Fukichiyama Part II

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... And woke up about a half hour later. I looked over at Uki and Tanaka - they seemed to be getting bored, so we headed downstairs to the check-out area. It had been a delightful time, and remarkably inexpensive: all four floors of baths, gym, relaxation room, and lounge cost us $12 for the whole day. It was getting to be time to head back, though, so we went to the car and drove back to his family's house.

But along the way back, when I noticed a cool-looking castle off in the distance, I asked what it was. "Fukichiyama Castle," Tanaka said, and then delivered us there. The castle was closed - for reconstruction, it said, but they were lots of workers around doing very un-reconstruction-like things. I went over to one worker, who was placing colored plastic cylinders, open at the top, into the cobblestone road after placing something inside them. He said a lot of stuff I didn't understand, so I asked Tanaka instead, hoping for a mixed English-Japanese response. He grinned and told me I'd find out tonight. With raised eyebrow, I departed.

Then we stopped by "Video America," which apparently is quite a large video-rental chain. It turns out that while most film-aficionados are interested in world cinema, at least this part of the world is immensely curious with what America has to offer. We went inside and, after browsing their rather large store, remembered that Tanaka's house has only VHS (though, somewhat oddly, the car has DVD). We went over to investigate the decrepit VHS section, which surprisingly has one of the more bizarre collections I've ever seen.

I was expecting to see "Independence Day," "Aliens," "Die Hard" - the sort of exciting, ridiculous things Hollywood produces that can translate well across cultures solely through their "wow" effect. Instead I found "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" nestled next to "Mulholland Drive" and right above "Elephant" . I mean, really out-there, apogean movies that swing rings around their own private planets.

Nonetheless, they had what we wanted. Tanaka desired a movie about love and asked for a recommendation - and there really is only one true answer to that question, so we rented "Amelie." I was a little worried about it, though - it is extremely European, and quirky in a way I wasn't sure would translate across cultures. Nonetheless, it had to translate across cultures to get to me, so I figured we'd give it a shot.

We headed back to his house and got dinner (delicious, hearty okonomiyaki - which I'll force upon an unlucky few of you, sometime) and were then driven out to the hanabi festival. We arrived at the main meeting point - a Lawson's , and hung out in the parking lot for a few minutes. We then wandered around back, where the surprisingly populated festival was being held. The entire town population must've come out.

Along the side of the street were vendors selling every kind of food, beer, and games in greased-out stalls and half-tents - it's just like in the U.S. We wandered up and down the street, grabbed some beer and some feedin's, played the catch-the-goldfish game, and killed time until it got darker. Since it was Tanaka's hometown, he'd occasionally run into people from his high school, who were invariably floored to see me. In this town, I was the *only * foreigner I saw in the entire festival. Really.

Eventually we came to the end of the street, and night had fallen, so we headed to the river - and was greeted by one of the most amazing sights I have ever seen.

Floating, slowly, down this river were tens of thousands of colored candles, bobbing in the current, making a multicolor undulating road of light as far back as the eye could see. That's what the worker had said! He placed the candles carefully in the dried canal - not road - and then flooded it to get them in the water. It was unbelievable and gorgeous - something that takes place in Miyazaki film but in real life should have gone the way of hidden pagodas, legendary samurai, and mountain spirits. It belonged to a different time, a different Japan.

I don't know how to describe it. Being in this small country town in the hills, surrounded by hundreds of people in kimonos, witnessing thousands of these festive glowing candles float by the wooden docks - well, it was incredible to behold. I must remember this: so far it stands, without a doubt, paramount above all I've done in Japan.

And then began the fireworks. In Japan, they are done a little bit differently: you get waves of fireworks. First, 2-4 minutes of fireworks, followed by 3-8 minutes of waiting, then another wave - for an hour or so. Makes them last quite some time. So, people actually get up and do things with them going on, which is what we did after deciding our position was not the best in terms of comfort or viewing. We visited a temple (*boom* ... *bang* ... "Ooooh!"), got our fortunes (*thud* ... "Wao! Sugei!"), and got some ice cream (*crackle* ... *BOOM!*). Eventually, however, the fireworks wrapped up and the entire town left the festival simultaneously, pouring into the streets.

We headed home, grabbed some late-night snacks (onigiri ), and fired up "Amelie." I enjoyed it immensely, as I always do, and basked in the warm-fuzzies after it was over. I looked over at Uki and Tanaka to gauge their impressions, somewhat nervous; although Tanaka was passed out backwards on the floor, Uki was smiling. Hesitantly, I tried in Japanese, after we got over the initial how-did-you-like-it it-was-good yeah-I-think-so-too: "The color in this movie ... is, um, really interesting and important." This is where it gets hard: the abstract is virtually impossible to discuss without language proficiency, but I had grown so tired of basic conversations, memorizing people's likes and dislikes, that I was willing to give it a shot. Uki paused, then ventured in English: "Yes. The red, and the green; it means her outside, and her inside. I think." Success! I shined. Since I simply haven't been able to have abstract discussions for so long, most of my perceptions of the Japanese are somewhat two-dimensional. They never seemed real, because we never communicated the more profound thoughts we had to each other. I'm sure I am perceived the same way. It simply felt good to sense a person again.

Then we wrapped up (unwrapped - it's summer) for the night, lay on our futons on the tatami, and drifted off...

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I slept late the next morning, waking up around nine or ten. Looking around, Uki and Tanaka again had risen before me. I went through the kitchen to the bathroom, where I noticed that no one had touched their food yet. Politeness, in Japan, above all.

After gathering people for another delicious breakfast, we headed upstairs to Tanaka's room. I was curious about this: what do Japanese kids put on their walls? Do they have baseball sheet-and-pillow sets? Robot collections?

Tanaka's room was pretty cool. He's a big sports guy, and had all sorts of beefy-looking men on his wall, trophies in one corner, and training equipment. A soccer ball next to his bed opened like a Darth Vader-sphere to reveal an alarm clock and a CD player. The armrests on his chair were boxing cushions. Basically, a pretty normal room, done out in style. He had glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and an alien hanging from the light-pull. The posters on the wall were surprisingly American - The Matrix, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Easy Rider, Terminator 2. Tanaka was finally being inflated into a three-dimensional person - even if it's impossible to communicate its meaning, sharing the same cultural experiences is a way of connecting.

Lastly, I wanted to be back in Kyoto by a reasonable hour, so I told them I had to leave by two in the afternoon. They talked to each other and then suggested something to which I agreed. My most common phrase in Japanese is probably "Hmm ... everything is good. What's your recommendation?" or simply "It's all good" accompanied by a grin and a nod of agreement. The Japanese have been extremely good hosts to me so far, and always come up with fun / interesting things to do, so I just let them decide.

We ended up at a botanical garden. Fukichiyama is probably one of the only places in Japan where land is inexpensive enough where you can just grow stuff to look at it. It's funny, though, how similar our childhoods must've been - we all immediately recognized the Venus flytrap, the pitcher plant, all those cool plants you learn about on the back of juice boxes as a kid. This botanical garden specialized in cacti, which they imported en masse from California, somewhat amusingly. Eventually, we had wandered through the entirety of the museum's small but fun exhibits and sat in the flower garden, talking for an hour or two. We talked about everything, but I made sure to impart some international-student advice to them: Tanaka is studying in Canada in the fall, and Uki is headed to Scotland. Both will have a rockin' good time, I expect, and I might even run into Tanaka in the U.S. sometime.

Eventually, though, it came time for us to go, so I thanked his family and wished them well as we departed. Tanaka stayed (for the summer), but Uki was heading back to Kyoto with me. I pulled out my iPod and my double-headphone adapter (any traveling student should get one of these: it is so unbelievably useful. Music can always be shared, everyone wants to find new stuff, and it even prevents awkward silences. Best $1.25 I ever spent.) and showed him my Top-25 Most Played songs, which turned out to be precisely the right length. I said goodbye, and headed back to my house.

But before the day was done, I was to meet Han and his sister, visiting Kyoto. They had come down from Tokyo on Friday and spent the weekend at my apartment (while I was gone in Fukichiyama). We went out to an Izakaiya (cross between a restaurant and a bar - the focus is on waves of food when people get hungry, continuous drinks, and lots of chatting), and had a good time catching up. I realized how much I missed the Stanford people, and was also surprised at how quickly they spoke English. It had been well over two weeks since I had spoken English, or at least to a native (I'll mutter at myself in the lab in English, or write posts, etc.). It honestly took me a little bit of time to adapt. It was fun, and I had a great time seeing him again.

Around the time classes ended, a month or two ago, I talked with Sanghoon. We were talking of Kyoto - he was leaving for the middle of nowhere, soon, and we reflected on the past quarter. I asked him what he thought of it, being abroad, how we made use of our time in Kyoto. Surprised, we both came to the same conclusion: we really rocked Kyoto. We had lived ridiculously. “Prodigal” comes to mind: lavish extravagance, unforgettable stories, a time that cannot be forgotten. We had done everything this city had to offer, and there wasn't a damn thing I would've changed.

Since then, my life has gotten quieter. Not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely quite different. Han compared it to grad school - I go to the lab every day, come home, cook dinner, watch TV, sleep. Repeat. It's served as a stepping-stone to get back to the rhythm I'll be in when I return to the U.S., but I would not speak the truth if I said it is unaccompanied by a feeling of loss.

I wonder if the gradual progression of age can be perceived in a moment, a visceral pang. Does it pop like a toy balloon? Or weigh, leaden and inevitable?

~Danny

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Photos

Masks sold at the Festival
My favorite is the slice of toast. Were it not $10, you would see me rocking it.

Fireworks
Pretty reds.

Fireworks
Complex shapes.

Fireworks
Lots of colors.

Fireworks
And longer exposure.

Street scen
People mill about.

Taiko
Do-it-yourself style.

Taiko
Watch-the-pros style.

Comments

[Lasrman]

Perception of age
Neither does it pop nor weigh. It comes with awareness of new capabilities which are gradually acquired and exercised as approaching shapes form through the fog. Or like a tadpole that discovers those fins can now push him a little onto shore and then a bit farther the next day. Does he later remember and think of himself as wagging that faded tail? Probably. And the amazement of crawling around where once he just peered more than compensates for the loss.

[z mirjehan]

movies, fireworks, loss and perception
Fantastic fireworks;yay, Amelie! that movie recommendation of yours ;) Thought of you when I did read the book: see the movie with the kids @the library My Neighbor Totoro and Howl's Moving Castle, my taste of Japan for now, only through the movies! “What looks like a loss may be the very event which is subsequently responsible for helping to produce the major achievement of your life.” Perception of age can be like the waves lapping.