memoirs of a trip

there is something exhilarating about traveling alone. a permasmile -- that slight upward curve to the corners of my mouth -- seems to translocate to people around me and i find them smiling back. that then translates to a spring in my step and a general feeling of bonhomie all around. liberating. tho, i must admit that the phenomenon of people smiling back only happens in the US. somehow, that translocation of the permasmile seems to get lost somewhere between my face and the other face in other places around the world.

regardless, i find traveling alone liberating. and so this past week traveling sola, i sauntered over to the LAX airport bookstore. with a rare display of decidedness, i walked up to the "bestsellers" section -- for that was where my chosen book was, in plain view -- and picked up "memoirs of a geisha."

what followed was a 36 hour long tryst with Sayuri in Gion. clicking in irritation at the polite "indian vegetarian meal, madam?" and "would you like a hot towel, please?" interruptions, i traded in my meals (and sleep) as i devoured the 502 irresistible pages instead.

when i was 6 i remember telling my school friends i was born in Japan, a figment of my imagination -- borne out of a fascination for ancient Japanese culture, even then. i remember staring for long at hokusai's paintings of Japanese life and mount fuji (36 views of mt. fuji) and wishing i were there. i remember summer holiday afternoons spent trying to replicate his drawings of geisha ... that nape of her neck... those folds of her obi... that exquisite pattern on her kimono... the setting sun through the cherry and plum trees...

and Golden's descriptions of the kimonos in Gion took me right back to those days. there is so much to be said for an author's ability to transport you into the story -- so much so that your eyes glaze over when you look up from the book. i know i tried to imagine those stewardesses as geisha, silly as that may seem. and constantly, i found myself thinking of the metamorphosis of amiran to umrao.

for all the book built up gradually, i must say, it didn't deliver towards the end. without giving it away, i'll say this. the verve and details with which Golden captures Chiyo and then Sayuri's feelings, is lost after Amami. somehow somewhere, that magical enigma evaporates into rushed and tired prose. not nearly enough of Sayuri's voice comes through in the end. but even so, it is un-put-down-able.

traversing into Sayuri's Gion added that je ne sais quoi to my trip. not unlike the feeling i get, say, when i watch umrao jaan or ijaazat... sola.

--------------

tomorrow MoaG releases on the big screen in India. will i see it? of course. will it live up to the book? probably not. and i wont know until i see it.

but there is ken watanabe in the film. cannot be too bad then, can it? :)