The Art of Serenity
Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo
When we emerged from Tokyo Station, it was apparent the first signs of spring in the city had arrived. A huddle of cherry blossom trees across the street had started sprouting tiny pink flower buds that perfumed the air with a subtle sweetness. A nearby park was resplendent with lush emerald green grass upon which we rested for a moment, gazing at the hotel’s reflection glistening majestically on the river’s glassy surface.
As we soaked in the serenity, the day echoed through our minds with memories of goths and geishas, karaoke and ramen bars, and countless electronic gadgets and gizmos that looked as if they had been acquired from another century — in the future. Exploring the city that day, eclectic beyond comprehension, had been quite a sensory roller coaster and we looked forward to returning to the warmth and familiarity of the hotel.
As soon as the lobby doors closed behind us, an air of tranquillity materialised and the city outside, reverberating with life, suddenly ceased to exist. Before us, a mesmerising curtain of chandeliers made up of thousands of crystal teardrops hugged a marble staircase behind it, from which a kimono-clad woman descended so gracefully and slowly it appeared as if she was not taking the steps at all but was somehow gliding down them.
The most striking flower arrangements made up of sweet peas and orchids splashed the interior with pink and purple hues and together with the golden light from the chandeliers, the lobby emanated a most harmonious atmosphere to which we happily surrendered without any resistance at all. Few moments, if any, were as poignant as the times we returned to the hotel, and we melted into its deeply soothing peacefulness and warm embrace.
Lunch at Nadaman was enthralling as we watched the chef at his helm, preparing all the mouth-watering treats of traditional Japanese teppanyaki. Succulent morsels of Wagyu beef and fresh king prawns sizzled animatedly as they were tossed and tumbled on the hotplate before us. Then, relishing every bite slowly and attentively, we took great delight in the way they melted in our mouths, slathering our taste buds with sweet and buttery heavenliness.
That evening, we found ourselves at a library that possessed an atmosphere more of discernment rather than learning, as it was a library of wine rather than books. It was the Sommelier Suite at Piacere restaurant, with its dramatic high ceiling, lush velvet furnishing and golden portoro marble giving the room an almost ethereal glow. When we arrived, we were greeted by the sommelier himself, who was already decanting for us a bottle of his finest red wine, which we later discovered paired perfectly with our flawlessly grilled veal fillets.
I let the tepid waters of the bath embrace my body, feeling the silkiness of the sweet potato sake soften my skin. As I soaked my weary body in this secret shochu brew, I could feel an achiness melt effortlessly from my muscles. Even my mind, which had once held on to too many thoughts to consider, had finally let go, allowing me to drift into a deeply slumberous state. When I left the spa, the world seemed different — colours were brighter, smells had become more aromatic and the noise of the city sounded more like Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 than peak-hour traffic. My mind, it appeared, was operating on another level, where every thought, every idea had suddenly become possible, and I could not wait to discover what the rest of the day was going to bring.
