Hello readers!
This weekend in our home city of Kanazawa we experienced the Hyakumangoku Festival (pronounced hyaku - mon - go - koo, meaning literally 5,000,000 bushels of rice). It's the biggest festival in our prefecture (equivalent of a state) and was full to bursting with all things Japanese.
The festival celebrates the entrance of the feudal lord Maeda into Kanazawa Castle in the year 1583 (thanks, Wikipedia!). There are several events, including a slew of floating lanterns which are sent down the river in the city, a huge taiko (Japanese drum) show in front of the train station, a parade from the station to the castle, and of course a night full of dancing and drinking in the streets.
A friend of mine from church asked if I wanted to march with his group of samurai in the parade, and I about dislocated my jaw with how fast I answered "yes." And so it was that at 8:30am on Saturday, I met up with a group of Japanese and foreigners alike, boarded a bus, and headed to the armory. We entered a room about the size of a basketball court which was full of rows of armor and weapons and looked like something straight out of one of my dreams. I put on the cloth pants and tunic (I rarely get to use that word literally) and then had a friendly old Japanese lady tie on my arm and shin bracers, and my sandals. Oh, yes... my sandals. They were made entirely out of rope, woven together to form a pseudo-foot covering which acted mainly to pulverize my heels while simultaneously sanding down the space between my big and little toes.
Then came the chest/back plate, which was tied in place quite snugly. A belt came next, into which I tucked my wakizashi, or Japanese short sword. I tossed on my helmet for good measure, then I was given my katana and bento (Japanese pre-packed lunch) and sent on my way...
...to wait for about 5 hours. We were the first to get dressed in the morning at 10am, immediately after which we all posed for pictures and geeked out with our swords (don't worry, mom - they were wooden). I was relieved to see that my Japanese counterparts were equally jazzed to be decked out in samurai armor as we foreigners. The buzz wore off for a while as we lounged around and ate our bentos while more Average Joes (or Jiros, as it were) filed into the armory and emerged armor-clad warriors. Before long our regimen of samurai were sprawled out on the lawn napping or sipping bottled tea.
The whole apparatus wasn't too heavy, but it was definitely not the lightest outfit I've ever worn. The armor was actual metal, albeit pretty thin, but the helmet felt like it might actually be able to withstand a good lancing from a rival clan. It was almost impossible to bend over, but actually pretty comfortable once you were laying on your back.
A news crew stopped by to film us and ask our leader a few questions, during which time the reporter had the cameraman zoom in on me as she said, "Last Samurai no, Tom Cruise desu!" ("This is Tom Cruise from The Last Samurai!")
At about 12pm a series of city buses stopped by to pick everyone up and take us to the parade route. I was in a group of 25 samurai, but there were closer to 300 total. What followed was the single most awesome bus ride of my life, as I sat in a chair usually occupied by a suit-wearing businessman or an apron-clad Japanese mother and looked around at the 50 or so fully-armored samurai causally chatting and holding onto the handrails.
We were dropped off at the station and quickly made our way to the staging ground in the basement, where I was given my final pieces of equipment - the flag I wore on my back to identify me, my quiver of arrows, and a genuine 6-foot long Japanese Archery bow. Others in my group were issued replica flintlock rifles or spears. My Japanese friend asked if I wanted to go upstairs into the station while we waited for the parade to start, which initially confused me. Once we got up to the ground level, however, it made perfect sense.
Like I mentioned earlier, the Hyakumangoku Festival is the largest in our prefecture. This means it draws tourists from around the country, all of which arrive by train. The station was flooded with people arriving to see the parade, and my Japanese friend, myself, and about five others from our group posed for hundreds of pictures with people. Sure, we were hamming it up - but wouldn't you, in the same circumstances?
Soon the time came to line up for the parade, so we marched back underground and then followed our chaperon through an underpass and out onto the road. We went over our last instructions and then waited a bit longer while the opening taiko show took place.
Finally it was time to march. We set off at a leisurely pace and waved to the crowd. I can't even begin to fathom the number of times I heard people cry out in astonishment, "gaikokujin?!" ("foreigner?!") And then, inevitably, a shower of people yelling, "kakoi!" ("so cool!")
We marched for about two hours through the city, waving and pretending to attack various people along the parade route. The crowd would go nuts whenever we pointed our spears, swords, bows, and flintlock rifles at bystanders. A few times we paused in front of judging stands or large accumulations of people to do various drill-like formations, most of which probably looked terrible and disjointed because we had only been told about them about a half hour before the parade started.
This weekend in our home city of Kanazawa we experienced the Hyakumangoku Festival (pronounced hyaku - mon - go - koo, meaning literally 5,000,000 bushels of rice). It's the biggest festival in our prefecture (equivalent of a state) and was full to bursting with all things Japanese.
The festival celebrates the entrance of the feudal lord Maeda into Kanazawa Castle in the year 1583 (thanks, Wikipedia!). There are several events, including a slew of floating lanterns which are sent down the river in the city, a huge taiko (Japanese drum) show in front of the train station, a parade from the station to the castle, and of course a night full of dancing and drinking in the streets.
A friend of mine from church asked if I wanted to march with his group of samurai in the parade, and I about dislocated my jaw with how fast I answered "yes." And so it was that at 8:30am on Saturday, I met up with a group of Japanese and foreigners alike, boarded a bus, and headed to the armory. We entered a room about the size of a basketball court which was full of rows of armor and weapons and looked like something straight out of one of my dreams. I put on the cloth pants and tunic (I rarely get to use that word literally) and then had a friendly old Japanese lady tie on my arm and shin bracers, and my sandals. Oh, yes... my sandals. They were made entirely out of rope, woven together to form a pseudo-foot covering which acted mainly to pulverize my heels while simultaneously sanding down the space between my big and little toes.
I kept them as a souvenir.
Then came the chest/back plate, which was tied in place quite snugly. A belt came next, into which I tucked my wakizashi, or Japanese short sword. I tossed on my helmet for good measure, then I was given my katana and bento (Japanese pre-packed lunch) and sent on my way...
...to wait for about 5 hours. We were the first to get dressed in the morning at 10am, immediately after which we all posed for pictures and geeked out with our swords (don't worry, mom - they were wooden). I was relieved to see that my Japanese counterparts were equally jazzed to be decked out in samurai armor as we foreigners. The buzz wore off for a while as we lounged around and ate our bentos while more Average Joes (or Jiros, as it were) filed into the armory and emerged armor-clad warriors. Before long our regimen of samurai were sprawled out on the lawn napping or sipping bottled tea.
Our regimen shortly after getting suited up. Can you spot me?
The whole apparatus wasn't too heavy, but it was definitely not the lightest outfit I've ever worn. The armor was actual metal, albeit pretty thin, but the helmet felt like it might actually be able to withstand a good lancing from a rival clan. It was almost impossible to bend over, but actually pretty comfortable once you were laying on your back.
A news crew stopped by to film us and ask our leader a few questions, during which time the reporter had the cameraman zoom in on me as she said, "Last Samurai no, Tom Cruise desu!" ("This is Tom Cruise from The Last Samurai!")
This about sums it up...
At about 12pm a series of city buses stopped by to pick everyone up and take us to the parade route. I was in a group of 25 samurai, but there were closer to 300 total. What followed was the single most awesome bus ride of my life, as I sat in a chair usually occupied by a suit-wearing businessman or an apron-clad Japanese mother and looked around at the 50 or so fully-armored samurai causally chatting and holding onto the handrails.
Samurai is serious business.
Like I mentioned earlier, the Hyakumangoku Festival is the largest in our prefecture. This means it draws tourists from around the country, all of which arrive by train. The station was flooded with people arriving to see the parade, and my Japanese friend, myself, and about five others from our group posed for hundreds of pictures with people. Sure, we were hamming it up - but wouldn't you, in the same circumstances?
Be honest...
All the foreigner samurai.
Pictured: dream coming true.
Finally it was time to march. We set off at a leisurely pace and waved to the crowd. I can't even begin to fathom the number of times I heard people cry out in astonishment, "gaikokujin?!" ("foreigner?!") And then, inevitably, a shower of people yelling, "kakoi!" ("so cool!")
We marched for about two hours through the city, waving and pretending to attack various people along the parade route. The crowd would go nuts whenever we pointed our spears, swords, bows, and flintlock rifles at bystanders. A few times we paused in front of judging stands or large accumulations of people to do various drill-like formations, most of which probably looked terrible and disjointed because we had only been told about them about a half hour before the parade started.
Me and the Japanese gentleman who invited me along in the first place.
Marching along the main street.
We eventually reached the castle, where we marched up the hill and over the bridge into the front gates. Once out of sight of the onlookers, we congratulated each other on a job well done, removing our helmets and trying not to be grossed by by the huge amount of sweat soaked into the lining.
But the day was far from over! We turned in our weapons to some folks on the castle grounds, then hopped on another bus and went across town to the armory building, where we removed our armor and changed back into our everyday clothes. Next we made our way to the bus stop and waited for a bus (this one with significantly less samurai on it) to take us back to the station. Unfortunately by this time most of the sanctioned street-dancing was over and traffic was being allowed to retake the roads downtown.
So our team made our way to the top story of a local shopping center and filed into a bar to celebrate a successful day with a two-hour all-you-can-eat/drink special. Gotta love Japan! We kicked off the party by raising our glasses of ice-cold Japanese beer and toasting to a job well done. Minutes later saw us stuffing our faces with takoyaki (grilled balls of squid meat and dough), curry rice, and onion rings.
All in all, not a bad day in Japan.
All in all, not a bad day in Japan.
The samurai claims his bounty.
