Anatomy of a Japanese New Year

We're not rocking out that's for sure.

Instead, our New Year was one of, excepting exceptionally bratty children and up-chuck, one of peace.

As if the wont of Beloved's family, we spent New Year's Eve eating the usual food, soba (buckwheat noodles). According to Japanese tradition, one must eat soba or udon, a thick white noodle, on New Year's Eve, the idea being you eat long foods to live longer. Funnily enough, Beloved's mother hated soba... until her daughter moved to Nagano (One of Nagano's specialties is soba) and now she's a fan. we also watched the yearly battle on NHK between the red and white teams.

This takes a bit of explanation, NHK, the main government sponsored broadcaster, does a yearly song battle between a woman's team (Red) and a men's team (White). White usually wins. Pretty much if you're ANYONE in Japan, you want to be on this show. The highest earners, the most popular talents, appear. It's as much of a tradition as Dick Clark's broadcast is in the US. It runs from 7:30 till 11:45.

The boys of course weren't allowed to stay up that late of course, but they did manage to stay up late enough to enjoy the all Disney review (Tokyo Disneyland's 40th is next year), which of course made them uber-happy children. The rest of the songs, meh. Well, except for AKB48. And Fashion Monster. But that was about it for the kids. They were in bed and hopefully dreaming of hawks, eggplants, and Mt. Fuji (All very good omens to dream of on New Year's Eve) by 9.

At 11:45 came the final countdown to the New Year, except that it wasn't one at all. Instead NHK did its usual broadcasts from temples around Japan slowly ringing in the New Year by ringing their bells 108 times (It's a Buddhist belief that there are 108 devils that attack humanity and that by ringing the bell 108 times, those devils are driven away) until 12 am when the broadcasters very seriously wished us a Happy New Year.

That's New Year's Eve in Japan, very calm and serious. Sure, there are those who were having some fun going to shrines at midnight for the first visit of the year, but Japan is not party central.

New Year's Day again is very serious. We woke early to see the first sun rise on 2013 and then had breakfast.

Breakfast it should be explained it a rather elaborate affair.

See, according to tradition, for at least New Year's Day, no work should be done so before New Year's Day, Beloved, her mother, and sisters spent the day in the kitchen making enough food to last us for the next few days. The breakfasts were then placed in very beautiful wooden boxes and set out to wait for us in the morning. Come that morning we had a plethora of various foods to eat, tea made from cherry blossoms, and sake. Pretty much all day long we snacked off of these foods (I don't actually remember lunch, we just more or less ate snacks, oranges, apples, chocolates, etc) and then sat down to dinner of, well, breakfast.

Just to have Makoto throw up.

It turned out however that this was more someone ate too many oranges and rough housed a bit too much with his uncles before dinner than being sick (Which is a blessing, last year we managed to have both boys get stomach flu, which meant Beloved spent New Year's Eve at a hospital).

But that is pretty much how our New Year's panned out. We have spent the last few days staying at home, hibernating under the kotatsu, eating snacks and good food (To the tune of me gaining 3 kg) and enjoying the company as they say.

This is a Japanese New Year. It's not filled with parties and the like, though there's shopping and races. There's shrine visits and food, but mostly it's the nation taking a breath, a breather before starting the year. Given that everyone in Japan heads back to their homes for this, we have returned to the beginning before staring again.

So let's start.

As they say in Japan, 明けましておめでとう

Mochi, Mochi, Mochi

While Christmas is an attempt by the American in me to inflict my culture on my sons, New Year's, Oshougatsu in Japanese, is just pure, unadulterated, Japanese.

Not, let me state, that I particularly have a problem with this given my New Year 'traditions' mainly involved eating smokes oysters on Ritz Crackers with cheese-in-a-can while sipping sparkling apple cider. Party central I so was not.

Japan however, as stated, New Year's is the major holiday in Japan. If Christmas is for partying over here, New Year's is what Christmas is in America, a time for family and traditions and boy does Beloved's family go for it all. Thus while the warm glow of Christmas is still touching and the Christmas cookies are still piled high, I load the family up for the 12-14 hour drive down to my in-laws' house in Yamaguchi Prefecture at 1 am on the 27th.

While at Beloved's parents house, the rest of her family, her two sisters, their husbands, and various cousins, aunts, uncles, and whatnot come in for a visit as well (Though the last few years have seen a sudden growth as Beloved's cousin now has four kids, we have two, and one of her sisters one). The main reason being... mochi.

Mochi, for those of you who don't know, are pounded rice cakes. They were made in the day for a way to keep rice over the New Year's holiday (Traditionally, no work should be done over New Year's, a prohibition that more or less stops at the kitchen door). Traditionally, mochi rice is steamed over a boiler that rests over an open fire in wood boxes. The steamed rice is then taken to a stone or wood mortar and beaten the hell out of with a large, heavy wooden mallet. Once pounded into submission, it's taken to a table, and rolled off into balls (If you're in my wife's family's area. Some areas roll the mochi out into a sheet and cut it into squares). These are served on or around New Year's in a variety of dishes, soups, grilled, with anko bean paste inside, etc.

Now, that's how it's traditionally done. Most Japanese, like many Americans regarding churning butter or making ice cream by hand, may have seen it done a few times, they may have even participated in it once or twice in a kind of-this-is-how-it-used-to-be-and-boy-ain't-we-happy-that-we-don't-do-it-anymore kind of way, but, again like how most Americans get their butter or ice cream from the store, so do most Japanese. If you're feeling fancy, you can order mochi from a shop. Those who really want to go all out will steam their rice in a rice cooker and then use their bread makers to beat the mochi. Almost no one goes to the trouble of doing the whole steam it over an open fire and then wield the hammer to make it for their own mochi and not in any large number.

Except my wife's family.

The first time I came to Japan was to spend New Year's with my (then) girlfriend's family and I was introduced to mochi making (Up till that time I thought mochi was for ice cream). That's when I found out that Beloved's family, especially her aunt, are some what of a traditionalist. Her aunt, by the way, was ecstatic. Pounding that mochi takes a lot of energy, the hammer is heavy and Beloved's family makes a ton of mochi. Usually the job of pounding that mochi is a guy's job. This is our manly feat of strength for the end of the year. Sadly, Beloved's family was lacking in the XY person bit. Those that were there were getting a bit long in the tooth so Beloved's aunt was forced to deal with, what she mockingly called, women's mochi (i.e. the pounding was done by women and thus without the force or power a man can bring). So it's easy to see why she was so happy when her niece brought home a guy, a rather large American guy, and one who didn't have family in Japan that he would be called away to or knew that mochi is now usually bought at the store.

I believe you can see where this is going. I have now hammered out the mochi for 7 years (We missed two due to Makoto and Hikaru's births). And, even better, Beloved's sisters also managed to get married, so now there's at least two or three men not only getting into pounding mochi, but speed pounding!

And it gets better, then Beloved had two sons, both of whom have a large, strong American for a father, and who will be trained in the ways of mochi making. Pretty much Beloved's aunt has declared that she can now die happy, resting in the idea that her family's legacy of mochi making on New Year's is secure and will continue long after she is gone. And she's right. This year saw Makoto enthusiastically joining in, wielding a child's hammer. The other kids, Hikaru included, did it once and then decided that there were far more interesting things to do, Makoto kept coming back to join in bringing the malleters to three, Daddy leading with the largest, smashing down his full weight with a loud "HA!" (A summer of ax use did wonders for easing things out), then my brother-in-law who followed with his medium hammer shouting "Sore!" (so-ray), and finally Makoto with his kids hammer thumping down and screaming "GoBusters!"

Beloved's aunt beamed.

Later, standing around the table rolling the mochi into balls (Something that a summer at a pizza parlor helped out with) she was just thrilled at the quality of the mochi produced this year. Makoto of course had to mention that he had mochi making at his school, but he didn't need to listen to the teachers because he already knew all about mochi making.

He better, he has a lifetime ahead of him in terms of beating the crap out of mochi every New Year's with a large heavy hammer!

Christmas: The Aftermath

Forgive the silence, like just about everyone else, the last few days were a hectic mess of getting things done for Christmas. What you may ask? The usual, wrapping presents, taking the boys out to look at Christmas lights in order to give Beloved some wrapping time of her own, and of course baking.

Yup, baking.

It's become a tradition for me to spend a good two or three days in the kitchen baking and cooking for Christmas various treats and dishes (Thankfully for my sanity, the Emperor of Japan himself helps in this. December 23rd is the emperor's birthday and thus a holiday that is usually perfectly placed in order to let me get the bulk of the baking done). The usual range is eggnog (made from eggs, no mix here), gingerbread men, sugar cookie cutouts, snowball cookies, and cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning with a New York style cheesecake for our Christmas cake on Christmas eve. This year I added fudge and clam chowder to the mix as well, though I got to move the cheesecake till after Christmas.



Now, oddly enough, excepting the cinnamon rolls and clam chowder, none of the above figures in how I would celebrate Christmas back home in the States. I would bring home Cinabons for Christmas morning though and in my family, Mom's clam chowder in a sourdough breadbowl is the dinner for Christmas Eve, but in terms of cookie production, it just never happened. Let me hasten to state this isn't due to my mother being a bad cook (And no, I am not just stating that because she reads this blog some times), but more of a problem of single mother and way too much to do around Christmas to spend the day making cookies. That said, I had a number of relatives and friends who do/did the whole Christmas treat overload every Christmas and had no qualms about sharing. We didn't bake them, but we sure did eat them.

Which is more or less why I now spend a two days producing massive amounts of cookies. I simply missed the tastes of home during Christmastime and wanted to replicate them as much as possible. Once Beloved tasted the buggers, she got hooked. Since she likes to share, we now have a horde of family/friends/co-workers (I take a plate into my school) who also have started to look forward to Christmas baking.

But it has become more than being a bit homesick for the holidays, it's become making Christmas traditions for Makoto and Hikaru. As I previously mentioned, Christmas in Japan is not Christmas in the US. I'm sure many parents feel the tug every year of wanting to re-create their childhood Christmases for their own children, to re-capture the magic, to make memories, to... have that family Christmas. I am no different in this, but I am faced with a problem of being in Japan. My family is half way around the globe, the culture is very different, we lack any number of things that I took for granted back at home, but I still want to make Christmas happen for the boys in at least a semi-American sense.

Don't let squirrels happen to YOUR Christmas!

The semi bit is important I think. It would be impossible to recreate Christmas in America over here in Japan and to try... Well, I have no wish to host a real life version of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (The best warning there ever was about going overboard on getting the 'perfect' Christmas). As with many things, I've had to pick and choose want I want to pass on to my sons for them to remember. Baking works, it really does. Christmas was never a massive affair at my house growing up. That is to say, while we enjoyed it and celebrated it, it didn't usually involve massed relatives or going overboard on decorations, etc.

The only relative who was usually involved was my grandmother on my mother's side who lived 45 minutes away, meaning my sister and I would have to wait until she woke up and came to our house before opening presents, a horrible torture for children and one that felt like it lasted somewhere between a lifetime and a day or eternity.

But we did have our traditions from stocking raids to the above mentioned Cinabons and thus why I bake so much. After just 5 Christmases, Makoto has taken it as Gospel that this is how things happen. We have fun baking together, cutting out cookies, and he has fun with the smells of Christmas (Hikaru it should be noted isn't all that interested in baking, he's got the eating thing down though). We have other traditions from, again, looking at Christmas lights in a nearby park (This year, thankfully, there was a lack of Christmas lights shaped to look like bugs) to watching certain Christmas films from the US (A Charlie Brown Christmas for example), to the all important reading of "A Visit from St. Nicholas" before bed on Christmas Eve before setting out the eggnog and cookies for Santa.

According to Beloved's friends, this looks like a storybook

It's not my family's Christmas in the United States, it's nothing like the Christmas I grew up with, but it has become Christmas in Japan and so far it seems to be working in terms of making memories. Makoto and Hikaru both were thrilled with their gifts and the food (Oh boy was Hikaru thrilled with the food, he has been non-stop demanding cookies for days), and Beloved has been enjoying herself by taunting her friends on Facebook where she posts pictures of what looks like a storybook Christmas to her Japanese friends and casually mentioning that she has to do none of it, all the heavy lifting is provided by her husband. It is Christmas in Japan, but not a Japanese Christmas. It isn't an American Christmas either, but it is our Christmas and worth all the extra hassle.

But as for now, the gifts have been unwrapped, our tree is now dark, and Christmas goes back to sleep till next year. After this small taste of America, we're getting ready for an extra-large helping of Japanese, because New Year's is upon us and if I was busy as all heck for Christmas, Beloved has her turn at bat as we head towards Oshogatsu.

Merry Christmas!

This is how you know Christmas was well spent, two happy kids and a BIG mess

The War On Christmas

Yes, there is one.

Oh, I don't mean the silliness the Bill O'Reilly goes off on every year (To be honest, given the mangling that I hear in Japan of "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" I don't care which one I hear just as long as it's actually pronounced right. If I did, I'd probably grab that person and kiss them full on the lips regardless of age, sex, or status. We're talking tongue may be employed here), no I mean a war on, or about, Christmas. For me it's a two front war.

The first front is familiar to anyone with young children, the annual battle in the toy store. As previously mentioned, Christmas in Japan is more for those with young children and young couples. This means that, for the most part, you don't have the insanity that is normal in malls across America during the Christmas shopping season as most people in Japan are not really going bananas buying gifts.

Except parents of course. Japanese children have picked up on this whole Santa thing and by God they expect him in. Those who have out-grown Santa aren't about to take any excuses for lack of presents either. This leads to the familiar battle in the toy store to get THE gift that has been demanded by your beloved children. And yes, it is a war.

You can tell the veterans, the fathers (It's always the fathers. Mothers are usually busy tending to the kids and making dinner so when I do my Christmas shopping for the boys, Toys R Us is filled with a crowd of guys, all of us sharing three things: 1. From our dress we obviously just got off of work. 2. We've been prodded by our beloved partners to go get that whatever instead of heading home to relax. 3. We want to get our present and get out of there as quickly as possible) who have been through this before. We are battle scarred, in our eyes you can see the hard stare of a campaigner who will let nothing and nobody stand between him and the toy that will make his child(ren)s life complete this Christmas. There's an economy of movement, the hard earned knowledge of knowing where this toy is located in Toys R Us, how to get it and get out with the minimum fuss and God help the fool who gets in their way.

You can also tell the new parents, the ones whom this will be their first battle of the toys, they are the ones who have a worried expression on their faces, the ones who waffle in front of the display, hesitating on which toy is the best one for their child. They read all the labels, agonizing over their choices. They also usually have track-marks down their back from where they were run over by a veteran.

This year was no exception, for me. I knew what I wanted, having the foresight to get Makoto to 'draft' his letter to Santa, which I then stole (I mean the draft, Makoto's actual letter got mailed off) which meant I had a pretty nice list to go off of in terms of toys that they wanted and the ones that they actually asked Santa for (So Santa can come through). I knew where those toys where, how to get to them, and was in and out in less than 30 minutes with a shopping cart full of gifts and stocking stuffers.

The only thing that threw me was Beloved's request at the last minute that I get a pair of boots for Hikaru since I had to find the right size and style.

The second front on the War on Christmas is the yearly battle to get my wife to tell me what she wants for Christmas.

And yes, this IS a battle. Every. Single. Year. Every year I ask to get some ideas and every year it's "I don't know, give me more time." and thus I wait and watch as the calendar advances. I beg, I plead, I threaten to unleash her sons with 2,000 yen (About $20) in a store and let them buy her gift (Hope she likes GoBusters!), I threaten to go to Don Quixote (A Japanese version of Spencer's Gifts) and get her a "Happy Evening" gift pack (I'm sure you can fill in just what might be in that yourself). I withhold Christmas cookies and still I get nothing.

Or coffee. Every year, driven to distraction, she finally announces she just wants coffee beans.

Now the problem with this is that a. Coffee is hardly a present, it's something you get at the grocery store. Also, since she has a mother and sister-in-law who also are demanding gift ideas for her, I tell them coffee. We don't need 10 pounds of it, we don't drink THAT much coffee! So around and around  we go with me demanding and Beloved stating coffee till finally she'll come up with something.

These somethings are almost always expensive. This year it was a blu-ray recorder, not a bad idea, except that we need one that is region free for DVDs. They are around $500. No, not in the budget. So how about an electric sweeper? At $300? No. Besides, I'd rather save the money and get a Roomba. So how about a wall heater?

A wall heater you say, as I did?

Yes, she wants a wall heater. Why? To make sure that the laundry room doesn't freeze. Of course, we already have one and it's not for her, it's for the house. so, no.

Finally, three days before Christmas, she finally comes up with an idea. I need to take her to the shoe store to get some half boots. Ah, thinks I, not too bad... Until she zeros in on a pair that, yes are beautiful, yes, look good on her, yes, are what she wants, but are also a bit pricey.

But this is what she wants, this or coffee.

I might have won the battle of the toy store but  think I lost the war.

'Zat you, Santa Claus?

Poor Makoto has Santa confusion.

It's my fault.

Yes, that IS me, your Author

You see... I am Santa Claus.

I don't mean in the father who buys the gifts and does the stocking stuffing kind of way, I mean in the I have the suit and wear it each year kind of way. I wrote something on it last year that I'll re-post here as to the how and why:

One of the 'perks' of being a Western foreign man in Japan is around Christmas someone will ask you to play Santa Claus. While there are Japanese Santa-san, a lot of Japanese children, and adults, tend to believe that the authentic Santas are White and speak English.

Usually, it's a few hours in a suit of dubious quality that will earn you a couple thousand, maybe even 10,000 or so, yen. Pocket money for whatever your pleasure is for the Christmas season. About 5 years ago, in what was probably a comment on my expanding waistline, my wife bought and sent me a beautiful deluxe Santa suit from the US. She had been joking about getting me involved in this whole deal and used my retort that there wasn't a suit that was nice enough, or big enough, in Japan for me as an excuse to actually buy one.

I've spent every Christmas season since then in that suit, adding things like a wig and beard set, proper boots, and a new belt every so often. It's not comfortable work. The suit is hot, very hot. With fake fur, not felt, the only time I am not hot is standing outside in a blizzard. The wig and cap is even worse and the beard, oh Lord. It's hot, it's heavy, dragging my chin down till my teeth ache with dryness and the effort to keep my mouth closed, and while wearing it I cannot eat nor drink anything that doesn't have a straw. Given that the events I am called for can last hours, once in my getup, I cannot remove it until the end of the program.

And while wearing the suit, it can be hard to deal with the children and other people. Once you're in, you have to stay in character, voice, posture, everything. If you break it, and a child sees you, well... Who wants to be the one who confirm to a child that Santa is just some gaijin in a fake beard? Other children of course view Santa as something terrifying and scream, or think that Santa is a jungle-gym and clime up on to you, sometimes trying to get into the suit itself! Of course being Japan, appearing in public with the suit causes adults, especially women, to stream in from kilometers to snap pictures on their cells phones. As someone who is somewhat camera shy, I'm not exactly thrilled with the fact that hundreds of strangers have my photo, dressed as Santa stored somewhere.

So, yes, it is very hot uncomfortable work that usually sees me thrilled to be able to tear the beard from my face, scrub off the spirit gum, wash the whitener from my eye brows, and not have to speak in that deep of a voice. I'm thrilled to get out of the suit at the end of the day and back into street clothes.

And all of that for a bit of spending money... and a bit of Christmas magic.

One of the last events on the Santa calendar is Christmas Caroling in Okaya. The Okaya CIR has this event that he does where he invites the foreign population to come sing Christmas carols at two retirement/nursing homes and an orphanage. Last year and this year I've been asked to be Santa. The job is rather easy, I mainly just stand there, looking the part, give out a few Ho-ho-ho's, and hand out cards or gifts. I don't really even have to sing (Which, of course is a GOOD thing considering how bad I am). But it's that last stop, the orphanage, that makes it all worth it.

If you don't know, Japan's family laws are rather archaic. They were written in the Meiji Era, late 1800's, and reflect a time when blood and family bonds were extremely important. Children were the property of their families and the state had almost no right or say in how the family was to treat their children. The laws have not changed all that much, and given the social conditions, adoption or even foster care is almost unheard of, if it was even allowed by the family. So children in Japan's orphanages might be there until finally discharged as adults, never really having a home, just the center.

Of course, there's another, darker side to the story as well. Some of the children there are not the victims of unfortunate accidents and have lost their parents, nor were they given up shortly after birth and have no idea who their birth parents might be, they know all too well because they have families.

There's a growing problem in Japan of partial abandonment, where parents decide that they simply cannot deal with their child and drop them off at these child facilities and walk away. Sometimes they come back and take their child home, just to drop them back off after a few weeks. Sometimes these parents treat the care facilities as a kind of boarding house, a place to drop off their children for a few weeks while they go off and get a break from being parents, knowing that the state will feed and clothe their child. Then they come back and pick them up.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Some of these children have to endure watching their parents walk away multiple times, and then living with that stigma because in Japan, everyone will know where you live and that you aren't like the other children. Being different can be a rather bad thing here sometimes. And the state can do nothing due to antiquated laws that state a parent's rights are absolute and only in the most dire of circumstances can a child be taken into protective custody and only with parental or family permission can a child be fostered or adopted.

Of course, I don't actually KNOW the stories behind the children I saw last Saturday. Some of them may have lost their parents, some may have been given up shortly after birth, and some may have simply been dropped off. I didn't ask, because that's not what Santa does.

What Santa does, what I do, is give them, if just for a few hours, a bit of a bright spot. For the younger children, Santa came. He was there. They saw him, they touched his suit, tugged on his beard, heard his booming voice as he laughed at their antics, he gave them presents, handshakes, high-fives, and hugs. Santa is real, and he actually came to see them.

What a gift!

It doesn't make up for everything else, it doesn't provide them with a home or a family who cares and will always be around, but just for that moment, that few hours, that thing which gets derided and mocked, wished for and sighed over, that Christmas magic happened for those children and they could enjoy it.

Last year when I visited in the suit for the first time there was a little girl who was rather shy, she didn't want to get near me. She grabbed the gift I gave her and ran behind her caretaker, peering around the caretaker's leg at me with a frown.

This year, she greeted me with a huge smile and a hug and went back with us almost to the bus until her caretaker finally called her back.

So, for that day, for those times, I am Santa Claus. I look forward to being Santa for many, many more years. In the end, that suit isn't that uncomfortable after all.

So you see, being Santa isn't all that bad... except when it comes to my own children. The problem with being Santa is that, well, right now in my laundry room, Santa's suit is hanging up. His boots are being aired out. To prevent Santa from smelling like a storage room (Where the suit hangs out the rest of the year), I have to air it out. When Makoto was small, just a few months old, he of course had no idea who or what Santa was, so my hanging out the suit and changing wasn't a problem. Age one, no worries. Age 2, he started to get the idea of Santa, though he was not too sure just what was happening. Daddy and Santa were never seen in the same place of course, and he never caught me getting ready, but he was very excited when Santa came to a luncheon put on by the International Club and picked him up!

Is that Santa, or Daddy?

But when Makoto was three... I could tell, he was starting to put two and two together. Pictures from that year's luncheon showed a very perplexed Makoto who knew that suit, he had seen it hanging up in the house, and Daddy wasn't anywhere close by. Something wasn't right here, was Daddy, in fact, Santa Claus?

What to do? I decided the best way to explain it to Makoto at age 4 was to note that, yes, Daddy, does have a Santa costume because he is one of Santa's helpers. When Santa is busy, like he is at the end of the year, he asks Daddy to go off and pretend to be Santa for a bit to help him out. Makoto bought that. It makes sense, right?

This year, at age 5, however, he definitely knew. At the luncheon, he went around telling the other kids how Santa was his Daddy and offered to take them into the dressing room to show them the suit. He was quite annoyed when a quick thinking Daddy locked the door and didn't respond to any knocks or calls and then snuck out the other door.

The problem we now face is a culture clash, because if Daddy isn't Santa Claus, but dresses up as Santa, what about Santa who comes to his school?

Yes friends, the other day a Japanese 'Santa' came to Makoto's school to hand out presents (Tops that the kids will be playing with) and caused a bit of a problem, because Makoto's teachers told the kids that Santa lives in Finland whereas Daddy had told Makoto that he lives at the North Pole, and in fact that was where Makoto's letter to Santa went. Even worse, this Santa didn't speak English. This Santa was actually confused when Makoto spoke to him in English, which as we all know is the mark of an impostor as Santa has to speak English, right?

The final straw in my son's assessment of this Santa was the black mark of him not knowing how to say ho-ho-ho. That disqualified him immediately as Santa should ho-ho-ho. The poor teachers at Makoto's school had one hell of a time of keeping Makoto from telling all of his classmates that this was not Santa.

Thankfully, for peace of mind, Makoto's logic swung into play, if Daddy isn't Santa, and this guy isn't Santa, that must mean that the real Santa was just busy at the North Pole making toys. Thus will Santa keep visiting our house for a few more years, though I have a feeling Makoto is going to be an early learner of the secret due to a father who is Santa and two different cultural approaches to him.

As for Hikaru... at age two, his big thing is that Santa showed up and shook his hand! Something he has repeated non-stop for days now.

Ah, the magic of Christmas. Ho, ho, ho!

A Very Japanese Christmas

'Tis the season... And to understand just what all the following posts talking about my trials and the cross that I bear come every December here in Japan, you gotta understand Japanese Christmas.

To start with, one has to understand that Japan is in now way shape or form a Christian nation. If anything, it's a very secular nation with most of the population reporting that they have no religious faith. That said, the Japanese are rather... well... As I previously noted, the joke is that if you asked the Japanese about religion, 78% would be Buddhist, 78% would be Shintoist, and 78% would claim no religion at all. Even the Japanese joke that they are Shinto for birth, Christian for marriage, and Buddhist at death, denoting the popular practices of going to a Shinto shrine with a new baby, having a 'romantic' Christian style wedding, and asking that a Buddhist temple attend the passing of a loved one.

And no, the Japanese see nothing wrong with this, you do what works around here.

So with that in mind, it makes sense why a non-Christian nation would somehow adopt Christmas. The problem is that, well, if there has ever been any Western custom that has been adopted by the Japanese and implanted with a Japanese heart, it's Christmas. The problem is that for an American who did grow up with Christmas, the result of this implant is a creature with a bad personality overlay. The feeling that, something is just not right. That the heart, the soul, is missing from this time of year and has been replaced with... Something. Something odd.

It's not Japan's fault of course. They already have a winter holiday that ends in exchanges of gifts and family gatherings. New Year's, or Oshougatsu in Japanese, is THE major holiday for the year. People return to their families. The year's beginning is marked as a solemn occasion instead of with parties. Or as I like to put it, things are flipped in Japan in terms of Christmas and New Year's. So when you take out the family, and you take out the gifts (kinda), and the religion, what are you left with?

Japanese Santa

Well, if you're a child, you're left with Santa. The big man is well loved in Japan, if there's an undercurrent about if Santa should be Japanese or not.

Makoto, used to his father playing Santa and seeing American Christmas movies was a bit confused when Santa visited his school and didn't talk to him in English. He was also very put out that he didn't know how to Ho ho ho properly.

But Japanese children are taught that Santa will come at night on Christmas Eve and leave a present by their futon or maybe in their sock (No stocking over here). Santa doesn't come down a chimney here of course, someone has to let him in. But he does come and it's a poor child who doesn't expect some kind of visit by Santa.

MERRY Christmas!

If you're a young adult, Christmas is... well... *ahem* Sex. Kinda. Well. not kinda. Before New Year's, many Japanese engage in what is known as 'Forget the Year' parties. So the end of the year is a party time, especially if you're old enough to drink. Adding to this is an imported idea that Christmas Eve dates are romantic (Damn Western media) and thus for young couples, Christmas is the time where they can get together, and I mean together. Christmas Eve is apparently the most popular date for a young Japanese woman to loose her virginity.

The general idea is that the guy will take his lady love out to a very expensive hotel to enjoy a 'traditional' Christmas dinner of roast chicken (It should be noted that foreigner, missing turkey, would be noted eating chicken as a substitute. In the 1970's, KFC took note and managed to convince the whole nation that fried or roast chicken is exactly what people around the world eat for Christmas and thus does the Colonel, dressed as Santa in front of every store, sells out of chicken buckets come Christmas Eve with lines reaching around the block) where he will present her with a suitably nice present. After Christmas cake (Someone apparently told Japan that Christmas is Jesus's birthday, thus it must be celebrated with something akin to a birthday cake, complete with candles) and French wine, the couple retires to a love hotel he he gets to unwrap her.

For just about everyone else, unless you're a parent and thus dealing with children, Christmas passes by almost without notice.

Almost.

Bears are Christmasy, right?

There are Christmas carols, many translated into Japanese. And Christmas lights, the Japanese who have a long standing tradition of seeing lights at night (During the fall and spring, trees are illuminated for people's enjoyment), have gone gaga over Christmas lights. It's easy to find parks with massive Christmas illuminations set up, though there's, again, the feeling that something isn't right. Encountering hearts as if for Valentine's Day, or bugs for example.

Yes, bugs. The park that I take the boys has Christmas lights set up to look like such Christmas subjects as dragonflies or beetles.

If you want to fully imagine what a Japanese Christmas feels like, just toss a Santa hat on something, anything, and that's it. From 2 foot tall trees to Doraemon nativity scenes, it just feels wrong. Fake. Transplanted.

BUT!

And I mean this, for many Japanese it's fun. For my sons, they like it. They may get more by way of me, but this will be the Christmas that they remember and that's not a bad thing. I plan to go more into tradition mixing, but I will note that while we do not have roast chicken, we do have Christmas cake, or rather I do bake a cake, if not a simple sponge one. We do listen to Christmas carols in Japanese. And we do go enjoy the Christmas lights shaped like bugs at the park. I'm not complaining about how Japanese celebrates Christmas or even that it does, but it does bring up a problem with the culture clash that comes when I try to bring in a deeper meaning to this holiday in the face of Santa, KFC, and bug lights.

But more on that a bit later.

Gobble Gobble Wibble Wobble Do a Noodle Dance! Thanksgiving 2012

Thanksgiving has always been a really important holiday for me. My father's family lives in the San Francisco Bay Area (Why my father migrated to Nevada has always been somewhat of a mystery) and thus I didn't get to see them often. Our trips down were seasonal really, we'd come down for spring, summer, and fall holidays. Spring was Easter break, the 'long' trip. Summer was Summer vacation and Cousins' Week. Fall was Thanksgiving, our last chance to see our family before the winter snows made travel over Donner Pass too dangerous.

Before those who have never been over the Sierra Nevada in winter start giggling (Or those who drive it regularly winter or no), please remember that we're talking about a single mother in a small, front wheel drive compact car attempting to go over a pass that does get shut down often in the winter, or at least gets chain controls. Not to mention that getting stuck up there has happened before...

In any case, Thanksgiving was the last chance to see family until either March or April and while a quick trip, it was almost always fun. Mom would yank my sister and I out of school the Wednesday beforehand (And of course any chance to get out of school early...) load us up, and we'd be off to Bay Area in the annual race to beat the traffic. Certainly we had our share of adventures along the way, for example the 1989 Loma Prieta Earthquake managed to cause some issues, mainly the collapse of the Cypress Viaduct meant that our normal route to Grandma and Papa's house was gone, which ended up with Mom getting lost and winding up far, far from where we were supposed to go.

But usually we'd arrive and then the next day would be the big day, and boy was it. My family normally seats around 20+ for Thanksgiving and would serve turkey, stuffing, rolls, salad, mashed potatoes, peas, candied yams, corn, Quiche, olives, stuffed celery, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and mincemeat pie. Not to mention all the snacks that came before and after, the wine, sparkling apple cider, etc. The table would stretch from one end of whomever's house we were at (It rotated every year) to the other and groan with the weight of the food, plates, and cutlery. The kitchen would become a mini-war center overseen by various aunts, mothers, and of course Grandma in which foods that had been more or less cooked at various houses were heated up and served while dishes would be washed and the dishwasher loaded and run non-stop. In the mean time, various uncles and Papa would be watching TV (Usually a football game), enjoying a pre-dinner drink, and yelling at various cousins and kids to either settle down a bit or not eat too many snacks and spoil our dinners.

We various cousins and kids of course would be ignoring this and tearing trough the house and outdoors like loons and sneaking as many snacks as we possibly could.

The magic time would be right before dinner when the turkey finally came out and raids on the kitchen would start in order to claim that magic prize, turkey skin!

To this day, my aunts have never managed to serve a non-bald turkey. The skin is always stripped before we get close to carving.

And finally of course, dinner, with family and catching up with what happened since we last saw each other, high dinner theater of the inevitable political argument, and finally clean-up with a chance of a possible ice and whipped cream war started by my grandmother.

It was glorious.

The rest of the weekend would be spent digesting and the start of Christmas shopping on Saturday. Sunday, we'd get into the car and race home in the hopes of not getting trapped by snow while listening to Christmas music; or rather, my sister and I would pray for snow on Sunday so that the pass would shut down and we'd have another day off from school.

Now as a kid, I liked Thanksgiving, but it was Christmas and Halloween where my heart belongs (Kids are kids and free candy and presents top turkey), but as an adult when I started making my own trips down to the Bay Area Wednesday night after classes would be over with at university, I started to really appreciate being able to be with my family.

And then I moved to Japan.

If any time of the year gets me homesick, it's Thanksgiving. As noted, it was the last time that I would normally gather with my whole family for the year. I missed the foods, I missed the traditions, I missed my family. Japan does have family gathering type holidays, two of them in fact and we do gather, but they are in late summer and New Year's and we gather at Beloved's parents house. There's also a lack of turkey in Japan as well. So for 7 long years, I didn't really have Thanksgiving. Oh, sure, I'd try to make something special, maybe have some chicken on the day, and I would give thanks, but... it wasn't Thanksgiving.

This year though, well... This year we have a house of our own and I have two sons who have not learned about this part of their heritage (And given the Japanese calendar, are unlikely to ever make it back to the States in time for it). We also had Beloved's parents coming up for Makoto's 7-5-3 festival and Japan's Labor Thanksgiving Day was the Friday after Thanksgiving Day thus I had a day off to cook so... It was time to have my own Thanksgiving.

Turkey before the roasting

Which was scary enough, yes. My previous attempts at cooking a turkey (One of my aunt's gave me a turkey when I was in college as payment for helping her) was mixed at best. Oh sure, the bird came out great, the gravy... Well, all I remembered was that one mixed pan drippings in with flour. Our gravy was more turkey flavored paste. Thus I concluded that Thanksgiving dinner should be left to wise aunts, mothers, and grandmothers. But this year... I had no wise aunts, mothers, and grandmothers to fall back on as turkey and the trimmings are quite different from the Japanese dishes that Beloved and her mother are so good at. Even worse, the time difference meant that there would be no panicked phone calls back to the States in hopes of getting a wise aunt/mother/grandma on the phone to help with a disaster. And even worse-er, just about everything would have to done from scratch. You simply cannot buy a lot of the pre-made stuff.

But I was going to do it anyway. And I did. Spending Thursday night making the pie and all day Friday cooking I served turkey (Bought from Foreign Buyers Club) in a roaster that came from the US, oyster stuffing from a recipe that has been passed down through my family from my great-great-great-grandmother, cranberry sauce, and candied yams. The smells of the day brought me back home and the fact that my sons proceeded to devour the bird and the trimmings till both of their bellies were large and round proved that they are indeed my true born sons, blood of my blood and Americans in the bone.

I see you trying to get into it!

Actually, it was a bit of a problem as Hikaru kept coming into the kitchen and trying to get me to feed him turkey while it was cooling by pointing and saying "Turkey! Eat!" and when I wouldn't, he'd go and get Jiji, Mommy, or Baba in an effort to get them to give him turkey. He got quite annoyed when that didn't happened and attempted to conduct a raid on the table instead. Somewhere I could hear my female relatives laughing at me as I fought to defend my dinner from a toddler. But my in-laws also took to Thanksgiving dinner, and to turkey skin (I, too, had to serve a bald turkey). In fact, the best compliment I received was Beloved asking me to make this again next weekend, which I am so not going to do, but it was great that it was enjoyed that much.

It wasn't quite the same, but it was Thanksgiving with food, laughter, and family gathered together before the coming chill.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It was glorious.

And it also was a taste, if a small one, of home; a chance to introduce my culture a bit to my sons and my in-laws. It was nice to see them taking to it so well too. My father-in-law even managed to get right into the swing of things with traditional American happily overstuffed on Thanksgiving dinner after-dinner nap. And I didn't even have to tell him about that one either!

7-5-3

Ok the communication tests are done, Thanksgiving dinner has been cooked and eaten, and the in-laws are back where they belong after a long weekend.

Back to the blog!

Going in reverse order, what I wanted to talk about today was Makoto's Shichigosan, or 7-5-3. In Japanese tradition, girls who are ages 3 and 7 and boys who are 5 get dressed up in kimono (Or nice western clothing) and head off to the shrine for a blessing. It's a bit in the way of asking for good health, luck, and fortune along with the kami's protection for the child. Of course, in modern Japan, there's less actual religious feeling behind it and far more "We do this because we are Japanese". It's also one of the few times that Japanese will wear kimono.

Yes, they are beautiful, but so are tuxes and ballgowns and most Americans don't wear them everyday either.

Shichigosan also makes the formal end of babyhood, going into childhood. Girls got to wear obi, the formal sashes on their kimono and boys... get to put on PANTS!

Seriously.

This ceremony is actually rather old, there's a mention of it in Tale of Genji, the worlds first novel, and for some reason it's translated in that book as "The First Putting on of Pants". This has been a non-stop source of amusement for my family. For me, it just sounds silly. For Beloved and Makoto, it's even better as pants do not refer to trousers in Japan, but underpants. And of course, every 5-year-old boy thinks that any mention of underwear is humorous.

Of course, the pants themselves are not what we back in the US are used to, but hakama, the traditional divided trousers used by men over their kimono.

Any case, the whole thing is a big deal, and of course Beloved's parents came up to see their grandson to under go this, bringing with them PANTS! The kimono that Makoto wore was one that he had since his birth, and indeed was taken to the same shrine as a baby in it to be presented to the kami. This time however, he got to wear the kimono and the pants. Hikaru in the meanwhile got to wear... a tie!

He was not impressed.

Still, while it took a while to get all the ties done up right and things jiggered into the right areas, and we had to endure a cold shrine, it was a nice ceremony and both boys came off looking good, Makoto in his kimono and Hikaru in his tie. Makoto came away from the shrine with a charm to protect him, an arrow to protect the house, a coloring book with Japanese myths in it, and the traditional bag of candy. Hikaru just came away confused, but since he'll be doing this in three years time, maybe he'll remember this day with his brother.

If I had just one regret about 7-5-3, it might be that everything for this came from Beloved and Beloved's family. Not, let me state, that this is a particularly bad thing, but it was one where Makoto's American side was more or less buried by his Japanese one. The only thing that was different from every other child at the shrine was that his last name was very much not Japanese. I guess I just wish that I could have had him had something from the US.

Still wasn't going to allow my mother to send over a tartan from my step-father's Scottish clan however. There's staying true to your roots and then there is horrible culture and fashion clashes.

Christmas is Coming...

I know, I know, it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

But, the thing is... we've got to get started on it a bit early. One, the relatives are coming. Makoto is having what is known in Japan as a Shichigosan (7-5-3) in a bit more than a week. I'll go into more details about it later, but mainly the idea is for children of ages 7 and 3 for girls, and 5 for boys, go to the shrine to get prayed over for good luck. They also get to wear kimono for the first time.

It's a big deal in other words, so my in-laws will be coming up. And as they are coming up, we're doing two things. One, I am going to prepare Thanksgiving dinner, since they have never had it and since it's been 8 years since I've had it. Two, I am, under protest, getting out the Christmas decorations.

Beloved's folks have been intrigued by our Christmas preparations since I spent a good chunk of change and got myself a nice, US made, Christmas tree (Most Japanese Christmas trees look... well... green pipe cleaners comes to mind. The first one I had in Japan came equipped with light up chili peppers, I ended up feeling like I was celebrating Christmas at Chili's or possibly Taco Bell). Especially since last year when we moved into our new home and we had rigged the house for Christmas lights they have wanted to see it, so I have been asked to do the tree trimming a wee bit earlier than planned.

Actually, it's a bit more than a wee. I have a rather strict set of rules, NO Christmas music till after Thanksgiving and NO decorations/trees should be out until December and if I could work my will, anyone who does else should be boiled in their own pudding and buried at the crossroads with a steak of holly through their heart!

Bah! Humbug!

Er...

Any case, this time however I must admit that it is unlikely that Beloved's parents would ever make it up here for when we normally do the tree so... just this once... and at least it is after Thanksgiving day.

But, this has pushed back other pre-Christmas events. For example, the annual letter writing to Santa happened last Sunday. Makoto has been giving us ever longer gift lists everyday as he comes up with more and more stuff to ask for (Usually after seeing it on TV) and has been doing so since Halloween. In an effort to end it before they overtake the whole house, we did our Santa letter.

This year was a first though. Makoto wrote it. I helped him with writing the draft, but the final letter is all in Makoto's handwriting, which is pretty good for a 5-year-old. It's currently waiting for Santa Post to open back up in Canada before being sent away.

The other thing that happened was the buying of the ornaments. One of the traditions of my childhood was that each year, my sister and I would get one ornament. My mother always explained it as a way of making sure that when we got older and moved away and finally had Christmas trees of our own, our trees would be  filled with ornaments that had meaning. They would be things that we had treasured and had since our childhood.

And she was right, in Nevada are my Christmas ornaments, waiting for the time when I can finally finish shipping everything over to Japan. And I miss them as many of them have very special memories attached to them. I admit, some I probably wouldn't want to put out any more (The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles one that reads Cowabunga! Merry Chritmas Dude! on it comes to mind), but many I would. I miss hearing Mr. Spock saying "Shuttlecraft to Enterprise, shuttlecraft to Enterprise. Spock here. Happy Holidays. Live long and Prosper."

Since the boys were born, I have kept up the tradition. Both boys got a first ornament for their first Christmas, and both have ones with picture frames with photos from that moment. What has been hard was that, well, Japan doesn't really do special ornaments. They do have Christmas trees, yes, but not things like Hallmark Keepsakes. Instead, they go for generic balls.

Thankfully, I found a company that does do Hallmark and even better, ships to Japan. So the last few years minus last year when I was stateside, I've been ordering from them and haven't been disappointed. This year however the tree is going up early, so we had to order early.

Makoto, for some reason, wanted the Amazing Spiderman ornament. He hasn't seen the movie, but that's what he wanted.

Hikaru... Oh boy. We flipped through a few pages with Hikaru getting excited about Snoopy and other ornaments till he saw it. It was the Lionel Steam Engine based off the old Nutcracker Express toys that just about every boy hopped to see skirting the tree come Christmas morn many moons ago. And he, Hikaru, MUST have it. It didn't matter what else I pointed out, his demand was always "SL! SL! SL! SL!"

They arrived yesterday, which was a bit of a problem. Makoto has this Christmas ornament thing down. He knows what they are and that they belong on the tree. Hikaru however...

"SL!"
"Hikaru, that's not a toy. It's an ornament."
"SL!"
"No, Hikaru. Look, Jiji and Baba (Beloved's parents) are coming next week, then you'll get to put it on the tree, ok?"
"Ok." Two seconds later, "SL!"

This morning was just a repeat with Hikaru loudly complaining that the SL was no longer where he saw it last (Daddy has hidden it with the rest of the ornaments).

Somehow I think that when it comes time to trim the tree, the old song "Do you hear what I hear?" will be answered with "SL!"

This is Halloween!

Japan has imported a few holidays. Mother's Day and Father's Day more or less survive with how they are celebrated elsewhere (Though as I have written, Father's Day seems to have become a sneaky way for moms to get an extra day off). Valentine's Day and Christmas have been changed quite a bit as various aspects of Japanese businesses have latched on to them for use to promote their products, chocolate for Valentine's Day and the hotel and fried chicken industry for Christmas (More on that in December), which leads to a bit of a struggle on my part because I want my sons to know the holidays for what they actually are and not think of KFC when Christmas rolls around.

But then there's Halloween, my favorite holiday.

And one that hasn't, quite, figured out what to do with itself.

It's not from lack of trying mind you, if anything the elements are already there. Japan loves a good scare. Japan abounds with monsters and ghosts a plenty, it has no issue with the idea of dressing up in costume, and it does have a sweet tooth, if not as sweet as Americans. It even has a holiday season akin to Halloween, O-Bon when the spirits of the dead return and bring with them ghosts and goblins. That could be Japan's problem actually, everything that Halloween is can be found in native Japanese holidays and customs at other times of year. But the idea of Halloween has been growing, pushed on not so much by a Japanese company looking to sell something, but due to hordes of Americans who have been teaching in Japan on the JET Programme and other related endeavors.

As part of the notion of internationalization and culture sharing, just about every AET, American or not, has had to conduct some kind of Halloween lesson or party over here. With varying degrees of enthusiasm no doubt, but they have been done and slowly, it's been growing. 8 years ago and you couldn't find anything Halloween related, now even the local grocery store stocks some themed candy. 8 years ago and I had to send to the US for my costume, this year I was flabbergasted at the display over at local store that included actual make-up kits and costumes that were not Christmas related (One of my fondest memories was helping at a Halloween event my first year in Japan just to see kids dressed up as Santa Claus). It's not the Halloween stores at home, or even Wal*Mart, but it's getting bigger.

That said, we still do not have the concept of trick-or-treating over here yet, at least not a general one ala the US. So what is a Halloween loving parent to do to help his sons get this most wonderful of holidays?

It's a start!

Simple, if the Mohammed won't wander over to the mountain, the mountain is going to continue as if it was still in the US, with some slight changes. Which means that I spent most of October getting the house ready for Halloween, building a mini (by that I mean 4 tombstones) graveyards and trying to find various Halloween decorations, much to the pleasure of the boys. It means hanging a Happy Halloween banner in the living room along with a paper jack-o-lantern (Causing Hikaru to spend most of October going around saying "Happy Halloween! Jack-o-lantern!" over and over again).

Scooping pumpkins

It means 45 minute trips to find orange pumpkins for carving instead of the small green ones for eating that Japan sells. It means getting costumes from America for the boys, renting some movies, and carving 5 different jack-o-lanterns (3 for the home, two for the various schools). And of course it means finding a way for my sons to experience the ultimate (For a kid) in Halloween, trick-or-treating.

Happy Halloween in Shiojiri

Unfortunately, that meant going to Happy Halloween in Shiojiri, probably the largest Halloween event in Japan, and one that grew out of a Halloween party put on by an AET some time ago. It's also somewhat of a madhouse. You have thousands of people crammed into a little area with various events, some of which are even related to Halloween, going on and in the middle of it, trick-or-treating. But, I have two sons, one dressed as a pirate, one dressed as a cute little skeleton, and myself... the overly large gaijin dressed in a very scary skull mask... surely... we could get through this.

I admit, they were very cute!

What became apparent very quickly was that we were causing a rather quixotic reaction in people, depending on who they saw first. If it was the boys, "KAWAIIIIIII" (Cute!) was the reaction. If it was me, "KOWAI!" (Scary!) so we went along trying to find our candy stations with shouts of "Kawaii" "Kowai" "Kawaii" "Kowai" "Kawaii" "Kowai" "Kawaii" "Kowai" "Kawaii" "Kowai" echoing around us. It actually got to be a bit of a problem as a number of people tried to make off with Hikaru (Being the overly cute one) and I had a bunch of people who assumed that I was so scary, I must be part of the staff and were following me around to see when I would be handing out candy, or doing something entertaining, myself.

Actually, the bad part was that I could do nothing. I have no qualms, even when not on the clock, of adding in a good scare, but Hikaru was jittery enough and I didn't want him freaking out at a scary Daddy so... All I could do was stand there and just look spooky.

Given that I caused a few kids to cry, that was apparently enough.

But we did have a good time and much candy was gotten. Even better from the boys' point-of-view, we went out for ramen afterwards, while still in costume and all without Mommy (Which means they got to rub it in when they got home that Mommy missed out on delicious ramen).

The loot

It might not quite be the same as home, and this Wednesday all we will do is light our jack-o-lanterns as I have class and trick-or-treating is done, but... I think it's a start. After all, Makoto is already planning for what he wants to be for next year and having demonstrated carving pumpkins to some friends, they want to start carving next year too. Slowly, ever so slowly, we're bringing in Halloween, properly.

Everybody scream!

Happy Halloween!

It's Festival Time

"Wasshoi! Wasshoi!"

As mentioned, fall has come to Nagano. Since it's the weekend of the Equinox, that means it's time for the Autumn Festivals at our local Shinto shrines.

The reasoning is, somewhat, complex. On one hand, you have the rice harvest and a festival is held to say thanks for a good harvest (Many rural shrines also have one in the spring to ask for one), on the other, we need to give the local kami (God, but honestly spirit would be a better translation), his exercise before he heads off to the yearly meeting (In Japan, October is considered the Month Without Gods because they all head off to heaven in order to have a big family gathering). And finally, of course, who doesn't like an excuse to party?

For the last 6 years, this has meant my helping carry the mikoshi, a kind of portable shrine. Ours is rather plain, some of them in Japan are beautiful affairs of gold and lacquered wood, ours is a wooden platform with rice casks and a sake barrel, plus the kami. But, plain as it is, it's heavy and after 6 years, I've gotten the ritual down pat.

The group of us gather at a local community center where we change into our festival gear, white pants, a happi coat, a headband, white tabi (Think ninja footwear), and a haramaki, a belly band.

Except me of course, because finding pants and a belly band in my size has proven difficult, so I head out in bluejeans and a white t-shirt. Still get to wear the tabi and the happi though.

Yes, we carry that, and drink the sake in front

First off, the photo, because one cannot ever get a group together in Japan for a purpose without a photo. The photo also allows us to crack open the sake barrel. We carry the sake around to pass it out to anyone who sees us along with cotton candy for the kids. The other reason for it however is to make sure that those carrying the mikoshi are good and drunk while doing so.

There's three theories as to why this is. The first is religious, the kami is happy when we're happy (I believe I have remarked before, "You've gotta be drunk, it's Shinto!"), the second is just so all that sake doesn't go to waste. The third, and my personal opinion, is that by keeping us plastered, we're less likely to question just why we're carrying, and tossing, a heavy wood platform up the side of a steep hill at night in late September.

Which, yes, is exactly what we do. The mikoshi is supposed to go around the neighborhood, which is accomplished by picking it up (Usually we need about 20 or more men for this) and carrying it on our shoulders while changing "Wasshoi! Wasshoi!" (Either heave-ho or it comes, depending). From time to time, people will stop us to give us an envelope filled with money as a donation. It's then that we've got to get a blessing from the kami for the house which is accomplished by tossing it up into the air and then catching it.

It's also about this time that I'm glad I've been sipping the sake as inevitably, I am the tallest there and the first to catch it so for a second, I get the whole weight.

Rest and food break

From time to time we'd stop to rest and a few times to eat. Along the way families would offer their place as a rest area and a few of them would provide food and more alcohol.

One of them is a challenging sort of place as for some reason, the owner of the house makes these incredibly spicy dishes each year and does so in a way to make sure you're never quite too sure as to which dish it is, until you bite into it. Every year he gets a kick out of people suddenly screaming "SPICY!"

Except for me. Because while spicy, it ain't that bad... Which I really shouldn't have said because this year he took it as a challenge and liberally spooned something he called "topping" on it. I don't know what that stuff was, but it WAS spicy and my mouth burned for a good 10 minutes after eating it.

Thankfully, the sake barrel was near by.

Finally of course we have to get the mikoshi back to the shrine to take the kami home. This being Japan, the shrine is at the top of a very steep hill (For some reason, the Japanese don't consider a site properly holy unless it's high up). So, tired, drunk, and with minor indigestion from eating spicy foods, the lot of us now have to struggle up the hill... And then prove ourselves to be manly men. It's not enough to have hauled this through the town, it's not enough to drink large amounts of sake, it's not enough to face down the fiery foods... no, we've got to get the mikoshi up in front of the shrine and then run, at top speed, stopping only to toss the mikoshi, and with our leader standing on top of it.

Pretty much our last toss barely clears our heads. But... it is done. The mikoshi comes to rest, the kami returns to his shine, and the lot of us get blessed by the Shinto priest. Finally, we take the mikoshi back to where we started from to finish off the sake, eat, and drink some more.

Except that I didn't. as much as I would like to have drowned my pain (Because 4 hours of carrying a heavy wood pole across my shoulders meant they were now black and blue), but I couldn't because I knew that Sunday morning was Thomas time and my sons would wake us up early.

And more than that, it was the day of the boys' birthday party and I needed to get the cake baked.

But hey, at least we finished the sake.