The last full week of September was Silver Week. Silver Week is a magical holiday that happens once every few years (last in 2009, next in 2026) when Respect for the Aged Day (3rd Mon. of September) and the Autumnal Equinox occur within a day of each other, then the day in between them evolves into a holiday (they’re going a little overboard with these evolution methods). Basically it’s a 5 day weekend. If you take vacation days on that Thursday and Friday, it turns into a full 9 day holiday. A lot of people use this chance to vacation around Japan or even to other parts of Asia. I used half for traveling, half for some epic sleeping and video games. You can check out the few pictures here.
Friday night a few of us went out to a late dinner and drinks, then for more drinks afterwards at a place that had the “Eiffel Karaage,” a towering plate of delicious fried chicken. This went a little later than I wanted it to, but we had missed the last train so I had to wait so we could all share a taxi. Our train the next day was at 8:30ish, we got home a little before 2. That wasn’t going to work for me, so I again opted for the more expensive train in order to sleep in an extra hour (some of the best money I ever spent). The only problem with this plan was that the more expensive train has assigned seats. Now normally there’s plenty and it’s not a problem. However, this is Sparta Silver Week, so it’s much busier than normal. I got to the station, and the machine was broken, and there was a huge line to get tickets, and someone else told me the train was sold out. You can still ride it, you’re just not guaranteed a seat. I was on a time crunch, so I just got on the train and played stupid foreigner when the ticket guy came around. I bought my ticket from him and was told if the owner of the seat I was in arrived, I had to get up. Fine. I already saw pictures of the other ALTs all sitting on the steps in between cars or on the floor. I wasn’t expecting a comfortable ride. I got in the last train which looked less fancy, which at first I thought meant it was a non-reserved section. It was actually just the smoking car. I was faced with a choice: have a seat and deal with the smoke, or go risk it up front where the seats were more likely to be already filled. The smoke wasn’t too bad, so I stayed where I was next to some high school kid (he was doing advanced algebra, and my brain actually said, “Oh, that looks fun,” in a non-sarcastic way. That math is more interesting because it’s basically like a puzzle). Every stop (one every 10 min. or so) I had to prepare for someone to kick me out, so I looked around for people who just left knowing their seats were less likely to be taken at the next stop. By the grace of the train gods, I went almost the entire way sitting there. When I had two stops to go, some old ladies came in and indicated they were sitting there, so I moved up to the non-smoking car, found a seat, and congratulated myself on having a seat the whole way without having to pay full reservation price (next week I’m gonna try the same thing on this new ship called the Titanic).
I met everyone around Osaka station, and we headed to Kishiwada, where the Kishiwada Danjiri festival was being held. Kishiwada Danjiri is a festival celebrating something that even Wikipedia doesn’t know (probably praying to some god), and is celebrated by pulling giant carts through the streets with performers dancing on top and playing drums and stuff. Here’s an awesome video that’s not at all synced with the music, but shows off the carts from the afternoon and night parades. When we got to Kishiwada, my friend Shun (OU study abroad student) was there waiting for us. I haven’t really had time to see any of the study abroad people yet, so I was glad we got to hang out at the festival. We headed down to the streets where the “parade” was going on, grabbing some festival food along the way (karaage, takoyaki, fries, etc. I had karaage and candy covered strawberries, which were awesome). I say “parade” because rather than a continuous line of the big carts, they would come kind of sporadically. We were sitting on a curb, so we would just stand up when they started coming through, watch them go by, then sit back down and wait a few minutes for the next one. On the backs of some of the carts, two or three of the people had weird outfits. I soon became disappointed in the majority that didn’t. These included a fake nude outfit with pink underwear, a Noface mask, some luchadors, and Egyptian pharaohs (the pharaohs being on the float where most people were dressed as Mario and Luigi. I don’t get it either). When we had our fill, we headed along other parts of the street. Occasionally they’d change the path that the carts were coming from, so some of the men would push us off the streets shouting what roughly translated to [Hey, clear the way in the old bazaar.]
Once we had our fill of the day part of the festival, we explored the area a little. There was a nearby shrine and castle that we checked out, then lied around the park. Shun commented how it looked like a college campus because of all the white people just lying around everywhere. Around 5, Shun had to head back home, and the rest of us were getting hungry, so we checked out the nearby mall. Outside the mall, there was a food stand with a big American flag that sold “hamburgers.” I got really excited at first, shouting “that’s my home!” until I saw the hamburgers and realized that they would likely be considered a salad with how much lettuce they put on it. Instead, a few of us went to a ramen restaurant. It was here that I realized the convergence has begun (convergence, or accommodation is when your speech adapts to those around you). It’s not often listed, but the subtitle for this blog is “My life as a minority.” This applies not only to being a white person in Japan, but also to being an American at times (there are plenty of American JETs, but they’re not always around). Americans may not always be a majority, but we can sure as hell act like we are. In arguments about how a word is pronounced, Americans stand firm that they’re correct in spite of the fact that we’re teaching ‘English’ and not ‘American.’ However, usually Japanese people technically learn American English (USA! USA!), so we’re often right relative to the textbooks. Anyway, in this particular case, I was eating with an Australian and two Brits. I don’t know if it was my exhaustion, the amount of British tv I watch, or the speed with which I was talking, but mid-sentence, my vowels briefly shifted to mimic a more British accent before returning to their American ways (where they belong). For a while, I’ve kind of expected my Michigan A’s to get toned down, or even to pick up colloquialisms from various others, but this one was surprising even to me.
After dinner, it was time for the night festival. The night festival is largely the same, but the carts are completely covered in Japanese lanterns, and there’s much looser restrictions on where people stand relative to the carts. I think people can even help pull them. Also everyone is drunk by this point. There’s even food and drink carts going around for people pulling the carts. Unfortunately, the only rooms we were able to reserve that night were at a hostel up in Kyoto, so we had to start heading over there. We walked past a lot of the carts, getting an up-close view of the people inside as we headed towards the train station. Because everyone was going to different places for the night, two of us were tasked with getting our people to the hostel (safely). On the train to Osaka (we were just south), we realized we had taken the slower one accidentally and thus would need to haul it to the next stop. However, a bunch of people needed to get their stuff from the lockers at the station. Our last resort option was to have two of us Olympic sprint to the connecting station to make sure we got to the hostel in time to check in. In my head, we looked really cool sprinting between people and past the ticket gates, tapping our wallets to get through without slowing down. In reality, the people around us might have been frightened by the two white people dashing through the station. Turns out, Google Maps exaggerated the time to get there even more than usual. We got there and had to wait in line as people squeezed on the previous train. Then when the next one came, we made sure we got in. I would have been uncomfortable because of how crowded it was, but I had an imaginary gaijin bubble around me that prevented anyone from standing too close. Scientists still aren’t sure how a gaijin bubble is formed, but the prevailing theory is that the xenophobic and chikanphobic (fear of people inappropriately touching them) particles fuse to create a mixture that negates most claustrophobic particles. The others even had time to drag their bags there to make it, but we couldn’t find them after getting off, so we went on ahead. We followed the directions to check in at the main place before heading to the hostel. However, when we got there and rang the bell, some old guy just walked out and stared at us (without opening the door). We eventually realized that he could hear us through the intercom, and told him we needed to check in. He told us we were at the wrong place and had to check in at the hostel (the exact opposite of the instructions in the email). I’ve learned that I have a special ability where my fluency suddenly increases 10 fold when there’s more urgency placed on what I’m doing. It’s like Super Saiyan fluency. It’s really good for a few minutes, then when I’m done, it goes back to normal (just ignore that part, non-nerds/people over 30). In our room there were 5 bunk beds for the 8 of us and two other guys (don’t ask why two was written while the rest were numeric. The rule is over like twelve should be numeric, but whatever, I do what I want). I think the guys were from France and one of the Sweden countries. We made plans for the next day, then went to sleep in a room that was way too hot even though I was sleeping literally next to the air conditioner (same height even. Remember I’m a literal Nazi. And by literal Nazi, I mean someone who is a grammar Nazi when it comes to the word “literally”, not literally a Nazi).
Rain Check in Kyoto
That last sentence (not in parentheses) was the blog equivalent of everyone on tv huddling together whispering, then everyone saying ok and the audience is left to think, “Wtf?” I’m very particular with my wording, and make sure you think only what you’re paid to think. That way you’re kept in suspense for a whole few seconds. In actuality, I said “let’s do this,” and everyone else said that’s a great idea. Of course it was, that’s why I said it. I had actually made this plan a year before when I was here, but it was not meant to be. Exactly what happened that has been Lost to time (get it? Lost? Like a Lost Chronicle? Once I catch up on the present, I’ll finish it. It’s one of my more interesting adventures). Before we got to my awesome idea, we stopped at the station to get breakfast and leave our extra bags in the coin lockers (which are really hard to find during holidays). From there I escorted everyone to the trains, which we took to go pray at the temple 任天堂. Translated as “leave luck to the heavens,” this temple is a Mecca for many like us who worship the great Creator 宮本, and wish to seek enlightenment by offering our time and devotion unto him. For those who can’t read kanji, this sacred temple is referred to in English as “Nintendo.” After leaving our blessings, we headed to Fushimi Inari. Now, I’ve previously been here (twice), but both times, my companion didn’t want to walk the whole thing, so we turned back after a while. This time, however, we were determined to walk the whole thing. Fushimi Inari is one of my favorite places to go because I’ve always liked hiking through the woods, just exploring and taking everything in. Fushimi Inari lets you explore the woods, but also has a bunch of awesome torii (orange gates) to walk through, and occasionally cool little shrines that may or may not be graves. I’m honestly not sure why they’re there, but they’re really interesting to look at. On the way up, I got the walking stick again because I’m a foreigner and it was only like $1, and also it helps my knee, and also because it’s a giant hill and also I don’t have to explain myself to you! Everyone laughed at the uselessness of getting a bamboo walking stick when I wasn’t old, but I knew I’d show them. Eventually, I showed them. We got to the top where there was a line up MORE stairs to get to some shrine. We walked up, did the claps and the bows and the donating and moved on. Two old people were on the platform thing praying. They had even brought food up as an offering (it wasn’t their lunch like I first thought). Then the old dude started chanting a prayer (or a translated Queen song. I couldn’t tell), which made the shrine seem even cooler. The best ways to enhance the atmosphere of a Japanese shrine area is by having someone reciting sutras or other prayers, or just koto music. Once we had celebrated our victory (I believe I yelled something along the lines of [We did it all fooooo], which made more sense in context). We walked all the way back down (in total it was a little over 2 hours), then headed back to the station for lunch. At the station, there was a big orchestra playing a song that might have been the Chips Ahoy song, I forget (yes, that is forever the Chips Ahoy song because of those commercials). I watched a little, but I was too hungry, so we went and found some good meat (often that’s our only requirement of food now). Finally, it was time to return home on another overcrowded train. Even though we had only been gone two days, we had done so much that it just felt like vacation. As if all that teaching stuff was just a dream…
Was it all a dream? Was Super Mario Bros. 2 a dream? Is this a dream? How do you know? Am I running out of questions? Find out next time on the Gaijin Chronicles! Dah dahh dadahhh da dahh duuhhh.