Fuku –fest 2007

FACT 1: Festivals are a great way to break the boring, everyday routines of life.
FACT 2: Japan has a lot of festivals.

I don’t know if these two statements are related, but I do know that I love festivals in Japan. At a lot of the summer festivals, people wear yukata’s, a simple easier-to-wear-and-much-cheaper version of a kimono. Guys also wear a more mono-tone version called a jinbei. While in Kyoto last weekend, my brother took me past the festival there, which is one of the three biggest in Japan. It was incredible. With all the people wearing yukatas and jinbei, this could well have been the world’s biggest Pjama party.

I firmly believe that there is nothing better than wearing a pair of Pjamas in public. This weekend, in a nearby town, there was another festival. This was my big chance. While an pretty average festival, the fact I was wearing PJs made it so much better. It was more than just being cool and comfortable, and knowing I wouldnt need to get changed for bed when the inevitable time came, but the reactions from strangers was fantastic. I even fooled one of my ALT friends into thinking I was a Japanese person.

When one thinks of small town countryside Japan, one does not think of Carnivale. Yet, this is exactly what happened. On the last day of the 3 day festival I went back for a Samba parade. I call this festival "fuku-fest". Apparently the town bought the services of a professional travelling samba troupe. Really though, they bought goods and services. We found a spot, and as the paradey music became louder, they emerged. Okay, so they weren't authentically Brazilian, but the costumes were. If you have ever watched Fashion TV during Canivale, you'll know what I mean. Women dancing like hyperactive strippers while wearing a few strategically placed strands of material accessorised subtly with glittering enormous hats and wings. The unauthentic Brazilians were, honestly, probably would not warrant much attention without wearing glitter, wings and enormous hats, but to see this go down in "conservative" Japan was really quite amazing.

Quickly though, the line was crossed. A carnivale costume on a 35 year-old is one thing, but the 2 girls following after her were no more than 11 years old. It was unbelievable. The sick feeling in my stomach confirmed this was the most awful thing I've ever seen. It might have been acceptable had they been wearing something other than a g-string. First of all, who makes a g-string in 10 year old sizes? And what kind of parent could buy and outfit their kid with it? Another kid, barely old enough to walk was almost as bad. The worst thing was, I don't know if most of the Japanese thought this was any worse than the adult dancers.

After the "professional" dancers, the local the townsfolk had their turn. There was a prize of about $US 2000 for the best local samba group. The Japanese interpretations of samba was... It was almost as wrong as before. Here's a rundown of Japanese interpretations of samba.

1. About twenty mid-20 to 40 year old men and women wearing pink tracksuits doing a Tae-bo style (or in Japan- Billy's boot Camp) kickboxing exercise video demonstration. If you are wondering where the Samba element is: they were wearing some tinsel on their right ankles.

2. A bunch of disinterested company workers, all from the same company holding batons. I felt like the boss said to them: "Twirl this gay glittery stick at the parade or you'll be fired".

3. A local elementary school class who were wearing rubbish bags and home-made animal ears.

4. The largest group of parents and their children. They had all made costumes from cardboard and PVA glue in the theme of Anpan man, a popular Japanese cartoon.

Incredibly, intsead of handing out severe punishments, the last group won:Won the "samba" parade. It was quite entertaining seeing the leader of the group, who was wearing a full costume in the likeness of the popular children's cartoon character, accept the prize money and a crate of 24 beers. They were the Fuku-fest Samba champions. In true Japanese fashion, in the tradition of cheese-less Italian pasta restaurants, this was true bastardisation of a foreign culture.

After the Brazilian drums had died down, the festival resembled the night before. An ALT friends high school student was performing. His name was Mr. Black. Okay, that wasn't his actual name, and he was Japanese. Mr. Black was his performing name, as magician. This kid is for real, he even had a friend with a printed polo shirt that read: Mr. Black, Staff. Check out his website. http://www.geocities.jp/magichan_black/magic/profile.html

Although I disapprove of magicians wearing bowties and penguin suits, I am a big fan of magic. Okay, I'm known to do some card tricks (some people only know me that way), but I am a complete rogue with no polish or finesse. I haven't studied magic, unless you include nervously shuffling cards while travelling or waiting around. This kid, according to his website, has been doing magic since he was 8, and takes actual lessons from a real magician. He is, a protégée.

Among the rain, he performed a bunch of really good card tricks in front of 30 people. Incredible technique. I was very impressed, I mean, he's only 17. We hung around talking to him after his set, and he idly showed some more tricks. Eventually, someone mentioned I do some card tricks. Suddenly, I was put on a huge spot. I mean, I just saw this kid magically change a 2 of hearts into a King of Spades which another guy had drawn a face on. Incredibly, I did not have my own cards on me, but he kindly lent me his. I showed him some mid-air cuts which I believe I invented. I mean, I've never seen anyone else do them. It was just a result of way too much free time that I thought up of it. But my friends, and him, wanted to see what I could do. I don't think I have ever been this nervous, and the kid was only 17! It was ridiculous. Reluctantly, I let him choose a card, he put it back, I shuffled... But even though I was shaking like epilepsy, I found his card. Now for the kicker, as I tried to throw his card out of the deck and catch it. I had forgotten that these were not my cards, and they were new and slippery. The whole deck flew into the air. Life was in slow motion. I tried catching it, but there was still a few cards in my hand which prevented me from clasping. This acted instead as a punch, sending 40 cards flying across the wet street and all through the stall next to Mr. Black. It was a catastrophic failure, and this deck of cards was ruined. I must've apologised 100 times before sheepishly presenting him the card he chose- one of the few I managed to catch. This was a back-handed success.

Festivals are always interesting times in Japan. In two weeks time, I will be running on a wet log at a summer water festival. Another interesting event, I'm sure and a great opportunity to embarrass myself. I'm looking forward to it.

Time to stop giving Jr. all the love.

Most people, mostly correctly, believe that Japan is a punctual country. An efficient country. A country which will stop at nothing and let nothing stop it from being on schedule. Everything is timed down to the precise minute, even in the countryside where the leaves sway to their own internal clocks. It is baffling that very few people have watches; they always check their cellphones.

A good example of the dependence on time and schedule happened the other day. I have my own special ALT schedule, which means I can show up at school a half hour later than everyone else. I usually come in just after 8:15, the very latest time that students have to be inside school. At this end of term 1, I have lost all creativity for preparing classes. On this day, I had nothing prepared, and needed to come to school early to plan. As I neared school, at 8:05, I passed a student. His expression was priceless. Of course, cellphones are prohibited for our students, so he relies on natures patterns and his instincts to tell the time. Seeing the ALT drive past him, he thought, (conveniently in English): "Oh crap, I'm so late. I'm in big trouble", and he began sprinting as fast as his heavy school bag would allow. I truly disrupted the time-space continuim that day.

The usual example of Japanese punctuality are the trains. I've had some bad luck travelling with the trains, as you may remember (massive delays caused by human error, a suicide and heavy winds), and you may have seen this item of news from the weekend:

It was 10:13AM, and I was on a Japan Railway train in Osaka. The earthquake was in Niigata, about 2 hours north of Toyama, which is 3 hours from Osaka. I wasn't completely aware of what happened, but the trains had been stopped, so I was going nowhere. The announcer announced, as they do, a reccommendation to catch a different train line. They were handing out refunds to everyone and leading them to their competetor.

Now, it strikes me as odd, but why is one train company (the governement owned one) stalled by an earthquake hundreds of kilometres away, while the competitor goes on unaffected?Moreover, JR is about twice as expensive as the privately owned train lines.

Logistically for me, I was delayed for 2 precious hours for a BBQ on lake Biwa with a bunch of friends. Such a brilliant day, until raindrops the size of rotten fruit began falling from the sky. I didn't mind too much, I was going to swim anyway. Lake Biwa is the biggest lake in Japan (and uninterestingly enough, the world's third oldest lake), and I was going to swim it. Compared to the beaches on the Japan coast, this was a pristeen, untouched part of nature.

There were apparently 2 more earthquakes, and on my reluctant return to Toyama, more JR delays. It wasn't so long to wait, but the trains had been backed up for hours. It was impossible to get a seat. But finally, I got my revenge on JR. I hadn't bought a ticket yet, and was going to buy one from the JR conducter who checks tickets and tells me to get out of reserved seats and sit infront of the doors. He never came. It was so exciting. Normally I would be miserable after such a long trip, but when the train rolled up to my station, I was jubilant.

I had saved myself US$70, and taught JR a lesson. He will get no special treatment from me.

The school fire procedure for class 3-B (rough translation):

In case of fire, calmly exit your classroom, holding a hankerchief to your face. Walk single file down the corridoor, down a flight of stairs, past 2 classrooms, turn down the main corridoor past the councellors room, a spare room, the copy room, staffroom, teacher's changing rooms, the library, the traditional Japanese-style room with straw flooring, across an overpass, and down a flight of stairs. Infact, go to the very opposite side of the school and enter the gymnasium.

If you have ever seen the Mel Gibson movie, the patriot, this safety procedure reminds me a lot of the burning church scene. Awful.

This idiotic "safetly" procedure surprises me considering how seriously they take it. The fire drill was scheduled for period 4, friday, 2 weeks in advance. When the big moment arrived, at precisely 11:45, the bells went off. Two well-uniformed fire-fighters were already present, but they were simply observing. I didn't notice them fighting any fires. But everyone else was busy running around... The vice principal picked up the telephone and called the fire station. The assistant principal put a message over the intercom. The fire-fighters watched intently...

Soon the footsteps of hankerchief-carrying schoolkids went by the staffroom. Incredidibly, none of them had forgotten their hankerchiefs. I must've been invisible, but I decided to make my way to the gymnasium just incase. In the gymnasium, the students were lined up in neat class rows and in gender and alphabetical order. An older fire-man was standing at the front importantly holding a stopwatch. The six home-room teacher took a quick headcount, and ran to the stopwatch man.

It was over. Danger was averted. It's amazing how efficient this well-planned firedrill was. For those wondering why they all have to go to the gymnasium, which is probably not fireproof instead of outside, which probably is fireproof, is because Japanese people can't wear their indoor shoes outside. I am told that in event of an actual fire, they will assmble outside. I presume they then throw their indoor shoes onto the actual fire, because they will never be used inside again. I would hate to see the actual chaos and confusion in a real fire. I am sure half the students would still try change their shoes.

The stopwatch man clicked the button, and produced a loudspeaker. Everyone relaxed. It was all over. He gave a quick speech, and presented the principal with a fancy certificate. The principal then gave a long speech. Then the other two fire-fighters had their turn. All the while, what the students didn't see, a carpet of white smoke was slowly creeping towards them from the changing room at the back of the gym.

It was all part of the show, luckily, not a reinactment of the Patriot. All the students had to walk through the changing room to experience a smoke-filled room. It was intended to show them the terror of not being able to see in the smoke. For the first time in almost 40 minutes, the kids were having fun.

I really don't know what to think of the fire drill. It was taken very seriously and was excecuted with North-Korean-like eficiency, and I applaud this. But somehow, it inspired no confidence in me. It does not make me feel safe. Rather, I do not feel the students would be safe. The only comfort I can take is in the knowledge that very few Japanese people smoke.