REMEMBERING THE YOKOHAMA TROLLY CARS

REMEMBERING THE YOKOHAMA TROLLY CARS
Originally uploaded by roberthuffstutter

REMEMBERING THE YOKOHAMA TROLLY CARS

Oh, Chinatown Night*

There was never a better ride, especially as it passed the old embassy area near the harbor. On Saturday nights, the old cars seemed to fly by the bund at 80 miles an hour to finish up the night.

If I recall, the trollies stopped running at midnight. This was the Yokohama of the 1960s.

But the night was only just beginning as the taxis poured into the narrow streets of Chinatown where the air was thick with sweet perfumes and powders. There was never a night in Chinatown where men were lonely or sad. The sound of both occidental and oriental music blended in the Yokohama night, each club with different decor and beautiful women in silk and denim, sometimes both.

The small soba shops between the clubs packed it in square cartons to go as the wee hours of the loving morning embraced the dawn. Footsteps and laughter drifted into the night, up one narrow alley after another narrow street, up stairs, and then the hush of another night, whispers not heard and maybe never remembered.

The trollies began rolling with the sunrise and by dawn, the neon faded and another night in Yokohama was history, memories shared by many for awhile, for some longer.

Robert L. Huffstutter

*There was a song most servicemen of all nations of that era remember quite well, "Oh, China Night."