The third Monday of July is Ocean Day, and I was blessed with a long weekend. My hours had been building steadily since I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d arrived, and I was often required to work weekends \u00e2\u20ac\u201c you can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t upgrade a phone or voice-mail system while people are using them. This was a rare chance to take a break and I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d heard that there was a festival downtown. Kobe is a port city, and the majority of the population of the prefecture lives within three kilometres of the water, herded by the mountains to the north, so Ocean Day has a special significance here. The festival goes for four days, but the highlight is a parade on Ocean Day itself.<\/p>\n
Nimmi had to work, so I was looking for a way to distract myself and a festival would do the job perfectly. I ventured down around noon and watched them setting up. tsuyu had ended, and with the rain went the only way to stay cool outdoors. Thermometers would be locked between 32 and 36 degrees until mid October. Night brought darkness but no respite from the heat or humidity. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d taken to leaving a door open at each end of the flat and lying in the drafty corridor at night \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the only way I could get cool enough to sleep. Being a gaijin had some advantages though, and I was wearing shorts, which would be taboo for Japanese people in town. The few people on the streets at this time were dressed in thick construction clothes, building a stage in the park, or more casually in jeans and t-shirts, starting gas stoves and unloading food into the white canvas stalls. They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d closed off Flower Road for the event. It was the main street and one of the few in Kobe large enough to have a name.<\/p>\n
I looked around for something to do until things got started and spied some hot-air balloons in the distance. Heading that way, I passed an American girl who said \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcHi,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 and looked at me expectantly.<\/p>\n
There are a large number of gaijin in Kobe, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s always a shock when you bump into one. Whenever it does happen, there are three likely reactions that each person could take \u00e2\u20ac\u201c a desperate attempt at conversation, a primal battle for territory, or feigned blindness. This girl obviously belonged to the first group, which probably made her an English teacher who didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t speak Japanese. I belonged to the last. I grunted a reply and kept walking.<\/p>\n
Approaching the balloons, I could see that they were each about seven metres tall \u00e2\u20ac\u201c four miniature planets complete with oceans, clouds and on one, continents. Suspended at the waist from each, a girl of perhaps eighteen years practised flying motions \u00e2\u20ac\u201c swooping, gliding and somersaulting in her harness. They would be the final\u00c3\u00a9 to the parade, I was sure.<\/p>\n
After an hour of sitting mesmerised, I made my way back to Flower Road and bumped into the American girl again, wearing the same expectant smile. She was slim, with long blonde hair \u00e2\u20ac\u201c a vague description that matched a number of English teachers I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d met. Perhaps I did know her. I decided to embarrass myself, swallowing before delivering what seemed like a pick-up line.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m sorry, but do I know you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
She laughed. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think so. I just arrived in Japan yesterday. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m Lisa, from the United States.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes. I recognised the accent.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d She didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t pick the irony in my tone.<\/p>\n
I introduced myself as MAG, using my initials as a nickname. It had taken off at work in Australia and I carried it over here because I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t stand the way American\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s at work pronounce \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcMurray\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 (moo-ray) and the equivalent in Japan is a girl\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s name. It had become embarrassing during my year of school here.<\/p>\n
Lisa joined me as I walked back to the parade, which was about to start. It would be mostly school groups by the look of the lines stretching down the road. There were still not many people about, and we had a good view of the front class, patiently waiting for their cue to march out. They must have been in their first year of school \u00e2\u20ac\u201c about five years old \u00e2\u20ac\u201c all immaculately dressed. The girls wore sailor suits in navy blue with matching skirts; the boys jet-black collarless suits with jackets buttoned up hard under their chins. I couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t help smiling at the sight of such uniform neatness on top of a variety of running shoes, which were the only personalised item they could have.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Oh! They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re so cute! Is that their school uniform?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I bit back a sarcastic reply and admitted that it was.<\/p>\n
As calm as they were in waiting, I was ready to throw my hands over my ears when they began to play \u00e2\u20ac\u201c I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d often heard the screaming, banging cacophony of kids in Australia trying to play in a band. Japanese children are much more restrained though, and when they played, walking along behind their teacher in neat lines, they kept in time and the tune was evident.<\/p>\n
We watched about fifty classes as the crowds built. My favourite was a group playing taiko and they impressed Lisa as well.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Wow. What are those drums?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I explained that taiko was both the name of the drum and of the music. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153They\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve got lots of different sizes and shapes to give different sounds \u00e2\u20ac\u201c some as small as a hubcap and some with a circumference like the wheels on a monster truck.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It sounds incredible! It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s like there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s only one drummer.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d One of the ways that taiko stands out from ordinary drumming is the discipline of the team. Even with thirty people in a band, the beats are perfectly synchronised.<\/p>\n
The other big difference is the visual effect. Some people were sharing the same drum, and some had access to multiple drums so they moved between and around them in a dance. Each person was waving their arms in a pattern, hitting the skin, edge and side of the drum to create even more variety of tones. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had the opportunity to play on one of the enormous drums at a camp on the exchange program, and I remembered it as one of the highlights of the year. We were all partying around a bonfire where a local taiko group had performed for us, then were invited to try it ourselves. It was propped on an angle so the man-tall face rose from chest height. In each hand, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d held sticks a foot long and thick enough that my hands could only just grip them, and swung them overhead. The booming bass sound echoed around the mountains and threatened to blow out the bonfire. It brings a smile to my face every time I remember that beat, and on this occasion the kids were grinning just as broadly.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153atsui,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I muttered, wiping sweat from my brow.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s that?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
It was only then that I realised I’d spoken Japanese. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I said it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s hot.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
The crowd was building and the heat growing more intense. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d find out that this was quiet compared to other festivals, such as the Gion matsuri named for the host neighbourhood, where every street is like the front row at the Crowded House farewell concert, but I was uncomfortable even at this level.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going to get lunch,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said, hoping she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d stay watching the parade.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Great! I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m starving.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
On the way to the food stalls we passed a woman dressed in traditional costume handing out uchiwa, a plastic fan used at festivals, and Lisa greedily took one. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s writing on it. What does it say?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just advertising for a radio station.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Lisa began waving the fan at her face absently, while looking back at the woman who\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d given it to her. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I love those dresses. What are they called, again \u00e2\u20ac\u201c kimono?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Those are called yukata.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t she know anything? I explained that yukata are summer kimono, with only one layer of material, but they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re still extremely hot. The woman must be sweating a shower by now. The raised wooden shoes are geta. Most women only wear traditional dress for festivals or weddings, but there are a couple of times when it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s expected even for men, like in November for shichi-go-san, \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcseven-five-three,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 when children of those ages go to the temple to pray for good fortune. Then on seijin-no-hi, coming of age day, everyone turning twenty in that year goes to a temple to celebrate. And occasionally, some older women, clinging to their past, still wear them just to go to the shops.<\/p>\n
We found the section of park set aside for food, which is the same at festivals everywhere: greasy, sugary and dependent on sauce to cover the taste.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ooh. What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s that?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153takoyaki. Fried octopus balls.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
Lisa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s expression told me my mistake.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I mean, they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re bits of octopus in batter, fried into spheres.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re so funny,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d she said, touching my arm, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think I want those. What else is there?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I quickly moved on to the next stall, where the attendant wore a happi, a short yukata for festival staff.<\/p>\n
He was selling okonomiyaki, a mixture of flour, water, egg and cabbage cooked into a kind of pizza with a variety of toppings. <\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what I want,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d said Lisa and I rushed off to the next stall, ruthlessly leaving her alone to deal with the attendant who was asking in Japanese what combination of beef, pork, octopus and squid she wanted.<\/p>\n
The next stall turned out to be yakisoba \u00e2\u20ac\u201c fried noodles coated in a delicious barbeque style sauce \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and I ordered it, savouring the few moments of peace.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Would you like a drink?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d asked the serving girl as she put the noodles in a plastic container, closed it with a rubber band and slipped in a pair of disposable chopsticks.<\/p>\n
The selection of drinks in Japan is astonishing \u00e2\u20ac\u201c as are some of the names, like the sports drink \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcPocari Sweat,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 which tastes as the name suggests \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and about fifty new flavours are released each summer, of which two or three sell well enough to stay in the market. But it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not the soft drinks that stand out at a festival \u00e2\u20ac\u201c it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the beer and sake.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Did you see that little girl drinking beer?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d asked Lisa, ending my solitude.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yeah. What about it?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t that strange? She\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s only about five and she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s drinking beer.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Lisa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s look demanded that I find it strange too, and after thinking about it, I did. In Australia it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s illegal to sell alcohol in a public place and definitely not to people under age.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I guess it is, but it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s normal here. She\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just carrying it back for her father. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve seen kids drinking much stronger stuff at Japanese weddings, though.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
We found a couple of spare steps in the amphitheatre and as we sat down, a middle-aged man sitting just in front looked around, growled something at us, and squeezed his way through to another empty space five people away.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What did he say?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I had to admit that I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know. Old people have very strong dialects and even Takeshi, my host brother, had sometimes needed his mother, Okaasan, to translate when he spoke to his grandmother. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153But it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s obvious he wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t happy about us sitting near him.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d heard stories, but it had never happened to me before. Apparently when gaijin sit down on trains, the people either side of them will get up and move away.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s happened to me a few times already. What are they afraid of?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153I really don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know, but it reeks of racism.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I was told, a few months later, that it wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t racism, but rather a way of saving face. English is mandatory at Japanese schools, but like everything else they learn, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s by rote. With no chance to practise speaking themselves, their written English is incredible, but they freeze up if a gaijin speaks to them. Just the thought of being spoken to and not being able to answer filled them with dread. To have their lack demonstrated in front of a train full of people was terrifying, even if those onlookers couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t speak English either. So rather than risk being shamed, they would move away. I guess I can take it as a compliment that I looked so comfortable \u00e2\u20ac\u201c that no one was worried about me speaking English to them \u00e2\u20ac\u201c but it still galled to see it happen to others.<\/p>\n
While we sat and chatted, a more experienced taiko group came into the amphitheatre and took my mind off the man\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s expression.
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u0153atsui,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d said Lisa, blowing on her food.<\/p>\n
I grimaced. In copying my earlier expression, she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d unwittingly got the right word. The Japanese consider hot weather and hot to touch as two different concepts. They have different kanji, Chinese characters, but happen to be pronounced the same way. Correcting her misconception would have been petty, and not being able to correct her was frustrating in my current mood.
\nLisa waved her fan madly and I now regretted my rebellion against wasted plastic. The real crowds had formed, raising the temperature a few degrees, but it seemed Lisa was only fanning other people\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s body heat at her face anyway. At least, that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s what I told myself.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153So what\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s this festival for, anyway?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d asked Lisa.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Ocean Day.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s that about?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d never thought to ask and sometimes it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s more fun to guess why things happen. Quite often the outsider has a better perspective for understanding \u00e2\u20ac\u201c not having \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcalways done it that way.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 In this case the options were limited. It was likely a celebration representing their gratitude to the oceans. Japan\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s an island and traditionally the only flesh they ate was from the sea. But it could also be a festival to appease the god of the sea so he won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t send them any typhoons or tidal waves. Not knowing the true answer, I snapped, \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why do you care? It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s just a chance for a day off!\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
We got up and wandered past some of the activities. In Australia, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d have expected to see people stuffing ping-pong balls down the throats of clowns or trying to knock down weighted drink cans, but the highlight of Japanese festivals is catching goldfish from a kiddies\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 pool. It doesn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t sound difficult, but try catching fish with a piece of wet paper. For three hundred yen, you got a thin piece of paper stretched over a plastic frame and as much time as you needed. A good fisherman could scoop up about ten fish before the paper tore, but for most two or three was a good session. Each person carried away a bag containing the fish they caught, which presumably died within a few days. We walked on.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Where do we put our trash?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Lisa asked, holding up the remains of her lunch.<\/p>\n
Despite the crowds, there was very little rubbish on the street. The Japanese invented a computing concept called \u00e2\u20ac\u02dcfuzzy logic\u00e2\u20ac\u2122, and it seems to me that the term is appropriate for their society. The powers-that-be decided to combat overflowing garbage bins by removing them from the streets altogether \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and it worked. Whereas in Australia, most people would resort to leaving their rubbish in a side street or dark corner, the Japanese calmly pack up all their rubbish and carry it home with them. I gave ours to the stall that sold me the yakisoba and let them take care of it.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s that grey thing up there?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I asked, mostly to myself. Lisa followed as I went to look. My curiosity was misplaced. It turned out to be a portable urinal shaped in a large cone, with space for three men around its circumference. It stood on the edge of the street, but it wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t to be the strangest scenario I faced relating to toilets.<\/p>\n
The parade was more of the same, so I ducked home for a few hours to escape Lisa. Finally, at about six o\u00e2\u20ac\u2122clock when it began to get dark, I headed back, past the construction site, to Flower Road to see the balloons. I was early and had to suffer my hormone levels being raised by hundreds of Brazilian women shaking themselves at me, patches of cloth hiding little as they sambaed by. These women must have flown over for the event because I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve never seen so many Latinos in Kobe before or since.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hi MAG,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d said a voice I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been avoiding. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think you were coming back. Aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t they amazing?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
By this stage it was getting dark, and the hot-air balloons were lit by the fires within. Underneath, the girls were now wearing thin flowing gowns that looked like they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d be transparent in daylight, but gave them an ethereal presence in the twilight.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153They look like nymphs,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I told Lisa. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Like spirits of water, forest, fire and\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Bananas,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 she giggled.<\/p>\n
Leaving her behind, I followed the nymphs all the way along the course, joining them in the freedom of three dimensions. They achieved before my eyes a grace I couldn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t emulate in all my dreams of flying. If this is how the Japanese celebrate, I was looking forward to many more festivals.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The third Monday of July is Ocean Day, and I was blessed with a long weekend. My hours had been building steadily since I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d arrived, and I was often required to work weekends \u00e2\u20ac\u201c you can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t upgrade a phone or voice-mail system while people are using them. This was a rare chance to take a… Continue reading \u00e3\u0081\u0160\u00e7\u00a5\u00ad\u00e3\u201a\u0160<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[17],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=115"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1887,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115\/revisions\/1887"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=115"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=115"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/murraygunn.id.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=115"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}