In the fall of 1991, I lived and worked in Tokyo, Japan for six months, I was on a one year visa, but came home for a family visit in the spring of 1992 and wrestled with the decision of whether or not to go back to finish out my visa. I was conflicted. My head was saying go, make money and finish what you started. My heart was saying no no no. Do not go back there, for if you do, you'll come home in a body bag. I eventually figured out where this sense of dread came from, and it had something to do with the man I had been seeing and had recently broken off from. Harukazu Suzuki. Known to his friends as Hal. I met him on Christmas day, 1991 at Maggie's Revenge, an Australian pub in the heart of Roppongo district. I had just started a gig signing at Maggie's that same night with an awesome guy named Joe Mock. I knew of Joe's musical prowess having seen him perform many times in our native Vancouver with Pied Pumpkin. Now I was lucky enough to be a duo with him!
After my first set, I was heading to the bar. Hal was sitting alone, eating fish and chips. I breezed by his table and he said, in a very clear Aussie accent, "you have a very nice voice". I was taken aback by a Japanese man with an Australian accent, so I asked him the obvious questions and soon was sitting as his table, sipping the first of many drinks he bought for me that night. By New Year's Eve, Hal and I were an item. He had pots of money, or so it seemed, and was staying at a beautiful hotel in the Ginza prefecture. I had very little, and was staying an hour and a half away at a guest house of 30 odd people. Needless to say, I was drawn to him for the luxury he provided and his unusual juxtaposition of character. He was a native of Japan but had a great command of English, and an Aussie sense of humor and accent. Deep down, I was beginning to become secretly afraid of him. Specifically, I was afraid when he was drunk, which he was often.
After New Year's he went back to Sydney to the advertising agency he owned and operated. He called me everyday and sent a dozen roses every week. When my birthday arrived, end of January, he sent me a stereo. From Sydney. Ironic that he would send electronics to Japan, but I digress. Hal wanted me to come live with him in Sydney to give our relationship a fair try. At first I said yes, I would come for a visit. At least if I only committed to a visit I could escape, as long as I kept my passport nearby. But whenever I actually thought about going, I would get a severe sharp pain in my heart. My heart is trying to tell me something... My heart is trying to tell me something.
Back to spring time, home in Vancouver visiting family, still trying to decide whether or not to go back to Tokyo. One warm spring evening I was invited to play basketball with a group of Japanese students. I had played in junior high school and wasn't a bad forward and I thought it would be fun to hang out with some Japanese kids. I still had my fondness for all things Japanese. at one point, I had the ball and was going in for a lay up shot, which went in and I scored. On the way down fro my great leap, I broke my ankle. Fuck. Off to the ER for a cast and some painkillers. I guess my decision re: Tokyo had been made for me...
So, now I am laid up with a cast and starting to feel sorry for myself. Hal has stopped writing me and finally given up on seeing me again. I am falling into a depression. I can't work, I am running out of money and it's now summer and hot and my cast is irritating the hell out of me. And I still have regrets about missing out on opportunities in Tokyo and wasting my precious visa that was no small feat to acquire. My bestie Ann offers to take me on a weekend getaway to Seattle. She has a cousin who lives in a beach house and another cousin who is a renowned psychic in the Pacific North West. Ann thinks the weekend adventure will lift me out of my slump. And we can go to the psychic cousin for answers on Japan.
As soon as we get across the border we head to the psychic. She asks why am I here? I say I want to investigate my karma with Japan. As she's laying her tarot deck out, she says I have terrible karma there, dating back hundreds of years. I was once a geisha and had many suitors. One suitor was a famous samurai. He and I had an affair. He was also married to my sister, who prepared my wigs for my performances and trysts. Needless to say there was some friction between us girls. I felt horrible for betraying her, so I tried to break off the affair. The samurai brother in law was furious and refused to let me go. So he stabbed me through the heart and killed me. Now here's where is gets hinky. Psychic lady (I'm going to start calling her Barb, but I don't actually remember her name) tells me that the sister in my past life is with me in this incarnation. I immediately think it's my sister Susan. She is a hair stylist who won an Emmy years back for her work with wigs on a television series called Dark Shadows...
Did I mention that I was a modern day geisha in Japan? One of my many jobs, aside from Maggie's Revenge and singing jingles, was hosting and singing in a businessmen's club called The Bon Ton. Every hour, ten men would come in and we would sit at their tables and pour them drinks and then each girl would get up and perform a song. We repeated this scenario five times a night. I was fairly popular with both the Japanese men and the visiting businessmen. Japanese men wanted to talk to me in broken English about Banff and Niagara Falls. Some were enchanted by the colour of my skin. One particularly handsome man asked if he could see me outside of my job. I agreed to meet him for dinner. He professed his love for me at a karaoke bar after murdering Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love. He was married with a family, but apparently men in this country see it as a right to have mistresses on the side. In his limo on the ride home, he took my hand and put it down his pants. He asked me if Japanese were the same as my Canadian boyfriends. I lied... Honestly, I liked the dinners and the gifts and being treated like a lady. I figured if I didn't put out, I wasn't quite at the level of call girl. More of a modern day geisha.
When I finished my session with the "Barb" she aid she had a print of a samurai upstairs in her house. I stood in shock before the picture. Hal was a dead ringer for the guy in the picture. Same shaped mustache, same hair line, same look in his eyes. My knees got weak. Thank god I was still on crutches! I decided then and there to let go of Japan and stay in Vancouver. Karma is a bitch.
