23: October 24th, 1917: At Kambutsa-Ya

The Pilgrim pearl-purchaser, not unduly weighed down with his load of gems, put up at the above inn and on interviewing Okamisan and enumerating various Japanese dishes which he did not like, was agreeably surprised to learn that “biffu tic” could be had, also pan (bread). With regard to another alleged foreign item on the bill of fare, the name sounded so much like a suppressed inclination to sneeze that the writer gave up guessing, upon which one of the servants produced a bottle of near-Lee & Perrin’s which solved the mystery.

Making out the bill

 Further evidence of Omura’s aspirations to be considered up-to-date was the prevalence of a song, which is very popular at present in Nagasaki and the large towns. One hears it everywhere. Sung in Japanese, each verse of this popular ditty ends with the words “I don't know” (in English), the popular rendition of which being “Ahi doo-ante know te,” with accent on the final “te.” So popular is this ditty, indeed, that once one has broken through the barrier of polite reserve, instead of receiving a “search me” or shirimasen in reply to a query, one frequently gets this last line, accompanied by a laugh and its occasional use greatly facilitates progression from stiff, formal politeness to easy, friendly and familiar conversation.

"Ahi doo-ante know te"

As for the theme of the ditty itself - Well, “Ahi doo an-te know te.” It may be fit for “Choirs and places where they sing,” or for use at Sunday Schools and again, on the other hand, it may not. Occidental and Japanese ideas differ some what upon what is fitting and seemly and the apparently innocuous chant with which yon urchin is beguiling his way, if reproduced at Kuling, might clear a Landrenters Meeting with more celerity than the sound of a dog-fight outside.

On being shown to his room, the writer, wishing to create a favourable impression as to his social status, showed his “quality” by desiring that the Katana-kake be brought immediately. This is the small rack, sometimes elaborately carved and ornamented, never seen nowadays, upon which the samurai of byegone days hung his sword - at his side and ever within his reach.

This request, equivalent to ordering a bootjack and warming pan, was considered a huge joke and one of the nesans disappeared, returning after a few moments with a katana-kake, which she placed in position with all due ceremony, with apologies for its previous absence. Not to be outdone, the Pilgrim gravely placed hip penknife and travellers’ corkscrew on the brackets, upon which in days gone by, the “soul of a samurai” has oft rested and then sat down awaiting the advent of dinner.

But Alas for fine promises! Omura, it transpired, had completely run out of bread. This defficiency, however, was made up by a supply of Japanese biscuits supplemented by a number of thick slices of kasutera; that toothsome edible which we know as sponge cake and upon which, with liquid refreshment, the stranded traveller can satisfy the most insistent cravings of the inner man. Just try it gentle, and it may be doubting, reader. The prescription is - take three of four slices of kasutera, followed by a long drink (for acute cases aerated waters are recommended) and if within five minutes you are not in a similar condition to the Yangtsepoo tramcar on wet day - chock-full inside, with no broken stowage - then there is an Oliver Twistiness about you(r) internal economy that is both remarkable and interesting.

Vegetables a-plenty, but bread "no have got" - a Breadless Day at Omura