Ok, so you get the gist of the legend that is Miyake-san from Claire’s account. This was by far the most insane experience so far – and quite possibly for all of Japan – warm and endearing and culturally inaccessible in equal measures. From the lovely lady in the little café, who had taught Japanese in the states for about 20 years, to Miyake-san himself, clearly mad as a box of frogs whether hammered or otherwise (we guess generally hammered, although he explained later at the dinner table, whilst pouring himself another glass of wine and brushing off the gentle reprimands of his ‘friend’ the young girl, that he was trying to keep it to a happy hour of 5pm-9pm, instead of starting drinking before breakfast, which is what he used to do) we spent the time laughing, smiling, trying to stifle sniggers, hiding looks of disbelief, or desperately trying not to cause offence whilst we hadn’t an idea what was going on.
We should have guessed something was a little ‘misaligned’ when the nice café lady kept suggesting that ‘he’ (as she always referred to Miyake-san when he wasn’t around) was out and about somewhere and would be back soon, and that ‘he’ would sort us out when ‘he’ got back. She also explained that Miyake-san was the 33rd in the Miyake bloodline (and if we understand this correctly, the O part of Omiyake signals his importance as the firstborn, and now head of the Miyake clan – or at least something like that anyway) and that the house had been in the family for over 400 years.
This contrasted nicely with Miyake-san’s explanation at the dinner table that he was back on the island as his 96 year-old father was about to cark it (all ceremonial preparations had already been made), the upkeep of the ryokan was both expensive and a right royal pain in the ass, and as soon as he could he was up for selling it and heading back to his beloved France, or possibly Belgium (perhaps with his wife, to whom he referred regularly, despite no concrete evidence, or maybe with one / some of his ‘girlfriends’ – we’re not sure) for a life of diplomatic luxury. I’m not sure we got a photo of this gent, but picture a short, tanned, wiry man in his 60s with gold fillings, the unnerving, piercing gaze of a clan-leader used to issuing orders, tatty shorts, t-shirt, and those round wire spectacles with flip tops (which were permanently flipped up).
He served Claire at the table, but told me to serve myself. He slipped young Japanese ladies sweets from his pockets. He held court at our (private?!) dinner table despite his broken English. He sat cross legged, when the guide books told us we should be kneeling. He told many broken, stumbling stories of his own past adventures, signalled his disgust that European rail passes do not work in the UK, and insisted that French wine was the best in the world, and that English wine would never happen. At one point Miyake-san and his guest / boy-servant entered into a separate, hushed conversation with frantic gesturing. They were trying to work out who it was that I looked like. Miyake-san started repeating to us “Die Hard, Die Hard…. you know, Broooose, Broooose….” and then the penny dropped: “Broooose Wiwwis. Broooose Wiwwis!”. Had we not been on the floor already, I think all five of us would have collapsed in fits of hysterics. They also liked the Agassi similarity once pointed out to them, although Harry Hill clearly hasn’t made it to Japan yet.
After all that, he jumped up at 10pm prompt, told us to make our own beds for the night (in a ryokan the futon only comes out of the cupboard for bedtime), and that was the last we saw of the legend. The young girl told us in the morning that they had been up until 2am. I suspect happy hour was extended by the landlord, and his ‘guests’ had no choice in the matter. Had we been staying another night on Naoshima I suspect we would both have been out with Miyake-san that morning, fishing for more massive sea bream for our dinner that evening. Perhaps that would have been all it took to stay there working for him, for who knows how long….?
The problem now is what to expect from our other forthcoming ryokan experiences? Is the guide book advice overly formal, or was Miyake-san something a little different to the norm? The Rough Guide recommends at least one stay in a traditional Japanese ryokan, stating: “Treat yourself to a night of luxury in a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn, where you enter a world of understated elegance and meticulous service”. I’m not sure they had Omiyake in mind when they wrote that, but it was a cracking experience nonetheless….
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