It was an uncomfortably warm and humid day, typical of the rainy season in Japan, where the only brief respite from torrential rain is the suffocatingly thick moist air. Of course, this is when my friends from the States decided to visit. Naturally, I suggested Nara as a worthwhile place to spend the day; the deer, giant buddha, and cute cafes are all worth at least one day during a Japan trip. My friends are the active type and love a good hike. I, on the other hand, prefer to keep public sweating to a minimum. Besides, after living in Nara for a couple of years, I’ve already had my fill of the sepia sights. “Have fun exploring! I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll wait for you guys at Starbucks.” It worked.

A few hours later, I met my friends, who were as exhausted, sweaty, and red as all the other tourists here at this time. “We could sure go for a crisp drink!”

Although Nara was my home just one year earlier, and I can recommend where to get udon, tonkatsu, and even donuts, alcohol was not my forte. In fact, I hadn’t gotten back into drinking socially until fairly recently. This, plus the fact that my friends have ‘discerning tastes’, made my googling all the more uneasy. I stumbled across a rather elegant-looking bar, which seemed somewhat out of place in the stuck-in-the-70s Nara shopping arcade. The map suggested a nondescript building I had walked past dozens of times without the slightest inclination of what existed there.

No name on the outside. No number on the door. No doorbell or intercom to interact with. The blocked windows provided no hint as to what was in store. I hesitatingly opened the door only to be confronted with a tiny pitch-black room. A white sliding door about 4 feet high was my only choice. In my very best Alice In Wonderland, I slid it open… curiouser and curiouser…

If whiskey was a room, it would be this bar. A palette of dark mahogany to amber yellow shocked my eyes, having just emerged from the all-black tiny room. A pleasant staff member greeted us. Bear in mind, I speak limited Japanese, have virtually zero knowledge of alcohol, and will, 9 times out of 10, choose a chain restaurant to anything requiring a working knowledge of social behaviors. This was a trifecta of difficulties for me to work through.

" いいんですか？" I managed to politely ask if we were allowed entrance at this time. I don’t know if I asked because I thought reservations were needed, our attire wasn’t formal enough, or some other reason. My worries were in vain as we were warmly greeted and offered seats either at the bar or the single table to the side. The bar is where it’s at.

What transpired next was a wonderful blend of expertise, showmanship, and pride in the most Japanese way possible. No menus, meaning interaction is a must. A calm atmosphere, meaning every noise and event is noticed. The peace comes from the private garden behind the window. I’ll omit any further description, as my words will fail to capture the magic and artistry of the experience. Savant is something for you to behold on your own.