"Omotenashi" in the Red Light District
"Omotenashi" (おもてなし) is a cultural concept that the Japanese are deeply proud of. While difficult to translate directly into other languages, it pertains to attentiveness toward small details when dealing with customers in the service industry. Often, it is most visibly displayed in the meticulous training Japanese personnel receives on what kind of languages and gestures to use under what circumstances when speaking to clients, as well as the little things Japanese restaurants and hotels use, such as tools and signage, to make customer feel comfortable and convenient while dining.
It is rather funny that the author thought of "Omotenashi" while he was walking back to the hotel in the hot spring town of Beppu. He had just came back from a you-know-what session in the town's surprisingly active red light district, and for some reason, in an activity that often focus on the body, the verbal treatment by the staff at the "shop" was the most memorable. After all, the town of some 120,000 people, nowdays full of foreign tourists from East Asia, just as is the case in Nagasaki, this rather "traditional" area all but off-limits to foreigners who do not speak Japanese, remains the best place to witness "Omotenashi."
Of course, this is not to say that the service or the staff at the "shop" was sub-par. In fact, the 40-minute session, costing some 8,000 yen (80 USD) may be the most worthwhile night activity the author has spent money on in quite a while (certainly more so than having overly expensive drinks in Malaysia). The girl, slightly older than the author, was a small-town beauty, quite fit and only voluptuous where it mattered. The service started with the girl washing the client down in the shower, followed by lotion massage and more on the bed, and finishing up with another shower to cleanse the lotion and other fluids.
Without a doubt the girl handled the physical activities with the smoothness and skills of a true professional. The "Omotenashi" already shined here, with the temperature of the shower and the lotion just right for the client's comfort. The fluffiness of the towels and the bed certainly did not hurt to get the client in the mood. But aside from her God-graced physical beauty, what really shined for the girl was her absolutely cheerful personality, which combined hearty laughs with friendly jokes to immediate bring out her girl-next-door feel. She had no qualms about following along the author's often lewd and offensive jokes.
Her lovable talkativeness led the author to think that he was not being served by a girl who was doing something she did not particularly enjoy but had to do for money, but just spending some quality, fully naked time with his girlfriend. Her self-deprecating jokes about her techniques and amateurism only made the author feel at home, rather than being in an institution while he would feel guilty both about spending large sums of money and, for many people, potential time away from wife and other family members. It was a sort of emotional attraction that goes beyond the author's excitement about feeling up her beautiful body.
It was hard to tell which part of the girl's cheerfulness was faked as part of the job, and which part was quite genuine. Regardless, the author was able to hear many interesting stories, many of which cannot be made up out of the blue, during the short session. She spoke of girls who make enough at night but still forced to get a day job to fend off suspicions. She spoke of 80-year-old clients and ambulances parked constantly around the red light district in case of heart attacks. And she spoke enviously of girls who develop long-term working relationships with frequent customers and those who constantly fill up their 4-hour daily shifts.
There was a certain level of frankness that this secretive industry would not be accustomed to. She divulged that she does this only on a part-time basis for extra spending money. The author returned the honesty by confessing that he is new to the business as a client as well, and only entered the shop because the shop showed the real girls rather than just pictures, most of which tend to be highly photoshopped. The girl laughed a truly surprised but enjoyable laugh at the author's overheard stories of people getting girls that do not look anything like the pictures yet are refused refunds.
If there is any conclusion to the story, it is that the author enjoyed the chat with the industry professional, much more than getting a load off. And that is even when "getting the load off" itself was made so enjoyable but the impeccable techniques of a superb beauty. Stimulating the mind with a girlfriend-like conversation was an orgasm in itself, one that is not at all inferior to the real thing. The author does feel sorry that most foreigners who travel to Japan will never have a verbal experience in a little town's little red light district. Because it is here, above the carnal desires, that "Omotenashi" shines the brightest. Japan should be proud.
It is rather funny that the author thought of "Omotenashi" while he was walking back to the hotel in the hot spring town of Beppu. He had just came back from a you-know-what session in the town's surprisingly active red light district, and for some reason, in an activity that often focus on the body, the verbal treatment by the staff at the "shop" was the most memorable. After all, the town of some 120,000 people, nowdays full of foreign tourists from East Asia, just as is the case in Nagasaki, this rather "traditional" area all but off-limits to foreigners who do not speak Japanese, remains the best place to witness "Omotenashi."
Of course, this is not to say that the service or the staff at the "shop" was sub-par. In fact, the 40-minute session, costing some 8,000 yen (80 USD) may be the most worthwhile night activity the author has spent money on in quite a while (certainly more so than having overly expensive drinks in Malaysia). The girl, slightly older than the author, was a small-town beauty, quite fit and only voluptuous where it mattered. The service started with the girl washing the client down in the shower, followed by lotion massage and more on the bed, and finishing up with another shower to cleanse the lotion and other fluids.
Without a doubt the girl handled the physical activities with the smoothness and skills of a true professional. The "Omotenashi" already shined here, with the temperature of the shower and the lotion just right for the client's comfort. The fluffiness of the towels and the bed certainly did not hurt to get the client in the mood. But aside from her God-graced physical beauty, what really shined for the girl was her absolutely cheerful personality, which combined hearty laughs with friendly jokes to immediate bring out her girl-next-door feel. She had no qualms about following along the author's often lewd and offensive jokes.
Her lovable talkativeness led the author to think that he was not being served by a girl who was doing something she did not particularly enjoy but had to do for money, but just spending some quality, fully naked time with his girlfriend. Her self-deprecating jokes about her techniques and amateurism only made the author feel at home, rather than being in an institution while he would feel guilty both about spending large sums of money and, for many people, potential time away from wife and other family members. It was a sort of emotional attraction that goes beyond the author's excitement about feeling up her beautiful body.
It was hard to tell which part of the girl's cheerfulness was faked as part of the job, and which part was quite genuine. Regardless, the author was able to hear many interesting stories, many of which cannot be made up out of the blue, during the short session. She spoke of girls who make enough at night but still forced to get a day job to fend off suspicions. She spoke of 80-year-old clients and ambulances parked constantly around the red light district in case of heart attacks. And she spoke enviously of girls who develop long-term working relationships with frequent customers and those who constantly fill up their 4-hour daily shifts.
There was a certain level of frankness that this secretive industry would not be accustomed to. She divulged that she does this only on a part-time basis for extra spending money. The author returned the honesty by confessing that he is new to the business as a client as well, and only entered the shop because the shop showed the real girls rather than just pictures, most of which tend to be highly photoshopped. The girl laughed a truly surprised but enjoyable laugh at the author's overheard stories of people getting girls that do not look anything like the pictures yet are refused refunds.
If there is any conclusion to the story, it is that the author enjoyed the chat with the industry professional, much more than getting a load off. And that is even when "getting the load off" itself was made so enjoyable but the impeccable techniques of a superb beauty. Stimulating the mind with a girlfriend-like conversation was an orgasm in itself, one that is not at all inferior to the real thing. The author does feel sorry that most foreigners who travel to Japan will never have a verbal experience in a little town's little red light district. Because it is here, above the carnal desires, that "Omotenashi" shines the brightest. Japan should be proud.
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