Neeeeeee Neeeeee

[parasitegirl]

I was a mess when I got to Kyoto at 7AM Saturday morning. My abdomen was bloated from gas and discomfort, sore to the touch, the sort of calamity caused by travel stress and being cramped up like a veal for slaughter. Maybe I had had two whole hours of sleep. I was sore and hadn't had the chance to shower after my restaurant show. My hair felt sticky, my body worse, and there was probably crusted drool on my cheek.

 

After finding a coin locker at Kyoto station to store my wheeled suitcase in, I went to check Cafe Du Monde where divareneeand I would be meeting at 9ish.

 

Under construction.

 

Great.

 

Just great.

 

I went, disoriented and confused, outside and started walking until I found a Starbucks I could sit at, cool off, and drink coffee and eat a scone.

 

 

Thursday evening I had packed my costume for the restaurant, and clothing and such for a 3 day vacation. Friday, after work, I went home, made myself up, and wheeled everything to Tokyo to start my little adventure. After I performed, which went well, I stuck around for food...hoping that a full belly would help me sleep better on the train. I ate in my dressing cube, out of site, but waited in the cool air conditioning at a table for the owner to bring me my pay. At one point a drunken Japanese man approached me with his Anatolia placemat in hand. The placemats have basic Turkish phrases spelled out phonetically in Japanese for some international fun. He wanted to complement me and tried to phonetic out some Turkish praise for me. Adorable.

 

When I explained to Renee about the fact that most restaurants hunt down gaijin first when looking for dancers she sized me up and, very politely, expressed surprise because...well..I'm not the most stereotypically-Turkish looking beauty. It's not really about me looking Turkish, I explained, it's about having dancers who look "not Japanese" enough for the suspension of disbelief to kick in so that customers can more easily buy into the idea that they are looking at "The Real McCoy"...because that's what they think the customer wants. This is foolish. Frankly, if you have an amazing Japanese dancer, customers who want to believe that they are watching The Real McCoy will create all sorts of plauseable or insane backstories for the dancers (lived abroad, raised by traveling turks, half-Japanese, blessed by magic gypsies and born on a flying carpet....) anyways.

 

After the restaurant I headed to Shinjuku to catch my night bus. The night station was crowded. I had turned down wine at dinner, sticking with pomegranate and cherry juices, because I have problems sleeping when I drink. The rest of the bus station had not skimped on the booze.

 

Too late I learned that my ticket was not for the "Ladies Dream" cushy bus with individual reclining seats, disposable slippers, and pop-out foot rests I'd ogled online. I was on the Youth Bus (departing from the same time and place)...which is not a place that I ever suggest you be. The Youth Bus is not a place of whimsical fancy. It is just a normal "Greyhound" styled bus. No comfort to the seats. No foot room for even my shorty-short 162cm/ 5'4" self. 7 hours of cramped bus. I was only saved by the fact that my seat mate snagged the only other empty two seats and we were the only 2 people on the bus who got two seats to ourselves. I got the two in front of the drunk talkative bus-u-bitches.

 

Saturday, at 9AM, I perched myself at the restaurant above Cafe Du Monde and kept and eye out for Renee.

 

I will write more about our adventures in Kyoto later, but will be brief here. Last year when I hung out with Renee in Seattle we both expressed delight that our in-person demeanor not only matched our on-line writing voices (because we'd kept up and gotten to know each other via LJ after a chance meeting two years ago) and that our general conversation style, interests, and topics, were a good fit for hanging out.

 

Spending more than 24 hours together with folks, even with those you get along with in-person, contains some risks. There are people I adore, who I would never, ever, EVER travel with. Renee and I would be in Kyoto together for 30+ hours before her husband would join us. Had it not gone well I would have constantly thought "I took two days of vacation, got a hotel room, and went through Youth Bus hell...for THIS shit...mother fucker... I'm going to have to make a new Bitch About Renee filter when I get back home."

 

I am happy to say that Renee and I share common interests and are able to talk compatibly on a many topics. We both also have a nice collection of fucked-up tales to tell...although I think Renee might win. Renee brought me the gift of tribal-bling, Seattle chocolates, and a collection of fashion magazines she'd bought at the airport. I did not think it strange, after our afternoon nap, when she slipped on her zills, covered them in baby socks, and drilled as we talked.

 

It would have been creepy if it had not been enjoyable. We'd mumble in the morning, awaken over food and coffee, and then set out for the day; I in my forest green Sketchers, her in her identical but larger sage green ones. She wore her oversized bone tribal earrings, I wore horn ones. We both had oversized dark sunglasses and hair tinted red. Burgundy, black, and "harvest hues"...every day. I'm sure if weather had permitted me to wear more of my collection of polyester print dresses, or the activities had involved chances for me to display my cleavage, we'd have been less twinsy...but as it was..

 

Her amazing tattoo in progress was healing, so we didn't check out the public baths at the hotel. It's for the better. The creepiness of two non-natural redheads with poppy tattoos might have unnerved more sensible ladies.

 

The best news was that we also share the travel habits that sometime annoy others.My love of Warning as a travel partner is as much about common interests as it is about the fact that we both reach the same "Fuck it, let's eat softserve, drink beer, and mock the German tourists" point as I do...at about the same time.

 

Renee and I do not function well on little sleep or food and distrust those folks who do. If we become hungry we get disoriented and grumpy. Starbucks and familiar corporate coffee chains are your friends and don't mean that you are not enjoying authentic local life...they exist so that you can get your needs taken care of so that you can enjoy the local flora, fauna and fashions. Shrines are great, but at a certain point wandering through air conditioned department stores is as educational. Making fun of fashions is part of being a well-rounded individual...you didn't see those boots. Shaved Ice is for the afternoon, Hagendaaz is for the evening. There is nothing wrong with buying Daaz at a convini and eating it in your hotel room...it is the perfect ending to a good day.

 

So, I was in good spirits when I finally boarded The Ladies Dream. I did have return tickets on it. It was lovely, civilized, comfy, and provided me with 5+ hours of sleep.