Change and Resistance

This column is a reprint from Unwinnable Monthly #181. If you like what you see, grab the magazine for less than ten dollars, or subscribe and get all future magazines for half price.

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Architecture and games.

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I got married back in July and recently returned home from a honeymoon, spent mostly in Kyoto, Japan. I could say a lot about Kyoto, both good and bad, ranging from poor public transportation to the cultural impact of tourism, but I’d like to focus on something in between: accommodations. When you’re planning a trip to Kyoto, remember to book early because accommodation can be hard to find, especially at the last minute.

I’m a very organized person, but I admit to having dropped the ball on booking hotels this time around. I gave myself plenty of time, at least in theory, but in practice, when it comes to a place like Kyoto, you really have to be thinking months instead of weeks ahead. As you might expect, we ended up staying at several different hotels during our stay, one of which was a type of traditional inn called a ryokan. These take a variety of shapes and sizes, but they generally are full service, family-owned operations featuring fine dining and bathing facilities, frequently near natural hot springs known as onsen. In terms of structure and layout, ryokan occasionally consist of two or more connected buildings. But for many located in large cities, they often take the form of a machiya, such as the ryokan where I stayed in Kyoto.

I’ve written about machiya quite a bit in the past, pointing out interesting instances in videogames like Shenmue, Sekiro, Nioh, Ghost of Tsushima, Yakuza and more. These are traditional townhouses with paper doors and wooden lattices on the outside, revealing open courtyards at the center which bring plenty of natural light into the otherwise deep, enclosed building. The rooms inside are divided by sliding screens, creating flexible spaces which can easily be reconfigured. They typically have matted flooring and exposed wooden beams with delicate joinery. The functional spaces including retail stores or workshops are frequently found in front of a residential area towards the back. The overall design combines beauty with practicality, making use of entirely natural materials which reflect the philosophy of impermanence, in addition to the aesthetic of imperfection.

When it comes to most ryokan, the architecture is kind of the same, but also kind of different. These have relatively large entrances with furniture for storing footwear, seats or couches, reception desks and commercial kitchens, along with either private or communal bathrooms. The rooms are mostly made using traditional methods, incorporating sliding doors and floor mats. They typically consist of a bedroom with futons, living areas with a low table and chairs, along with a lobby featuring an umbrella rack or shoe holder. The less traditional establishments will offer televisions and computers or at the very least air conditioners, particularly in the spring and summer. We had an air conditioner.

The staff were friendly, the food was delicious and the room was charming. I admit that I’ve always wanted to stay at a ryokan, especially a machiya. There were of course a few inconveniences like the street noise or creaky floorboards and I make no mention of the low ceilings, but I will say that as a rather tall person, I often left with a headache. In any case, I loved the seasonally decorated alcoves and the more than obvious care put into customer service. I also greatly enjoyed the food, something which easily encapsulates the entire experience. According to the owner, who also happens to be the chef, the building itself and the business more generally have been passed down from father to son for ten generations, each new proprietor legally adopting the first name of their predecessor, something which remains a relatively uncommon practice. The current owner on the other hand plans to leave the ryokan to a daughter, breaking with both traditions.

I can only see this change and the various forms of personal conflict which must have preceded the decision as being somehow reflected in the architecture. The building appears to have remained substantially the same over the centuries, although modern amenities like flush toilets or bidets have worked their way into the business plan over time. The moral of the story is that nothing stays the same for long, regardless of how much resistance there may be along the way, whether in terms or tradition or basic beliefs. The same could be said for this ryokan, including the still pending transfer of ownership.

The stay left a strong impression on me, owing to the long history of the ryokan, but also the ongoing negotiation between change and resistance, both in terms of ownership and architecture. I have to admit that I struggle with several significant obstacles in my life and while I’m honestly not sure that I’m quite ready to discuss them, I’ll most likely touch on these in a future column. The fact is that my time in Kyoto turned out to be characterized by such struggles, pushing the patience of my partner over the edge, pretty much to the breaking point. I sincerely hope that you never have to discuss divorce only a month into a marriage. In any case, I’ve come to realize that resisting what I know to be a necessary and positive change in my life is in fact a very foolish decision indeed.

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Justin Reeve is an archaeologist specializing in architecture, urbanism and spatial theory, but he can frequently be found writing about videogames, too. You can follow him on Twitter @JustinAndyReeve.