Japanese Weekend, Part I

If there ever was a perfect Japanese weekend, this past few days was it for us. After lazing around Luke’s apartment on Saturday morning, we packed up and headed out for our ryokan (a ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn – tatami rooms, futons, yukata, onsens . . . stuff like that) stay on Sakurajima, the smoking volcanic island that rises dramatically out of Kagoshima Bay.

After settling in Luke’s car, getting dialed in with the Eagles football podcast, and stopping for water and snacks at Lawson, we were off. Yasue recommended that we stop at a festival taking place in a small town along the way. She thought it would be a good opportunity for me to have a rural matsuri experience.

So, we headed for Iwagawa, home to an absolutely humongous samurai sculpture – the backdrop of the town, really, and the icon around which the festival is celebrated. The sculpture is modeled after Sekune Takenouchi, who was the chief of the Old Imperial Guard, the leader of the Hyato tribe, which lived in the area from the fourth to the seventh century, A.D.

Every year all the townspeople gather to parade around a giant doll named Yagoro Don that symbolizes this great warrior. This doll wears a kimono and long and short swords and is wheeled through town on a rolling platform every November 3. So, we were really quite lucky to happen upon this matsuri.

And, our timing was perfect. We arrived in Iwagawa just in time to do all things matsuri before the parade rolled through and we headed off to Sakurajima. Our first stop in town was the great statue. It really is enormous. I imagine you can see it from miles away, as it’s perched on a hillside and stands who knows how high. There are several great photos that do much better justice to him than would my elementary descriptions of his robes and swords.

After hanging out at the statue, taking pictures from almost every angle – how very Japanese – and capturing some fairly epic Engrish on film, we headed down the hill to check out the matsuri.

I think this is maybe the third matsuri I have been to in Japan. They all have food and performances and a parade. But, this particular event stands out, one because I ate a really good donut while there, but also because of the variety and quality of the festival fare, not to mention the unusual, but impressive spectacles, and the enthusiasm of the crowd. This was a top-notch matsuri, to say the least.

I mentioned the donut, which was hot and sugary and amazing – definitely rivals any Krispy Kreme I have ever tasted. And of course, there was plenty of octopus on a stick, fried chicken, deep-fried bits of squid and fish, fries, corn on the cob . . . what else? I guess, pretty much your typical Japanese matsuri cuisine. That is, until we happened upon a giant, sizzling hunk of pork that Luke couldn’t walk away from. He debated his purchase for a few minutes, and undeterred by my comment that it could feed a large family, decided he had to experience this greasy delicacy. What can I tell you? He’s from Philly. And, while it appeared to me that most people were wrapping theirs up and taking them home, probably for dinner, Luke dove straight into this fatty brick. I declined his offer for a taste, and after a few satisfying, yet detestable bites later, Luke realized he could not conquer this block of bacon.

But, who am I to judge? I consumed two giant sno-cones, the size of my head, before we left the tiny town of Iwagawa. And, I get ahead of myself! Between slurps of cherry sno-cone and chews of fatty pork, we visited the shrine, also a central part of the festival, and watched some interesting displays of physical prowess.

Midway through my second sno-cone, we ventured into a dusty arena where several groups were performing various arts. Toward the middle of the grounds on both sides, kids and teenagers were standing in lines for inspection of some kind. I don’t really know what was going on there, because I was distracted one, by the judo contest, and two, by what appeared to be the youth sumo league. That’s right, a bunch of little fat kids sumo wrestling.

I’m not gonna lie, it was kind of shocking to see a bunch of little kids – boys only, of course – strutting around in those diaper-thongs (I realize this is very ignorant, but I don’t know what they’re really called, and while I know I could Google it, I think diaper-thong conveys better this visual). I personally felt like kind of a voyeur watching all of this – it seemed like such an outrageous, and really kind of illicit display, like cockfighting or something. It was weird. But we watched anyway, running frantically from the judo competition as soon as we saw the kids start to fight.

The kids seemed so unevenly matched – some of them were absolutely obese, while others were skinny little rails. And, of course, the fat kids always won.

Seeing that it was nearly time to get back on the road and head for the ryokan, we left the arena, just in time to see the parade go through. It was small, but lively and the performers were incredibly enthusiastic as they pounded on their drums and danced around the big doll. I think festivalgoers and participants alike were impressed to see a couple of gaijin taking part in a festival in their tiny town. And, if I ever find myself back on Kyushu on November 3, I will certainly go back to Iwagawa, if for nothing else than donuts and sumo.

Though this lengthy entry does not conclude the perfect Japanese weekend, part two will have to wait until I’ve studied more material for the GMAT exam.

Do you like Kentucky?

At about 10 o’clock on Saturday morning, my new Japanese friends, Shiho and Ichan, picked Luke and me up for our shopping excursion to Kagoshima. Shiho drives a white Toyota 4Runner with a spoiler – an unusual addition to an SUV, I thought, until we got on the expressway and Shiho proved, at high speed, why she probably needs such an accessory.

Anyhow, we drove about an hour and half, making chitchat, via Luke. I asked them what they were shopping for – Shiho, a watch, and Ichan, new clothes. We also talked a little about music and work, all the while learning new words in each other’s languages.

When we go to Kagoshima, we made our way to a big mall connected to the station. And thus, six hours of shopping commenced.

The malls here are interesting in that, the stores aren’t really defined. Everything is in kind of an open space with vague partitions. It all sort of runs together. This mall, according to the girls was pretty good, but we would be going somewhere later for a better clothing selection – I could only hope.

Admittedly, I was not inspired to buy much, clothing-wise, at this mall. You see, the apparel here . . . how can I say this? Sucks? And I say this objectively. I think that empirically, anyone would find that when material, quality and style are all factored in, clothing in Japan leaves a lot to be desired. Not to mention that it’s expensive. Even if I had found something I sort of liked, I probably wouldn’t have made a purchase, because I could find something more my style at home, for a lot less.

So, I held out for mall number two. In the meantime, I did find a good Engrish t-shirt and actually almost bought a winter hat, deterred only by the fact that it was real fur and real pricey.

Sometime near the end of our stint at mall number one, Ichan approached me, and in her best English, asked, “Do you like Kentucky?”

“What?” I said, thinking, does she mean the state. And then quickly concluding that there’s no way she knows what Kentucky is, much less enough about it to inquire after my opinion.

She asked again as Luke came over, switching to Japanese so he could translate. Turns out she was asking me if I liked Kentucky Fried Chicken. I don’t, but I said I did, because it is too hard to say, “no,” in this culture.

And that is how I found myself eating lunch at KFC in Kagoshima, Japan. It wasn’t too bad, actually. But the portions were significantly smaller than in America. And as my teeny, tiny Japanese friends struggled to consume their bite-size sandwiches and small order of fries, I was begging Luke to go up and order more for me. In the end, I resorted to finishing Ichan’s fries.

After lunch we made our way to mall number two, where the supposedly better selection of clothes was waiting. That is, a better selection, if you spend most evenings lurking on dark street corners. And, I don’t say that to be mean at all. My Japanese friends are totally charming and adorable – not at all slutty. I guess they just pull off the style.

Needless to say I didn’t find anything here, though Shiho desperately tried to get my foot crammed into a pair of sparkly, emerald stilettos – bless her heart (they really wanted me to find something cool, I think).

The highlight of the day definitely came when Luke and I saw a very pregnant woman contemplating the purchase of a shirt that, in no uncertain terms, declared the wearer was a fellatio fanatic. It was pretty unbelievable.

About five or six hours passed before we called it a day. And a day it was. Luke, unaccustomed to shopping, was totally wiped. As was I. For Shiho and Ichan, it seemed par for the course. They were totally unfazed by that many hours spent browsing racks of the latest styles.

On the way home, we listened to Destiny’s Child’s greatest hits, and chatted a little more, but I think we were all tired of trying to communicate in another language. So, they gabbed in the front seat about who knows what, while Luke and I contemplated the repercussions of Barry Bonds’ upcoming home run.

Coastal Tour

Luke’s international driving permit is about to expire, and because he’s staying in Japan for another year, he has to get an actual Japanese driver’s license. Basically, he has to make like he’s 16 again and take driving lessons and a test. It’s a long, drawn out, inconvenient and expensive process for a foreigner to get licensed to drive in this country, requiring several trips to Miyazaki city and lots of yen. It sucks for Luke, but for me it means extra trips to the beach and the crazy Japanese shopping mall.

One such visit to Miyazaki city for this whole licensing debacle led to a trip to Mos Burger, “Fine Japanese Burger and Coffee.” (This so-called fast food actually involved a 20-minute wait at the window for our teriyaki burgers, fries and shakes, and yes they do screw up orders just as badly here as they do in the States.) After which we began a long drive down the Southern Coast of Kyushu. Luke’s Coastal Tour remains one of the best parts of my trip so far. We stopped at a secret swimming hole where we jumped off rocks into the ocean, and wandered around looking at tide pools. Then we found a shrine hidden deep in a valley next to a beautiful waterfall. And finally we visited Cape Toi, the home of a herd of wild horses. All along the way we saw monkeys hanging by the roadside and more hawks than I could count gliding just above.

I still can’t believe how tropical and exotic this part of Japan is. It’s such a contrast to the concrete Jungle that is Tokyo.
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On my next visit to Miyazaki city, Luke dropped me at the Starbucks while he attended a driving lesson. Yes, that’s right, Starbucks. Globalization finally reared its ugly head (first time this trip!), and I found myself drinking iced coffee under the all too familiar green sign. In my defense, I will say that I had a lot of work to do and not knowing the area, I decided this would be the most reliable option. In this part of Japan, there’s not exactly a thriving freelance culture, and therefore not many coffee shops catering to the needs of struggling writers and trust funders.

Anyhow, after I compromised my morals at Starbucks, we made a trip to the mall for ice cream and to shop for souvenirs and Engrish. No such luck, although it was kind of fun to see Japanese shopping mall culture. It’s basically the same as at home – families and teenagers killing time on a weekend afternoon.

This weekend I am going to the mall in Kagoshima to kick it with my new Japanese girlfriends. Luke, much to his chagrin, has to go along as my translator. I am really looking forward to it – should be interesting to experience an outing with the girls, Japanese style.