Lightening Up: The Love Hotel, 1990

lovehotel1, originally uploaded by er1danus.

The unexpected appearance of a siren in Jo(e)'s blog prompted some pleasant memories of a somewhat similar experience--half a world away. Joyce had just been ordained a minister of the United Church of Canada, and we celebrated by a "last fling" trip before settlement (and, as it turned out, unexpected parenthood!) to Japan, where my cousin was teaching ESL not far from Nagasaki.

Part of our experience was an overnighter at a "love hotel", a "no-tell motel" for couples, illicit and licit, to escape the prying eyes of neighbours and family, and just be and do whatever they wish. Cars are parked right outside discreetly hidden units (and screened off with canvas curtains!). My cousin Felicia thought it would be a hoot for us to try one, and being younger and all that, we said sure, why not?

She drove ahead of us, turning off the highway uphill toward what looked like a standard sort of motel, with shades of a prison facility: the hostess spoke to us from behind a curtain by way of an intercom (to protect guests' privacy). My cousin's Japanese was adequate, but the sharp ears of the hostess caught something, so she did an unheard-of thing--she came out to see who was actually there. Who else but three gaijin, unusual in itself, and thereby something to tell the neighbours later. Once fees were paid, my cousin left us, giggling.

Inside, we found tacky 1950s sf film decor, with a video player (and camera, in case we wanted to film ourselves--honest!), a pop/drinks machine, art deco bed, a full bathroom with Japanese style tub (short, but deep). It was fun, it was tacky, it was a nice getaway for two people who valued their privacy in a land where privacy is terribly expensive.

I've been posting a lot on death and grief lately. Thank you, Jo(e), for a chance to lighten up and celebrate life.