The carpet in the lobby looked a bit grubby and smelled like mold. But I was used to staying in places like this, so it didn’t bother me. I was just thrilled to have arrived. I rang the bell several times, and eventually a woman emerged from the room behind the desk—a Japanese-style room with shōji screens and a tatami floor. She was thin, somewhere in her mid-fifties, and her eyes were very sharp. At first the woman looked as if she wanted to ask me why I was so late, but as soon as I told her I hadn’t eaten, she became very friendly. The restaurant’s open till ten, she told me, so if you go in right now you’ll still have time to eat. I’ll explain the situation and ask them to keep the kitchen open if you want to run up and put your bag in your room—just promise me that you’ll come right back down. There’s only one ramen shop around here, you know, and it’s closed today. I’ll be down right away, I said, and went up to my room.
