■

After a seemingly nervous exchange of look at each other, the two women started speaking in English in a timid way but with no apparent reluctance. Both of them extolled my musical performance, saying that I must be a professional musician. I told them I’m only an amateur player of the bamboo flute, but they didn’t take me at my word and were kind of insistent on my being professional and kept on praising me to the skies. I felt, frankly, a little embarrassed. But, the next moment, when they offered me to play together with them in their church, I was overjoyed. One of the women was as she introduced herself a pianist. How glad I was! I’d dreamt of playing 尺八 with other instrumentalists in France. Back in Japan, there was a time when I used to practise with Koto, 琴、roughly speaking, a harp in a horizontal version, and sometimes with a bit guitar like Shamisen, 三味線instrument with three strings. So I know how wonderful it is to play a tune in collaboration with other players. Likewise, therefore, I wanted to play here in Paris AND on the very first day in Paris I was given the opportunity.
The next day, I repaired to the église (church) they’d referred to that was located near Centre Pompidou (Centre national d’art et de culture Georges-Pompidou) just a stone’s throw from station de metro Rambuteau on the 11th.
I followed the address they’d mentioned but the church was hard to find. I searched for minarets or crosses or buildings looking like a church, say, with a spire or belfry at the top but in vain. Finally, I found myself standing in front of a massive building with a courtyard inside, beyond which I had a glimpse of some people moving in a large window facing the yard. I approached and spotted one of the women I met the day before. She also noticed me coming in. Thus I joined a group of people she introduced me to, mostly young ones comprising a variety of human races as it seemed to me, one guy, for instance, looked like a Korean and another a dark skinned man, but for the most part Caucasians. I felt strange. There wasn’t a single sight of an elderly, priestly man nor a nun like lady I imagined I’d see. Why so many young people, instead? Among them, anyways, there was the other woman I met at Parc de Monceau and it so went I played my bamboo flute with her playing on a small organ. The tune was the same - le Nouveau Monde, i.e., the New World. That was all. She stopped playing and another woman started talking about mass they were going to hold the following day and they eagerly invited me to take part. I felt confused. I made sure by asking them if I’d be expected to play some tunes in front of a congregation, but their reply was in the negative. After all, they wanted me to join and follow the divine service like they do, worshipping God, confessing your sins and so forth. Now, it dawned on me why they had praised me so high at the park. As it turned out, they were missionaries, one from California and the other from Canada, both keen on recruiting a new member for their religion that originated in the USA in early 19th century. Out of literally religious zeal, they got in touch with me and praised my music so much. They were not at all musically oriented.
Disappointed, I left the group of religious people saying good-bye and trying not to disappoint the two lovely ladies in particular I added - I can’t promise but I’ll do my level best to come back -
　Actually, in my mind, I started listening to a song by the Monkees I often heard in my youth, it started with a phrase -Disappointment haunted all my dreams,,,,,,,,only this first part kept repeating like a broken record in my ears.