and I enjoyed it in the sense that I enjoy history stuff. But of course, you really can't enjoy such a thing in the normal sense of the word. After that I checked into my hotel, had dinner, and then went to the theater.
If you're reading this blog, you know me, and thus, you know I like the theater. Not as much as I once did, but still, I enjoy it. Not knowing what to do by myself in the evening in the city, I had checked the Internet and found a theater not far from my hotel. I couldn't tell exactly what kind of shows they had, but it looked Japanese-esque, so I thought I'd give it a shot. The fun begins upon finding the building.
It wasn't so big of a building, three floors and not overly wide. I check the map to make sure I'm at the right place. OK. I walk into the lobby and there are pictures of folks in traditional Japanese clothes on a stage. This is the right place, I find myself thinking. I walk a little further in, and notice the pictures had changed. Now, it was pictures of topless women who seemed to be in various states of distress. Ok, this is a little bit strange. I look around, hoping to find someone who works there, and find that I'm all alone. So, I start heading to what looks to be the doors to the main theater.
I never should have opened those doors. Why not? Because the warning was there. The pictures had changed again, now showing scantily clad men tied up by ropes. That should have been enough to keep me out. But I'd seen some weird things in Japan, figured it was just some random pictures (this is Japan, after all), and opened the door. The next 10 seconds will be etched in my brain for the rest of my life. All I saw was a giant movie screen, and on that screen were two men. One was tied up in a very complex rope web, and the other was... doing things to him. Painful things. Things that scarred me for life.
Naturally I hastily exited, shaken, and determined to find some way to scrub the image from my mind. Thankfully, I had no time to dwell on the matter, as I was immediately confronted by a man who seemed to be the owner/operator of this establishment. He looked quite irate, asking me what I was doing. I explained I was looking for the theater, the dramatic kind. He told me to go to the third floor, as this floor was a theater for gay bondage porn.
I should have gone home then, but I didn't want him to think I was trying to get a free look at some gay bondage porn, so I promptly went upstairs to the third floor. I do not know what was on the second floor. I do not want to know, and may god have mercy on whoever finds out.
I got off the elevator, and was confronted by a room of about 30 or so 65+ year-old women. All conversation in the room stopped as they began to stare at me. I bought my ticket. They stared. I went to the smoking corner. They stared. I went into the theater and took my seat. I assume they continued to stare, but I can't be certain as I tried to slink as far down into my chair as possible. This proved impossible, though, since I found that these seats were meant for use by old women, not for large, fat foreigners. I could not fit in, and I think there are still indentations on the sides of my legs from the seat. The old women filed in, and we sat there waiting for the show to start.
I have since learned that this particular brand of theater is known as Taishuu Engeki. What that means, I do not know. But it was a bit odd. The curtain went up, and on the stage were five men and two women dressed in feudal Japanese costumes. I say women, but I really couldn't tell. The Japanese theater convention of men filling women's roles may have extended here, but if it did, those two were the most convincing female impersonators I have ever seen.
While I expected a dramatic performance, I did not get one, at least not at first. What I did get was these seven people jumping around and dancing on the stage. I don't know what kind of dance, except that occasionally the lights would go out and the spotlight would focus on one of the performers' faces, and the old women would begin cheering wildly. This continued for about 30 minutes, non-stop dancing, spot light focusing, and old women cheering like crazy. At one point, there was only one guy on stage dancing, and as he neared the edge of the stage, a handful of old women ran up and began shoving what looked to be money into his clothes. I worried that somehow I had found myself in an old Japanese woman's version of a strip club, and found no comfort in the handful of old men that had filed in.
The dancing abruptly stopped, the house lights came up, and an announcement was made that there would be a short intermission. Thankful for the chance to get out of that godforsaken chair, I went back to the lobby and noticed the entrance of two young attractive ladies. They went into the theater, and lacking all common sense, I decided to sit behind them. Bored and curious, and since they looked about the same age as me, I tried to strike up conversation. They turned, looked at me with utmost revulsion and disgust, and moved to the opposite end of the theater.
What followed was a two hour play about samurai honor that in any language and circumstance would have been incredibly boring, but I was the only one that found it so, as evidenced by the constant wild cheering at odd times. This was followed by another short dance routine. During this second dance sequence, there was a point when the youngest member of the male cast was dancing solo. For reasons I cannot fathom, towards the end of his routine, a man in what looked to be his early forties ran down to the stage and gave the young dancer a case of canned coffee. He gave him a case of canned coffee. Not flowers, or money, or something else... Canned coffee. The dancer thanked the man and left, I hope as bewildered as I was. Not long after, I too left, having had my fill of whatever this was. I decided to go for a drink, and the places I went and the people I met are a story for another time. Afterward, I went to bed, believing the strangest of my experience for this trip were behind me. I was wrong.
TO be continued, possibly tomorrow.
The past few days I went to Hiroshima. There, I saw images that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I went to the Peace Memorial Museum, and its images of what happened after the bombing were truly haunting. I highly recommend anyone to go there, as it was informative and impactful... but that's not what disturbed me during this trip.
I got there on Wednesday, and promptly went to the Peace Park. It was, like I said, informative, and I enjoyed it in the sense that I enjoy history stuff. But of course, you really can't enjoy such a thing in the normal sense of the word. After that I checked into my hotel, had dinner, and then went to the theater.
If you're reading this blog, you know me, and thus, you know I like the theater. Not as much as I once did, but still, I enjoy it. Not knowing what to do by myself in the evening in the city, I had checked the Internet and found a theater not far from my hotel. I couldn't tell exactly what kind of shows they had, but it looked Japanese-esque, so I thought I'd give it a shot. The fun begins upon finding the building.
It wasn't so big of a building, three floors and not overly wide. I check the map to make sure I'm at the right place. OK. I walk into the lobby and there are pictures of folks in traditional Japanese clothes on a stage. This is the right place, I find myself thinking. I walk a little further in, and notice the pictures had changed. Now, it was pictures of topless women who seemed to be in various states of distress. Ok, this is a little bit strange. I look around, hoping to find someone who works there, and find that I'm all alone. So, I start heading to what looks to be the doors to the main theater.
I never should have opened those doors. Why not? Because the warning was there. The pictures had changed again, now showing scantily clad men tied up by ropes. That should have been enough to keep me out. But I'd seen some weird things in Japan, figured it was just some random pictures (this is Japan, after all), and opened the door. The next 10 seconds will be etched in my brain for the rest of my life. All I saw was a giant movie screen, and on that screen were two men. One was tied up in a very complex rope web, and the other was... doing things to him. Painful things. Things that scarred me for life.
Naturally I hastily exited, shaken, and determined to find some way to scrub the image from my mind. Thankfully, I had no time to dwell on the matter, as I was immediately confronted by a man who seemed to be the owner/operator of this establishment. He looked quite irate, asking me what I was doing. I explained I was looking for the theater, the dramatic kind. He told me to go to the third floor, as this floor was a theater for gay bondage porn.
I should have gone home then, but I didn't want him to think I was trying to get a free look at some gay bondage porn, so I promptly went upstairs to the third floor. I do not know what was on the second floor. I do not want to know, and may god have mercy on whoever finds out.
I got off the elevator, and was confronted by a room of about 30 or so 65+ year-old women. All conversation in the room stopped as they began to stare at me. I bought my ticket. They stared. I went to the smoking corner. They stared. I went into the theater and took my seat. I assume they continued to stare, but I can't be certain as I tried to slink as far down into my chair as possible. This proved impossible, though, since I found that these seats were meant for use by old women, not for large, fat foreigners. I could not fit in, and I think there are still indentations on the sides of my legs from the seat. The old women filed in, and we sat there waiting for the show to start.
I have since learned that this particular brand of theater is known as Taishuu Engeki. What that means, I do not know. But it was a bit odd. The curtain went up, and on the stage were five men and two women dressed in feudal Japanese costumes. I say women, but I really couldn't tell. The Japanese theater convention of men filling women's roles may have extended here, but if it did, those two were the most convincing female impersonators I have ever seen.
While I expected a dramatic performance, I did not get one, at least not at first. What I did get was these seven people jumping around and dancing on the stage. I don't know what kind of dance, except that occasionally the lights would go out and the spotlight would focus on one of the performers' faces, and the old women would begin cheering wildly. This continued for about 30 minutes, non-stop dancing, spot light focusing, and old women cheering like crazy. At one point, there was only one guy on stage dancing, and as he neared the edge of the stage, a handful of old women ran up and began shoving what looked to be money into his clothes. I worried that somehow I had found myself in an old Japanese woman's version of a strip club, and found no comfort in the handful of old men that had filed in.
The dancing abruptly stopped, the house lights came up, and an announcement was made that there would be a short intermission. Thankful for the chance to get out of that godforsaken chair, I went back to the lobby and noticed the entrance of two young attractive ladies. They went into the theater, and lacking all common sense, I decided to sit behind them. Bored and curious, and since they looked about the same age as me, I tried to strike up conversation. They turned, looked at me with utmost revulsion and disgust, and moved to the opposite end of the theater.
What followed was a two hour play about samurai honor that in any language and circumstance would have been incredibly boring, but I was the only one that found it so, as evidenced by the constant wild cheering at odd times. This was followed by another short dance routine. During this second dance sequence, there was a point when the youngest member of the male cast was dancing solo. For reasons I cannot fathom, towards the end of his routine, a man in what looked to be his early forties ran down to the stage and gave the young dancer a case of canned coffee. He gave him a case of canned coffee. Not flowers, or money, or something else... Canned coffee. The dancer thanked the man and left, I hope as bewildered as I was. Not long after, I too left, having had my fill of whatever this was. I decided to go for a drink, and the places I went and the people I met are a story for another time. Afterward, I went to bed, believing the strangest of my experience for this trip were behind me. I was wrong.
TO be continued, possibly tomorrow.
posted by S A B at 10:04 PM
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