Yoko was sick with nerves as they pulled up in front of the splendid hotel Fujiyama. She sat on in the car for a moment enjoying the spring sunshine on her face, glad of the anonymous shield of her dark glasses. A few more minutes grace. She marvelled at the sight of Mount Fuji rising grandly above the clouds. It has been a spiritual symbol of Japan since ancient times. It is Japan’s most sacred and holiest of mountains.
She was in awe of its serenity, its symmetry and its icy remoteness. She longed to be a speck on that snow-covered summit. She imagined herself standing on the snowy apex, gasping in the thin air that hurt to breathe. A solitary figure, eyes screwed up against the blinding whiteness and ears deafened by the thundering silence: the freezing wind savagely biting her cheeks. There, on that glittering peak one could experience complete freedom, a oneness with nature and perhaps, happiness of a sort.
Noburo leapt out of the car and took out their suitcases and began to hurry up the marble steps to reception, bumping the suitcases noisily on every other step. He suddenly became aware that she wasn’t behind him. He dumped the cases in front of the revolving doors with a clatter and went down to the car. He put his head inside the window, his face close to hers. Yoko drew back a little, but he didn’t seem to notice
‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like the hotel?’ he asked. Without waiting for her answer he continued.
‘I thought you’d love it. When we first married you talked of nothing else but going on holiday to Mt. Fuji together.’
Yoko turned her head away a little so as not to inhale his strong breath.
‘That was 30 years ago’, she murmured half to herself. Then, managing a weak smile, she got out of the car.
‘You’re right Noburo, it’s a beautiful hotel’. Fighting back the nausea and apprehension she climbed the steps to the glass and marble foyer but she did not permit him to take her arm. She simply could not bear him to touch her. She had asked him to book twin bedded rooms, explaining that she had a painful rash.
While Noburo checked them in at reception Yoko sat stiffly on an elegant cream sofa and amused herself watching the arrival of the guests coming in through the revolving doors. People fluttered inside the glass cubicle like butterflies caught in a jam jar; imprisoned briefly by the heavy, rotating glass doors before they were suddenly spewed out, dizzy and disoriented.
Some had arrived to visit the Cherry Blossom festivals which were just beginning. The hotel was busy with tourists from all over the world. She wondered at all the different languages being spoken. A group of Americans pressed eagerly against the reception counter, all calling out different requests at once to the receptionist.
'Miss! Miss! I need someone to take our bags up to our room immediately!'
'Hey miss! Can you tell us where to catch the touring bus tomorrow morning?'
'Excuse me miss, what time is breakfast?'
'Er.... miss! My little boy has just been sick on this gentleman's suitcase. Do you have a cloth?
Honey, there's no use getting mad! It's just one too many Hershey bars is all!'
'Miss' Kanawa kept calm and unruffled and bore all the mayhem with dignity and good humour. Always smiling gently and giving little respectful bows to everyone. Eventually they fell back, their needs now satisfied only to be replaced with a family of bewildered Spaniards who surged forward.
'Perdona Senorita!!! They cried in unison.
A tall well -dressed Frenchwoman with some expensive looking luggage came hesitantly forward.
'Bonjour mademoiselle. Je voudrai un chambre........'
****************************************
In the gleaming, brightly lit corridor the bustle of Reception was soon forgotten. Noburo slipped the card into the slot and pushed open the door of their room. Yoko let out a little gasp of surprise. The door opened onto a large, airy room with two enormous picture windows looking out over the forest to the snow-capped Mt Fuji. Bright mid- morning sunlight splashed onto the cream linen sofas with chocolate cushions artfully arranged. The gleaming wooden floors were covered in strategic places with thick beige rugs. A heavy oak coffee table piled with magazines stood between the sofas.
Yoko walked over to the huge picture window and gazed out over the tops of the trees to the lake, shimmering in the sunlight. In the distance she could see Mt Fuji, starkly white against a dazzling blue sky. Shining and omnipotent. A group of pink flowering cherry trees coming into blossom provided a natural arch on the terrace outside the sliding glass doors.
‘Oh Noburo! This is so very lovely!’ she breathed.
‘You like it? I’m so glad Yoko-san’ Noburo murmured. His expression of relief was concealed as he gave a low bow like the bell boy showing off an apartment.
She smiled. She had not expected such splendour, such beauty. She turned to Noburo. 'This is wonderful. It's more beautiful than I could have ever imagined' She wandered into the bedroom and noted the two single beds. Noburo came up behind her and tried to kiss her neck affectionately. She moved aside abruptly.
‘I’m going to try out that shower. The bathroom looks so inviting.’
He tried stifle his disappointment with a broad grin. Noburo, the smiling tiger.
'Fine, after your shower we could take a turn round the gardens and have tea on the terrace if it's not too cold.' he said.
Yoko put her head on one side coyly, her sleek black hair with its single grey streak, fell seductively over one eye 'Sounds like a good idea'. Then the door closed gently against all further communication. Noburo stood looking at the door for a moment then, with a sigh, he turned to unpacking the suitcase.
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