Local Gods

I went to a lot of festivals last year.  And I mean, a LOT.  I literally couldn't help myself - experiencing everything about Japan had become my raison d'etre, after all, and it paid off in my artwork.  I told myself that this year I'd try to be a little more diverse, maybe make it to some of the international festivals that are always happening in Ueno, or down by the Redbrick Warehouse, but to be honest, if I'd had the chance to go to either Yokohama's Yogafest or the sumo tournament at Setagaya Hachiman-Gu Festival two weeks back...well, you can probably guess where I would have been.  If I'd had the choice.  Which I didn't because I spent that weekend in a bloody IB training.*   

However, festivals and Japan are kind of inseparable, and just because I didn't have get the time to go to the ones I would have have hoofed across Tokyo for doesn't mean I've totally missed out.  Here's the deal.  It's any old Sunday, and you are marching your way to church, because somewhere down the road somebody's playing something traditional with a good beat, and when you see the mikoshi, or in this case, the taiko, parked at the side of the road everything makes sense. 

I didn't stop to check it out just then; I was on a schedule and church represents a three-hour block when I can work on my current sewing project without trying to figure out what anime I will "watch" next.**  However, when I left just after five, the Hachiman shrine at Senzoku-ike had their matsuri in full swing, so I stopped by to appreciate the atmosphere.  After all, I'd put in my time with my own God...I didn't see any problem with paying my respects to the god of warriors and Japan's protector.

I followed the music to the kagura-den - the "stage" you often find in Shinto shrines.  What I was really interested in was the drums; I took a taiko lesson a month ago and have been deliberating over going back ever since (on one hand, it's so damn fun...on the other, my finances have trouble keeping up with my hobbies, and I can't bring myself to even think about giving up nihonga).  The noh performance was just icing on the cake.  Now, I've been known to joke around about falling asleep during noh, but when you're just stopping to watch a few minutes rather than committing to hours of it, I have to say, it's kind of magical.

During the following week one of my students told me they were going to the matsuri at our nearby train station, and asked if I was going to go.  I'd seen the lanterns hanging around Kikuna, and said I was planning to - since my training robbed me of the chance to go to the festival in Setagaya, it went a little ways toward filling the sumo-shaped hole in my heart.

Kikuna Jinja's matsuri was small by the standards of most of the festivals I've attended, and I was kind of alright with that.  I didn't need the mikoshi make its way down the street, or watch performances on the kagura-den - it was enough to pass them sitting idle.  The lane between the station and the shrine was packed with the usual games, foods, and drinks...and just about everyone in Tsurumi ward (or so it seemed - I didn't see my student, but I think she went on Sunday night instead). 

One thing that was completely different - I didn't see it at any of the festivals I went to last year - was the "drink in an IV bag."  Dean Winchester had given Benny a ride back from Purgatory that week and the first kid I saw sucking down a bag of red fluid hanging around their neck messed with my mind more than I want to admit.  Not that that stopped me from buying the next season of Supernatural as soon as my IB training was over, but it was definitely a surreal moment that had me wondering if I'd lost the ability to tell the difference between reality and television...

One thing I still hadn't tried at a festival was the goldfish game, and I decided when I came across it that this was both the time and the place!  For 300 yen, you got a paper net and the guarantee that you'd walk away with two goldfish (no matter how many you actually caught), which seemed like an excellent value for the money.  I waited for just about a hundred (rough estimate - I may have rounded up) small children to take their turn, and then finally, I paid my money and got my net.  I watched the fish, looking for the perfect catch, and decided to go for a white one.  The first time I put the net in the water I was sure it was going to break, but it didn't, and although I didn't manage to catch that one, I got the next one.  Then I decided to go for a black one - much cooler than a bunch of orange ones - and I caught one of them and another white one before my net broke.  The man running the game put one of the white ones back, then poured my fish into a drawstring plastic bag and handed them to me.  I decided to call them Kurosaki and Toshiro, which are character names from Bleach and since they have the words for black and white in them it seemed apropos.  I was stoked to have new pets - the goldfish game was saikou!

Why hadn't I tried this before?!?  Well, after I got home I remembered why I hadn't - because I wasn't prepared to be a pet owner.  I had nowhere to put them - for the first three days in my care Kurosaki and Toshiro lived in a plastic bowl I'd bought watermelon in.  I tried to find them fish food, but every "pet" store I went to only had supplies for furry friends; it seemed I was going to have to go to a fish store.  In the meantime I fed them bread crumbs - the fish in the park always seemed happy with that -  and finally after school on Tuesday I went to Shimachu and bought a bowl, a plant, and food.  Sadly, by then I guess it was too late.  Neither of them were interested in the food, and the next morning Toshiro was belly up.  The following evening Kurosaki joined him in that big fishbowl in the sky.  Ah well, easy come, easy go.

Kikuna matsuri had one more thing going for it - dalkgalbi.  There are Korean restaurants around, and maybe some of them actually sell my #1 Korean food; I wouldn't know, I've never actually been to a Korean restaurant in Japan.  However, the sight of that stall stopped me in my tracks.  If I hadn't been working my way through a ginormous shaved ice I would have joined the line right then - as it was, I forced myself to walk the length of the lane and grabbed it on my way back to the bus stop.  It could have used more gochujjang - honestly, it's a cold day in hell when I DON'T think you could you use more red chili paste - but considering I've only managed to have dalkgalbi about once a year, I wasn't complaining.  And it just served to illustrate that festivals with sumo are all well and good, but sometimes you just can't beat your local neighborhood matsuri.

*Not that I'm bitter or anything...
**I'm on a sewing kick again.  The answer is, "Something I've already seen."  Or Supernatural, but buying each season was getting expensive.  Stupid Japanese Netflix.