Between Tatami and Kimono: Behind the Scenes of a Maiko Dinner in Kyoto

In the dim light of a tatami room in Kyoto, the sound of the shamisen echoes with an almost invisible precision. The maiko enters softly, her steps quiet and deliberate in white tabi socks. The dinner is about to begin. And in the corner of the room, discreet but fully present, there I am — checking the guest list, coordinating the flow of service, quietly signaling the team that it’s time to serve drinks and meals.

For three years, I was the one of the event coordinators for one of the most fascinating projects of my journey in Japan: Enchanted Time with Maiko. More than just a “dinner with geishas,” it offered foreign guests a rare, authentic, and respectful cultural experience — grounded in the elegance and codes of the maiko and geiko world, without stereotypes or spectacle. And that required far more than empathy and sensitivity: it demanded flawless planning, careful handling of guest reservations — including confirming dietary restrictions, customizing menus with local chefs, and ensuring every detail was aligned with guest expectations — and mastery of the invisible — the things no one sees, but that hold the entire experience together.

I would step in right after the maiko’s entrance, translating her words so guests from around the world could connect directly with her — even though she spoke only Japanese, in Kyoto’s traditional and old dialect.

My work began weeks before each event — negotiating with vendors, building timelines, arranging transport and personalized menus, and coordinating with photographers and videographers. On the day, every minute was choreographed. I translated not just words, but transitions. I read silences. I solved problems before anyone even noticed.

Of course, not everything was as seamless as it looked. A few unexpected challenges taught me some of the most valuable lessons.

On one occasion, a group of guests mistakenly went to the company’s office instead of the event venue. Frustrated at having missed the first ten minutes of the maiko performance — one of the evening’s highlights — they arrived visibly upset. I immediately arranged a taxi to bring them to the correct location and welcomed them personally, taking time to listen and reassure them.

Fortunately, the event still had much to offer: traditional games, conversation time, photo sessions. Missing the opening dance didn’t ruin the experience — and to ensure they felt cared for, I discreetly adjusted the flow of the evening so the maiko could spend a few extra moments at their table. That small act made a big impact — and because of the precise timekeeping we always maintained, it didn’t disrupt the schedule or affect other guests.

After the event, I followed up with the communications team to recommend removing the office address from all confirmation emails and materials — keeping only the venue’s name and map, in bold — to prevent similar confusion in the future.

Another night, a cultural misunderstanding caused tension. In our diverse, multilingual audience, an English woman was offended when a young German guest took a playful photo pretending to kiss the geisha on the cheek. The room stiffened. Our Japanese hostess didn’t know how to respond. I stepped in calmly, asked her to keep the English guest engaged, and I focused on the German guest — offering conversation and gentle redirection to ease the mood. The evening went on smoothly, and both guests left smiling.

It wasn’t just an event. It was a ritual — and my role was to ensure every element was in the right place, at the right time, with the right energy.

Over time, I also took over the project’s marketing and communications. I created content, established partnerships with international travel agencies and guides, and eventually started hosting my own maiko dinners at the hostel where I worked — blending tradition with creativity to craft experiences that were as respectful as they were unforgettable.

Hosting my own event: I organized from start to finish, at a traditional ochaya in Kyoto 

I had the opportunity to organize unique and more modern-style events with maikos — in unexpected places, like the garden of the hostel where I worked.

Coordinating events in this context was both a technical and deeply human learning experience. I discovered that events aren’t measured solely in numbers, but in the quality of silence between one moment and the next, in the way a guest feels truly comfortable in an unfamiliar environment.

And above all, I learned that when it comes to meaningful experiences, perhaps the most important role is this: to be the bridge. Invisible, but essential.

We poured our hearts into every detail — from the performances to guest logistics — and the energy behind the scenes was always high. But once in a while, we took off the organizer hat and just enjoyed the moment. 

And here are some of the best moments. What a journey it’s been — I’m so grateful for every person who crossed my path along the way. learned a lot from everyone. I can’t wait to live new experiences and create unforgettable ones for others too. That’s what makes life truly worth it.