02 May 2024

Kyoto

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The geisha game

The fabulous imperial city of Kyoto was the setting for a film about one of Japan's oldest, and most respectable, professions. Adrian Bridge went to find out the real story.

1 The geisha game 2 Geishas in their kimonos 3 Sunset in Kyoto

THERE ARE MANY GAMES you can play with a geisha. One of the most popular in Kyoto involves a variation on scissors, paper, stone. In this version, the geisha and her guest adopt one of three guises: an old woman with a cane, a tiger, or a Samurai warrior with a spear. The participants prepare for their roles on either side of a partition and at the designated moment emerge in one of the poses. The tiger eats the old lady, the Samurai kills the tiger but the old lady wins against the warrior because she is his mother. It’s fast and fun. And someone always ends up paying a penalty… As this is my first visit to a geisha teahouse, I have been introduced to a somewhat simpler game. This one involves a small upturned dish and a flat surface (in this case a counter). When the dish is on the counter the two players take it in turn to tap it with the palm of the hand. At any point one of them can remove the dish, after which the other should touch the flat surface with a clenched fist. When the dish is returned (it can be withheld for up to three rounds), the next player has to tap it with the palm of the hand. The longer the game goes on, the faster it gets. I make a poor fist of it, alas, but Miehina, the apprentice geisha who has taken me under her kimonoed wing, is patient. She smiles encouragingly as I almost trick her into a false move and gives a little cry of delight as her dexterity with the dish fools me completely. Then, delicately readjusting her position, she pours a glass of beer and signals for me to drink. It’s the price I have to pay, and I do so willingly. But I tell her that the next time we play, I’ll get the better of her.

Memoirs of a geisha

Here I pinch myself, and not for the first time on this extraordinary evening when I have found myself in the midst of the strange and mysterious ‘floating world’ of the geisha. It has been a long time since I’ve played such a childish game but I’m finding it compelling. And for the next hour or so I have the undivided attention of an exquisite-looking 17-year-old who will sing for me, dance for me and serve food and drink for me. What’s more she seems to find my every word a pearl of wit and wisdom; my every expression a joy to behold. I could get used to this. Of course I am here only for the purposes of research. The film Memoirs of a Geisha, based on the best-selling novel by Arthur Golden, triggered a renewed surge of interest in this deeply secretive and alluring aspect of traditional Japanese life and more broadly, in the exotic beauty of the country as a whole. The film, a dazzling production from Rob Marshall, chronicles the life of a poor fisherman’s daughter who metamorphosed into one of the most celebrated geisha of her generation. Along the way there’s hardship, rivalry, warmth and love. There’s seediness and splendour; desire and denial.

And it’s all played out against the magnificent backdrop of Kyoto, the former imperial capital of Japan, as it depicts the geisha heyday of the 1930s and charts its decline with the onset of the Second World War.

The Teahouse

But what, if anything, remains of that world today and what can a visitor to Kyoto experience of it? Is it something that self-respecting visitors should be seeking to experience? For all the emphasis on the mastery of calligraphy, classical dance and the playing of instruments, aren’t geisha, literally translated as ‘persons of art’, simply high-class ladies of the night? For answers I turned to Peter MacIntosh, a Canadian ex-pat who has lived in Kyoto for 13 years, is married to a former geisha, and who prides himself on being a member of teahouses in all five of the Kyoto districts in which geisha are to be found (though his wife is slightly less enamoured of this arrangement). When he first came to Kyoto in 1993 there were just 55 apprentice geisha (or Maiko to give them their proper name), whereas today there are 80. Unlike Sayuri, the central figure of Memoirs of a Geisha, girls are no longer sold into the profession but enter voluntarily with their parents’ consent, and have the freedom to leave. Why do they do it? ‘For some women, becoming a geisha is a kind of rebellion against modern ideas of equality and the sexual revolution,’ says Peter. ‘It’s a domain in which they can be completely feminine. Successful geisha are highly sought after.

People pay a lot of money just to be in their company. That’s quite an ego boost.’ If there is a revival, it is modest. In the decade before the war there were as many as 80,000 geisha in Japan; today there are roughly 1,500. In Kyoto, the heartland of geishadom, there are fewer than 300. But they are still there. I’ve just seen one walking, or rather tottering along on those extraordinary platform shoes. We’re in the heart of Gion, the atmospheric Kyoto district that was the setting for much of the action of the book (and painstakingly recreated in California for the film). Peter knows her, he seems to know all of them, and waves a greeting. We stop at the school where apprentice geisha are instructed in dance, calligraphy and playing the shamisen (a classical three-stringed instrument) and imagine how Sayuri must have felt when she arrived on her first day. During a quick pit stop in a nearby Starbucks I spot another one demurely sitting in the window. The back of her kimono dips, revealing a three-pronged fork-shaped area of bare flesh on the nape of the neck surrounded by the thick white make-up that is the trademark of the apprentice geisha. Japanese men find that sexy. Very sexy. But what exactly does go on behind those bamboo blinds in the hallowed teahouses?

Despite the expense curiosity gets the better of me and, through Peter, I gain an introduction to the Harutomi ochaya (teahouse) in Gion, which we will visit together.

The geisha game

Never, ever touch a geisha’s kimono,’ says Peter. ‘Some of them are worth more than £30,000. So no posing for pictures with your arms around them. If you want to appear cultured, comment on one of the drawings or on the quality of the dancing. Joke and flirt as much as you like, but never get vulgar. Enjoy yourself; this is meant to be fun. But there are boundaries: geisha do not “offer the pillow”. There are other places for that.’ I am nervous. Will my small talk be up to it? Will my appreciation of the arts (particularly Japanese arts) prove wanting? As in all these situations beer helps. Miehina, attired in a wonderful green kimono and sporting fabulous red lips does pour them beautifully. With Peter translating, I ask her about her life as a maiko. She’s very excited: just two weeks ago she completed her first year and no longer has to wear the flowery hair ornament that dangled in front of her face. She dances, slow elegant movements on tatami mats to the accompaniment of a shamisen played by the mother of the house, a former geisha with an all-knowing, no-nonsense look about her. Miehina dances and then sings, again to the accompaniment of the shamisen. Mother scolds her for getting some notes wrong. There are more bottles of beer. Meihina spills some and looks contrite. But then the games commence. Clenched fist, outstretched hand, clenched fist, outstretched hand; now you see the dish, now you don’t. Miehina pours another beer. Not a drop spilled.. ‘Magnificently done. It’s impossible to improve on such perfection,’ I say. ‘That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me,’ she says; in a manner that is so heartfelt I almost believe her. Miehina is playing her part; I am playing mine. It’s all a game. The geisha game.

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