Serendipitous Sake

The rain that started as a drizzle suddenly turned into a downpour. I was making my way down Pontocho Alley in Kyoto, looking for a spot to enjoy my last dinner in town before heading to Osaka the next day. I found myself outside a restaurant and quickly darted in – whatever it was, I’m sure it would be fine. I removed my wet shoes outside, and padded in with wet socks, hoping I wasn’t leaving any wet footprints behind me. The hostess seated me at the bar and left me with the menu.

My last day in Kyoto had been a full one, with a visit to the top of the Fushimi Inari shrine. Out of all my other experiences in Japan, and Kyoto in particular, this was one of the highlights and most meaningful. I started out relatively early, hoping to beat the crowds and the heat, but they were both there waiting for me as I started up the hill. About halfway up, the crowds decreased significantly, and I found myself winding my way through hundreds of bright red tori gates. At one point closer to the top, I heard methodical, rhythmic chants. No one was near me. I savored the solitude, the chants humming and growing fainter – they were moving somewhere beyond the trees, beyond the trail. By the time I returned to the bottom, I was drenched in sweat, but my heart was full and my mind was at rest.

I turned my thoughts back to menu, quickly perused it and ordered a beer and a few things that sounded good, including a hot soup. As I relaxed and eased into my seat, I looked around at my dinner companions – a solo man to my left, and a couple to my right. The man looked at me and smiled, and told me that his mushroom dish was quite tasty. I smiled back and nodded. It was nice to be able to communicate in English without having to break out Google Translate or play some combination of charades and mime.

A couple courses in, as my socks dried and I warmed up, we fell into conversation. The man – we’ll call him Abe – was visiting from Vancouver and had an itinerary similar to mine. A few nights in Tokyo, now in Kyoto, and Osaka was next. We talked about the places we had visited, Japanese culture, America, Canada, and solo travel. We discussed the host/hostess club culture, and how it seemed that even though throngs of people were out every night, that people in Japan seemed so very lonely. We talked about history and art, how we wished we had learned more about Japan before coming. And then we got around to the topic of sake.

I had never enjoyed it – warm or cold. It always had a sour, kombucha-like funk that I did not find appealing. I would take regular, grape wine over sake any day! But when in Kyoto… Abe mentioned a sake bar nearby that would probably have some nice selections, and so we finished up dinner, stepped out to put on our shoes, and made our way down the alley. The rain had mercifully subsided, but the air hung heavy and humid.

We got to the sake bar, and asked our server to bring us a selection, and thankfully our Japanese and her English were both good enough to get the message across. The sake was fine – drinkable, but definitely not my beverage of choice. And after almost a couple weeks of mostly solo travel, with a couple group food/karaoke tours thrown in for good measure, it was nice to have someone to hang out and share thoughts about Japan with.

From the sake tasting, we ventured further down the alley and came across a rare find for Kyoto – a traditional New Orleans jazz bar. And so a serendipitous dinner meeting turned into a fun night out, as we hung out and got to know each other and fellow travelers and locals at the jazz bar.

You never know when you’ll make a new friend, and as the evening wound down and I headed back to my hotel, I made plans to meet up with Abe in Osaka. And as it turned out, we ended up spending our last night in Japan marveling at the scene in Dotonburi before retreating to the calm of a hookah bar on a rooftop far from the madding crowd. Ah, the magic of travel – you never know what each day will bring!