Christmas in Japan

Christmas is a time to reflect on the blessings we enjoy and the good we can do. It is a time to remember family and loved ones, to spread goodwill and cheer. It is a reminder of the infinite goodness of God and His Son. As we thought about our favorite Christmas memory, we immediately thought back to a recent Christmas that we spent together—although it is perhaps not our favorite, it is one that we will definitely never forget.

During Christmas of 2004, we were going stir crazy in our tiny apartment in Gifu, Japan. We had been alternately sitting and lying on our single couch while talking to family and friends in the one heated “room” in the house. We decided it was time to get out.

Christmas in Japan is less of a religious holiday, and has instead evolved into a more insubstantial celebration—a celebration of couples. In fact, if you were to visit Japan during Christmas, you may just wonder if you had mistakenly arrived for Valentine’s Day.

As you wander around town, you might see advertisements such as "Couple Dinner" and "Lover Set." Hotels offer special packages for Christmas lovers, which usually includes a discounted price complete with chocolates and some stuffed animals thrown in for good measure. Many couples just went for the gusto and stayed in a hotel that specialized in absolute privacy and anonymity – the love hotel. What were we supposed to do? Well, when in Rome...

--Deep Breath--

We had an overnight bag packed and thought it would be no problem to find a love hotel while walking around Nagoya after a good meal at one of our favorite restaurants in Nagoya – The Outback Steakhouse. The love hotels were easy to spot since they looked like a Vegas casino hotel; neon lights, crazy motif, enormous.

Finding one in the shopping district of Sakae proved to be more difficult than we had anticipated. We tried asking a few people if they knew of love hotels in the area, but as you might guess, most people got very uncomfortable when we mentioned the word. These hotels are notorious for their intended purpose and the Japanese people didn’t like to have open conversations about such private matters. We would try to explain that we are married, this is our first time in Japan, and we'd just like to get a taste of another facet of Japanese culture. If anything, this increased the timidity of our passersby. Clearly, we needed to find another way.

We went to a convenience store and bought a magazine that listed hundreds of restaurants and hotels in the area. We flipped to the section entitled, "Rabu Hoteru." We perused the incredibly variety (even those featuring running streams and live koi in the room) until we found one that we liked and was within our price range. Feeling confident in our selection, we walked over to the nearest taxi stand.

We showed the magazine to the driver, pointed to our top choice and said, "Take us here, please." The driver closed the doors, started the engine, and we were off.

After driving for more than a few minutes, the driver began muttering to himself in the front seat. Most Japanese people talk to themselves, so we didn't think much of it until we realized he was scowling and muttering at the magazine.

"Is it far from here?" Darron asked. He said it was. "How far?" Darron ventured. He told us that it might be another 20 minutes still. The meter was at 1200 yen (about $11.00) and we thought another 20 minutes was doable. And it would have been. Unfortunately, it was to be another 45 minutes before we would leave the taxi. After asking for directions twice and turning around three times the embarrassed driver finally turned off the meter at exactly 4480 yen (around $40.00). The poor guy had no idea what he was getting into when he picked us up.

We drove around for a while longer and even had him call the hotel operator – twice – and on our cell phone, of course. In the end, he happened into a glowing billboard with the name and number of our hotel on it. Bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of finally dumping his foreign customers, he pulled over and let us out.

Just as he pulled away we saw that there was another name on the building that read, "Club Jak." It was not a hotel at all, but a nightclub. The sign above the building was nothing but an advertisement for the hotel we had been looking for. Just as this realization dawned, a bouncer from the club walked over to us with an inquisitive look. Clearly we were not there for the club; who goes to a Nagoya hotspot with their overnight carry-on? The bouncer was friendly enough. We attempted to explain our dilemma in our best Japanese and he pointed across the road.

"It's between five and ten minutes by foot," he said. "Walk to the intersection, turn left, cross the street, walk farther. There will be a bridge..." Then he started waving his hand like a snake slithering through the grass. That's where we stopped understanding him. Darron figured we'd be able to figure it out. He was wrong.

Ten minutes later, we were standing under an overpass looking into an industrial yard. We were lost. We weren't sure whether to follow this industrial road to its end or turn back. After a few minutes' deliberation, we decided to backtrack to where we saw what we thought was a different love hotel. About five minutes later we were there. We didn't exactly know where "there" was, but we weren't in a position to care anymore. It was nearly 10:00 pm, it was cold, and we were sick of walking around foreign streets, in a foreign city, in a foreign country. Near the top of the spire was a large neon sign that read, "Santa Fe." Ah, we could rest at last.

We walked through a curtain that led to an inner parking garage. There was a discreet sign indicating that the front "desk" was to the right and up the stairs. In the entryway, there were a few potted plants, a holiday decoration called "omotchi," and a display board with pictures of rooms on it. The board was reminiscent of a Wendy's drive-thru order board. We looked at it for a moment and then pressed the button nearest the only panel that was still lit, Room 102. The panel darkened and a receipt fell into a nearby slot. What now? The writing on the little slip of paper was in kanji, and our reading ability was still lacking. So, with no staff about, we decided to find Room 102.

As we approached the correct door, we heard voices that belonged to two middle-aged women. Our presence sent them scurrying down the hall, leaving behind a trail of apologies. "Sumimasen." "Gomen neh?" We'd have loved a helping hand, but too quickly the door at the end of the hall pulled shut. Simultaneously, the door of Room 102 opened, and slightly bewildered, we walked in. The door swung close behind us and with a resounding “click,” it automatically locked and sealed our fate.

To our horror, we saw there was no way to open it again, but we gave it a good tug anyway. No luck. We probably would have stood in the genkan nervously laughing for a while longer if the phone hadn't started ringing. Darron darted inside the room and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

What followed was presumably Japanese, but it was fast and incomprehensible. Darron told the woman that he couldn't understand and could she please repeat that. The second time was not much clearer except for the phrase, “10,000 yen.”

"Ichiman yen?" Darron clarified.

Yes, that was definitely correct. After a little more conversation Darron realized he was to deposit 10,000 yen (roughly $95.00) into the canister that was in the box next to the phone. After putting the bill inside the canister, he pushed a nearby black button and it shot up a vacuum tube, like the one at the bank teller’s drive-thru.

As our hysteria began to subside, we were able to explore our room which was decorated in what a Japanese person might think was a “Cowboy-Western” theme. The queen-sized bed was a happy discovery, quite a rarity in Japan. The bed was complete with an electronic panel that brought back memories of Rock Hudson in “Pillow Talk” – with buttons that controlled lighting, music, and the bed itself. There were also windows that would surpass those of Alcatraz: The inside pane was a mirror, followed by three layers of frosted glass. Once all four panes were open, you could finally see outside—through thick metal bars. We began to wonder whether we had checked into a love hotel or a prison.

One of the walls featured a glass-fronted vending machine with beer, juices, ice coffee, teas, and a few other items that should not be described, but are likely exclusive to the love hotel experience. (Yikes.) The bathroom area was traditional – a vanity, toilet room and "ofuro" (a deep, Japanese bathtub with a separate shower in the same room). The sitting room included a turquoise leather couch (in keeping with the “Santa Fe” theme), which faced a flat-screen plasma TV with cable television, video games, and of course, a karaoke machine.

The next morning presented us again with the challenge of getting out of this crazy place. Darron picked up the phone and dialed "9." The operator answered, and it was at this moment that Darron realized he had no way of communicating that we wanted the door to be unlocked. Instead, he said the first thing that came to mind, "We finished."

Some more incomprehensible conversation followed, and the operator hung up. We breathed an audible sigh of relief as the door popped open and our bill appeared on the TV screen. 8500 yen for the room, 189 yen for a sports drink, and about 500 yen for some other fee. Whatever. The pneumatic tube sent the canister back with our change.

And we had done it. We had successfully made it through a night at a love hotel. As it turns out, it's lucky that we had arrived so late the previous evening, because prior to 10:00 pm, the fee is calculated hourly (another yikes). A standard overnight fee applies after 10:00 pm, which is about the equivalent of two hours in prime time.

Ironically, getting back was a snap. We rode a bus for 10 minutes, transferred to the subway and rode back to Nagoya station. Oh, if only we’d known it would be only $10.00 and 30 minutes—but instead, we paid $45.00 to be driven around in total confusion until we were finally dumped on the side of the road and locked in a badly-decorated jail cell (at least with karaoke, though!). You live and learn, right?

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