1. Untitled, 2. The odori sleeps – Sunrise on the Shinmachi

After the final cultural workshops of our English Camp were completed, we were free. Friday afternoon, I left the Tokushima Station and headed home. A brief change of clothes and I was back on the street, shopping. Friday was the last night of Awa Odori, I had no plans, a few bills, and a determination that I would spend the night in a Yukata, even if I am white.

There’s a funny line here concerning what is or isn’t acceptable for us to do, as foreigners and as JETs. How much of Japanese culture can we participate in before we cross the line, move from involved ambassadors to slack-jawed tourists? There is an unspoken code of balancing knowledge with learning, Western identity with respect to Japanese culture. It’s hard to figure out sometimes, but I’ve always had the feeling that dressing up in traditional cultural garb without some big festival or group activity or sense of irony — an excuse, in other words — was a touristy thing to do. It’s uncool, in other words, to pretend that you wear this yukata because it’s normal for you to do so.

On the other hand, I really wanted to wear one, there was a festival going on, and quite frankly, I’m not so concerned after all with how cool or uncool the other JETs think I am. So I went to the weird little arcades, and busted out my fractured Japanese and bought a yukata.

I thought it would go something like this: I buy one that is hanging there on the racks, take it home, and look up on the internet how to tie it properly. No. Oh my no, that is not what happened.

As soon as I picked one that I liked (light blue with pink flowers) I was herded into the back of the shop by the man and his wife, where they started showing me Obis and ties. Evidently there are three ties in total. Suddenly, I was wearing it, while the lady was moving around me, adjusting, tugging, tying, and talking a mile a minute in Japanese. I stood there and tried to help, but mostly just nodded and tried to remember everything that she was doing so I could do it again later. I’ve found that in these situations, you just keep nodding and saying yes. For a direct question, if there is no immediate danger to your life and you are unlikely to be deported for making the wrong answer, just guess. You can always take it back. For instance, the lady at the grocery store who asked me if I wanted a plastic spoon when I bought ice cream. Saying “Yes” gets you a spoon. Saying “No” like it’s a question will probably get you a spoon. And saying “daijoubu” (I’m alright/it’s fine) will probably also get you a spoon, which you didn’t even know you wanted in the first place, so if you don’t get one after all, no harm done.

In the end, I just agreed to everything, the lady showed me how to fold up the yukata, then wrapped it up real nice and gave me a sheet with instructions and pictures on it. Later, I went back and showed off my handiwork (with the addition of having done my hair and having a pair of men’s sandals for my giagantic foreign feet), and she told me I was very jozu at wearing a Yukata. Jozu means… it means you did a good job, but in the way that you tell a kid he’s doing a good job when he keeps falling off his bike. If you can say “hello” and “goodbye”, your Japanese skills are very jozu. If you are fluent and can speak 8 different regional dialects, your Japanese skillz are also very jozu. “Jozu desu ne” is apparnetly a phrase you learn to hate. But I felt pretty darn good about my yukata skills, so I thanked her and left to enjoy the rest of the festival.

Here is what I ate: turkish ice cream, shaved ice, takoyaki (octopus balls), peach gelato, fish cakes stuffed with red beans, Japan’s version of the mini donut ball (tastes like a fortune cookie, no sugar on top), apple juice, and another turkish ice cream on my way home. The Turkish guys invited me to their restaurant, which I think is in Osaka. I also stood and watched the okonomiyaki guys make huge okonomiyaki on giant hot plates, but I didn’t think I could eat that much cabbage (and egg and bacon and cheese and I don’t even know what else was on top).

I saw lots and lots of dancing groups, including a cow group. I saw some folks dressed as Power Rangers, I saw children’s Rens, and many many small street dancers. I danced in a few circle dances, dodged cars and drunks and oblivious teenagers, and watched a screaming, chanting, cheering group of dancers psyche up (or maybe celebrate the end?) for a dance. I saw a woman in full geisha getup posing for photos with businessmen. I waved at babies and people-watched and just… took it all in. It was really really lively all around me. When I was full up to bursting with festival, I went home, took a bath, got my pajamas and a huge bowl of rice and watched the Olympics. I’ll absolutely be dancing again next year.

Also… in the photos at the top, the one on the right was taken (not by me) on the pedestrian bridge that is literally at my front door. The park there is where all the Awa Odori practices were held, that entire riverbank is the view from my balcony. The colors don’t usually look like that though. And the lady on the left is dressed up to do the women’s dance, which involves being tall and graceful.

Ok, that’s it for right now…
love
Emily