In order to walk to the museum, you must pass the Japanese National Sumo Stadium, outside of which there were dozens of reporters pressed up against a fence. I was too shy to ask what all the fuss was about, but Dad and I later learned from a local newspaper that 1) a Sumo stablemaster has been demoted because of mafia ties and 2) a high ranking Sumo champion has confessed to illegal gambling. Yikes.
After that, came what I thought was going to be the denouement of Dad's visit... Sanno Matsuri! Held at Hie Jinja shrine every other year, Sanno Matsuri is one of Tokyo's biggest and most famous festivals. It lasts for a full week and includes all the great aspects of shrine festivals - people in traditional clothing, jovial shrine parades and pretty amazing food. I had been talking this event up to Dad for weeks, ever since he decided to come visit me. Furthermore, I thought it was an especially good sign that every source I consulted told me that Tuesday, June 15th (Dad's last day in Japan) was THE day to be at the festival! I had visions of Dad having unquestioningly embraced Japanese culture in two weeks, trotting around Sanno Matsuri eating squid on a stick and dancing with Tokyoites in a yukata in one jolly intercultural exchange.
Like so much of our trip together, the guide book and all tourist sources deceived us.
We showed up at the shrine around 6 p.m. ready for the festivities, but apparently we were just about the only ones. There were about 20 people milling around the shrine grounds, but at least 7 of them were wearing traditional summer kimono, which we thought was a good sign, so we decided to stick around and wait until things got going. Most people seemed to be looping through a giant circle of hemp rope that is suspended perpendicular to the ground and then going to the shrine to make an offering and pray. Through many dark veils, we could see and hear some sort of ritual going on within the shrine precincts, but couldn't make out exactly what was going on and there were no materials explaining the ritual.
There was intriguing music coming from two different places on the shrine grounds, so Dad and I decided to divide and conquer to figure out what each was about.
Dad's adventure brought him to a Japanese band performance of piercing flute and poorly coordinated drumming. Dad sat for a surprising hour listening to this music even though he himself likened it to a shrieking rabbit in its death throes. Because it began raining about halfway through their performance, the other 3 audience members left for cover leaving Dad as the only audience member for quite some time. At one point, a husky old woman who was drumming in the show sat down next to Dad on a break and began trying to engage him in conversation until Dad. I think she was putting the moves on him.
While Dad was trying to navigate the world of Japanese pick-up lines armed only with the phrase "Your name?", "Excuse me." and "Thanks," I decided to investigate what turned out to be a traditional dance party on the other side of the shrine. The dancers, mostly women over the age of 40 but also some men, had set up a series of platforms under a tent. On the highest platform were four drummers who took turns whacking a huge Japanese drum to keep tempo with recorded music played over loudspeakers. The lower platform wrapped around the high one and held about 10 advanced dancers. On the ground was a cleared out space for people to gather around the lower platform and dance in a coordinated fashion while circling the drummers. Now, I don't know anything about Japanese dancing, but from our vantage point were about 80 people all in different dress (kimono, business suits, yellow robes that said "CHICAGO" across the back... glorified loin cloths) and in various states of intoxication basically doing coordinated shuffling and arm waving. This dancing was serious business too. Not a single person was smiling or gave any indication that if they had to be anywhere on a muggy, rainy Tuesday, it would be Sanno Matsuri. Most people took shelter from the rain and danced inside of the tent, but there were a few stragglers who preferred to dance in the rain, flailing somewhat to a beat that, judging from appearances, only they could hear.
Needless to say, Dad and I were mesmerized by the dancing and stood on the sidelines watching, grinning and taking photographs for at least an hour. At one point we took a break to buy some pan fried noodles from a toothless man in a stained sleeveless t-shirt who may or may not have been affiliated with the Japanese mafia and/or following food sanitation codes. He was one of about 8 food vendors set up around the shrine selling festival food like skewered seafood, candied fruit, and various pan fried veggies and noodles.
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