Hotels

My life 4.5

Hotels

Walking through the New Otani was like walking through a small city.
Used in an old James Bond film, I first stayed in the older, triangular
bock with the enormous revolving restaurant on top. From this I saw the
three black helicopters as the US President was carried to the Guest
House, just across the park. Later years it was Charles and Di in the
Guest House. Parts of the old Imperial Gardens made up the Hotel
Garden. Electronic birds shrilled along the paths as you made your way
to the traditional tea room or the steak house in the grounds.

It was the only place I have seen waiters running across the knee-deep
carpets delivering room service - running!

In the Hotel, there were 27 restaurants. My favourite was the Tempura
restaurant. Classic - Japanese wood, simplicity. I would sit at the
counter. The Tempura chef (10 years training) would deliver delicacies
in order, fresh and piping hot. His chopsticks would deliver a perfect
battered prawn to my dish, then vegetables, then other delicacies. The
shell of the prawn, carefully detached from the flesh in front of my
eyes using only two sharp knives, one in each hand, was crushed and
cooked in the hot oil. Every tiny leg and antenna intact, it crunched
like a shrimpy crisp in my mouth - delightful! I used to love the
persimmon at the end of the meal, just to round it off. Nearly as good
as the green tea ice-cream!

I preferred the new tower - a 40-floor white tri-lobal construction,
looking like plastic from the outside. The rooms were larger, odd
shaped, curved, but with magnificent views. And the journey time was
shorter! You could come in the back entrance, with its supermarket and
shops, on foot from the subway, and just take the lift six floors up to
the hotel. Getting in the front was a mission, unless you arrived in a
limo or a taxi.

Arriving was a performance. I once went there with a new boss. He
committed cardinal sins - he tried to help unload the taxi. Basically I
had to abandon him, and for the rest of the trip, that particular
company spoke to me, but not to him.

The trick was, always assume! Get out of the taxi, walk to the hotel
entrance - don't pause. Someone opened the door, you did not hesitate.
You did not look back. Someone collected your luggage (how could you
doubt it?). You arrived at reception, checked in. Somewhere behind you
was a bell-boy or bell-girl with your luggage. As you checked in, they
came forward, took your room key and led you to your room. From the
reception to the Tower took at least 10-15 minutes, passing arcades of
shops, restaurants etc.

The same manner had to be assumed all the time. If you were a guest,
you went first, you just went forward, assuming everything was taken
care of, and it was. I had trouble with some of my big bosses who tried
to be 'polite' in the English sense. It only lost face. And by the way
- I loved it!!!!!!!

Once we stayed in Yokohama. In the lift was a carpet - each day it was
changed. The wording on the mat said 'Happy Monday', 'Happy Tuesday'
etc. If you entered the foyer, and moved toward the lift, any passing
employee would run forward, usher you into the lift, and take you up to
your floor, bowing and wishing you well as you left.

My quality assurance man left early. He told me later " A little girl
from the hotel took my case, held an umbrella over my head, took me to
the nearby station, helped my buy a ticket, put me on the train, and
waved goodbye as the train pulled out"

Amazing - but Japan!

In the basement of the hotel was a bar. When the girls brought your
drink, they knelt on the carpet, mixing it for you, and wishing you to
enjoy it!

I LOVED it!

In a bar we were entertained by bar girls. We had been presented with a
range of sushi-like snacks. Suddenly, one of the girls leaned over to
me and said "Your prawn is calling to me" I was taken aback.

"Take it" I said, gesturing to the large prawn on its rice bed.

"I cannot! We are not allowed to eat. The mama-san says so"

I conspired with the girls, leaning over, speaking with my colleague,
hiding them from the mama-san's view while they scoffed the food. They
were nice people, stuck in a bar in shorts, trying to entertain foreign
businessmen. At least I gave them food!

Once I was in a nightclub. An attractive woman wass singing. "It's a
he!" someone whispered, just as the subject made a dash towards me.
She/He was restrained rapidly by the management. I guess it's the
beard!

(1984)