Mr. Smith
It was about three years ago when I met him. I'd just moved into my Tokyo apartment, and was still exploring the local area, and frequently getting lost. I didn't mind though, as I've come to realize that it's often when one is lost that one discovers some wonderful little cafe or shop, or meet strange but interesting characters.
I'd been up since 7am, and had finished my yoga workout, which was my latest fad, and was drinking my second cup of Ethiopean ground coffee. The sun was shining, and the day beckoned, so I had a very quick shower, put on some comfortable but warm clothing, and skipped out of my door, wondering what was in store for me. Nobody could have predicted that I'd meet Mr. Smith.
I'd decided to head in a Westerly direction, turning down any street that took my fancy. I really like the fact that Tokyo doesn't seem to have any sort of planning restrictions when it comes to building houses. No two houses or buildings are ever the same, so that as I walked down a street I'd pass an old fashioned, wooden style house with ornate roof, then right next to it would be a strikingly stark, Ando Tadao inspired concrete "object", the epitome of modernity.
I was soon well and truly lost in the best possible sense of the word, and had just spent a few minutes outside a residence that was made almost entirely of glass. It made me wonder what they did at night, when whoever lived in such a place wanted to make love or take a bath, as you could see everything inside. Musing this, I headed on in my journey, taking the next left turning which led me down a dirt track, with tufts of grass poking up from the hard ground here and there. It was also quite dark, as the path was flanked by overhanging willow trees, rustling in the slight breeze. It almost sounded like whispering.
I had walked about 20 meters, and had just turned a sharp corner in the darkening path. Standing before me was a small, old man. Or at least that was my initial thought. He stood about 150cm, thin, wiry and wearing what looked like a fine haired fur coat, with matching trousers. His stood there in profile for about 30 seconds, giving me the time to study him. His face seemd unusally furry. Maybe he had given-up shaving once he'd retired, or maybe he was expecially hirsute. He also wore a bowler hat, which he now twirled off in a showy flurry, as he turned to me and bowed.
"Very pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Smith. How do you do?"
It wasn't exactly what I had expected, as people around here don't usually greet others unless they know them.
"Erm, I'm fine thank you," I spluttered automatically, "my name's Kobayashi."
I wasn't really sure where this was going, so didn't add anything else, as I thought he might live near-by and was just out for a walk, like me, and was being ultra polite, given our close proximity in such a confined space.
"I was wondering, Mr. Kobayashi, if you would be good enough to direct me to the nearest, quality fishmonger. I haven't eaten for two days, and I'm absolutely famished!" he chuckled, then began gently pulling on what I could now see was a very long and fine moustache. In fact, it wasn't really a moustache as such, as there were only about 4 hairs on either side of his very flat nose. You could describe them as whiskers.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Smith, but I've only just recently moved into the neighbourhood. I did see a fishmonger last week, in central Chitose karasuyama. I can't vouch for it's quality, but it was doing a brisk trade, and the service seemed very good." I informed him, trying to be helpful.
He considered this for a few seconds, looking at me all the while with his big green eyes, then said,
"I think I will give it a try, Mr. Kobayashi. Thank you. You've been jolly helpful. I hope we meet again, but for now my stomach calls, and I must do it's bidding. A pleasant day to you." He then bowed again, and very gracefully padded away up the path I'd just walked down. I'm not 100% sure, but I thought I felt a soft brush of a tail against my face as he passed, but I really can't say for certain.
I continued on my way, wondering if I'd ever meet the Mr. Smith again, rueing my missed chance of taking his photograph with my newly acquired digital camera. I was pretty certain nobody would ever believe me otherwise, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
Like I said, it's often when you are lost you can meet some strange and wonderful people. I was hoping that some day I'd bump into Mr. Smith again, and hear, what I was sure would be, a fascinating story.
I'd been up since 7am, and had finished my yoga workout, which was my latest fad, and was drinking my second cup of Ethiopean ground coffee. The sun was shining, and the day beckoned, so I had a very quick shower, put on some comfortable but warm clothing, and skipped out of my door, wondering what was in store for me. Nobody could have predicted that I'd meet Mr. Smith.
I'd decided to head in a Westerly direction, turning down any street that took my fancy. I really like the fact that Tokyo doesn't seem to have any sort of planning restrictions when it comes to building houses. No two houses or buildings are ever the same, so that as I walked down a street I'd pass an old fashioned, wooden style house with ornate roof, then right next to it would be a strikingly stark, Ando Tadao inspired concrete "object", the epitome of modernity.
I was soon well and truly lost in the best possible sense of the word, and had just spent a few minutes outside a residence that was made almost entirely of glass. It made me wonder what they did at night, when whoever lived in such a place wanted to make love or take a bath, as you could see everything inside. Musing this, I headed on in my journey, taking the next left turning which led me down a dirt track, with tufts of grass poking up from the hard ground here and there. It was also quite dark, as the path was flanked by overhanging willow trees, rustling in the slight breeze. It almost sounded like whispering.
I had walked about 20 meters, and had just turned a sharp corner in the darkening path. Standing before me was a small, old man. Or at least that was my initial thought. He stood about 150cm, thin, wiry and wearing what looked like a fine haired fur coat, with matching trousers. His stood there in profile for about 30 seconds, giving me the time to study him. His face seemd unusally furry. Maybe he had given-up shaving once he'd retired, or maybe he was expecially hirsute. He also wore a bowler hat, which he now twirled off in a showy flurry, as he turned to me and bowed.
"Very pleased to meet you, sir. My name is Smith. How do you do?"
It wasn't exactly what I had expected, as people around here don't usually greet others unless they know them.
"Erm, I'm fine thank you," I spluttered automatically, "my name's Kobayashi."
I wasn't really sure where this was going, so didn't add anything else, as I thought he might live near-by and was just out for a walk, like me, and was being ultra polite, given our close proximity in such a confined space.
"I was wondering, Mr. Kobayashi, if you would be good enough to direct me to the nearest, quality fishmonger. I haven't eaten for two days, and I'm absolutely famished!" he chuckled, then began gently pulling on what I could now see was a very long and fine moustache. In fact, it wasn't really a moustache as such, as there were only about 4 hairs on either side of his very flat nose. You could describe them as whiskers.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Smith, but I've only just recently moved into the neighbourhood. I did see a fishmonger last week, in central Chitose karasuyama. I can't vouch for it's quality, but it was doing a brisk trade, and the service seemed very good." I informed him, trying to be helpful.
He considered this for a few seconds, looking at me all the while with his big green eyes, then said,
"I think I will give it a try, Mr. Kobayashi. Thank you. You've been jolly helpful. I hope we meet again, but for now my stomach calls, and I must do it's bidding. A pleasant day to you." He then bowed again, and very gracefully padded away up the path I'd just walked down. I'm not 100% sure, but I thought I felt a soft brush of a tail against my face as he passed, but I really can't say for certain.
I continued on my way, wondering if I'd ever meet the Mr. Smith again, rueing my missed chance of taking his photograph with my newly acquired digital camera. I was pretty certain nobody would ever believe me otherwise, but there was nothing I could do about it now.
Like I said, it's often when you are lost you can meet some strange and wonderful people. I was hoping that some day I'd bump into Mr. Smith again, and hear, what I was sure would be, a fascinating story.
posted by TOK at 10:01 pm
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