Festival in Shibuya

There was a festival in Shibuya yesterday (Sunday).  One end of it was at the big intersection by Tsutaya and Starbucks.

                                  

It stretched past Shibuya 109. 

       

               

                                          
One thing I kind of like about these traditional performances is seeing the generations come together.  There was a pretty wide range of ages dancing on the street.
                                          
I think it's also nice that it took place in Shibuya.  I know a number of people who dislike Shibuya for being overly crowded and noisy.  I can see how one might also see it as annoyingly trendy; what one person calls stylish or fashionable might be called fickle and poseur by another.    I don't personally have strong feelings about the trendiness prevalent in this neighborhood, but I do sometimes get tired when I feel like I'm always being marketed to.  There's always some new thing up for sale.  I suppose that's why I take a certain comfort is seeing the old traditions appear here every so often.

Some homemade video.  Sorry for the shakiness!

 

                                    

                                        

                                         

                                         

Sports Day

Called the taiikusai in Japanese, Sports Day (or the Sports Festival, 体育祭) is one of two things that public schools across the nation are supposed to have in common (the other being an annual Culture Festival, or bunkasai, 文化祭).  The closest thing to it that I can remember from my grade school days in Hawai‘i would be Field Day, in elementary school.   But I wouldn't quite rank my Field Day up there with the taiikusai at my present workplace.  

The primary reason is the Endan, the musical and cultural performance that lies at the heart of the festival.

These banners always seem to appear miraculously on the day of the festival, but actually the students make them.  I don't know how they do it on such a scale, but they do.

Students also make these bases for their respective teams (red, white, and blue).  The structures are part of the story that they tell in their performances.

The Red team

The White team

The Blue team

Students made most of these things, these props, and had to plan, rehearse, and execute the performances.  They scrounge up cardboard from wherever they can, e.g. convenience stores in the area, and they recycle materials from home; they make paper mâché.  They have a small budget for buying materials, but most of it they make.  As for the costumes, a lot of help comes from parents and grandparents in sewing.  
Most of my Japanese team-teachers have told me that their own taiikusai experiences, as students, were quite different--barely prepared in advance and on a significantly smaller scale.  Some have said that theirs were boring.  Others recall theirs with fondness.  

At our school, different teachers have different feelings about how hardcore our students are in preparing for these two yearly events.  It takes a lot of time out of the classroom schedule, time which could be spent on more academic matters.  Students are also frequently exhausted from the after-school and weekend hours and efforts they put in.  On the other hand, the amount of responsibility that they willingly take on seems fairly massive, to me; their initiative and creativity can astound spectators, year after year; and they appear to enjoy a good amount of internal motivation.  Perhaps most importantly (for those who believe that looking back happily is important), they seem to cherish their memories from these days.  Parents and graduates have their own interests in the taiikusai, as it provides a setting for which to come together; for alumni, the Sports Day after they graduate is often the first time they return to high school and reunite with many of their old classmates (outside of Facebook).  In the years ahead, as the faculty changes and people drift apart, these festivals may serve as the last opportunities for graduates to bid farewell to this part of their lives.

Nattō (納豆, or なっとう )

One of Japan's many soy products to be experienced, nattō is fermented soybeans.  I suppose there's much to be said about it.  It generally isn't restaurant food.  It's quite economical, about a hundred yen for a three-pack (sometimes four).  It's gooey.  It's unpleasant to wash dishes that are coated in natto remnants--at least for me it is.  It's an excellent source of lean protein.  It feels gross to some people to have natto's texture in their mouth.  Above all, above all else, first and foremost and most predominantly, at least in terms of first impressions, is its horrid and wretched smell.  Well, maybe I'm exaggerating about the smell. 
The first time I had nattō was in Waikiki.  I'd just finished work at the Warner Bros store--it's long since closed down, but I have some fond memories--and was walking to my car.  As I passed by CoCo Ichiban, I got a whiff of a fresh batch of curry and suddenly had to have some.  If you've never eaten at a CoCo Ichiban, it's curry Japanese style.  The standard is beef, I suppose, although I remember back in 2001 when they found a mad cow in Japan (in Chiba), a lot of traditionally beef dishes switched to pork; to this day, it seems to me that pork is more available as an option than when I first arrived here, but I don't know if that Mad Cow scare is the reason. 
Anyway, back to the CoCo Ichiban Waikiki.  I wanted curry, but I also wanted to try something different, new exotic.  The menu in the glass door had pictures, and at the bottom was nattō curry.  "Geez!" I thought.  "What is that?"  It certainly didn't look good.  I'd never heard of nattō before.  I decided to try it.  I went for it.  When they brought it out I looked at it; I don't remember if I noticed any smell, any of that fermented aroma.  I picked some up with a fork, then a spoon, and put it in my mouth.  It Was Horrible.  I couldn't believe it was food.  But I ate it because I'd just spent my hard-earned money on it.
A few months later, I was talking to a friend whose grandmother was a first-generation local Japanese lady, and who often served nattō to her children and grandchildren.  So I told the friend my horror story, and she said "Curry?  You don't eat nattō with curry!"
"How do you eat it then?
"Just with hot rice!"
"But how do you deal with those gooey strands that hang like spider webs?"   She showed me through gestures how she uses her fork to break the strands, attacking them as if cutting through a forest of overflowing foliage.
Shortly afterwards I tried nattō once again, on a bed of hot steaming rice, and was stunned to find that I quite liked it.  It's called nattō gohan.  You put yellow mustard on it and pour the sauce on.  Much less commonly, the yellow mustard can be replaced with wasabi, Japan's horseradish. (I've only seen this once, in a supermarket.)  A lot of people will mix a raw egg with the nattō.  (I find that just about all of my friends who grew up in Japan have an unshakable trust in the eggs produced here and will eat them raw anytime, any place, without fear of salmonella.)  You can also put okra, shirasu (tiny, tiny fish), or strips of nori (dry roasted seaweed).  You can eat it as sushi (the nori maki, or maki sushi version); 7-11 usually sells it.  I know some who eat it on toast, and one of my students eats it plain and cold, just out of the fridge.
Below is a picture of it.  A couple years ago, when I was on my way to pick up a tourist visa at the Indian embassy, I came across a place that seemed to have chosen natto as its primary dish for sale.  I believe that's a rare thing.  It was good stuff.
Below are pictures of an eatery that serves nattō, and the slimy dish itself:

Start Me Up Again

Can't believe it's been four years since I last posted, but after remembering that I had this blog, I started to remember much of what I once thought of writing, what I once wanted to say. . .A lot of them are coming back to me.  

This old scene in Shibuya. . .How many times have I looked upon this barnyard of a crossing?  It's funny, I come across a lot of people who find it kind of thrilling to watch, others kind of creeped by it.  If you can see the Starbucks directly behind the intersection, you'll see people sitting on the second floor.  One of the prime spots for people-watching.  From there you can see a world of happenings, and you'll hear the commentary of the folks sitting around you as they watch the same sprawling scene.  I've heard more than one girl say "Kimochi warui" as she watched the crosswalk signal turn green, pedestrians filling up the street from all directions.  I think for some people it evokes the same feeling they get from watching armies of insects; the sight epitomizes everything that stresses them out about Tokyo life.  But others just love it, plain and simple.  I guess I'm one of those others.

Felt like coming back here after a small string of coincidental Shibuya sightings on media screens that seemed to be following me around.  First, I was riding to work on the Yamanote line and a guy standing behind me was watching the Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" video on his i-Phone.  I can't remember the last time I met a Japanese person here who liked the BBoys.  I know a lot of people in their teens and twenties and, so far as I know, that first generation of rappers is not on their radar.




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A little later I was at a friend's house party, and they had Lost in Translation playing.  I remember the first time I saw it.  At first I felt kind of annoyed, that it seemed like such a tourist's view of the city, the culture. . .Then I remembered that the characters are sort of like tourists.  Eventually the story drew me in and I ended up liking both of the main characters.  And, hearing it play in the background at the party, I realized how great the soundtrack is.  Sofia Coppola knew what she was doing.

You see a bit of Shibuya in this movie, but the main characters are staying in a hotel in Shinjuku.



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That same night, I don't even know how I happened upon it, but I clicked on Muse's new video for "Panic Station.

 
and there it is again, Shibuya.  

The 12-year mark of my arrival to Japan is a couple of months away and, well, these anniversaries tend to make me want to summon memories of past beginnings.  I don't think it's out of a yearning to go back; it's more matter of measurement.  Those old firsts tell me something.
Anyway, one of the things I recall about starting this blog was that I'd do my best to avoid using it to talk to myself.  The rule I made was to try to include in every entry at least one piece of information that might be helpful to someone coming to Japan for the first time, or thinking of coming here.  So well, what I wanted to say was if I had to choose somewhere for a first Saturday night in Tokyo, it'd be either Shibuya or Shinjuku. The reason is that I think those places are closest to a lot of the Tokyo we’ve seen in movies and on tv.  Whether we love or hate big cities, I think we all have something in us that revels at feeling sort of transported into pictures we've seen.

The Rain in Shinjuku

It was one of those rainy days today that makes Nishi Shinjuku comfortable and soothing for me. I generally hate winter rain because it means that not only am I cold but also wet, and then extra cold when the winds come. If it’s cold I’d rather walk in snow. But today was a light, light mist, the clouds hovering over the skyscrapers. You just wait a bit and pretty soon the mist comes a little lower, and before you know it the buildings are in the clouds, suddenly so tall that they’re disappearing, and I always want to run up to one of the rooftops so that I can be surrounded by nothing but white, white sky. Days like these remind me of my first winter in Tokyo.

I remember one of the Japan guidebooks said that while the Higashi (East) Shinjuku is grimy, seedy, and fascinating, Nishi (West) Shinjuku is kind of boring. . .I guess the reason being that the West side is a business district without a lot of flavor once you get past the novelty of massive skyscrapers. But to me, the West side was what I expected Tokyo to be before I got here. I thought it would be one massive maze of huge buildings, shining bright in the rain and even brighter in the sun, millions of people in suits flowing in and out of them. When most of Tokyo turned out to be not quite like that, there was good and bad in the disillusioning.

Anyway, these are the Tokyo Metropolitan Buildings. This picture doesn't do justice to their height (I need a deeper lens). Inside, there’s a pretty nice lookout floor, almost as good a panoramic view as the one from Tokyo Tower. And a cafeteria.






And just across the street, the wet streets of West Shinjuku.



A rainy day in Shinjuku always takes me back. . .it feels the same every time.

The Praying, the Food, the Supermarkets!

New Year's has wrapped up over here, people getting back into gear again, so I just wanted to add a couple of things that I neglected to mention before. . . 初詣 (Hatsumōde) is another Japanese tradition still observed--young, middle-aged, and elderly all seem to partake. It's one of the few religious rituals that I've seen here, one for which Japanese people assemble regularly and maintain each year. Generally, it takes place January 1, 2, or 3. People go to a shrine or temple, throw a coin up to the front, clap their hands twice in a gesture of prayer and, well, pray. Nothing so structured as the Our Father, and in some ways it may resemble making a wish more than a lengthy reflection on one's relationship with God/the gods, but I imagine that depends on the person. (By the way, my Japanese Christian friends don't hatsumōde.)

Below are a couple of midnight pictures from Meiji Jingu Shrine, in Harajuku (Tokyo), one of the most visited shrines during the New Year. If you haven't been there and decide to go during the oshogatsu, go you might want to dress warmly. Thousands of people visit, especially on New Year's Eve/Day, so you'll probably be standing in line and inching slowly toward the front. It is kind of nice how the collective heat from our bodies provide some warmth.




And on an important note--
The food. Whenever and wherever there are festivals in Japan, you'll find food stands set up, and they are to me an integral part of the atmosphere at outdoor events. The aromas, the anticipation! The food isn't exactly cheap; for what you get, you're paying a little less than you would at a restaurant, a little more than what you'd pay at a supermarket or convenience store. But it adds a nice BBQ flavor to what you're doing.

I bought okonomiyaki. When I first moved here, people described it to me as "the Japanese pancake," but really, you'll never confuse the taste or texture with a pancake. I think people consider it a pancake because it's made from flour and has a similar shape, and. . .Well, when I think about it, maybe flour and a panlike shape is reason enough to call it a pancake. Anyway, I love this stuff. Especially the ones topped with sunny-side up eggs.




They cost about five bucks.



Just a couple days more of winter vacation. Although most people went back to work today, for people who work in schools (i.e. grade school/university), the break goes a bit longer. I've been in Tokyo schools for a little more than 5 years now, and I think I've acclimated myself to having these extended vacations. At first, they seemed a small miracle--2 weeks off for Winter, 4 weeks for Spring, and 7 weeks for Summer! But now that I've gotten somewhat used to it, I seem to pace my stamina and stress threshold to last me just until the next vacation. I don't think that's a good thing. . .

When school's in session, I feel like I pay for my vacation time, largely due to my slow and inefficient lesson planning. It's only during vacation time that I can slow down enough to enjoy the small luxuries of time. Today I stood in the supermarket and picked out the freshest vegetables.

Some pictures from the last day of 2008 in Tokyo.




Shibuya was fairly crowded, as more and more people are choosing to stay in Tokyo for the New Year.



Not everybody had the night off. Since New Year's has become a major retail event in recent years, stores and advertisers have a lot to prepare.

Toshikoshi soba, with dipping sauce