In the Year of our Lord 2009, My wife and I had the good fortune to travel to Japan. One of my oldest and best friends was getting married and the couple had decided they were going to Tokyo for the honeymoon. They graciously asked if we would like to travel with them and we agreed. It was the single greatest adventure of my life and I could probably write without ceasing about how much I enjoyed our time there. It was truly amazing to feel so involved and integrated into another culture. However, today I would like to focus on one particular aspect. One of the more awkward experiences I have ever lived through.
We spent most of our time in Tokyo, but in the middle of our stay we had decided to travel by train to Kyoto to see the old capitol. It was truly a different world from Tokyo's bustling crowds and flashing lights. My wife had heard of a portrait studio there where tourists could have authentic geisha/samurai pictures made. I have always admired the samurai disciplines, codes of honor and bushido, so of course I would like to have my portrait taken as a samurai while standing in Kyoto.
We entered the small studio on one of the side streets and were greeted warmly. The girls were taken away first because of the rigorous makeup process and intricacies of the geisha garments. It takes quite some time to get into. Joey and I were left watching a random talk show and despite understanding very little, I found myself glued to it. If there is a television on I am going to watch it. Even more so when it's Japanese television, it is amazingly whacky and vibrant.
Finally a small, polite lady emerged from the curtain with a great big smile said "Samurai!" and motioned for us to follow her. We were taken to a small room upstairs and told to have a seat. For the sake of any younger readers or anyone easily offended, I will try to keep my wording as PG as possible, because here's when the awkwardness begins. Another young lady enters the room carrying two stacks of neatly folded white garments, and gives us instruction to change into them. Much to my horror as I unfold the garments they appeared to be, to my fat American eyes, a girl's medium shirt, some tiny boxer shorts and the tabi socks. All of which are see through and as thin as rice paper. Joey and I gave each other an uncomfortable glance.
I undressed and changed into the ridiculously small clothes, laughing all the while. The shirt was stretched beyond any capacity the maker had intended. The fact that it did not rip or explode killing everyone nearby is probably a miracle. The tiny thin boxer shorts may as well have not existed. On the street, I would have been locked up for indecent exposure. In America, I would have just been photographed and put on peopleofwalmart.com. I don't have a picture of course, but for the sake of illustration. I present the following:
As my prime example, at some point she needed to tie something behind me. Rather than get off her knees and go around, she decides to bury her face in my nether region and just tie it. After what felt like 15 minutes of tying, she leans back and stares me straight in the face. I'm sure that I was bright red. I'm going to omit several other small awkward details for the sake of keeping this family friendly. When we finally are dressed enough to exhale again. Joey and I exchange another glance as the girls finish dressing us. They smiled politely and exited. We began laughing again and quipped about how we hoped that didn't cost extra.
The pictures turned out great, we had a fantastic trip and we have memories that will endure our lifetime. But so will the embarrassment of being dressed by a complete stranger with obvious boundary issues. Cheers to you Kyoto Lady, It takes a lot to embarrass me and you did it with ease.
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