Ryokan Night (hers)

Scott was very gentle in his description of the ryokan. It certainly was beautiful. However, I think sometimes the anticipated experience of an old, romantic tradition is more appealing than the reality. This was just such an occasion, the more to my dismay for my love of everything else Japanese.
Firstly, we had tried to reach the ryokan by taxi, due to being on the verge of a late check-in. We hailed a cab, only to be rejected because the destination was within 15 minutes walk. So we ran, with our baggage, and arrived only 3 minutes late, but drenched in sweat. I was now thoroughly irritated. We got to our room only to find that tatami mats absorb smells, and we were expected to walk around barefoot like the thousands before us. Gross. I felt the sudden and pressing urge to wash my feet, so we reserved bath time. The staff felt it neccessary to announce to us that we would be bathing together right in front of a large family with young children. Very embarrassing.
When you bathe Japanese style, you shower first, then soak in a (usually communal) bath tub. Ours was basically a wooden box filled with scalding water. I had to refill a fifth of it with cold water and even then I couldn't bear to stay in long. Even more annoying was the depth; sitting properly I was so far submerged that I had to tilt my head back to keep my nose above water. Not the comforting, luxurious bath I had envisioned. Then, I became so entangled in my yukata that the waitress laughed at me, and I ended up looking like a sack of potatoes. My dress-up like a geisha moment ruined, we waited for dinner.
Dinner was pretty rough. It was "small" food, just 3-4 bites of any one thing, and all dishes had a very strong odor of rotting fish. Scott curses my inability to reign in my overriding aversion to smells, but I remind all you viewers that this instinct was what helped our Neanderthal ancestors decide what foods were safe. I can't help it, when I smell something dead, I can't eat it. I picked through what I could, and since Scott really didn't like it much either, I resorted to hiding food under garnishes and pouring things down the sink to make it look like I ate. I ate barely 2 tablespoons of food until dessert, where I was able to eat two whole slices of melon. After a cube of corn jelly and 2 sips of eel broth, it was a feast.
The evening was finally over, and we were exhausted from the emotional strain of pretending to like everything and always being uncertain as to protocol. Strangely, as disappointed as I was while it was happening, I now (2 days later) am glad I tried it. There is a saying which I think fits here: vacations are anticipated with relish, experienced with annoyance, and recalled with fondness. -Anna