We went anyway.
The air was a 200 pound barbell of humidity.
We went anyway.
The train station was surging with people, politely jostling against each other, adding heat and friction to the already scorching day.
We went anyway.
Hanabi.
Fireworks (hanabi) are as much a part of the Japanese summer as rainbow colored yukata, waving fans and kakigori (shaved ice).
On Saturday Bob and I prodded the kids away from the delights of the air conditioner, loaded up our trusty Trader Joe's bags with plastic ground tarps, drinks, snacks and plenty of sunblock, and headed out towards one of the more popular summer firework displays, in the town of Juso, near Osaka.
We had arranged to meet with one of the local groups whose goal was to bring together Japanese people and foreign residents. A number of these groups were gathering in the same spot to enjoy the fireworks together. It didn't take us long to find the group--a combination of the Japanese organizers, clad in yukata and holding signboards that read "WE ARE ONE" (the name of the group), along with a number of rather bewildered looking foreigners.
When we all got to the river, it was a vivid combination of organization and gentle chaos. A huge swath of the river bank had been formally set up with vast and clearly marked areas for people to spread out tarps, rows of gray porta potties and evenly spaced tents of food vendors. People--hundreds, perhaps thousands-- were a mass of activity, spreading out tarps, sharing snacks, or winding carefully on the narrow strips of grass between already established tarps.
Once we found the rest of our group we settled in, put on sunblock and hats, and resigned ourselves to sitting out in the blazing sun for the next 5 hours until nightfall, when the fireworks would start.
Aya quickly amused herself by snapping pictures of us with my iphone. Amid sips of tepid water and nibbles of rice crackers, we posed for Aya and chatted with the other members of the group, more of whom were arriving every few minutes and settling themselves on the large tarps with us.
Along with the people, however, we soon discovered one of the typical side-effects of sitting on formerly people-free areas of riverbank--insects. There was a fascinating assortment of hopping, crawling and jumping critters using the newly arrived arms, legs, heads and tarps as venues for new exploration: praying mantises, small jumping spiders, gnats, ants, crickets, grasshoppers. Probably many more that were either too small or too fast to see. Unfortunately, while I didn't mind being used as an insectoid playground, Aya did not share my sentiments and clamored at Patrick every few seconds to shoo away some new critter.
At dusk we ventured out to find sustenance at some of the many food tents. Bob snapped up skewers of steak along with chicken karage and fried potatoes. I made a beeline for the kakigori.
We were pleased to note that the sun was setting by the time we got back to our group's tarp (a task which took a considerable amount of coordination and skill, as we had to maneuver in complex maze-like patterns to avoid stepping on other people's tarps. This task was made a bit more challenging since Japanese people typically take off their shoes before walking on picnic tarps. This is brilliant in that it keeps the tarp relatively clean, but it turns walking between the tarps into a ground-bound tightrope act).
As we dug into our snacks, a newcomer showed up at the side of our tarp and introduced himself and his girlfriend to us. In short order we discovered that he was a 1975 graduate of UC Santa Cruz, which amused and amazed Bob and I since we, as you may recall, graduated from UC Santa Cruz as well, albeit 10 years later.
The sky finally darkened into true night, and the first booms and towers of fire shot up into the air from the fenced off river's edge.
Finally, the fireworks began.
I must emphasize that Japanese fireworks shows are not like those in the United States. Back at home fireworks shows are always frustratingly short. Usually 20-30 minutes at most, sequestered to the Fourth of July (accompanied by patriotic music), sports events (accompanied invariably by "Celebrate") or, oddly, demolition derbys (some sort of indeterminate instrumental rock music).
Of course, at the end we had the unenviable task of actually getting back to the train station--along with thousands of other people. Osaka police officers and back up security guards expertly siphoned the mob of cooked, tired and murmuring people into lines that lead neatly back to various train stations.
When we finally stumbled off the train in Kyoto--sweaty, tired, grubby, our ears still ringing with echoing explosions-- we opted for a taxi rather than another train ride and 15 minute trek back to our house.
Just another summer day in Japan...
Until Next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment