"Honestly, I don’t want to go behind another curtain – I just need something to eat".

And with that I grabbed hold of her hand and kept right on walking.  By now we were lost deep within the narrow lane-ways of the ancient city of Kyoto (Japan’s original capital city), it was after 8 at night and we were both super hungry after a long day walking the city. 

The plan was simple enough; we just wanted somewhere interesting to eat purely to avoid the easy option of fast food.  The search was dragging on though and had led us down lane-way after lane-way and with each corner we turned they got narrower and narrower. 

The cobble-stoned lanes were as alluring as they were eerie.  You could easily imagine Geisha walking these very lanes hundreds of years ago as they serviced and entertained those within the non- descript eating houses by the dozen, all of which are devoid of any inside view.  

These days they at least offer a small display of selected dishes as a hint that they are in fact eateries.  A simple curtain marks each entrance along with a traditional lantern or two.  It was wonderfully understated but equated to a mental game of Russian roulette when it came to making a sound choice for dinner and I had a tired and hungry girl on my hands just to remind me of this.

To be honest, at this point we were actually lost.

It was after another quick sidewalk pep talk that we settled on this place: It was about as far away into the darkened back streets as you could imagine and after a momentary argument about who should enter first - I plucked up the courage and led us in behind the curtain. At that very instant the place came to a grinding halt as if we had just interrupted a secret ritual or something, (cue old western scene when the music at the bar stops). 

The place was tiny and all seven diners looked up at us in sheer disbelief.  It turns out we were so far off the beaten track that we were actually the first Gygens (Foreigners) to ever set foot in this humble establishment.  Now at this point - amidst the awkward silence it would have been easy enough to just turn around and get the hell out of there but for some reason it seemed easier to stay.  So we did and this is when our transforming experience truly began. 

We immediately gestured toward the only table left, bowed and took a seat.  We were in no man’s land. The layout was simple and was now at full capacity with our arrival. The pungent smell of traditional Japanese cooking filled the room along with incredulous murmurs.  There was not a chance of a menu - or English, this was as local as you could get; a place where everyone knows everyone and the ma & pop kitchen knows exactly what you want to eat. There were a few items listed above the stove on hanging papers - all of them unreadable of course.

Behind us there was a group of three rather drunken suits enjoying a healthy mix of sake and beer now with plenty of laughter (probably at us), while to our left along the counter seats were two old guys. Just in front of us to the right were another two guys deep in conversation with the cook/proprietors’ in the kitchen – no doubt about us as well.  At this point I got up and went to the counter and ordered some beers in my best attempt at Japanese: “Ichi - Beeroo” I proudly exclaimed, that got their attention and after some additional noises and hand gestures it seemed that they got it. So a couple of beers it was as an ice breaker but what about some food?  

By now we were easily the center of attention. One of the old guys from up front turns to us and randomly says, “America?” No, “Australia” we say. “Ooooohh Syd-on-ney!” He replies in an excitable tone.  Ah close enough, “Yes’ we say to keep things easy. “Ooooohhh, Ianoo Thorparooo” He continues with increased excitement as he begins acting out the motion of swimming.  Ian Thorpe he means, we nod our heads appreciatively as our stomachs continued to rumble. 

After what must have been 15 minutes of just gazing around, finally I get back up and headed over to the counter that joins the kitchen area and peer over, in some sort of attempt to ascertain our menu options.   I can see some Yakitori on the grill along with a whole bunch of completely unrecognizable dishes underway as well.  Oh dear.  I gather my thoughts and point to the Yakitori, hoping it’s chicken at least and attempt to order some through gesture alone. “Yakitori” I then say holding two fingers up to indicate a couple of serves. “ Hai” the elderly host offers as she bows, the tempo of the room returning to normal.  The businessmen at the rear continued on with their laughing and drinking as our swimmer friend was at it again: “Syd-on-ney O-rimpics” he says as the Yakitori arrives at our very small table. “Yes I say”, tucking into some food at last.  It was delicious.  Now he’s come over to us, swimming again with a great big smile on his face.  We look at each other and chuckle as he says “Ianoo Thorparoo, Freestyle Number One!”  He sure likes Thorpy we think as he swims back over to his table....it was eccentrically Japanese and very, very funny.

So back to our dinner, I rise up and glance over the shoulder of the guys in front of us and checkout the dish they just received, it looks good.  Alright, we’ll have that then...So again I make my order by pointing to what they have on their table. “Two please?” I offer meekly, knowing full well that our hosts probably didn’t know what I just said as I point to our table, “oh and beeroo too” I add with a little more confidence.  We get the beers and offer each other a warm “Campai” (Japanese for Cheers) at which point the entire rooms erupts with a “Campai!” followed by the universal language of laughter.  Now we’re getting somewhere!

A wonderful  gesture. 

Next thing we know the two guys up front have turned around and are giving us their dish saying: “you, you” as they place their meal in front of us and gesture that we must have it, so now the rice and sautéed pipi clams in miso is ours! It was an act of pure kindness, where these guys wanted us to have their food first and it was right then and there that we realized that food is a universal language. We didn't need to know how to speak in native tongues, we just needed to have that basic human desire to share and belong and this night we became part of the tribe.

We offer yet another “Campai” and set to our new dish with some chopsticks at which point we realize that everyone in the room is looking at us in amazement “ooooooo, ahhhh - soooo goood”, they exclaim making the motion of using chopsticks and then ask “why so good?” Shrugging our shoulders, “Thanks” we exclaim in appreciation now reveling in the moment and enjoying the great food and recently acquired novelty status. Sharing a collective smile I offer another “Campai” in return.  Now the swimmer says “we Campai - you?” I look to my friend, “does he mean Cheers?” I ask, “think so” she says, relieved to be eating  - so I set about trying to explain to the swimmer that in Australia we say ‘Cheers’. I think he gets it - then he starts relaying this in Japanese to everyone else as he takes on the role of becoming our official translator.  Now the room erupts in a big “Cheeeers!” toasting our ability to use chopsticks. 

So now that we’re all friends and I’m totally gobsmacked, I do the only sensible thing and buy everyone in the place a beer!  This then leads to a lot more exchanges of “Cheers” and “Campai” as we continue on this amazing culinary and cultural cross examination, and to think that we weren’t even going to come in here!

The Swimmer

For rank outsiders, the sense of difference had slowly melted away and a warm sense of inclusion had now taken over the room as the swimmer and his friend asked us to come up front to sit with them.  More beautifully authentic food ensues, a ramen type noodle dish along with some sake and a few other things that are pretty hard to describe but tasted great.

Meanwhile the swimmer explains in his very best attempt at English that he used to be a swimming champion just like Ian Thorpe and that he loved Australia.  Incredibly, he’d even been there once as a young lad – to the 1956 Melbourne Olympics no less and that he came second in the Men’s 400 metres freestyle. Unbelievable!

Later, upon doing some research the story checks out and we ended up dining with none other than Tsuyoshi Yamanaka, one of Japan's greatest swimming champions. Sadly, Yamanaka died from pneumonia on 10 February 2017 in Tokyo, at the age of 78. 

Saying Goodbye

After many hours of wonderful food and using goodwill as our foreign exchange, it was getting late and realizing that outside in the real world of Kyoto we were actually quite lost. With those thoughts now front and center it was probably time to think about attempting to make our way back to our Ryokan.  So we set about paying our bill and thanking our hosts. 

When the cheque arrives we are startled to find that either this place was ridiculously cheap or they had just given us a huge discount as a very sincere gesture of goodwill, so to ensure that things even out we offer a generous tip knowing that we’ve just become so much richer for the experience.

At this point everything feels quite emotional as we proceed to go around the room and shake everyone’s hand individually to say goodbye and offer our appreciation for their heartfelt hospitality.  We reach the door (curtain) and turn to bow and offer one last “Campai” only to receive a standing ovation, with everyone clapping furiously led by the swimmer, in return, our new friends offer us a rowdy and final “Cheers!” delivering a cross cultural experience of true humanity that we’ll never forget.

It was this random and heart warming encounter that planted the idea that we could start a blog and share some of these of truly memorable moments. It is was informs our love of travel and and passion to explore.

Perhaps the quote from Ibn Battuta sums it up best:  “Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” 

Thanks for reading.