Mikoshi 2.0

Last weekend I had the opportunity to get up-close and personal with the matsuri (festival) of a quiet Tokyo neighborhood, thanks to one of my lovely colleagues, Kyoko,  who extended an invitation to her home and a chance to be involved in carrying the mikoshi through the streets to the local temple.

Having seen the physical exertion involved with this particular ritual, I opted for the shutter-bug route, but two of our new-to-Tokyo friends were brave enough to give it a try. Lindsey and Brendan got garbed up in their linen clothes and donned their borrowed happi coats. The coats are particular to each neighborhood, so Kyoko's husband, no stranger to the annual event, had borrowed some extras. The carriers also traditionally wear soft white boots that have a split toe.

We wove through the neighborhood and popped out rather suddenly onto the main shopping street, where shoppers intent on their tasks tried to dodge the mikoshi crowds. As 'our' mikoshi was getting ready to go, we wandered down the road and met another procession coming towards us, chanting and bobbing and weaving past shops and restaurants and bars.

This yearly festival is a chance for the neighborhood to come together and honor the god of the area shrine, so the 'portable' shrines are carried from their usual resting places to the larger shrine in the area. Along the way, they pause to show respect to shrines or businesses that have been generous donors through the years.

It is not merely a straightforward march - the three large poles are shouldered by three lines of happi-coat-wearing people, who begin to chant and dance in place before starting off down the street in a bouncing gait.  The person with the whistle is clearly in charge, giving long blasts to start moving and shorter ones to keep everyone on the beat, while the chanting grows in intensity... I"m still not sure exactly what they are saying, but it's repetitive and almost hypnotic. (And then, suddenly, after about an hour, rather irritating).

People change places as they get tired, and a small entourage follows the process. There are a few rest stops along the way, where saw-horses appear from nowhere to hold the mikoshi's weight for awhile as the tired, sweaty carriers grab a drink from the trays that also appear as if by magic. When ready to move again, the guy with the wooden blocks is hoisted up and gives a few sharp, ringing claps to alert everyone that it's time to carry on.

Upon reaching the shrine, the team is blessed and takes a rest break under the beautiful trees as families meander through the stalls set up with games to play and food for sale. Then, rest break over, they retrace their steps back through the streets.

You can check out the complete gallery here!

Suburban Saturday

Ahhh, weekends.

Those 2 days of blissful relaxation.  Or perspiration. Or exploration. Or organization.

I wanted to take advantage of this one, before the school year really hits its stride.

So, off to explore some of the peaceful green spaces out here in the western tokyo suburbs.

The Edo Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum (no acronym for that one!) is located in one corner of the expansive Koganei-koen a mere 15 minutes from my house by bike.

From the museum website:
"Since the Edo period, Tokyo has lost many valuable historical buildings because of fires, floods, earthquakes and warfare. Today, the city’s valuable cultural heritage is still being eroded due to social and economic changes.

In 1993, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government established the seven-hectare Edo-Tokyo Open-air Architectural Museum as part of the Edo-Tokyo Museum. This museum aims to relocate, reconstruct, preserve and exhibit historical buildings of great cultural value that are impossible to preserve at their actual places as well as to inherit these valuable cultural heritages to future generations."

I was amazed at how fascinating a bunch of old houses can be! Quite a few were houses of rich families or architects, and provided a fascinating mix of western and japanese styles. Some had opulent carpeting, others maintained the more traditional wood flooring - all had tatami rooms of various sizes and number. There were also some farmhouses, with a lower area of earthen floor and a step-up to the 'clean' area, with in-house fire pits for cooking and making tea in oh-so-clever hanging teapots. Our final moments were spent in the shops of a 'main street' including a public bath house. 

 In a stunning example of the trusting efficiency of Japan, there were an array of umbrellas waiting in stands at each house - dainty, frilly varieties for shading delicate skin from the sun; serious, large varieties for guarding visitors (and their cameras) from raindrops. So even as the rain came pouring down, we were able to move between the houses in a relatively dry state. (Once we figured out the difference in umbrellas, of course!)

Curiosity sated, we continued on our adventure by taking a leisurely bike ride along the Tamako Bike Road, which cuts through the suburbs from Mitaka to the Tama Lake resevoir. It passes train stations, community gardens, schools, and residential areas before ending at a beautiful park at the edge of Tama Lake. Just another example of the availability of peaceful green space even in the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. As someone so sagely noted as we pedaled under a canopy of leafy green, it's a necessity to have such spaces when so many people are living and commuting in such close proximity to each other. 

Our ride back was hastened due to the darkening skies, but we were still caught in a deluge that warranted a break under a convenient set of umbrellas (though this was nothing compared to the Great Brewery Ride of 2012, when we faced much fiercer elements.... did I not mention that? Hmmm... a story for another day, perhaps). 

Click here to see all the pics from the day if you are interested!