It was one of many pleasant encounters with the city’s service staff, who seem immeasurably modest. More than once, I encountered knowledgeable station masters, phlegmatic looking men (I have never met a woman station master) manning the booth by the turnstiles, who were treasure troves of information.
There were shadowy shapes in dimly lit lanes and discreet signboards on buildings, with light filtering out from within. I didn’t see any geishas that evening in Gion, Kyoto’s famous geisha district, inhabited by high-end bars and restaurants housed in traditional wooden merchant houses, yet within these establishments, a craft quintessentially Japanese continues to thrive and beguile customers.
I hadn’t planned to be there. It was at the suggestion of the helpful officer at the tourist information booth, where I had stopped to ask where I could get some good Kyoto-speciality noodles.
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