Sports Day II

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Today was a very important day for Tamagawa, or at least for Esaki which is the part of Tamagawa in which I reside. It was the one day in the year when all the residents come together to play sports and party. Of the roughly 2,600 people who live in Esaki, a great many of them showed up for the special day. All the students too, from kindergartners through middle-schoolers took part in the festivities. It was the first time I saw so many people together in one place since I’ve been here. Everyone I knew by face or name plus tons of other people who I had never seen before were there. I am starting to recognize a lot of faces, but names are really hard to remember. It is easy with important people because they go by such names as Koochoo-sensei or principal and Tamagawa-choochoo or mayor (both rhyme with bobo, mayor is NOT pronounced like a choo-choo train). As for knowing the rest of the names, I am grateful for the Japanese inclination towards forgiveness.
At sports day, I participated in the universally known game of tug-of-war. Pretty similar to the version I did most recently in the fourth grade, but it had the added difficulty level of twenty grown men pulling at the rope with all their might from each side, not to mention the rain that was steadily coming down. The contest was timed for thirty seconds, and then the winner was declared. The winning team was the one that pulled the rope an entire inch from the starting point. In this test of brute strength and stamina, I was sorely outmatched and eternally thankful for the fact that it is easy to hide oneself in a large group of rope pullers. Anyway, we won. At least I think we did. I am never quite sure, but I returned my white handkerchief proudly, having served my neighborhood as well as I could.
At that point, Mother Nature decided to transfer the gently falling raindrops into a great tempest with swirling winds and buckets of water falling from the heavens. Some time later, they decided to prematurely put an end to the festivities. Because it was only 11:00, I figured that everyone would go home for a few hours before starting the planned party. However, that is not how people’s minds work here. They saw the early finish as a great opportunity to start the party at…11:00! The good people of Tamagawa have no qualms about starting the journey into inebriation before the clock strikes noon. The tables were set up, the bottles of beer and sake were removed from storage and uncorked, and the party began.
I talked until my throat got sore, and then I talked some more, only pausing to respond to a request for someone to refill my glass for the umpteenth time. Sometimes I would take a small sip just to provide a little space for another drop to enter. At that point, conversations were momentarily interrupted by the addition of a musical element to the party. The tatami room was equipped with its very own karaoke box, and before long people were coming up to sing/ bellow out Japanese songs. Since most of the participants seemed to be ignoring the singers, I figured it was safe to give it a try. I flipped through the karaoke book and selected Piano Man, one of the few American songs that Japanese people know. The moment I switched on the microphone and began to intone the first words, every pair of eyes in the room were looking intently at me, expecting a work of musical genius. I responded by staring intently at the computer screen displaying Billy Joel’s lyrics and completely ignoring everybody. Before long, my heartbeat returned to inaudible levels. After this experience, I should be quite adept at speaking in front of groups of people. If I can sing American songs and speak in Japanese in front of lots of strangers, I certainly can speak English to an audience of Americans. The Japanese couldn’t stop complimenting me on how good my English was. I am not sure they are the ones to judge, but I will take flattering wherever and however I can get them.
The party lasted for four hours. Just when I thought it would never end, the woman came to clean up the leftover food and drink and tidy-up. Mental note: in spare time, prod women to start sexual revolution. Anyway, I realized at the end of the party that I had mostly forgotten to eat. For some reason, that happens to me often at these gatherings. I quickly snatched up some pieces of fried chicken and potato chips before the tables were completely swept clean. After I was hoodwinked into a bit more drinking at a neighbor’s house, I made it home where I promptly collapsed on my bed. Tomorrow is culture day and yet another party. I need my rest.

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