The Sun Also Rises

April 22nd, 2009  |  Published in Hot off the press  |  2 Comments


Westworld – Postcards
          text and photography by Cherie Thiessen

Love in the land of the rising sun

"Irasshaimase", a discrete velvety voice greets us from somewhere above the crystal chandelier as soon as the glass doors have automatically opened, allowing us to skulk into the spacious, gleaming lobby. There is, however, no-one in sight. The lighting is muted, the music is celestial and the inviting decor matches the voice. Furtively my husband and I look around and are relieved to see a radiant row of panels across the room blinking
invitingly. Holding hands, we tiptoe over the marbled, glowing tiles and see ourselves reflected in polished mirrors everywhere we look. We have never done this sort of thing before, honest.
 

The panel shows rooms, lots of different rooms at different prices, theme rooms. The Black Leather Room is the most expensive at $210 for three hours, too dark for my romantic tastes and it would take us far too long to work out what all that apparatus on the wall was for anyway. Panel number two, though, now we’re talking: a huge oval soaker tub for four in a marbled bathroom the size of my home in Canada, a round bed, and oh goody, a karaoke bar with
mirrors and lights. That will give us something to do with the other two and three quarter hours of our allotted time for love. This room is $90 for 3 hours, or we could stay the whole night for $300, but how much decadence can a couple married for 25 years stand?
We push the button under the picture and watch the panel light go off under our coveted room while a room card slips out. Simultaneously the nearby elevator doors slide open, the disembodied voice says, "Arigato Gozimashita," – thank you -, and we slip into the elevator without paying a yen and without seeing a soul. The musak plays on, covering the sound of our beating hearts.

Second floor, a red light is blinking off and on at a doorway indicating that the door to our romantic fantasy is about to be opened. We slip the key in and – tadaima – we have entered The Mirror and Marble Love Dreams With Your Sweetheart Room.

Crowded Japan, where frequently couples live with their parents in tiny apartment rooms, and children stay at home until they marry, has lack-of-privacy solutions. Love hotels rented short term and conveniently located in every city, make romance possible. The one we chose, Love Dreams Hotel, was circumspect from the outside and classier than most. Parking was behind walls so license plates couldn¹t be recognized from outside. There was, however, no place for our rusted
and tattered bikes. I guess lovers don’t usually cycle to their clandestine trysts! Some of the more "tacky" hotels have even cornier names like "Hollywood Love," "The Big Wave," or "Passion Palace".  

But back to the Love Dreams, where we have found everything we could want: room service, a well stocked bar, bubble bath, lotions, sleep shirts, slippers, shampoo, toothpaste, douches, not to mention a sex toy dispenser that blew me away, figurately speaking. You put your yen in the dispenser, and out comes the object of your choice. A wall sized TV with multiple screen previewed all of the sexy videos we had the choice of watching, and there seemed no way to turn it off. The bed was inviting, and the champagne wine glasses beckoned.
First things first, however, I’m for that karaoke!  

"Remember we only have three hours", my hunk reminds me, "and it will take me at least half an hour to recover from your singing."

Ah, the sweet words of wooing.

The jacuzzi enclave, with its acres of gleaming tiled floors, was almost as tempting as the karaoke, so I eventually turned my attention to that. Eventually, my sweetheart’s attentions turned away from the television screen and he followed my trail of clothes in the direction of the jacuzzi.

Ok now, cutaway to the moon rising…..then later back at the Love Dreams Hotel and the tired but happy lovers…..Here I am back in the tub while my valentine paces outside the door, checking his watch and reminding me that we are about to be automatically charged the equivalent of another $90. A machine inside the entrance to the room is loudly ticking away like a time bomb. Now is the time to feed it our money and depart. So, while he curses and fumbles as he tries to
decipher how to insert the notes, I try out some of the creams and powders and prepare for my exit. We slip out without seeing a soul; the music blankets our footsteps and the mirrors now reflects our dazed and glutted faces.  

"Sayonara", that plush voice whispers as we leave our Love Dreams behind. Do you ever get the feeling you¹re being watched?

Responses

  1. Gimme A Dream says:

    June 25th, 2009at 7:43 pm(#)

    When you said you traveled, you certainly meant it.

  2. Reginald says:

    May 9th, 2014at 1:55 pm(#)

    I every time spent my half an hour to read this blog’s articles daily along
    with a cup of coffee.

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