Last weekend I went to a ginkgo festival at the foot of Mt Takau. The gingko trees there do not mess around:
The yellow goes on for miles
There were food stands and musicians and vendors along the yellow avenue, like a very long Smorgasburg. It one one of those brilliantly gilded fall days where your eyes hurt from the intensity of the colors. There were samurai:
Note the guns and the swords
And amazingly synchronized dance troupes with absolutely unflagging energy:
That flag guy was at it for nearly half an hour without a rest
It was strange to be at a festival with no idea what each dance represented, what the songs were about, or really what the occasion was. We bought gingko nuts, only to discover they had not been roasted and tasted exactly the way gingko fruits smell (the streets, unsurprisingly, were entirely gingko fruit free. I think the armies of elderly guys with brooms and buckets that appear to be everywhere were responsible). I felt increasingly ill at ease and restless, standing in a crowd with the mountains so close, and finally ran off in their general direction.
Follow the river!
Hachioji is tucked up against the foothills, in the inimitably confusing Japanese style that makes a town look completely flat until you suddenly find yourself up against a wall of hill that your bike is probably not up to, or, worse, at the top of a cliff that your brakes are definitely not equipped to descend. On foot the hills creep up more slowly, which in this case was distressing- I wanted to be in the forest, alone, and the hazy woods kept receding or having fences around them. I gave up on the Official Heritage Trail which was crowded and paved and walled, and hurried through the town. How lovely it must be, I thought, to live here in the shadow of the blazingly bright mountains and know where the damn paths are.
This way is trespassing.
This way too.
Finally I was about to give up and go meet my companions at the station and maybe go for a really long bike ride upon returning to Hiyoshi, when I saw exactly what I was looking for:
A PATH!
So I ran straight up the mountain as fast as I could, and the cars and music faded away at last and the air was sweet and clear. There was a little shrine with a fox god at the top and I bowed most respectfully. I may be a cold and logical atheist, but I was filled with such a sense of gratitude and peaceful delight to be there, dusty and out-of-breath, looking down over the coral-stained town.
I didn't photograph the shrine because I read somewhere it was disrespectful.
I ran back down and miraculously made the train, and fell asleep at once. I was wearing khaki pants (laundry day) and noticed that they were not even slightly dirty. I think Japan simply hasn't got any dirt.
School has become a bit stressful lately, as there is a presentation day coming up. I don't know if it is a communication issue, a language issue, or a cultural one, but the way the academic schedule and expectations are laid out is...not what we're used to. It's a tribute to my colleagues that we are all navigating the murkiness of university bureaucracy without too much grief or drama. I think everyone is trying very hard, but it does sometimes feel like a great deal of information is being lost somewhere in a miasma and everyone is confused. It's been two times I've left a frustrating meeting to gallop around the athletic track in my entirely non-athletic boots just to blow off steam.
But hey! I made a robot!
I WILL BE GONE SOME TIME!
He is based on Titus Oates if anyone is wondering. And if anyone is wondering why Titus Oates needs to be a robot I could not tell you, but he cracks me up every time. I broke the one above from making him fall over too much; I had to make a replacement.
Maybe next post I'll write about school and design more. I worked on a movie about a ghostly karate man, thought up a transmedia project for homesick luddites, and am up to my ears in a collapsable, disposable, unfortunately still kinda goofy looking bike helmet.
And it's really hard to concentrate on any of these when I can see the mountains from the elevator.
--Isis
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