I booked my ticket home for Christmas today! I’m flying home on December 23 (arriving in Halifax at 11:30pm) and staying until early morning on January 3. So folks in Nova Scotia, I want to see YOU while I’m there!

 

I’m way behind on my writing, because August was an interesting month, but I didn’t make a lot of time to write. So here you go; the first instalment of Sarah’s August. Enjoy; more will come soon. I just hope September’s kind of boring , or I’ll NEVER catch up!

 

Four weeks ago, on my way to my Japanese lesson, I ran into my tutor, Fujii-san, on the marbled black steps of the Kunibiki Messe. She’s about my age, is married and has a part-time job near the art museum. She also tutors a handful of other foreigners, mostly NOVA teachers. Her first name is Masami; I only just found that out recently. She’s often late for our lessons, but since she charges me only 3,000 yen a month (or about $6.50 Canadian for a 90-minute lesson), I let it slide. We’ve just added studying kanji to my lessons, and I’m fascinated, but also appalled by the amount of work it entails to learn them. There are close to 2,000 kanji that everyone is expected to know, and many, many more beyond that. I’m fascinated by the origins of each kanji; many of them are pictograms, and if you use your imagination, they do look like the things they represent. Ki, for example, or “tree”, is drawn as a cross with two curved lines curling out and down from the centre like the boughs of a stylised Christmas tree. “Woods” is a pair of these symbols, and “forest” is a cluster of three trees. THEN, hon, the word for both “root/origin” and “book”, is ki with a horizontal line through the bottom of the pictogram. The name for Japan in Japanese is ni-hon, or “sun-root”, or more familiarly, “the land of the rising sun”. For a girl like me who has always been fascinated by word origins, kanji are very exciting. BUT, to nail them to the inside of my skull and remember them, I have to copy and copy and copy and copy until they stay. Muzikashii desu ne? (That means, ”Difficult, isn’t it?”)

 

But I digress…

 

Anyway, as we were entering the Messe on our way to the Shimane International Centre, I was distracted by the presence of a large, white dragon. Actually, four of them. Their large, delicately shaped long heads with whiskered jaws rested on their long thick necks in a neatly coiled heap. They were made of papier-mâché, but were very fine pieces of work. Fujii-san saw me stop short in my surprise; she said these were used in a well-known local kagura dance telling the legend of a nine-headed dragon (Orochi, or “Big Snake” in old-fashioned Japanese) that once lived in Shimane Prefecture. I had heard the story and seen other pictures, so I knew at once what she was talking about. The god Susanno succeeded in killing this dragon after getting it drunk on casks of sake, so that it fell asleep, and cutting off its heads. Fujii-san and I surmised that there must be five other dragon heads nearby, out of sight. The dance was part of the huge national high school festival that was held here for a week; I would have loved to see it performed. (Seiji told me later that many people believe the legend originated from the wide, sandy river between Matsue and Izumo, which runs in many channels, looking, yes, something like a many-headed dragon or a cat o’ nine tails.)

 

The high school festival meant the streets of Matsue were thick with high school students in their school uniforms – white starched shirts, plus dark slacks for the boys and the globally obligatory short pleated shirt for the girls. In a nod to the hot weather, their school jackets have been abandoned until September. Some of them shouted out “Hello!” as they passed me, then giggled to their peers at their own boldness. I shouted “Hello!” back. One of my students, Risa, was involved in the festival. She’s a high school student in her final year, and her club activity is playing in a string orchestra; she plays the viola. Between studying and playing music, she is always tired. High school students work so hard here. And all of them are members of some kinds of clubs, like Risa’s orchestra or sports clubs. But Risa’s orchestra played its last concert at the festival, so now she is a little glum and bereft. She misses playing.

 

In shigin class, I am working on a song that I will sing with three other women: two Japanese and one Korean. One of the Japanese singers is my student, Kaya Fukushima. She’s a beautiful girl working for NHK, the big Japanese television station here. She debuted about two months ago, delivering a 10-minute news clip with a fellow anchor. I don’t get the channel, so I haven’t seen her on TV yet. Anyhow, the song I’m singing, in romanji (English syllables), goes: ashita ni jisu hakutei saionno kan / senrino koryo ichijitsu ni shite kaeru / ryoganno ensei naite yamazaruni / keishu sudeni sugu bancho no yama. The translation, as far as I understand it, is: “Tomorrow I am leaving Hakutei (castle) and returning home on a swift boat. I will hear the unceasing cries of the monkeys high on the cliffs as we pass through the mountain ranges.” Seiji says the feeling of the song is of nostalgia for home. Basically all the shigin songs are variations on the same melody, but they can sound very different when sung by different people. When Kanda-sensei gets up to sing, this sweet, slender gentleman can shake tables and shiver glass with the power of his voice. Amazing.

 

 After months of a coffee and donut addiction, I have finally cut out the donuts. I have to; I’m definitely gaining some weight this year. Mister Donut is still my likely destination when I take a break from work, but now I have my coffee with a side of ice water instead. I was delighted a month or so ago when I went to Mister Donut in the train station, and the manager, who recognizes me now, shyly greeted me in English! She doesn’t speak it much, but I think she had been practicing to speak to me. She’s a lovely, tallish woman in her forties with very kind eyes. Now I’m trying to practice my Japanese on the counter staff, which they accept with friendly patience, if not complete comprehension.

 

The first weekend of August was the Suigosai Festival, a two-day festival of fireworks over Lake Shinji. The festival is also called the Dan-Dan Festival. Dan-dan means “thank you” in an old dialect, now spoken only by some elderly Japanese; the festival was described to me as a thank you from the city to the people of the town. The Japanese word for fireworks, hana-bi, translates directly as “flower-fire”. Poetic, isn’t it? Suigosai is an opportunity for people of the city to don brightly coloured yukata and make their way to the waterfront to watch the fireworks. Stalls of food and drink liberally dot the lakeshore, and thousands of people turn out, from Matsue and from further afield, to eat, drink, socialize and watch the show. The first night, on Saturday, was just the prelude; a half-hour fireworks show. Sunday night was an hour of fireworks.

 

I did not see the fireworks on Saturday, however, because we held John’s welcome party that night at Caprichoza, the Italian restaurant. Compared to Melanie’s farewell party, the turnout was small; John is still just getting to know people here, and he’s just not as outgoing and energetic as Melanie (in his defence, though, few people are; Melanie’s a fireball). The meal was nice, but I’m getting a little bored of welcome and farewell parties at Caprichoza. The food is mostly the same each time, and I was disappointed to be served chilled red wine. As head foreign teacher, I made a speech of welcome which I was very pleased with, and John made a short speech as well. After the meal, many of us went to Kaya. I was sitting with Ryoko and some of the students when Jennifer came in. Heads turned and jaws dropped at my table, as no one from AEON had met Jennifer before. And seeing a six-foot-tall female gaijin in a Japanese yukata was a shock for them. And Jennifer was dressed to the nines! She was wearing a midnight blue yukata printed with silvery white and blue chrysanthemum blooms, paired with a patterned magenta obi and a red tasselled cord as decoration. Her dark brown hair was up (she’d had it professionally styled for the occasion) and adorned with a blue flower, and her lips were crimson. She was striking. I was impressed. I introduced her to my students and co-workers. I was curious about my manager Ryoko’s reaction, since she tacitly discourages me from having friends from other English conversation schools (Jennifer teaches for GEOS, founded by an ex-founder of AEON). But mostly Ryoko just seemed surprised. Jennifer was pleased with the effect she was having. We all chatted for a while, then Ryoko hustled most of the AEON students home like a mother hen. I stayed a little longer, but I was tired and headed home.

 

The next day, I had promised John I would show him Matsue, so after a leisurely morning I walked over to the station to meet him and Taeko. John was waiting in front of the station doors, in shorts and a t-shirt. Taeko joined us after dropping off her bike. She looked bright and summery with her long, thick hair down (at work she keeps it tied back) and sunglasses. And a big smile. It was hot, but not too hot, that day. We set out towards the castle and the moat. I turned to John. “So what do you want to know about Matsue?” “Everything,” he answered. Whew. So I started to tell him what I knew as we wandered towards Matsue Bridge, about the history of the town and the castle. Taeko laughed; she said I knew more about local history than she did, and she’s from the next town! I did a lot of reading when I first got here, because I was very curious about the history of my new home. I took the lead, bringing them to the wharf where the horikawa boats waited to load passengers. The horikawa boats are low, flat-bottomed motorboats with canvas roofs that hold about 10-12 passengers and a weathered pilot/tour guide in a conical, fan-shaped straw hat who keeps a running dialogue about the sights as he steers. Sometimes he sings. At this time of year, there is a small armada of these boats circling the castle. The funny thing about the boats is that the roof lowers so that the boat can get under some of the lower bridges, forcing all the passengers to bend with it. John’s a big guy, and he had a little trouble bending double. The boats have several stops and you can get on and off at will, so we got off about halfway through and wandered up towards the castle, stopping for soft ice cream, or ‘soft cream’ (I got vanilla and green tea swirled together). In the afternoon heat, it was a race to finish it before it melted and dripped. We took my favourite back way up to the castle, following worn stone steps through walls that had long since lost their gates. We paid our money (half-price for gaijin; Taeko was comically outraged at having to pay full fare) and climbed up the castle. There were many others there too; the city was bustling with tourists out for the festival. We joined a volunteer tour guide who was showing a well-travelled Australian couple around. He said there are only 12 original castles, including Matsue-Jo, left in Japan! I was surprised. He also pointed out that original stairs, which are very steep, were made of lightweight but durable and fire-resistant paulownia wood, and were designed to be drawn up to prevent access in the event of an attack. The Australian couple weren’t even aware of the evening festival until I pointed out the fireworks barges to them from the viewing tower at the top of the castle; they had just happened to come to Matsue that day. They were pleased for the information. It had grown extremely hot, and we were happy for the breeze. From above we could see the nests of some of the herons in the pine trees around the castle, and look down at the tourists wandering the maze of hedges below us. There is no better view of the city.

It was getting late, and I was meeting Yumi at my place at 4, so we headed home, stopping briefly at the arts and crafts centre so John could look for gifts to send home. I admired many of the fans, but most of them were from China. Go figure. It was blasting hot as we walked back, and I felt hurried because we were a little late. But Yumi had just got there as we walked up. I fetched my yukata, made plans to meet up with Taeko and John in front of the art museum for the fireworks, and drove with Yumi over to her house. We stopped to pick up Laura, an teacher in the JET program, at the train station, and swung by Jennifer’s place to collect her, as well.

Yumi, as I mentioned before, is a translator and occasional interpreter who works from home. She has an older two-story apartment located in the centre of a cluster of older, weathered homes accessed by narrow, winding streets; in summer the upstairs level is too hot to use. The downstairs is small but charming, with a tiny, unused garden area (I noticed one of the kitschy flowerpot men I had seen at the English garden, presumably a gift from her ex-boyfriend Keith). The kitchen is a small, crowded alcove, and the living room has a bed with a hand-made quilt in one corner, a sitting area with TV opposite it, and a screened-off desk and work area at the foot of the bed. The lovely wooden screen was papered with squares of ivory and purple hand-made paper; Yumi did the work herself, and was pleased when I admired it. Yumi is a little reserved, but clever and friendly. Jennifer was very genki and excited; she installed herself in the bathroom as hairdresser and set to work on Laura’s hair. I recruited Yumi’s help in putting my yukata on, but I’ve got a relatively easy yukata, so It didn’t take long. My yukata is crimson, with a disc-like pattern and small plum blossoms; I think it looks nice against my skin, which remains pale despite my trips to the beach in the blazing sun (though I have more freckles). My obi is pale blue, with a raised heart pattern. Traditional obi are very long, and are tied in one of several elaborate patterns at the back, but mine is a cheat; it is a separate bow-shaped piece which slides into place and is tied on. So mine was easy to do, and I watched Yumi tie her own. Yumi was wearing a more traditional, simple, indigo yukata with a cream-coloured, embroidered obi; she had to tie the back a few times to get it right.

While we were at our work, Stephen showed up with a donation to the proceedings – a bottle of white wine - and got Yumi to help him with some translation work he was doing for a student. Stephen is an older man who has lived in Japan for over a dozen years, first in Kyoto and now here. He has his own language school. He had decided not to go to the festival because he was in the middle of unpacking after moving, and had his own yukata party the following week to organize (more on that later…). So we helped ourselves to the wine. Jennifer put my hair up and curled the loose pieces on top; lots of fun, and it actually stayed all night!

We headed over to the festival much later than anticipated; it was getting dark by the time we reached the lawn in front of the museum. It was covered with thousands of people, and without Yumi’s cellphone, we might never have found our friends. Seiji got Yumi’s call and went up to the walkway to meet us, and Jennifer spotted him in the crowd. He was wearing jimbei, or traditional tunic and trousers, very comfortable. We went down with him to the tarp set between two of the sculptures on the museum grounds; a curved row of bronze rabbits in various poses, and a stainless steel ramp-like thing which small children were clambering all over. Naomi the potter was there with a picnic lunch, and Kei and Yukiko joined us. There were some JET teachers and other gaijin there as well, and we introduced ourselves as we waited for the fireworks to start. Then Martin came as well, in a blue man’s yukata. I also went and fetched Taeko and John when they called Yumi in search of us. So it was a large, sprawling group. We were surrounded by men and women in yukata of all descriptions, like night butterflies, as well as shorts and t-shirts.

It gets dark here early, and shortly after 8pm, the sun had disappeared from the sky. Not long after that, the first fireworks were launched, signalling the start to an hour of fireworks of all description, culminating in a noisy, bright, crazy battle of fireworks between the two barges. Unfortunately most of this Jennifer and I sort of saw from a poor vantage point waiting for the bathrooms, having not taken advantage of Yumi’s bathroom before coming downtown. But it was pretty amazing.

After the fireworks, Seiji went to open Kaya, but I headed over to ARGO with Jennifer, Yumi, Martin, Taeko and John. I felt guilty about it, but I HAD been to Kaya the night before. We were a small group at ARGO, but very loud and cheerful. Bud, a JET, and Yusuke, a scuba-diving instructor and all-around cute and likeable guy, showed up with Bud’s lightsabers. Yes, lightsabres. Bud has a blue lightsabre and a red one. They are a very durable plastic with lights inside, that make that lightsabre noise familiar to all Star Wars fans when you swing them; very realistic. Many is the ridiculous, mildly drunken duel that has been fought at ARGO and Kaya with Bud’s lightsabres. This night was no exception. We stayed till after midnight – John ducked out to catch his train to Yonago at 11 or so – then Jennifer and I left at Jennifer’s insistence because Jennifer wanted to leave Yumi and Martin together. She’s definitely a romantic, and knew that Yumi liked Martin. So we walked over to Kaya, where Seiji and Yoshi were sitting and talking. Yoshi’s a bright, young farmer whose family grows rice and flowers. The flowers are for Buddhist ceremonies, and they sell a lot during Obon, the summer festival (more on that later…). After we had a beer, Seiji closed up and the four of us went to Kaja-Goo, an izakaya, for something to eat. I had eaten almost nothing but crackers and a mouthful of Naomi’s fried rice since my early afternoon ice cream cone. We picked through the dishes trying to find vegan ones for Jennifer (being a vegan is not impossible, but certainly very difficult in Japan) and finally selected a few. It was late by the time I went home to bed, but I had thoroughly enjoyed myself and made the most of the day.

 

More to come in the next letter. Till then, have a great September! I hope you enjoy your Labour Day, too.

 

Sarah