Confessions Of A Gaijin: Episode 15 – Ice Cream and Saké

Confessions of a Gaijin

It’s a Saturday evening and another week of school has wound to a close. Anna-Lisa asks if I want to grab a drink, and I say yes. I’ve been in a grump over the last few days as I’ve had to work while fighting off a nasty strain of man flu. Sickies aren’t really a thing out here; Japan is the sort of country where unless you contract leprosy and your legs fall off, you are coming in to work. Anyone who knows me knows I can be a pouting drama queen at the best of times, but if you add lurgy to the equation then I more or less revert to a 16-year-old goth, so I badly need to soothe myself with alcohol. It’s around 8pm when we leave the building and there isn’t enough time to grab a proper dinner so we settle for throwing a McDonalds (which actually tastes noticeably better out here than it does in the UK) down our throats before meeting our friend Ken and heading for a new bar that he wants to check out.

We assemble our small team and are walking through a cosy, quiet part of town where we think the bar is located. En route, Anna-Lisa points out that we happen to be in the same neck of the woods as the urban legend that is Hikari’s Izakaya. Hikari is a student at the school who runs her own restaurant. She’s talked to both teachers and students alike about it lots but none of us have ever seen it, so our curiosity has more or less reached fever pitch. What’s it like inside? Who drinks there? What does Hikari look like when she’s running the show? Like the song says, no-one knows.

We are wandering past a small establishment when suddenly a young woman wearing a peach-coloured kimono opens a back door to take out some empties. She glances at us ever-so-briefly, giving us a look of focused indifference when she suddenly does a double take and gives us a huge wave. It’s Hikari, and though she wasn’t expecting to see us, she appears to be overjoyed to be doing so. She beckons us over and we say hello but we’re not sure if we should go in. The school’s management is notoriously twitchy about teachers fraternising with students, however well-intentioned either party may be. Ken, however, works for a different company and has never met Hikari before. He asks if we can pop in for a drink. Hikari is overjoyed by this (“Of course, of course!”) and ushers us inside with a warm welcome uttered in her native language. Anna-Lisa and I can’t think of a good enough reason to say no, so we dutifully file in. Our intended destination must wait until next time.

Her restaurant is small but oh-so-snug. A bar sits at the front with a larger room at the back, sectioned off by a pair of sliding screen doors. A small TV hangs over the bar, and I can see through a crack in the screen doors that the larger room has a handful of women in it, all chatting excitedly in Japanese and getting drunk on something or other. Hikari directs us to the bar and we all take a seat. I’m still in my suit but it all somehow feels appropriate; a salaryman unwinding in an Izakaya is as quintessentially Japanese as bullet trains and heated toilets.

Once we’re inside I am able to I get a good look at Hikari and she looks spectacular. When she comes to school she wears usually wears a long skirt, flannel shirts and a beanie but tonight she is resplendent in traditional garb and looks absolutely beautiful. Her long black hair is done up in a perfect bun and her eyes shine brightly with hospitality and warmth.

I am startled at how different she seems in contrast to her normal persona. She always comes to class on a Saturday morning, which means she is usually hungover (she has confessed to this on more than one occasion) and as a result, withdrawn and quiet. I remember one class where, almost beaten into submission by the sunlight coming though the classroom windows, she donned a huge pair of Jackie Onassis sunglasses and sat in her chair with her legs crossed, half English student and half rock star. There is none of that tonight, instead she is the mother hen, delivering instructions and food orders to the staff whole dashing back and forth behind the bar. She asks me what I want to try and I order saké, which seems to impress her greatly. She fishes out a huge bottle of the stuff and pours some into a small glass, making sure it overflows into the saucer underneath in keeping with Japanese tradition. She gives us all menus (I instantly regret my decision to eat at McDonalds) and although none of us are hungry we all order ice cream. It is served in glasses, having been softened, whipped and sprinkled with what appears to be Kellogg’s Frosties. It’s a simple touch, but it tastes amazing. We all get more drinks and Hikari is the perfect host. She chats with us in English and I tell her she is a good student, at which point she blushes and protests otherwise before darting off to take more orders. We all order another round of drinks and soak up the conviviality before heading off to another part of town to sing karaoke until 2am.

A week later I see Hikari in the lobby at my school, back in her beanie and flannel skirt. She gives me a fond wave, fonder than the sort she normally gives me at that time of the morning. She is about to say more but then quickly silences herself, almost as if she knows she is in danger of breaking protocol. We both exchange knowing looks and smile. We are co-conspirators and take secret delight in the fact. A few minutes later Hikari joins my class and I am back to teaching her grammar. I hope I get to go back to her joint again soon. And next time I plan to get drunk.

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