Slowly we made our way through the dimly lit passageways, holding on to the walls for support and listening for sounds of others around us. Finally, with the ceiling so low we had to get down on our hands and knees,
wondering if our initial plan was really such a good idea, we reached our destination. Gingerly, we sat, arranging ourselves carefully as our eyes got adjusted to the dim lighting. "God, I hope there isn't an earthquake" someone said as we laughed nervously.
The waiter arrived, crawling down the short hallway as he balanced the tray with some very welcome "welcome" champagne and we settled down. You see, we were not in some cave in Afghanistan but instead a bizarre little wine bar in Shibuya. Each table was, in fact, a small room where you sat on seat cushions on the floor and enjoyed your meal, getting less claustrophobic with each sip of wine from their impressive (for Japan) wine list.
The walls were covered in washi (Japanese paper). I know this because I reached up to the ceiling, which was only a few inches from my head and touched it.
The food, carried in by our crawling waiters, was quite good and by the end of the night, I was thinking that I should bring Arny here.
I don't think he would fit though.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment