murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

09.01.2013 Views

PRIVATE NO TRESPASSING. A few clues suggested the guard had been there until some moments before: the ashtray held three buttends, a tea cup stood there half empty, a transistor radio sat on a shelf, and the clock on the wall ticked off the time with a dry sound. I waited a while for the person to come back, but when that showed no sign of happening, I gave a few pushes to something that looked as if it might be a bell. The area just inside the gate was a car park. In it stood a mini-bus, a four-wheel drive Land Cruiser, and a dark blue Volvo. The car park could have held 30 cars, but only those three were parked there now. Two or three minutes went by, and then a gatekeeper in a navy-blue uniform came down the forest road on a yellow bicycle. He was a tall man in his early sixties with receding hair. He leaned the yellow bike against the guardhouse and said, "I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting," though he didn't sound sorry at all. The number 32 was painted in white on the bike's mudguard. When I gave him my name, he picked up the phone and repeated it twice to someone on the other end, replied "Yes, uh-huh, I see" to the other person, then hung up. "Go to the main building, please, and ask for Doctor Ishida," he said to me. "You take this road through the trees to a roundabout. Then take your second left - got that? Your second left - from the roundabout. You'll see an old house. Turn right and go through another bunch of trees to a concrete building. That's the main building. It's easy, just watch for the signs." I took the second left from the roundabout as instructed, and where that path ended I came to an interesting old building that obviously had been someone's country house once. It had a manicured garden with well-shaped rocks and a stone lantern. It must have been a country estate. Turning right through the trees, I saw a three-storey concrete building. It stood in a hollowed-out area, and so there was nothing overwhelming about its three storeys. It was simple in design and gave a strong impression of cleanliness. 112

The entrance was on the second floor. I climbed the stairs and went in through a big glass door to find a young woman in a red dress at the reception desk. I gave her my name and said I had been instructed to ask for Doctor Ishida. She smiled and gestured towards a brown sofa, suggesting in low tones that I wait there for the doctor to come. Then she dialled a number. I lowered my rucksack from my back, sank down into the deep cushions of the sofa, and surveyed the place. It was a clean, pleasant lobby, with ornamental potted plants, tasteful abstract paintings, and a polished floor. As I waited, I kept my eyes on the floor's reflection of my shoes. At one point the receptionist assured me, "The doctor will be here soon." I nodded. What an incredibly quiet place! There were no sounds of any kind. It was as though everyone were taking a siesta. People, animals, insects, plants must all be sound asleep, I thought, it was such a quiet afternoon. Before long, though, I heard the soft padding of rubber soles, and a mature, bristly-haired woman appeared. She swept across the lobby, sat down next to me, crossed her legs and took my hand. Instead of just shaking it, she turned my hand over, examining it front and back. "You haven't played a musical instrument, at least not for some years now, have you?" were the first words out of her mouth. "No," I said, taken aback. "You're right." "I can tell from your hands," she said with a smile. There was something almost mysterious about this woman. Her face had lots of wrinkles. These were the first thing to catch your eye, but they didn't make her look old. Instead, they emphasized a certain youthfulness in her that transcended age. The wrinkles belonged where they were, as if they had been part of her face since birth. When she smiled, the wrinkles smiled with her; when she frowned, the wrinkles frowned, too. And when she was neither smiling nor frowning, the wrinkles lay scattered over her face in a strangely warm, ironic way. Here was a woman in her late thirties who seemed not 113

PRIVATE NO TRESPASSING. A few clues suggested the guard had<br />

been there until some moments before: the ashtray held three buttends,<br />

a tea cup stood there half empty, a transistor radio sat on a shelf,<br />

and the clock on the wall ticked off the time with a dry sound. I waited<br />

a while for the person to come back, but when that showed no sign of<br />

happening, I gave a few pushes to something that looked as if it might<br />

be a bell. The area just inside the gate was a car park. In it stood a<br />

mini-bus, a four-wheel drive Land Cruiser, and a dark blue Volvo.<br />

The car park could have held 30 cars, but only those three were parked<br />

there now.<br />

Two or three minutes went by, and then a gatekeeper in a navy-blue<br />

uniform came down the forest road on a yellow bicycle. He was a tall<br />

man in his early sixties with receding hair. He leaned the yellow bike<br />

against the guardhouse and said, "I'm very sorry to have kept you<br />

waiting," though he didn't sound sorry at all. The number 32 was<br />

painted in white on the bike's mudguard. When I gave him my name,<br />

he picked up the phone and repeated it twice to someone on the other<br />

end, replied "Yes, uh-huh, I see" to the other person, then hung up.<br />

"Go to the main building, please, and ask for Doctor Ishida," he said<br />

to me. "You take this road through the trees to a roundabout. Then<br />

take your second left - got that? Your second left - from the<br />

roundabout. You'll see an old house. Turn right and go through<br />

another bunch of trees to a concrete building. That's the main building.<br />

It's easy, just watch for the signs."<br />

I took the second left from the roundabout as instructed, and where<br />

that path ended I came to an interesting old building that obviously<br />

had been someone's country house once. It had a manicured garden<br />

with well-shaped rocks and a stone lantern. It must have been a<br />

country estate. Turning right through the trees, I saw a three-storey<br />

concrete building. It stood in a hollowed-out area, and so there was<br />

nothing overwhelming about its three storeys. It was simple in design<br />

and gave a strong impression of cleanliness.<br />

112

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