Moments of Omotenashi

On my most recent trip to Japan, I ended up staying in ryokans, two of them, the entire time I was there.  

The two ryokans I stayed at had some similarities.  Both of them did not offer food service during the stay, something which I had come to think of a standard practice for ryokans.  On the other hand, both were very reasonably priced, with a stay of several days being about the same as a single night’s stay at other ryokans I had stayed at.  Both had rooms with tatami mats on the floor.  Though for the first one, the accommodations, with the exception of the tatami flooring, were more like a standard hotel room, rather than a traditional washitsu, or Japanese style room.  The first one didn’t have much greenery found at the ryokans I’d stayed at before, in the form of gardens or nature around the inn.  

The first one didn’t feature the same degree of Omotenashi, the Japanese word for a traditional form of hospitality, that I had come to expect from ryokans.  The staff was very polite and helpful, in the manner I’d come to expect from Japanese service personnel at hotels, restaurants, and stores that I’d visited.  It wasn’t a bad place at all.  Something like a standard hotel, with good service, and a serviceable daiyokujyo, or common bath, available. 

The second one was quite a different experience.

It was in Matsushima.  A place famous in Japan for its scenic beauty.  The Matsushima Koumura Hotel was a 15 to 20 minute walk from the Takimachi Station on the Senseki-Tohoku line.  The route my GPS gave me to follow included an unmarked service road that ran behind what looked like a school’s baseball field.  Then, a turn to the left to another service room along the Taki River.  I came upon the ryokan from behind, spotting it when I turned around to see if I had passed it.  

It definitely looked like my expectation of what a ryokan should appear like.  A garden-like area at the entrance.  Wooden frames visible in its construction.  Sliding, paper screen doors at the entrance.  Very traditional.  

What set it apart from the previous ryokan I’d stayed at, and from the other ryokans I’d visited on previous trips, was the landlady.  When I stepped into the genkan, I heard her voice coming from behind the front desk, bright and clear.  “Irashaimase!”  Welcome!

She came out quickly, greeting me before I had time to step up into the hotel proper, telling me I didn’t have to take off my shoes.  She then asked me if I was “Erick Melton,” which I verified that I was.  

After checking me in at the front desk, and explaining the features of the hotel, the location of the bath, the fact that the elevator wasn’t working, and asking if I minded that my room was on the third floor, which I said it didn’t, for which she thanked.  She then told me there was a quiz, and a prize if I got it right.  

She pulled out a card with a question on it.  “How many Islands are there in Matsushima?”  I thought for a moment.  I could remember the exact number, so I answered, “Three, four, maybe five hundred, I think?”  

She flipped the card over.  It had three answers to choose from.  A) 26.  B) 260.  C) 2,600.

I looked at the card, suddenly getting the idea that I had underestimated the number of islands in the bay.  “Is it…  C, maybe?” 

“Oh.  But you just said a few hundred just now…”  Giving me an encouraging smile.  

“Ah.  Ok.  I’ll pick B.”  

“And the answer is…  Tatata-Dum!”  She threw up her arms.  “B!  Omedetou!  Congratulations!  And here’s your prize!”  She produced a small bottle of sake from beneath the counter.  She then had me take a picture holding it, like it was a trophy.  

After that, she lead me to my room.  She pointed out where the entrance to the daiyokujyo was located, half a floor below the one my room was on.  The interior of the Matsushima Koumura Hotel was lovely.  The floor of the corridors were made to look like stepping stones crossing a running stream.  And the interior was done in the same traditional fashion as the exterior.  

My room was very much a traditional washitsu, with a genkan where I did have to take off my shoes.  Paper screen doors.  A futon, already laid out.  The landlady showed me every detail, from where all the light switches were located, from sleeping/living room, to bath and toilet room to how to work the remote control that worked for both the lights and the air conditioner.  

After putting my things away, I decided to go for a walk and check out the surroundings.  Since there was no food service here, as with the previous place, I would have to find a convenience store or a supermarket to get something to eat.  The previous place had a small convenience store in the lobby where you could buy frozen bento boxes that you could heat up in the microwave in the dining room.  Because the Matsushima Koumura Hotel only had a small  “Eating room,” with a microwave and refrigerator for the guests to use, with a table and chairs, plus a vending machine with things to drink, I’d have to buy food, or find restaurants to eat at.

When I came downstairs, the landlady was talking to a couple, with backpacks and hats, like they were about to go hiking.  They were chatting like they’d known each other for years.  The landlady introduced me as, “the new guest, starting today,” and told me they had just finished their stay and were moving on.  The man, turned and told me it was their first time there, and that they’d enjoyed it greatly.  

After they left, I asked the landlady about where I could get something to eat.  She immediately pulled out a map of Matsushima.  She began a very detailed explanation of where most of the restaurants were located, on a road that faced the ocean, the closest end of which was ten minutes on foot from the hotel.  Did I like sea food.  Matsushima had excellent sea food.  Especially clams.  She circled several spots on the map, drying lines from the circles to draw other circles where she entered notes about the food and hours they were opened.  When I told her I’d tried gyutan, beef tongue, a speciality of the region, on a previous visit to Sendai, she circled more restaurants and added more notes.  There were two gyutan restaurants that had the same name, run by the same owners.  One was styled as a family restaurant, the other as an izakaya, a local pub.  The food was the same, she told me, only the atmosphere was different.  When I left with the map, I had a dizzying array of choices on where to go to eat.  In the end, I went to one of the two gyutan places, the family restaurant version, during lunch on my walking tour of Matsushima.

I used the map to find a supermarket by the train station, where I bought some items for breakfast the next morning.  

The next day, I took my walking tour of Matsushima, lead by a private tour guide I’d hired.  You can read about that in my previous post last month.  

When I came back, though, I had another surprise for me.  

They had cleaned my room while I was out.  That wasn’t the surprise.  Hotels do that sort of thing.  But what startled me was what they had done with my stuff. 

Everything of mine was organized and put in order where I had left it.  My laptop, notebook, writing utensils, computer mouse, were organized next to the wall where I’d left them.  My sweatpants and t-shirt, which I’d left on the table, were both folded and set next to my futon.  I knew I hadn’t folded them, because I don’t fold things that neatly.  The items in the bathroom, toothbrush, toothpaste, vitamins, personal cup, everything was set up and group logically together.  Even my canvas shopping bag, which I’d tossed on to the shelves in the genkan, was neatly folded, handled on top, ready to grab, on top of the shelves where I’d left it.  

“This is crazy,” I thought to myself.  I couldn’t believe anyone would go to this length for someone, even a paying guest.  

The most touching incident, though, had taken place early that morning.  

I got up early, around 4 AM, to write.  This is part of my regular practice at home, which I maintain as best I can while traveling.  

I had been walking a great deal during this trip, first up and down the mountains around Nasu, my first stop.  And now, from the station to the hotel, and then around the neighborhood to find the convenience store to by my food for breakfast.  As a result, I didn’t think sitting on a cushion to write on the low table sounded very comfortable for me.  So I decided to go downstairs to the Eating Room and use the western style table and chairs to write. 

As I carried my laptop, notebook, and writing tools in my backpack downstairs, I ran into the landlady, getting cleaning supplies out of a closet.  She asked me if I was going to take a walk to see the sunrise?  I told her I wasn’t.  That I was going to use the table in the eating room downstairs.  Then, as an afterthought, I added, “To write.”  

“Ah, so…”  She bowed to me and added, “Ganbatte.”  The Japanese word that means, “Do your best,” which is sometimes translated as “Good Luck!”  A wish for my success.  

I set myself up at the table.  Per my usual practice, I wrote a page in my notebook.  An exercise to notate thoughts of the day to clear them away before concentrating on the story I was going to work on.  Then I set up my laptop to start working on it.

It was after I started typing on my laptop when I heard the sliding door to the room being opened, slowly and quietly.  

The landlady walked in on small shuffling steps.  A tray was in her hand.  She moved to the end of the table.  Placed the tray there.  And bowed to me.  

“Ocha, dozo.”  Some tea.  Please have it.  

She then backed away, closing the sliding door just as quietly as she opened it.  

I paused.  I looked at the tray.  On it was small pot of green tea.  A small, lovely tea cup.  

I felt something welling up inside.  Her simple gesture carried a profound degree of respect.  I was moved.  It felt as if not only my presence in her ryokan as a welcomed guest was being acknowledged and welcomed, but my dreams to write stories, and my being as a person with such dreams.  

“Itadakimasu,” I whispered.  The Japanese word used with accepting something with humble gratitude.  I took a sip of tea, which I honestly thought was the best green tea I had ever had in my life, then continued with my writing.  

The two ryokans I stayed at this trip were both inexpensively priced.  Neither provided food service.  One was looked more like a traditional Japanese in, with an interior decorated in the same manner.  The common bath at both was decent, though not spectacular.  And the staff at the first one were polite, helpful, and friendly.  

It was the omotenashi I experienced at the Matsushima Koumura Hotel that turned it from an inexpensive stay at a place I wanted to visit, into a special moment that I will remember always.