Secrets of Calligraphy

      What could be cozier on a rainy afternoon than a matinee at kabuki-za with two lovely tomodachi (friends)? With 37 days until the wrecking ball arrives (plus three years until the earthquake proof theater opens) management is dealing with record crowds saying Sayonara to the 120 year old building. A mere Y1200 (about $15)  purchased a small seat for Hitomaku-mi (one act) in the peanut gallery by the rafters. The key to grabbing an unreserved seat is to join the queue at least 25 minutes before tickets go on sale; afterwards, SRO (standing room only). Among the ardent groupies we climbed the steep red-carpeted steps to the top, flinging coats on the available seats and renting audiophones with simultaneous translation.

     For four centuries kabuki actors have entertained audiences in and around Edo (Tokyo). Like English pantomime these shows are reruns of old fables; the actors are the draw. Also in the tradition of English panto, female roles are played by men although not as flamboyantly as the panto dames. Today's cast was stellar, judging by the reaction of the audience. Experts shout out stage names of their favorites at key scenes known to insiders; we were seated by one such vociferous gentleman (only men seem to care). How fitting to watch "Secrets of Calligraphy" during spring break from our calligraphy class. While the secret is never revealed, for 90 minutes we followed the story of the expert Kan Shojo who passes a scroll with the secret to his disciple. Sword fights, a love story, and a calligraphy scene ensue. When the buffoon attempts to steal the scroll that contains the secret, he is punished by having a desk strapped to his back.

     Back down on the dori (avenue), we navigated a few blocks to Ginza, (think Fifth Avenue); a few brave cherry trees starting to display in the cold rain.  No time to browse at Itoya, the world's best stationer, or the large Muji since rush hour is upon us. At lunch we discovered the rainy day special: All you can eat dessert.  Isn't one teaspoon of ice cream sufficient? I bet  Bob Dylan doesn't look back.