Down the Rabbit Hole…
We had Monday off (due to the national sports-festival) and it marked the end of my 5-day weekend. My friend Emily was originally going to come visit for a few days, but she got sick so I ended up just gallivanting around all weekend. Monday's plan was to check out the festival in Akashi, but – ironically – I was not feeling well either and was forced to spend the day in bed. I am not one to comply with bed-rest unless I have to, however, and I was pretty bummed when the festival plans were a bust… Until…
Tuesday morning was back to the grind. Everything was pretty normal until I reached Takasago, the town where I work. I was walking from the Takasago station when I was suddenly surrounded by the distinctive rhythm of someone beating a taiko drum. The Takasago streets have been decorated with paper flowers and lanterns for several weeks now and the city is apparently known for festivals, but I had yet to see a real one (thanks to Monday) and have been eagerly awaiting my first opportunity to get in on the action. As I curiously tried to locate the source of the noise, a man in a sort of yukata (summer kimono) jacket-thing ran out onto the street in front of me. Literally in my way. Before I could figure out what he was doing, the rest of his group followed and I realized why they had been drumming…it was a mikoshi (moving-shrine)!!!!
A large group of men carrying a golden-shrine on their shoulders poured out of a driveway and started their journey to the local shrine. I excitedly ran down the street after the shrine, snapping pictures and laughing with the groups of followers. I almost felt like a National geographic photographer or something. It was still a work day, however, so I could not go too far before turning back and making my way to work.
I was still contemplating the encounter, elated with my purely Japanese experience, when it
happened again. I didn’t walk 50 meters before I heard it. The beating started faintly and got stronger before a group of loincloth-clad men hopped out in front of me and proceeded to carry their golden shrine down the narrow alleyway, chanted loudly along the way. This time, small-children dressed in white kimono and festival-garb graced the shrine’s cushions and I ran in and out of canopies –again – excitedly observing the scene and
snapping a few pictures.
As a matter of fact, a similar situation took place on the way to the station that same afternoon, that night as I was biking near my house and again in Takasago the next day. While this IS the season for moving-shrine festivals, I expected to have to hunt-down opportunities down rather than having them literally stop me in my tracks. They weren’t joking about festival season!!
Tuesday morning was back to the grind. Everything was pretty normal until I reached Takasago, the town where I work. I was walking from the Takasago station when I was suddenly surrounded by the distinctive rhythm of someone beating a taiko drum. The Takasago streets have been decorated with paper flowers and lanterns for several weeks now and the city is apparently known for festivals, but I had yet to see a real one (thanks to Monday) and have been eagerly awaiting my first opportunity to get in on the action. As I curiously tried to locate the source of the noise, a man in a sort of yukata (summer kimono) jacket-thing ran out onto the street in front of me. Literally in my way. Before I could figure out what he was doing, the rest of his group followed and I realized why they had been drumming…it was a mikoshi (moving-shrine)!!!!
A large group of men carrying a golden-shrine on their shoulders poured out of a driveway and started their journey to the local shrine. I excitedly ran down the street after the shrine, snapping pictures and laughing with the groups of followers. I almost felt like a National geographic photographer or something. It was still a work day, however, so I could not go too far before turning back and making my way to work.
I was still contemplating the encounter, elated with my purely Japanese experience, when it
happened again. I didn’t walk 50 meters before I heard it. The beating started faintly and got stronger before a group of loincloth-clad men hopped out in front of me and proceeded to carry their golden shrine down the narrow alleyway, chanted loudly along the way. This time, small-children dressed in white kimono and festival-garb graced the shrine’s cushions and I ran in and out of canopies –again – excitedly observing the scene andsnapping a few pictures.
As a matter of fact, a similar situation took place on the way to the station that same afternoon, that night as I was biking near my house and again in Takasago the next day. While this IS the season for moving-shrine festivals, I expected to have to hunt-down opportunities down rather than having them literally stop me in my tracks. They weren’t joking about festival season!!
posted by Brenda Ann Elizabeth McKinney @ 4:40 AM
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