Reason 5,431 to Love Japan

Last week, I gave into one of my sporadic tendencies to be a hermit and decided to spend the night in. My days off the last few weeks, though fun and fantastic, have been been entirely too busy for the secret recluse hiding inside me. The perfect remedy, in my mind, was a Saturday night to myself.

It was a warm night, as it has been getting progressively warmer, and my balcony door was open to let the breeze in. (I refuse, even as of this moment, to use my air conditioner yet. It's a stubborn exercise in self-denial, but I know that once it goes on, I won't ever turn it off. And my electricity bill will end up suffering, because this country doesn't believe in insulation.) I was lying on my bed beside the open balcony, and despite the bad TV I was watching, I still managed to hear it. The sound of drums and flutes, of chanting and traditional music.

Intrigued, I clicked off the computer and went out onto my balcony. And what was I greeted by, but this:

A full-blown traditional procession right below my apartment.

If you can tolerate my impromptu, shaky camerawork, you notice that float strung high with lanterns. Inside the float there were seated mechanical shamisen players whose heads clicked back and forth like figurines on an antique cuckoo clock. Adult men in happi coats guided the float, and when it reached the end of the block, grunted and shifted the entire structure one hundred and eighty degrees. Men, women, children in yukata then pulled the entire construction down my street with giant ropes as the music from the float spurred them on.

On a normal day, my street is nothing exceptional to look at. A bicycle repair shop and takoyaki stand line along the street with an Italian restaurant, various cafes, and the side entrance of a university. It's downright unremarkable. But as I stood on my balcony for twenty minutes, watching the harmonic procession, I finally found something beautiful in it as I was wrapped up in the ceremony of it all.

And it's moments like that when I truly love living in Japan. When I take a night in, and happen to witness a surprise Summer festival. The loveliness of custom floating by the bright lights of convenience stores and restaurants.

Though of course Summer festival means, of course, Summer, and we are about two days into rainy season and I already hate it. The air feels sticky all the time, and the rain is just a constant mist. Despite showering just before I left for work, I came home itching just to wash the air off me. I'm counting the days till the end of June. Which is when we have just humidity without the precipitation accompaniment.

I predict I break down tomorrow and put on my air conditioner. But as for now, I'll sit by my open balcony door over my ordinary street as the misty breeze keeps me somewhat cool.