It was the very first day of my pilgrimage and I already had crippling blisters, ankle strain, and jock itch. I was in total despair. Not even one day into this stupid thing and it was already looking impossible. Baked by the late afternoon Shikoku sun, I meandered in total exhaustion until I saw a sign for the Okudaya henro guest house. After an hour of exhausted wandering I finally found the place: a simple Japanese house next to a scrapyard and some kind of weird tent building filled with Buddhist stuff.
Praying for a miracle, I opened the door and was greeted by a typically kind Japanese lady working the desk, so to speak. "Am room is available?" I awkwardly asked. She replied yes, and I forget the rest because I was so relieved. Finally, a place to rest and tend my blisters. Ten minutes later she asked, would you like to go to the hot springs? Hell yes I said, but in textbook elementary level awkward polite Japanese. A small blue car pulled up, driven by a short pudgy man wearing a surgical mask. That man was Mr. Okuda.
Apparently a native of Shikoku, Kenichi Okuda is the proprietor of the Okudaya guest house. For the last 11 years he has made it his life mission to assist Buddhist pilgrims complete this quest, all for the modest fee of 40 dollars a night with hot spring visits included. Sounds like a saint right? Well it`s a little more complex. The guy is character, and a total hoot. First, he`s a devoted fan of the Hanshin Tigers, the Chicago Cubs of Japan. His most prized possession is a 30 year old beer can, unopened, from the last time the Tigers won the Japan World Series. His busted up car has only a radio and a tape deck, and his only cassette tape is like 12 versions of Rokko Oroshi, the Hanshin Tigers fight song. There's the rock version, the kids chorus version, the orchestral version, etc. Second, he won't fucking shut up about the fact that since I`m American, I must a have a huge penis. Get off it man!!! Positive stereotypes are also harmful. And it ain't the length of your samurai sword that counts, it's how well you polish it. Third, he reeks of cigarettes, and his teeth make Gollum`s teeth from Lord of the Rings look like Anne Hathaway`s trillion kilowat smile. And finally, despite repeatedly telling him that I have a fiance, he won`t stop extolling the comely virtues of Japanese women. He came up with a rudimentary phrase: America wa America, Nihon wa Nihon, which crudely translates to, What Happens in Japan, Stays in Japan. Sorry Okuda-san, but in the words of Hall and Oates, I can't go for that; no can do. So as you can see he's pretty funny, and I like how he operates so much that I made the Okuda guest house my base of operations for the first leg of the journey. He even said that he`ll hold onto my excess baggage for the next month while I complete the pilgrimage!!! That being said, there`s every chance he`ll pawn my stuff for Hanshin Tigers tickets, but we`ll see. And that would make a heckuva story, so it`s all good.
In conclusion, Mr. Okuda is the man who took me in, nursed me back to health, and taught me how to have fun with this insane journey I`ve decided to take. All for 40 bucks a night! Money well spent.
No comments:
Post a Comment