furin
The weather forecast says the Japanese rainy season starts... tomorrow. Nearly one month of hot, humid, sticky downpour. This, in my mind, is far better than six months of relentless, bone-cold Seattle drizzle but Host Dad says it's pretty hellish. After June, however, the real Japanese summer begins. The season that I'm missing is the one by which I'm most intrigued.
The Japanese summer carries a heavy feeling of nostalgia, primarily because, historically, summer vacation was a time when children and families took a return trip from the city to their furusatou, or hometown. Summer is the season of somen, of yukata and fans, fireworks and furin. Ah furin, I've always wanted one... but now that I've started to hear that crystalline, melancholy sound around Tokyo, I'm certain I'll have to buy one before I return.
I was chatting with Host Dad last night about that very subject and he mentioned that they might have a bell or two lyring around. He said that last year they recieved a traditional Edo-period bell as a gift at the Shibuya Iris Festival (which I am attending in two weeks) but when he brought it home and asked Host Mom if he could hang it, she blatantly refused. I inferred that he meant she thought the noise was a bit obnoxious after a while. But no, Host Mom hates furin because she finds the sound too sad to listen to. That's a rather heavily laden statement, if you ask me.
Today a butterfly got onto the bus at my stop. After a minute of fluttering about the back of the bus, it had the adherent fixation of all the surrounding passengers. At first, when an old man decided to try to hit it with a stick, I thought I might leave the bus ready with an angsty rant about taking innocent life in a Buddhist country. But then the same old man huffed about for the next few stops, opening windows until he successfully herded the poor thing out with his bare hands. The image of that paper thin, wisp of summer nostalgia bumping helplessly up against the back window of a city bus speaks something truly characteristic of life in Tokyo.
I feel as though I've finally learned to SEE Japan. And not only that, but by settling here, I've learned to not just live but also enjoy life from moment to moment. As I found myself godless in this overwhelming city not five months ago, I think it rather amazing how self-fulfilled and inspired I've become. So much can change with so little time and so little notice. For the first time, it feels as though I've done something useful with my life and learned things that mean anything at all.
I realize, of course, how desperately cliche this all sounds. But it's true. Although I can't accredit Waseda, the so-called Harvard of Japan, with any large contribution to my education (outside of some rather interesting reading material assigned), the very experience of being here has made me a scholar of Japan. I finally feel interested by and involved in my own life... and more than that, of the world.
Even as cliche as it is, I'm still surprised.
Final note: Saw Troy tonight with Host Dad. I'll give it four our of five stars. I really liked the acting, scriptwork and even the plot changes. I think it flowed well. However, I take away that one star because of the stupid accents and bad cinematography. I was not at all fond of the exessive extreme closeups and weird, slow-panning shots. Swordplay was excellent... but for a movie about a war, it sure had some boring-ass battle scenes. The movie as a whole gave me the impression of being made after a classic like Lawrence of Arabia but wasn't something that I think I'll look back on as a particularly skilled or theatrically ground-breaking piece of work in 50 years.
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