One Day in Yono

Not sure what this says, but I imagine it has something to do with
the festival I attended

 

 

 

On my first free day in Japan, I awoke with a fresh sunshine optimism and the realization that I was in a country where I had no obligations and no place I could go where I wouldn't find certain adventure. The possibilities were endless... However, I soon realized that I had no idea what in the hell I should do with myself. So, with an itch to experience real Japanese culture and a lack of knowing what exactly that might actually entail. I decided... to go to a festival.

 

The festival was recommended by one of our trainers and was located in a town only two train stops from Omiya. It was the perfect day trip destination for someone with no idea what to do with their day. Turns out I wasn't the only one and, at breakfast, recruited (or was recruited by?) my friend and fellow trainee Matt. We decided it would be great to get out and see the real Japan and, also, I decided I should probably go use the zillion dollar camera I had just purchased previous to my departure for Japan. We agreed to meet our friend Chris in Yono later in the day also, as he would be spending time with old friends earlier in the day. So, after a cup of coffee and a hot shower, I was ready to go. We walked out the door, laden with cameras and sunglasses (the international uniform of tourists), out into the hot, hot sun.

 

 

A giant half-soccer cleat protruding from the side of an apartment building. I can in no way explain this!

 

 

 

Chicago's summer is hot. Definitely comparable to Japan's summer. But the factor that tips the scales in favor of Japan's summer being the most brutal is the humidity. If you think you know what humid is and haven't experienced Japan's summer, well then you obviously haven't been to Japan. Never before in my life have I ever actually been concerned about the possibility of drowning by breathing air. Walking through the air, you feel like you're wrestling and kicking in a vain attempt to throw off a thick, fuzzy blanket that never ends. So we marched on to the station, soaked to the bones (in mere minutes) with a slick glaze of sweat. (Perhaps the third article of the international tourist uniform.)

 

 

As I mentioned before, Yono is only two train stops away from our town, Omiya, which is wonderfully convenient. Walk to the station, hop on the train, get off in two stops, and bam, festival. Easy, right? Okay, now take into consideration that you've never bought a ticket for, looked at a map of, or know anything about the Japanese train system except that there are indeed trains that you can, in fact, ride. After staring at the train route map long enough to realize that kanji is not read by staring at the characters until their meaning is intuitively transferred into your head, I decided that we needed help. And, being the resourceful, young college graduates we are, we decided to go to the information kiosk. Information was what we needed. Seems like the right place to go right? Unfortunately, THAT information kiosk also provided information in Japanese format only. That is to say... it was all in Japanese.

My two years of Japanese study at Purdue University having failed us miserably... we wandered confusedly back to the ticket machines. Here we discovered the solution to our problem was not to go an information kiosk, as logic would dictate, but, rather, it was to stand there looking as lost and pathetic as two puppies in the rain. Within seconds, we had caught the attention of a friendly, English speaking Japanese man. He helped us find our stop on the map, and in mere moments, and with gracious thanks on our part, we were on our way.

 

 

Mini-Shrine

 

 

 

We arrived in Yono in the early afternoon, but the festivities were already beginning. I'm not sure if this goes for all Japanese festivals, but this particular festival had a miniature, children's version of the festival traditions (all before bedtime, before everyone gets cranky). The main event in this festival features twenty to thirty men (all of whom have been specially trained for the event) hoisting a miniature shrine up onto their shoulders and running it all over town. The feat comes to an frenzied climax in the town center, where the men run around in circles, spinning and shaking the shrine, which, in turn, rings a bell hanging inside of the shrine. The more this bell rings, the more Yono will be blessed with prosperity. At least, that's what I was told.

Mini-Festival

Kids playing shooting games. It is the same all around the world

Yes! That is a Suicidal Tendencies shirt. This kid was the coolest on the street
and did not even know it!

 

 

 

What I saw of the festival was the kiddie sized celebration earlier in the day. In the blazing heat of the midday sun, the children dressed in little ceremonial jackets and carried a wee shrine down one block. Along the way, the children stopped for candy and other treats (as opposed to beer, which would have been offered to the adults during their run). We wandered around the street for a while as the children had finished their part of the ceremony and had moved on to playing games and winning prizes. Heading back to the station, I was stopped by a perfect stranger for what may be the most bizarre thing that has ever happened to me. Nowhere, in all of my life, in any city that I have ever visited, been stopped by a perfect stranger and given... a free beer!

 

 

This guy rules

 Grilled squid!

 

 

The man came wandering around the back of a tent and, seeing me, said something to the effect of, "Hey! Wait!" Thinking I had just stepped on a sacred line on the sidewalk or had committed some other awkward cultural crime, I froze immediately with what I call "Oh no, what did I just do?" fear. The witness to my crime hurriedly ran back into his tent and returned bearing a silver and be-dewed can of Asahi. I felt a rush of mixed emotion from fear receding to relief washing to sudden joy filling my heart. "For you." he said as he offered the cold brew. For me? I thought, thinking that perhaps he had mistaken me for some foreign long lost brother (apparently, we all look alike to the Japanese). Finally I realized that I am a foreigner and, during a festival (or any time really) this was a special occasion for him.

 

 

My new-found friend motioned and called to the rest of my group. "Hey guys!" I shouted to my friends, who were already eying the children's games they might like to play, "C'mere!" They came back and were each awarded likewise with a can of Asahi. The man spoke a little English, so we chit chatted about where we were from and whatnot. Again, he shot into the tent and returned, this time with a plate of Edamame, which is a delightful snack consisting of salted, boiled soybeans. (Don't eat the skin!) This was followed with a second course of onigiri (fish wrapped in a rice triangle wrapped in seaweed) and some other delicious rice ball with red beans (reserved for holidays but I forget its name).

 

These kids wanted to see how they looked in their yukatas, haha!

 

 

 

So after eating, chatting, and taking the obligatory Japanese photos, we had to be on our way. We walked into the sunset full of rice and good humor! "What great people the Japanese are!" we said as we toasted to Japanese people. "Giving beer and food to foreigners, just to make them feel welcome. That's amazing!" I did, however, find out later that this kind stranger who had graciously (and I do mean this) given us free beer and food was actually a good friend of the head of training. Okay, so. Maybe the moment wasn't as magical as I had originally thought, but it was still pretty nice of that guy to show us such hospitality.