Saturday, April 21, 2012

Hulaing at the Spa


The Mule's Hula Recital

A cold, unlike Spring, Day

It was maybe fifty degrees, windy, and Enospa wouldn't give me our shoes, but hey, girls gotta dance. The Mule also forgot to tell me she is supposed to braid her hair the night before so that she can have wavy Polynesian hair. At least they don't spray her down with "tan in a can." Where in the world is Kamakura's spring? It was a cold day to be outside barefoot in a hula outfit but she had lots of company.

The Spa has my Shoes

Enospa is one of the few nearby spas that you can visit coed and wear a swimsuit. They have a rule though, children must be at least seven years of age. The Moose turned seven last month so we decided to hit the spa before the "Hawaiian Festival," onsen junkies that we are. The Mule had to be ready forty-five minutes before the show started. Being an efficient mama, I instructed my husband to keep the Moose occupied in the pool and meet me in a half an hour.

The Enospa staff however would not let my daughter and I have our shoe keys or pay the bill without our "whole party." This is Japan where rules are followed to an absurdity. I left the Mule, barefoot and wearing her hula costume, when she spotted a classmate.  I returned inside the spa to hunt down my husband and son. I found them in the cave pool.

"Honey, they won't let the Mule have her shoes until we all leave together," I said. His response, "You're kidding me?" "Nope." They departed for the showers. At least they dance the hula barefoot on the stage, and I remembered to record it this time.

The festival dancers ranged in age from yochien preschoolers to senior citizens. The grace and beauty of the hula dancers was punctuated by the shrill calls and headdresses of the Tahitian dancers. I loved the hip wiggling, but my husband's favorite was MC'd as "Hurra Frlies" which turned out to be "Hula Eyes."

After all of the dancing, I returned to the spa to ask about a parking pass since the spa staff had spent ten minutes interrogating us to include having us point out on a map where we had parked. Their answer, "No," followed by the "X" crossed fingers. On previous visits we had received parking passes to feed into the parking meter. We left empty-handed and bought ice cream cones from a street vendor.

Let's hope for blue skies and sunshine for the upcoming Kamakura Beach Festival where I will remember to bring a zip-up not pullover fleecer for my Hawaiian girl, a fancy garment bag for the costume instead of rolling it into a backpack, and some braids the night before for the wavy hair look. After all, I just want to fit in.

A Youtube clip