While I was a student in Tokyo, I had to take care of the Dean of my French Business School during his annual visit. I did not last long in my French Alma Mater. I was eager to escape France as part of the international exchange program and I was determined to never come back.
I was wondering what I was going to do with the Dean for a whole day.
A month before the big event, I was called by the Japanese Dean, an austere and harsh man.
“Banessa-san, you have been chosen to take care of the Honorable Professor Leclerou during his day off. You will take him to the sanctuary of Nikko. The school offers you first class train tickets as well as your lunch. You will wear your school skirt suit and heels as it is required for official representations. I hope you are aware of the honor we have to receive such a famous French professor. This meeting is over.”
“Yamamoto-san, can I ask you a question?”
“A single one Banessa-san, a single one, you have already abused my precious time.”
“It is the weekend of January 21st you are talking about Yamamoto-san? Nikko will be perhaps snowy. Do you allow me to wear something more suitable than a skirt suit?”
“Banessa-san, the regulation is the regulation. You are our representative, wear proudly the colors of your school please.”
Four weeks later, I went to fetch the Professor Leclerc at his hotel one Sunday morning at dawn. We got a little lost in Tokyo station before we moved into the comfort of the very old fashioned Nikko express train.
Once out of the center of Tokyo, snow started to fall in large flakes on the train as it continued its run towards the shrine of Nikko.
“My dear Vanessa, I do not want to be rude but the outfit you picked today doesn’t seem particularly suited to visit a Shinto shrine under the snow.”
Already traumatized by my schooling at my Japanese University, I didn’t feel comfortable to answer him.
To which school should my allegiance of body and mind belong to?
“Well then, since we are highly likely to remain stuck at the foot of the snowy sanctuary, read the guide aloud and tell me the wonders of Nikko I may never see.”
I had brought in my purse a guide of Japan from 1978 that I had found in a flea market of the French countryside. Archeological sites dating back sometimes several millennia are forgiving. They will not be cross at you for visiting with a decades old brochure.
I spent the next two very enjoyable hours reading the Nikko chapter to the Professor Leclerc, a passionate and erudite man.
When we arrived at the Nikko station, the streets were covered with several centimeters of snow. Even the most popular locations were completely deserted.
“Vanessa, take me to a shoe shop please.”
I followed his instructions, not really understanding his intentions. After several months in Japan, I had already learned not to ask questions.
In the snowy streets of Nikko, under the heavy flakes, the ground was very slippery and I fell several times.
The Japanese merchant was amazed to see two snowy “Gaijin” in his shop. Professor Leclerc in his greatest kindness ordered me to choose a pair of suitable walking shoes. Then, he asked me to take him to the only department store of the city and bought me a warm and colorful tracksuit.
At 11 a.m., the snow stopped. We went to discover the beauty of the sanctuary in its adornment of light.
It is one of the best visits I have made of the site of Nikko and until today it is linked to the infinite kindness of my teacher.