Just after my first report was completed, I was fortunate enough to attend the town’s "Omikoshi" festival. I wasn’t too sure about the meaning and purpose of the festival because of the language barrier but I was very happy to take part. The festival begins with the festival participants dressing in the local costume and pushing the "Dashis", which are floats on which drummers drum and flautists flout. I took being asked to be one of the participants as a responsibility and an honor. The leader of ceremonies officially introduced me to the rest of the town and I’m sure it answered a lot of questions, including "Who this foreign guy was who likes visiting the town’s temples and shrines so much?" We pushed our dashis to the largest Shinto shrine in town, where certain people enter and not others, in a long procession lead by the shrine’s priest. Inside prayers are held and music and dancing carries on outside where the various local dashis have congregated. Afterwards, the "Omikoshis" are carried across town and the festivities continue there. For clarification, an omikoshi is a miniature of a local shrine which rests on long wooden poles. It is carried by twenty to thirty people with the poles on their shoulders. I’m not sure about how heavy it was, but I’m guessing in the ballpark of a small hippopotamus. I’m also not exactly sure how long and how far I carried this gilded and intricate artwork, but it was probably the single most physically demanding thing I’ve ever done. I was extremely satisfied to have taken part in the event, and fulfilled my civil obligations.

For two days, each village in the Uraga area where I live bring their omikoshis and dashis together and on the second day there is a big fair and I got to see how the Japanese throw a fair. Their games and food are completely different. They have a few things that look familiar, like cotton candy, grilled corn and chocolate bananas, but somehow it’s all different. They also have grilled squid, octopus dumplings, and grilled ramen to name a few. I felt like I was Luke Skywalker in the bar scene in the original Star Wars. Although there weren’t any blue elephants playing the clarinet, there were a lot of people in one place speaking a language I didn’t understand, listening to strange and new music, and eating things I wouldn’t have guessed edible.

At school things were starting to relax a little bit. I wasn’t being mobbed from all sides like an attack on a Dutch fortress anymore. Which I guess is good; I’m trying to blend in and experience things as they usually happen, not stir things up. That’s not to say that I don’t get a double take or an extra-enthusiastic "Good Morning" daily. This more relaxed reception probably has to do with the fact that I finally got my uniform. And just like that I felt like I had settled in: I was part of the village; I carried my own weight (literally) and I was settling down at home and at school.

That’s when I got an email from my father that my grandfather had passed away. I had heard he was in surgery, but no one had expected him never to recover. I told my hostmother right away late that night and in two days, my parents and my hostparents had obtained consent from the Japanese and American Rotary officials and arranged to send me out to California to attend the funeral, which was my hostfather’s suggestion. I was escorted to the Narita/Tokyo airport by a friend of the family, Hagiwara-san, and was on the plane to America before I knew it; the last thing I was expecting to happen anytime soon. I felt very strange coming back to America even after only a month. Was this real? Could I really read everything? Could people understand me, and how could I possibly understand them so well? It was a surreal experience.

I was ecstatic to see my parents, but mostly I was happy I could be there for support and to help say good bye to my grandfather, a man I loved and admired. I stayed an extra few days to recuperate and I got to tell stories of my adventures and all the crazy things I see and eat over here. While I was there, on my last full day, my cousin invited me to speak at his classes. He works at Del Campo High School in Sacramento California as an English teacher, and thought it would be a good idea for me to share my experiences in Japan so far. I was able to speak to two senior classes and a freshman class, and it was a great experience because my cousin explained to me that a lot of the students had never been abroad, and that the session would help them a lot. So I spoke about how our cultures are different and how we should be patient and careful with foreigners because it’s often difficult to adapt to another culture. I entertained many a good question and a few humorous ones. When my time was up I came home (which is quickly becoming a fluid concept). My time away from the Japanese language let me settle some things and it seemed that taking a break had congealed some of the concepts and vocabulary of the language. Anyway, something is working, as I feel like I’m making good progress, however, I still can’t help but be surprised at some things. For example last week during lunch, when about 10 or so of the male students took off their pants to try the other’s on.

When I got back I took a day trip to Kamakura with my younger host brother of 21 (who turned 22 yesterday) and we got to see all kinds of touristy things there. We saw the Hachimangu, where samurais prayed after battle, and the Kamakura Daibutsu, or "Great Buddha", just to name a few. The Daibutsu, one of Japan’s leading tourist attractions, was especially magnificent. It stands (sits) three stories tall and is so detailed and flowing and delicate, that one might think it is a somehow monstrously enlarged figurine. I also got to try "Purple Potato Ice Cream", and although the name of the flavor sounds like something out of the game "Ad-lib" it was quite tasty.

Back at school the next week I started Kendo (Japanese fencing) at the school’s Kendo club. Apparently I’ll be competing with them in the November high school tournament, which I found out the day before I joined the club. This kind of thing as turned out to be not that uncommon; I’ve been signed up by my classmates to participate in their English Club play and I’ve been notified by my teacher, but not yet by the students. I sometimes worry about what I’ve been volunteered to do and haven’t been told about yet, but I don’t lose too much sleep over it.

Anyway, I got my Kendo gear at the Japanese Self Defense Force Base in Taura, close to Yokosuka, which has allowed me to practice at their facilities thrice a week. Practicing with military folk is pretty intense, and I’m ecstatic to be a part of it. I also practice twice a week at school. So, they’re keeping me busy between Kendo and the omikoshis!

Until next time,