Life In Japan: Dekansho 2024!

This year, Masumi and I pulled out all of the stops for the annual Dekansho Festival. We wore traditional clothing, me a jinbei and her a yukata. Jinbei is summer wear for men, and a yukata is the summer version of a kimono, since a regular kimono would be way too hot this time of year.

The festival was especially groundbreaking for me, since I learned the Dekansho dance! Both evenings Masumi and I danced with the crowd, circling the stage countless times. The music, of course, is performed live. It’s a great feeling dancing with thousands of smiling people, folks of all ages, heights, weights, some shy, some outgoing. What a total hoot!

Which makes me realize why this festival is so special, why it’s becoming more and more popular each year — this year it was often shoulder-to-shoulder, particularly by the food and souvenir booths — with visitors coming from all around to experience this unique celebration.

Dekansho is not just a “spectator festival”. It’s a “participant festival”. It’s like a big party!

If you watched the video, you heard the music and got a quick glimpse of the dancing. Frankly, it’s impossible without using an airborne drone to capture how many people were doing the Dekansho dance. Half of the festival grounds was covered with dancers. Some alone, some in pairs, many in groups of ten to twenty.

You might have also noticed a celebrity appearance by the Japanese mascot/destroyer/mutant, Godzilla. And while we didn’t get a photo of him, Spiderman was there too! The kids loved it.

Yes, the kids. And the old folks (like me). And swarms of teens. And everyone in between.

This is how life should be. A whole community coming together, laughing, smiling, dancing, singing, eating, drinking. Joined by people from surrounding communities, who double or triple the joy of the occasion.

By the way, I thought Masumi looked great! It’s rare I get to see her dressed in traditional Japanese garb.

We were there both days. Despite there being how many attendees? — 10,000? 20,000? — we saw quite a number of folks we know. We ran into two of Masumi’s daughters, their closest friend and her new husband. We saw neighbors from our village. We saw Yuka and Dan. They’re married. Yuka is Japanese, Dan is British. I met Yuka as her English teacher back in 2008. We saw Bodi, a friend from Pokhara, Nepal, who manages a local Nepalese restaurant.

My only regret is that Dekansho only lasts two days. Like I said, isn’t this what life should be like all of the time? Then again, I suppose it wouldn’t be so special if we had it every week or every month.

I guess we just need to figure out how to make every day special, each in its own unique way.

I think I’ll start each day by dancing.

Or maybe I’ll sing as I ride my new bike through the rice and soybean fields . . .

. . . songs about peace . . . friendship . . . kindness . . . celebration . . . love.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]

Life In Japan: Dekansho 2024! | John Rachel

Life In Japan: Bicycle Theft

 
This is your basic girls bike here in Japan.

Yes, they sell Schwinn, an "American" bicycle, manufactured of course in China.  But there is quite a selection based on this standard model.  They cost between $50 and $150.  The pictured one is pretty fancy.  Pink adds at least $50 to the sale price.

I'm going to talk about something which recently happened here, not that far from where I live, maybe within four hours driving.  I seriously doubt if the bike involved was anywhere near as high-end as the pink beauty pictured.  But it certainly looked something like this, being a basic boilerplate ride-to-school-and-back bike.  They're ubiquitous here.

It's EXTREMELY rare.  But a girl who lived in Shikoku had her bike stolen.

She reported it to the police.  Seriously . . . she did!  That's what you do in Japan.

It's not as far-fetched as it sounds.  All bikes must have a registration tag.  A couple years back, I was riding my bike back from the grocery store and a young police officer on a motor scooter stopped me, looked at my tag, thanked me, and drove merrily away.

Anyway, a month later, the school girl got a call from a police department northeast of Osaka.  They had found her bike, and wanted to get it back to her.  The young lady was understandably very happy!  She told the police that she had an aunt who lived in Akashi.  If they could arrange to bring the bike there, she could pick it up.

The police welcomed the suggestion.  They were much closer to Akashi than the little town the girl lived in on Shikoku Island.

Next day, they personally delivered the bike to the girl's aunt in Akashi, a trip which took nearly two hours each way, a total of almost four hours of their valuable police time.

I want to put this in perspective, especially the distances involved.  Here's a map.




Mind you, while Shikoku is sparsely populated, the entire area around Osaka is quite congested.  Two hours is not excessive, considering traffic, having to locate the aunt's residence, etc.  And to return it to the girl's home town would have been close to four hours each way.

The most significant point is that the bike turned up 219 km (136 miles by car) from where it was stolen.  The police officers at this distant location tracked down the owner via the ID tag, and personally made sure the bike got back to her.

I don't know if this is blowing your mind or not.  I've lived here on and off for over ten years and this type of thing still leaves me slack-jawed.

Granted, in a small town like Elizaville, Indiana or Wanblee, South Dakota, I can imagine someone telling the sheriff about a stolen bike.  But for most Americans -- over 80% live in urban areas -- the thought of going to the police about a stolen bike seems absurd.

"You want to report a what?  Listen, buster.  While you've been standing here teary-eyed, telling me about your $50 bike, we've had two shootings, three car jackings, some bozo dressed like Michael Jackson jumped off a bridge singing 'Beat It', and there's a 152-car traffic pile-up on the freeway because some idiot at the Department of Transportation posted a warning on all the traffic advisory signs that there was a missile carrying a hydrogen bomb incoming from North Korea.  Get a job and buy a new bike, loser!"

It's obvious, priorities are different here in Japan.  We're not in a constant frenzy, in a constant state of paranoia, convinced there are terrorists lurking in every doorway and child molesters hanging out by the monkey bars at every city park, suspicious of every individual who isn't suspicious of everyone else because obviously this person is out of touch with reality and a clear danger to the community.  People here aren't armed to the teeth, such that everyone's worried about a mass shooting, or that a minor disagreement about a parking space will result in the barrel of an AR-15 being shoved down our throat.

But it goes even deeper than that.  There's an innocence here, and a sense of honor and courtesy, a respect for the possessions of others.  So much so that a bicycle theft is truly out-of-the-ordinary.  And thus it warrants extraordinary response by the authorities.

No country is perfect.  Japan has many issues as well.  There is still a difficult struggle with its past, its military aggression and savagery.  There is racism.  There is a bit of arrogance, a condescending attitude toward other Asian countries.  There is -- in my opinion -- a mindless, unnecessary obeisance to the U.S. in military and diplomatic matters, and a puzzling infatuation with Western culture, especially American pop culture.

No country is perfect.  But some are certainly far superior than others.

I take great comfort in knowing . . . I don't have to worry about my bike.




[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . http://jdrachel.com ]



Life In Japan: Bicycle Theft

Update: Stairway To Heaven

 

Okay okay.  The title is hyperbole.  It's not so much a stairway to heaven as a ladder to my laughing place.

Then again, I don't really laugh up there.  I smile, feel good, enjoy the silence, daydream.

I guess that makes it more a non-pharmaceutical mood elevator.

Why do we seek high places?  We generally look up when we pray.  We don't send our prayers into the dirt, we launch them out and upwards to float into the ether of spiritual space.  We certainly don't ever aspire to the lower moral ground.  We don't say, 'I'm at the bottom of the world.'  We don't declare, 'I had a valley experience.'  When we smoke a joint we don't get low.  In fact, quite a bit of what we do is to attempt to elevate ourselves to a higher level, a higher plane.

I guess we just assume that somewhere "up there" is some comfort.  Maybe some answers.  And if we don't get the answers we need, at least we have a nice view or easy exhilaration.

Before I came to Japan, I thought -- like I believe most Americans think -- Japan was a concrete jungle.  Skyscrapers, lots of neon, bright lights, huge flat panels displays on the sides of towering buildings, set on an sprawling basin of cement and asphalt.

70% of Japan is covered in forests.  The forests cover the endless peaks and escarpments of countless volcanic mounds, hills, and mountains.  They don't build structures on top of these elevations.  Certainly not buildings and luxury homes.  Thus the dominant motif is unspoiled natural beauty, just about everywhere you look, except of course the towns and cities.  For a small country, Japan has an abundance of breathtaking scenery, hundreds of miles of hiking trails, thousands of miles of back-country roads.

I've written two previous articles about my trek up the small mountain near my house.  As the seasons change, much about the trek alters enough to keep it fresh.  At the same time, it is what remains constant which is the attraction.  That and the convenience.  I literally ride five minutes from my home to the trail head on my bicycle.

I think of America.  Hard as I tried, I could hardly do anything without getting in a car.

How much my life has changed.

(Click on the pictures and they will open up full-scale.)

 
Peace!


[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . http://jdrachel.com ]


Update: Stairway To Heaven