Otherworld

Yanaka - Tokyo Tea
Originally uploaded by Ame Otoko

The identity of the man shall remain anonymous for his protection. The story, unfortunately, is true.

He took me for a walk around Yanaka because he heard I was interested in seeing “old Tokyo”, the part of Tokyo that wasn’t bombed in the war and wasn’t subject to the relentless modernization other areas of Tokyo were constantly going through. Yanaka, the little neighborhood north of Ueno Park, was stubbornly resistant to the marching of time. There were homes here handed down for generations, lovingly cared for, not torn down in favor of a three-story concrete monolith with a garage.

We stopped for tea at a cute little teahouse near Ueno. Ducking in from the heat of the day, we sat at the counter next to the only other customers, three ladies who appeared to be of the kind who spent their days enjoying tea in cute little teahouses. There wasn’t room at the counter for any more. He took me to the display counter and showed me the sweets inside. It was my first visit to a teahouse, so I didn’t really know what to order. Did I like anko (red bean paste), he asked. I nodded, and he ordered. It was like that with him. We could have an enjoyable time together as long as I basically allowed him to maintain control of the situation. If I disliked anko, things could have become quite uncomfortable at that point.

The tea and dessert came out a few minutes later, after the water had been boiled. The thick, green matcha was not as bitter as I had imagined it would be and the heat of the drink not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be on such a hot day. The dessert was sweet, but not too sweet and complimented the flavor of the tea perfectly. I understood why the women next to us could enjoy having tea on a daily basis.

As we enjoyed our tea together, we really enjoyed it alone. You see, we had little in common except that he wanted to impress on me that he was a good man, a good father and husband. But his attempt to impress me only made me realize more how detached from reality he was. His marriage was failing, his daughter apathetic to him at best, hateful at worst. His selfishness and controlling nature had already shone through his facade on several occasions. It was too late to make a good impression on me; I already saw who he really was. And I pitied him because if he spent as much energy trying to be a better man to his family instead of wasting it trying to impress me, perhaps he wouldn’t be in the situation he was in.

I sipped the tea down, finished the sweet, and gave him an empty smile. “Come” he said, “I’ll take you to Tokugawa’s tomb.” I didn’t want to see Tokugawa’s tomb, but I followed him anyway.