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“The easiest way to get to Hiroshima is bus,” the bartender at Filaments had told me. “It takes maybe four hours, but you know, you just….” He had leaned his head back and closed his eyes, indicating that the ride was as simple as leaning back and relaxing.
As I watched the bus driver navigate the route to Hiroshima, I knew things were not so simple. White-knuckled near the front of the bus, I sat with my eyes glued to the windshield, positive that we were going to crash at any moment. Japan’s traffic lanes seemed as if they were designed exclusively for the Toyota Yaris. The driver, attired in a full suit with a navy blue hat and white driving gloves, navigated the winding two-lane highways and Hiroshima traffic with an otherworldly grace. His speed around turns was flawless, and he changed lanes with a fluidity that even I can’t match—and I drive a 180 pound scooter.
Taken from the bus on the way to Hiroshima.
Taken at a rest stop an hour outside of Hiroshima.
You would never guess that Hiroshima had endured a nuclear strike. The city was modern and vibrant, lush and green. A monorail snaked over the city’s many rivers, and beautiful parks littered the spaces between towering buildings. I found a hotel near the center of the city. My eyebrows shot up when I entered the room. Everything looked brand new, as if it had been purchased and unwrapped that very day. The styling was tasteful and modern. I found a wonderful restaurant overlooking a river just a block from the hotel, where I feasted on a bowl of pork curry and half a baguette before making my way to the city’s entertainment district. A trio of girls, all of whom looked like models, grew wide-eyed and excited at my approach. Why had I ever been concerned about coming to this city? I loved Hiroshima, and Hiroshima loved me.
Hiroshima in the evening.
The view from the Peace Pot restaurant—highly recommended.
Hiroshima at night.
I spotted a sign for a bar a few meters up the road. Called “Bull,” it advertised, in English, that it was a “pub bar with darts.” How could Hiroshima get any better? I took the elevator to the second floor of a tall building, where the bar was located.
The elevator doors opened, and a chorus of greetings ensued—until the crowd saw me. The patrons returned to their drinks, and the bartenders looked uncomfortable. I walked up to the bar with as much confidence as I could muster and smiled at the nearest bartender. She said something to me. Assuming she wanted my drink order, I asked for a beer. The bartender repeated herself, this time shaking her head no.
I looked around the bar. I could have sworn I had seen a Kirin sign out front, but everyone was drinking cocktails. I looked back at the bartender and said, “Please decide for me.” I pointed to a likely-looking cocktail in the hand of a nearby customer. The bartender again shook her head no. “Saturday night only,” she said. “So sorry.”
I blinked a few times and looked around again. What had been an inviting, fun atmosphere prior to my arrival had turned quiet. Everyone was paying very close attention to their drinks. I pointed to the door. “I have to go?”
This time, the bartender nodded. I walked to the elevator and pushed the call button. The elevator rose all the way to the sixth floor before starting its descent. I stood there, dumbstruck, waiting for it to rescue me from the shame and frustration I was feeling. I had no recourse. My Japanese was non-existent; I couldn’t engage in an ethical debate with the bartender. Complaining in English, however politely, would have labeled me a stereotype, and telling the entire bar to fuck off would have resulted in a total loss of face. My only option was to slink away with as much dignity as I could muster. As the elevator doors closed, I could hear the bar surging back to life. Games of darts and conversations alike had resumed at my departure.
I stood on the sidewalk a moment and told myself that it was an isolated incident, that I should not let it ruin my night. This was Hiroshima, a city of over one million people. There were plenty of other bars. At least ten were visible from my current location. I told myself I should try again, that the next bar would be fine.
It was no use. I walked back to my hotel, feeling more foreign in Japan than when I first arrived.
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i don't get it. why were you asked to leave the bar?
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On November 07 2008 17:49 qet wrote:
i don't get it. why were you asked to leave the bar?
Pretty sure it was because I'm white. I can't be sure. She didn't give a reason.
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Well... maybe it was a private party? ~_~
The same thing happened to me while i was in japan. My hotel room was on the 22 but the Japanese elevator had no 22 button. So i pressed 9 and when the door opened (9th floor was somekinda of bar / conference) the whole room went quite and there were like at least 50 people there. Oh well, it was very humiliating.
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On November 07 2008 17:58 haduken wrote:
Well... maybe it was a private party? ~_~
"Saturday night only"?
I'm open to suggestions, of course, but I've given the matter some thought. The bar died down before I had said a single word. All they had to go on was how I looked. My other guess is that they thought I was military.
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You would never guess that Hiroshima had endured a nuclear strike. The city was modern and vibrant, lush and green.
the museum mentioned something about how the ppl thought no greenery could ever regrow in hiroshima after the bomb for another like 100 years or something like that, but it didn't take long for green shit to start sprouting, a testament to the endurance of the japanese people or something like that.
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Osaka27139 Posts
I would put my money on a private party. Japanese people dont cheer when the bar doors open unless they expect to know who is walking through it. It is probably too long ago to remember, but there might have been a sign out front stating the hours of the party. It is pretty common to book a bar with an activity, like darts, for a party.
I've wandered into many a strange place and only been asked to leave from the most ghetto of them.
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So did you end up going to another bar?
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Osaka27139 Posts
On November 07 2008 18:21 haduken wrote:
So did you end up going to another bar?
I stood on the sidewalk a moment and told myself that it was an isolated incident, that I should not let it ruin my night. This was Hiroshima, a city of over one million people. There were plenty of other bars. At least ten were visible from my current location. I told myself I should try again, that the next bar would be fine.
It was no use. I walked back to my hotel, feeling more foreign in Japan than when I first arrived.
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You thought you were asked to leave the bar because you are white and it was at hiroshima. hmm , I can't imagine there are such bad feelings to white people in hiroshima, at least among young people. And they know A-bomb was dropped by America and white people are not necessarily American. The people in the bar didn't know you are American or not, from your writings, I think.
I can't be sure. I don't have friends from hiroshima. Sad, Anyway.
I hope it was a private party or a secret marijuana party or something.
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On November 09 2008 06:31 elscuba wrote:
You thought you were asked to leave the bar because you are white and it was at hiroshima. hmm , I can't imagine there are such bad feelings to white people in hiroshima, at least among young people. And they know A-bomb was dropped by America and white people are not necessarily American. The people in the bar didn't know you are American or not, from your writings, I think.
I can't be sure. I don't have friends from hiroshima. Sad, Anyway.
I hope it was a private party or a secret marijuana party or something.
Yeah, I can't be sure. I just haven't found a good explanation for the "Saturday night only" comment. If it was a private party, I don't see why she would have said that. This occurred on a Monday. Based upon the crowd in the bar, I don't think it was a private party, either. There were people drinking alone, a handful of friends playing darts, etc. If they thought I was military, that's understandable; those guys can cause a ruckus. I sincerely hope it was just a misunderstanding. Outside of Hiroshima, everything -- and everyone -- was great.
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Oh, man...
Well, at least you've had many good experiences to outweigh this one. I hope the rest of your trip goes well!
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