Clover Bar

Me and Brian went out to meet up with a lady he was interested in. She said she worked at a bar called Clover, near the next train stop in Omiya. We looked at the map, realized it was actually quite close to our house, and hoofed it.
The walk was nice, we got lost for a bit, found our way and eventually stumbled upon the train station. The bar was tucked right around the corner; a big red hand painted sign in English read CLOVER. The door was ornate with stained glass, the door jam was covered in all kinds of beads and bits of indescribable colored stuff. Me and Brian looked at each other with the “I’m about to pull the door open on something, in a foreign country, and I will be surprised, but the people inside will undoubtedly be more surprised” type of face. I love when I have to make that face…something good is about to happen.
Peering inside we were of course greeted with the instant “irasshaimase!!” followed by the mumbling of conversation which I usually translate in my head as “how the hell did these white boys end up here?” This is Japan though, so of course that banter is much more polite. We saw smiles, so we entered.
The air was thick with incense and the sound of The Beatles, we were in 1968. The walls were covered with 60’s memorabilia, bits of shiny plastic and rhinestones and gems. It was like a distilled Hippy Gypsy store, plus Japan, of course (a common trend here believe it or not!!). The whole bar was a about 10 feet by 20 feet.
Brian mumbled some Japanese, I stood and smiled. We were given stools, more stares and things started to come together. I blathered my best “birru onegaishimas kudasai” (translation: beer please!) and we were in business, kind of. We found out that Brian’s friend had quit 10 minutes before we got there.
We were the only people there, except for a very nice bar maid type lady and her hippie styled coworker, which I will describe shortly. They were genuinely concerned for us, I think they thought we were lost and just trying to play off the fact that we landed in their strange bar in the armpit of Saitama, Tokyo some rainy summer night.
Me and Brian sat and chatted, and enjoyed The Beatles….it was nice to here some English. We were just starting to get bored when in walks a young guy with an oversized, funny looking suit case. He sets it on top of the only other table in the bar, pops it open, and eyeballs me and Brian. After rummaging around for a while, he pulls out a wad of rubber bands. At this point he starts grinning and chatting up me, Brian and the coworker who is dressed like a hippie comes out and sits across from the man with the suitcase. She points and says “ma-gi-cu” and starts laughing and clapping.


He is a magician. He amazed us for a quite a while, the whole time the hippie girl clapping and cheering, other patrons came, some stayed, some left and fun was had by all. Card tricks, magic rings, bending spoons, making things disappear, the standard fare. By this time I was starting to realize what the hippie girl was there for. As soon as the bar became quiet, or people weren’t laughing, she would run around and get everyone riled up. She was a hostess. It was very interesting, a first for me, and it worked. Me and Brian spent much longer in there than we originally thought we would, we were constantly occupied.
I had a stack of Tucson themed postcards in my pocket, so I pulled them out and gave them to the bar. I’m sure they will end up on the walls covered in dust for some other American to see and wonder over. Me and Brian stumbled home.
Thank you Clover Bar!