Thirty stories up in Le Grand Chariot Sky Lounge of the Hotel Nikko Kanazawa, the mists shroud the night and bring the view surprisingly close. On the windows, spatters from the rains which came hammering down right after my arrival diffuse the light.
Headlights flit between buildings like fireflies. Smeared ribbons of light glow green, amber and red on the pavements below. In order not to disturb the rowdy revellers in another section, I perch the tablet on the window sill and take the best shot the inadequate camera can manage.
I write in the rain with champagne. I’ve always loved how the defiant little bubbles go up in spite of anything else falling down. Here’s the language muddle again. How ironic, the only female party of one in the room, I’ve ordered the “lovers” set. Two glasses of champagne with the Chef’s selection of hors d’oeuvres. It takes a minute to make sure the waiter doesn’t bring both glasses at once; however, I’ve learned not to make assumptions. When something is a set in Japan, you get the set. No substitutions. Nothing on the side.
I’ve come mainly for the music and the view. A pleasant way to relax and pass the first evening before meeting friends tomorrow. The pianist is amazing. A real treat. Delicate ornamentation and deep feeling devoid of any sentimentality. Another language through the fingers to the heart.