GL's Beach

In mid-August, either the 2nd or 3rd week depending on where you live, or on a solar calendar I don't understand, there is O-bon.

Before I knew better, I thought of O-bon as a Halloween-like holiday. But that's silly ~ Halloween is in October. Besides, my friends in Japan are as insane about that least-favorite holiday of mine as they are in my own country. And just like here at home, on Halloween I either stay home and pull all the blinds, or treat myself to a luxury hotel for the night. Don't believe me? Just ask my friends.

However, now that I've fully established that O-bon is not Halloween, let me explain what it IS. It's a Buddhist time of praying to, paying attention to, and feeding the spirits of one's dead ancestors. It is believed that our ancestral spirits come home every year during this week, and there are special prayers the faithful pray, and special attention is given to cleaning and sprucing up the cemetery grave markers and in-home altars. Lest you think I was joking, there is indeed food meted out and set aside for these guests. At the end of the week, small paper boats with candles are sent down the local river, to help guide the ancestral spirits back to... back to wherever they are the rest of the year.

I'm not clear on all the details.

My personal experience with O-bon is... a week off! Holiday! Actually, I rarely went anywhere during O-bon, because prices are particularly high then, and all means of transportation except for my own car or bicycle are packed. Jam packed. Everyone is either going to their ancestral hometown, or getting away on a vacation somewhere. I found it easier to stay home or stay local, taking what has recently come to be called a "Stay-cation" ~ local travel.

However, one year my Iranian boyfriend and I went to Chiba to spend some time with one of his friends and some more friends. We were three sets of friends who all converged on the 1st friend's beach house. It was a small house, but the 11 of us had a good time most of the time. A few tempers flared now and then during those several days, (uh-UH! Not mine! Okay ~ fine), but for the most part it was good. I remember lots of tea, curry, beer, smoking, and talking. There was no air conditioner but in my mind, no self-respecting beach house has air conditioning anyway. That's why you go to the beach!

So we went to the beach.

It was August, hotter than snot since early July. Hamid and I got on the train in Kofu, and began the 6-hour ride to Chiba. I think it was six hours. Felt like 20, but I think it was only six. We rode the "milk trains," meaning, those that stop at every station along the way, because they were cheaper and not as crowded as the express trains. And it was hot. The trains attempted air conditioning but every time they stopped, they insisted on opening the doors. So "cool" was inconsistent. We changed trains a few times, and then it started to rain. Hamid's friend ~ whose name I could never pronounce right (they told me the way I said it meant "turkey" in Farsi), so I just called him "GL" ~ he picked us up at the station and we drove to his beach house. It was evening, around 8:30, and it was raining, so all 11 of us ~ Hamid and I were the last to arrive ~ sat on the floor around a big sheet with food in the middle, ate, drank, and told stories.

The next morning came crashing into the house with the 5:00 a.m. sun. Maybe 5:30. It was blinding! But we got up and the men made breakfast (hooray!), while we women relaxed in our sleepy state, and sipped on mugs of sweet tea. Out came the sheet and dishes and food, and we dug in.

We were all on vacation, so there was no rush. It was a long and leisurely breakfast with many, many mugs of sweet tea. Finally around 9:00, to my utter shock, the men picked up the dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, and then... we headed to the beach. Sometime during our lolling repast, the clouds had rolled in, but we were undeterred. Clouds come and they go, so we went on.

To be shocked twice in one morning seems unfair, but that's what happened. We got to the beach and it was pretty empty. Granted, it was not quite 10 a.m., but in my days of beach living in New Jersey, all summer long, the beaches begin to get crowded by 9:00. After 10:00, you have a pick your way through the carpet of people. But here at GL's beach, it wasn't like that. There were a few people sitting on their beach towels and kind of looking a little dazed. Others were walking around with their towels wrapped around their shoulders. Not a typical beach scene.... but.... it was freezing!

A front had come in, and that wind was cold. Surely the water itself was warmer than the air, but no one wanted to test that theory. We spent some time walking along the beach, hoping it would clear up and heat up. We walked out on the pier, took some photos, walked along some more, then went back to the house. We had to regroup, warm up, and decide what else we would do. All of our plans had been based on spending most of our time at the beach.

In the end, we took a few local drives, did some shopping, had some arguments, played cards, had a barbeque, and found more to laugh about. We just hung out together. The whole time we were there, it was cold enough for sweatshirts and socks ~ fortunately, Hamid and I had each brought a sweatshirt (not sure why, but we had), and GL had plenty of socks!

After breakfast on the fourth day, GL drove us to the train station. As we stood around waiting for the train, the sun came out. And just like that, it was oppressively hot again. We boarded the train to go back to Kofu, and until the end of October it was, as before, hotter than snot.

The Story of Tanabata

July 7th is the day called Tanabata in Japan. Although there are variations to the story, this is how I remember the story of Tanabata ~ the story of the two star-crossed lovers.

Once upon a time, Tenkou was the god of the sky. He had a daughter, Orihime, a weaver. Every day, Orihime wove beautiful cloth for her father and the other gods, but she worked so much her father worried about her.

One day, he introduced Orihime to a young cow herder from across the Amanogawa, the river of stars we call the Milky Way. This young cow herder’s name was Hikoboshi, and he was also exceptional in his work. Both were very diligent!

But when they met each other, it was love at first sight. The new lovers spent all their time together and were inseparable! The cows ran wild, and no more cloth was woven. That made Tenkou very angry! He decreed that they would forevermore be separated by Amanogawa, that river of stars.

Ah, the tears that flowed from the young lovers’ eyes! Their sorrow was greater than anything the gods had ever known, and Tenkou regretted his harsh judgment. So, he told Orihime and Hikoboshi that if they were once again diligent and worked hard all year, they could meet again every year on the seventh evening of the 7^th month.

Traditionally, people wished for the sky to be clear on that evening so the two could meet again over the Milky Way. If it rained that day, the water level of the river Amanogawa got too high and could not be crossed. People wrote their wish for the young lovers on a piece of paper and tied it on a bamboo tree. Today people write their own wishes on the paper. 

This is the most well known story of Tanabata, even though there are others. Some say this story originally came from China, and that in the Chinese calendar there is usually a half moon on July 7. They believe Orihime and Hikoboshi use it as a boat to meet each other over the great river of stars in the sky, Amanogawa.

Memories of Summer Woes

I'll start by saying, I hate summer. Always have, always will. And in Japan, at least in the parts I lived, the summers are parTICularly unbearable ~ though you must bear them ~ because of the extremely high humidity. It was not unusual for the temperature, at, say, 7:30 a.m., to be 85+ degrees already, and the humidity over 90%. It was awful. AWFUL!

One summer the stores had postcards showing a little guy surrounded by orangey-yellow heat with a swirl of red going round above his head, his eyes big as saucers and rather bleary looking. The heat and humidity of August are legendary. In case you need reminding, summer in Japan is AWFUL.

For two years I lived in an apartment in Tsuchiura that was lovely in many respects, but it had no air conditioner. This was my second time living in Japan, my first time living on my own there. I probably could have bought a unit and had someone install it, but I believed a) I wasn't going to live there long enough to justify paying that kind of money (they seemed pretty expensive, more than I wanted to pay), and b) I thought I could bear it. It helped that my friend Margaret lived just across the river, in an apartment that did have air conditioning in the main room. We spent a lot of time in her apartment in the summer; she came to my apartment more in the winter because it was warmer than her place.

However, I still had to deal with the heat of my apartment, and getting ready to teach Business English classes for a company with a fairly strict dress code. I had to look professional, myself. And that meant.... du-du-du-duhhhhhhhhhhh: pantyhose.

Oy.

If you're a man, you may not fully appreciate how hot those are, never mind about getting them on in the first place when it's hot (and humid). AWFUL!!! So I needed a plan. And I came up with one that worked. It worked so well that I recommend it to anyone in a hot and humid place with no air conditioning, because you'll be comfortable (afterward) for at least an hour, maybe two. Here's what I did.

I filled the tub with cold water. In Japan, the tubs are short but deep, so you can't stretch out but you can be up to your neck in water. And so I filled the tub with nothing but cold water, and when it's running long enough to fill a deep tub, that water gets very cold. And then I got in.

Hyperventilating at first, because going from the intense heat into that cold water... well, it was tough getting in, but then I was able to slow my heart back down and relax and.... ahhhh, that felt really nice. For a bit. Until it didn't anymore because now I'm FAH-REEZING!!!! But I forced myself to stay in there until I couldn't stand it a second more, my teeth chattering and goose bumps all over. I got out and dried off and out into the hot & humid room again, and it felt wonderful. I was not hot, I was not cold, I felt clean and dry and refreshed. I could even put on the pantyhose and not be miserable. And get ready for work, and feel fine.

I did skip the walks to the train station, though. I knew the bus schedule perfectly, especially the one just across the street, and I was never late (neither were the buses, thankfully). Oh! And the buses? They were air conditioned. Thank God!!

A Story about Eel

Tomorrow is July 1st, and I know that in Japan, many people are about to embark on the annual eel eating feast. It’s not the same time every year or from one person to the next, but my first year in Japan we specifically went out for lunch ~ my then-boyfriend, his mom, and his cousin, and I ~ to have eel.

Grilled eel.

The aroma of grilled eel wafts through the air.

I like the smell, actually. Which is good, because all summer long, you can smell the aroma (some say stench) of grilled eel wafting by as you walk past restaurants with their front doors open, hoping to let in any possible breeze.

No, you cannot assume any traditional restaurant will be air conditioned. Better to assume the opposite! Only the western-style restaurants like Denny’s, McDonald’s, Starbucks, and their ilk are sure bets. I think most of the mom & pop coffee shops I went to were, as well. But I digress. Back to the eel.

So there you are, walking down the street, passing this and that Japanese restaurant with their doors open in hopes of catching any possible breeze, and the smell of grilled eel is wafting out. If you hate that smell, then you’re out of luck. Get used to it. Or carry around a scented handkerchief to hold up to your nose when you walk through the cloud of eel-smell (sometimes I think I can see it). You’ll need that handkerchief anyway, to dab at the sweat that will be pouring from your body in the extreme humidity that is summer in Japan. So make it a scented one, and you can hold it up to your nose to hold the grilled eel smell at bay.

But I like the smell ~ I don’t know why. I hate the taste. Of course, I didn’t know that the first summer I was in Japan and I went with my then-boyfriend, his mom, and his cousin to eat eel on July 2nd. The purpose of eating eel, Atsuko (then-boyfriend’s mom) told me is to gain stamina in order to make it through the summer. They know what they’re talking about. That humidity is unbelievable. It drains the energy out of everything, even my clothes as they hang on the line hoping to be dry three days later. It wreaks havoc in cupboards and closets and on ceilings, inviting mold and mildew to take hold and grow and ruin everything it touches. I know a woman who was unprepared, and everything in her closet was ruined. You can’t wash that out. You can’t dry clean that out. The only way to get mold out of your clothes is to throw them out! She got a new wardrobe out of the deal, but it’s better to be prepared. Get those water-sucking things ~ they’re called “Dry Pet” ~ that go in closets and cupboards and drawers, and change them weekly or monthly. The humidity is murder.

Hence, the eel. I swear, this story is about eel.

So, June is the rainy season, then the rain stops and everything just steams all through the rest of the summer. Laundry, as I mentioned, hangs on the line hoping to be dry in three days. You can see, it looks limp. Airless humidity, and even your freshly-washed clothes (out on the line) look tired. You can imagine, then, how it is for people. They need something to build up their stamina to get through the summer months.

Grilled eel, to the rescue.

I don’t know why eel is the answer, but I know we ~ the four of us ~ went out to have eel for lunch on July 2, 1985. My first taste of eel.

My last taste of eel. Here’s how it went.

Bite 1: I’m leery, because it’s something new, but then I thought, “Mm, not bad! I can eat this.”

Bite 2: Okay, still alright. I can it eat but there’s a bit of an aftertaste.

Bite 3: Um, I’m done. That aftertaste is giving me the shivers.

Bite 4: Nope, didn’t even make it inside my mouth. Had to stop. Couldn’t. Get. In.

Bite 5: No, silly, this isn’t eel. It’s a McDonald’s cheeseburger!

Atsuko was very kind. They all finished their eel and watched me turn green, then we went across the street to get me a cheeseburger. Either to celebrate that they had finished their eel, or that I didn’t pass out, we all had milkshakes, too.

Mm, grilled eel and a milkshake. Make mine chocolate!