Akiya Adventures, Vol. 2: Kamakura Geisha
Last time, on Akiya Adventures
Matt and Parker piled into a car and headed down to Kanagawa intent on exploring a vacant house in the serene suburbs of historic Kamakura. Their drive down was colored by the dulcet tones of Rockstar Games’ audacious Grand Theft Auto soundtrack, they lunch at an Italian Villa replica overlooking the lush grounds of Jōmyōji beneath the azure summer sky, and they were taken on tour through the the tatami’d bedrooms, wide open kitchen, and dedicated photo processing dark room of a lovely vacant 2-story residence owned by a formidable photographer that weirdly knew Matt’s grandfather.
It was a wonderful trip to a storied region of Japan that was made with an interest in a property but which ultimately resulted in a whole lot more: friendly and relaxed conversation, scenic views and fresh air, and new friends that serendipitously connect with personal history.
Let’s see what comes next…
Having said goodbye to Peter and his wife, Parker and I got back into his car headed for a local café in mind for a scheduled rendezvous with a local acquaintance, John. Through the winding back streets we went, past residences of considerable stature, though now maybe we were a bit unsure of whether they were inhabited or not.
The sun, as it sometimes can be, was kind enough to shine down upon us in spite of the rainy forecast due to the annual tsuyu rainy season we are now very much in the midst of.
We pulled into a parking lot close enough to the beach to hear the waves but maybe a bit far to expect as much sand as was present, and just around the corner, we met John, standing somewhat starkly with his brightly colored marathon garb against a cracked, mossy cement retaining wall. Juxtaposition, eat your heart out.
I had no idea what we were walking into. A sign outside the cement building in front of us signified that there was a café inside, as expected, but outside of that one signifier this was unlike any café I’ve ever been in and was more like the living room of a very enthusiastic collector of silver British tea sets. Which is exactly what it was.
If I remember correctly, John pointed out that the owner/resident had actually registered his living room as a business, so I’m not really sure what to call the space we inhabited, but tea was drank, biscuits were munched, and select cuts from the orchestral version of the 1999 Squaresoft RPG Chrono Cross — which I will go on the record and say I am not a big fan of — were listened to, so I guess that qualifies.
What’s with video game soundtracks on this trip?
After tea & biscuits, I needed to make my way to Gokurakuji Station, only a few stops away from Kamakura Station on the local Enoden Line, so I parted with Parker and John to continue my journey alone. Last I heard, they majestically made their way to the beach in the late afternoon sun.
The reason for this parting of ways was that Sayuki, a geisha, anthropologist, and lecturer at Waseda University, had caught wind of my akiya research and was curious to hear more as she is always keeping an eye out for interesting, older, traditional properties to train up-and-coming Maiko as well as host clients. So she got in touch and suggested that, if I was in the area, I should drop by for a visit. Challenge accepted!
So onto the empty 1-car Enoden train I went, sitting facing the West so as to take in the beautiful Kamakura ocean view passing slowly by. Occasionally, I’d catch my reflection in the window glass — bemasked, sunglassed, and rendered largely visually indeterminate — and this heightened the implacably weird experience of traveling alone on deserted trains to vacant buildings in rural regions.
I only had 2 stops to wax philosophical, though, and got off at Gokurakuji Station soon enough. A real charming station originally built in 1904, its atmosphere is considerably old-timey, by Japanese standards: wood paneling, cobblestone gardens, and one of those old red mailboxes.
From there, it was a short walk to Sayuki’s repurposed kominka, and as I approached the property (staring at my smart phone, not to text but to take video of the trip), Sayuki herself happened to pop out to greet me — very good timing, she said as I got within earshot, though I would be lying if I said I was paying attention to what was in front of me, so I was a bit startled. A wonderful welcome, indeed!
Sayuki and I had a few warm words outside, and then she invited me in to her charming, and impressive, historic property. Built entirely of wood over 100 years ago in the quintessential Japanese style known as nihon kenchiku, the house, lovingly known as 月の影亭 (Tsuki no Kage Tei) is about as much of a teleportation device to Japan’s past as one could reasonably hope for.
Tsuki no Kage Tei could be called a 1-story flat, though that phrase doesn’t really put the right images in my head, so let me see if I can conjure up the words to form a more precise description.
A bamboo fence surrounds the property, with a few rustic hinged gates strategically placed around the perimeter, but you’ll have to look for them a bit because the main gate tends to steal the show. Made of untreated wood and somewhat reminiscent of the iconic red torii gates scattered across the nation but, you know, with doors, it opens up to a stone pathway leading to the main sliding entrance.
Once inside, you will find yourself in a stone-floored genkan mezzanine, where you better take off your shoes. Seriously. Don’t track dirt into someone else’s home. Or your own. Why would you do that? Eventually you’ll just have to clean it up.
Another set of sliding doors opens up to reveal the main walkway, with two options: go left, and you’ll walk through a hallway full of more sliding doors leading to bedrooms, storage spaces, the central living room also overlooking the garden, the kitchen, a Persian carpet adorned library, and ultimately a study that doubles as a bedroom. Go right, and you’ll pass floor to ceiling windows overlooking the interior garden leading to another bedroom. Left is perhaps more exciting, but I like right too because I stayed in that bedroom overlooking the garden. It was very relaxing. Very shibui (though I guess the whole house is pretty shibui…)
Sayuki took me around the house, and then we sat in the central living room over tea and discussed the business of the house itself (rooms available for rent!), geisha, and vacant properties, all in the context of Coronavirus.
Regarding the house itself, I was surprised to hear that they had a few openings available. Think about it:
- Kamakura is a super desirable area and this property is very conveniently located
- The building is beautifully constructed, surrounded by nature, and minutes from the beach
- You can tell people you live at a Geisha house, doubly cool if you’re teleworking from there (yes, they have wifi!)
But then again this reflects what I’m starting to see as a wide-spread phenomenon through my research and work with akiya across the country: generally speaking, people seem to be really bad at identifying super cool opportunities as such once that opportunity exceeds a yet unquantified by seemingly quite low measure of deviation from a perceived norm. Thus places like this (while not an akiya itself as it is inhabited) remain only in the periphery of the considerate mind.
Or maybe I just have a penchant for the atypical. Who knows.
But speaking with Sayuki about Coronageishas was the real topic of interest here, and for good reason considering my background and interest in the performing arts. Granted, extreme music genres like Goregrind, circle pits, and black band t-shirts are probably considered completely incompatible with traditional Tsugaru-jamisen music, Chado (tea ceremony), and Kimono, but… are they? Consider the following:
- Metal and Tsugaru-jamisen alike frequently implement thicker strings, detuning, and atypical rhythms.
- Circle pits and Chado are both extremely effective meditative practices that allow practitioners to reach elevated states of consciousness aka satori.
- Black t-shirts and jeans are just as much a uniform as Kimono. I feel like I shouldn’t even have to point this one out.
And, just like extreme metal, Geisha, or at least those under Sayuki’s watch, are also now experimenting with video streams and other novel approaches to engaging with their clients. Hearing this made me step back a bit, as what little I know about Geisha suggests that its a pretty traditional practice that likes what it’s been doing for the last 500 years or however long and isn’t really one to approach change of any kind with anything more than suspicion.
Just the night before my arrival, Sayuki told me, they had entertained a client group in Italy over Zoom to a pretty high level of success, though that’s not to say it was easy to affect and that they were kind of figuring out as they went. This piqued my already fiery interest as it sounded exactly like what the bands I work with have been going through in recording no-audience concerts for stream.
This makes a bit of a poignant, humbling statement once you unwrap it a bit. Businesses are scrambling to find the best way to address the pandemic, just as geisha are, just as extreme metalheads are, just as presumably everyone else is. But it’s one thing to say “everyone is doing it” and another thing to say what I just wrote above, which highlights the perceived disparate nature of those things while at the same time highlighting the unity of action amongst them.
And that’s one of Sayuki’s many interesting qualities: her ability to relate stories of a purportedly esoteric, ancient practice in a sincere, human, and relatable way. I suspect this has a lot to do with both her formal training as an anthropologist and a geisha, but even if not, the quality is there, and is very much appreciated.
Another interesting quality about Sayuki is that, so far as I can tell, she and her troupe are quite literally at the forefront of modernizing Geisha practices for a 21st Century existential battle with Coronavirus. I can’t even believe I just wrote that, but I stand by my words.
With this, we broke for dinner, and Sayuki took me on a bike ride around the city, ultimately leading us to a beachside establishment where we had a light meal and a few drinks, all while gazing out over the ocean, glowing at the horizon with the almost-set sun.
We returned to Tsuki no Kage Tei, where I retired to my room, checked a few messages, considered and appreciated the decorations in the tokonoma, set up my futon, and fell asleep to the wind rustling through the trees just outside in the garden. A fitting end to a day full of new experiences and new acquaintances.
There are many more tales for me to tell so perhaps it’s not already obvious to readers, but in traveling to places that I otherwise have no reason to go and know little if anything about in pursuit of information regarding properties no one is apparently interested in, I have had experiences and conversations that really open up new avenues of thought and consideration for myself, at least, and hopefully for those that also find themselves involved in one way or another.
When grasping for straws in trying to name something (an article, a concert series, my bike, etc.), I tend to just default to (preferably goofy) alliteration, but in starting to write these brief glimpses into my foray into the world of vacant buildings across Japan, I think that Akiya Adventures is — while maybe not the coolest — a pretty apt title, for the time being anyway.
For more stories like this, and information about how you can start exploring options in Japan’s inaka, check out Akiya & Inaka!
