Tag Archives: Fireworks

Fireworks in Obihiro

August 13, 2011 – Every year, the town of Obihiro hosts one of the biggest fireworks displays in Japan. With over 20,000 fireworks set to light up the sky, the Kachimai Fireworks Show (勝毎花火大会) is definitely the biggest display in Hokkaido. When my fellow ALTs and I were looking for a possible destination for a summer road trip, this event arose as the clear winner. The fact that it would only take a few hours to get there from Sapporo, and Nari’s friend had invited us to his family’s house to watch the show, didn’t hurt either.

This wasn't the gridlocked part.

We planned on leaving at 8:00am. Having been warned that traffic would be murder, all advice to us was to depart very early in the day. Nari and I picked up Elizabeth and her boyfriend, Mark, at Sapporo Station and headed out a tad later than we hoped. Our other ALT friend, Hannah, had planned on coming with us, but car seating restrictions and a recent wisdom teeth removal kept her from joining us. We stopped to gas up my Suzuki Wagon R and get some refreshments before venturing out on the Hokkaido Express Way. By the time we were really rolling, we were probably an hour behind schedule.

This sign indicates that you've been spotted.

As it turned out, the reports of heavy traffic were not at all exaggerated. In fact, I think the advice to leave early wasn’t stress enough. At a certain point, the Hokkaido Express Way bottlenecked into a two-lane road, which was actually what the majority of the expressway was. Thousands of vehicles clogged the single lane leading east. We found ourselves in a beautiful mountain pass, stuck in bumper to bumper gridlock that crawled forward, only intermittently. It was definitely the prettiest traffic jam I’ve ever seen, but a traffic jam nonetheless.

I had to laugh at the fact that we were obligated to pay for the toll road and it wasn’t getting anywhere very fast. Eventually we were able to get off the express way, which we actually did by accident, and got a little lost in central Hokkaido’s back roads. Like the reports of traffic, the descriptions of Hokkaido’s beautiful countryside were also understated. The rolling hills, mountain valleys, farmland, and simply open plains, were breathtaking. Around every turn was an idyllic scene that looked more like an artist’s concept of a peaceful childhood than a real place. Some of the wide open areas reminded me of the Legend of Zelda, and I imagined how exhilarating it must feel to ride a horse across the landscape. Then I went back to focusing on driving my car.

We noticed that one town along the way seemed to advertise dinosaur fossils, as if there were a museum. We didn’t actually stop to check it out, but the roadside plesiosaur skeleton really did pique our interest. There was also a pair of towers that caught our eye, mostly because the man-made structure looked so out of place in the natural landscape. We assumed that the towers were a hotel for a ski resort, seeing as how they were in the middle of nowhere, but we never did find out exactly what that was.

one good-looking son of a bitchAlong the way, the four of us engaged in idle chit-chat. Mark was college physics professor by trade, which I found most impressive. He was visiting Japan for only a few weeks, getting to spend time with his girlfriend over summer break, but would have to return soon to resume teaching classes. There were enough common interests to keep to conversation going, so even while stuck in gridlock, things were never dull, and many a laugh was had. One particularly funny moment was when we were talking about how dialogue obscenities in movies get voiced-over to make them TV appropriate, often to hilarious results. Elizabeth shared a new one from The Big Labowski that I hadn’t heard before: “This is what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps!” I laughed so hard, for so long, that I literally cried, and I’m not even a big fan of that movie.

In the afternoon we arrived in Obihiro. The three hour drive had taken us six hours to complete, but no one seemed too displeased about it. Our original plan had been to stay with a friend of Hannah’s parents, and even though Hannah wasn’t able to come, we still stuck with that plan. The kind lady met up with at a paltry pachinko parlor parking lot, and led the way to the house we were staying at, which turned out to be next door to a local church.

You see, Hannah’s parents were Christian missionaries, and their friend was also a missionary. The inexpensive room we were renting was actually in the church’s guesthouse. Our hosts greeted us with genuine warmth and didn’t proselytize. They did give us an excruciatingly detailed tour/explanation of how everything in the house works—including a warning that the night air gets very cold, so we were not to open the windows after dark, lest we get sick—but it was done with the best of intentions. There was one tense moment when Nari (who was acting as unofficial leader of the group) was asked if we would be attending their Sunday church service the next day. I honestly didn’t want to go to a church service, and luckily my companions had other plans, so we needed to leave very early in the morning. Thank God.

Nari’s friend Hiro met us at the church. Hiro is a super friendly guy, thin and good-looking, with a classic winning smile. I started speaking Japanese to him and Nari teased me for it; his English is very good. We piled into his car, leaving mine behind so that I too could drink, and headed to his family’s house. During the short drive, he told us about how mother and aunt and cousin would be there, but no male relatives, he would be the man of the family. We were going to do yakiniku, and he explained that they had lots of food, so we should eat and drink as much as possible. I knew this wouldn’t be a problem.

When we first got to the house, we opened some beers and chatted, while The Karate Kid: Part II played on the TV. It wasn’t long before we went outside to get the grill going. I’ve been impressed with the consistency of how people barbeque in Japan, it seems very standard. In the States, everyone has a different way of grilling, even different equipment; coal burning grills versus propane grills for example. But in Japan, everybody uses a metal mesh surface atop a trough of hot coals, and everyone uses a paper hand fan (団扇 – うちわ) to get the fire started. Hiro showed us how it’s done, and we helped manually fanning the flames.

Once the grill was going hot enough, we started cooking. In keeping with every yakiniku party I’ve attended, there was tons of food; Jingiskan, horumon, hokke (ほっけ – a species of mackerel popular in Japan), yakitori, squid, and this ham that I’m pretty sure qualifies as bacon, just to name a few. The beer was also plentiful. Even as more guests arrived, we clearly had way more beer than we could drink, plus there were cans of shochu and a couple bottles of champagne as well. We had the makings of a fine party before the sun even went down.

The fireworks were to be launched from the river and the house was just a few blocks away, so we were well placed for the show. There was one apartment building between the house and the river that obstructed our view of the lower level fireworks, so in order to get a better vantage point, some of us climbed up on top of the garage. Hiro’s mother brought out a ladder for people to use, but I always opted to rely on my Spider-Man/ninja skills. Before sunset, I did plenty of climbing on the rafters of the covered parking structure, and even did a wall-run straight up the garage itself. Hiro impressed me by also running up the side of the garage, but he did it while wearing flip-flops! That takes some serious balls.

As was no surprise, the firework show was amazing. Right from the start fiery colors filled the sky, and it felt like the finale of a smaller show. Most of the time, at least four fireworks were launched at once, as if the folks running the event were trying hard to use all 20,000 within a time limit. (They probably were.) Every time there was a pause in the action to reload for the next wave, I kept thinking that that had to be it. Be they just kept coming. With so many subsequent explosions, I wondered if the fireworks could use up so much oxygen that the people of Obihiro might collectively suffocate.

I came down from the roof to get another beer and I heard Hiro’s mother and cousin playing the radio. The local radio station was broadcasting music and a commentator to go along with the fireworks. After what seemed like many finales, there was a huge rapid-fire sequence of explosions, and the firework display ended. I had expected an awesome show, and yet I was still blown away.

After the fireworks display, there was more merriment to be had. A watermelon was brought out for suikawari (西瓜割り). Suikawari is game played in the summer in Japan that is equivalent to playing with a piñata. The player is blindfolded and given a big stick, and then they try to break open the watermelon. The main difference between suikawari and breaking a piñata is that the watermelon is on the ground. A blue tarp was laid out and the prize watermelon was set upon it. For our big stick, we used a bokuto (木刀 – wooden sword). This kendo equipment had belonged to a deceased relative, but it had never been used, or so was my understanding.

I was the first to attempt suikawari. This was actually my second time playing it; I was first introduced to the game at Hizuka ES’s party to celebrate the start of summer vacation. Blindfolded and bokuto in hand, I felt pretty confident that I could smash the watermelon, despite the fact that I was a bit drunk by this point. Guided by the voices of everyone at the party, I stepped forward; forward, turn right a bit, no too much, a little left, forward again, a smidge right…and so on. When everyone told me I was in place, I raised the bokuto high in the air and—paused for dramatic effect—swung down at the melon with all my might. There was a loud crack and shockwaves reverberated through my hands. The watermelon was unharmed, but the tip of the bokuto broke as a result of being slammed into the concrete. I had missed.

The end of the bokuto splintered off, resulting in the wooden sword being shortened by four to six inches. The new tip of the bokuto was now a bit sharp too. My hands ached for some time afterwards, just from the vibrations they absorbed when I hit the ground. Mark was the next one try suikawari. We guided him with shouts to the spot where the watermelon awaited its grizzly fate. He blindly took his swing in good faith, but unfortunately swung wide, hitting the ground just to the left of the watermelon.

Nari was contestant number three. Following our voiced instructions, he set up and took her swing. Unlike Mark and me, Nari’s aim was right on the money. In fact, the splinter-sharpened end of the bokuto didn’t just smash the watermelon, it sliced it evenly in two. The melon opened up into two hemispheres of fruity goodness. Then we all ate it. After the watermelon was pretty much devoured, we even went the extra step of drinking sparkling wine from the remaining pieces of rind. It was awesome, in a nature commune sort of way.

After drinking from the watermelon chalice, my memory of the rest of the night gets a bit fuzzy. I remember talking with Hiro about this and that, talking with his cousin about her job as a nurse, and generally making conversation with all of their friends present. I’m told that my Japanese just sounded better and better as the evening went on, further convincing me of the power of “nominacation.” I’m also told that yakisoba (which I love) was made very late in the evening, and that I devoured a huge portion of it, but I honestly don’t recall this at all. At the end of the party, Hiro put the four Americans in a taxi, and we were taken back to the church.

I don't remember this part.

The next morning we aspired to depart by 8:00, and actually took off at 8:45am. When I was putting my bag in the back of the car, I was surprised to find two six-packs of beer and a broken bokuto. Suddenly I remembered that Hiro had entrusted me with the bokuto before we left the party. It really was the perfect memento.  The beer I didn’t really remember, but the others reminded me that there was so much surplus alcohol that Hiro had sent us home with some. What a guy!

We filled up the gas tank and hit up a 7/11 for breakfast. Despite its impracticability for eating while driving, I couldn’t resist buying inarizushi (稲荷寿司). Inarizushi is a sweet sushi item made by wrapping rice in aburage (油揚げ – fried tofu). I highly recommend it.

On our way back I started noticing many abandon-looking train stations scattered about the Hokkaido countryside. They appeared a bit old and decrepit, like they hadn’t been used for quite some time. I contemplated stopping at one to explore one, but I didn’t want to waste everyone else’s time to go climbing around an abandoned building. Hopefully I can check out a ghost train station in the future.

In the town of Yubari, we encountered a fascinating cultural phenomenon. It was the combination of Hokkaido pride in bears, Hokkaido pride in their produce, and Japan’s pervasive culture of making cartoon mascots for absolutely everything. The resulting product: Melon Bear (メロン熊). While Melon Bear (or Melon Kuma, as it’s called in Japanese) defies description, I will do my best. Basically, it’s a melon, like a cantaloupe, with a bear’s face, legs, and tail. Actually, that wasn’t very hard at all. I guess it’s not the description that’s hard; it’s the justification of its existence.

My friends and I found Melon Kuma at a rest stop in Yubari. We were only looking for refreshments and a restroom, but we found the motherload of fruit-Ursus mutation themed merchandise. There were figurines, magnets, stuffed animals, animatronic stuffed animals, piggybanks, pillows of various sizes, stickers, bumper stickers, folders, notebooks, key chains, cell phone charms, hats, t-shirts, and underwear, not to mention a sizeable collection of food (or food-like) products. My favorite food product had to be the “Melon Kuma Milk Soft Candy”, simply because the Melon Kuma pictured on the package had a single breast growing out of its underbelly.

Melon Kuma is definitely one of the most random things I’ve come across so far. Japan is truly wondrous, often perplexing, place.

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Random Summer Invitations

Kida-san's house (and garage) in the daytime.

Thursday July 29 – I’d be lying if I told you that I used all of my time in Japan in the fullest. If there is one thing that I have always excelled at, it’s wasting time, and I waste just as much time in Japan as ever before. That’s what makes this story particularly interesting; I made the most of my night through absolutely no effort of my own—almost in spite of myself.

On Thursday, July 29th, it was the first week of my summer vacation and I had spent all day doing nothing worth remembering. To truly cap off my wasted day, I decided that I wouldn’t even extend the effort to cook my own dinner. Instead, I would buy a loser’s dinner of convenience at the Seicomart. Having procured some bento noodles, beer, and an ice cream treat for food, as well as a new bottle of sunblock (I can never be too careful, even at night), I began my short walk back to my apartment.

It was already dark out, and the summer air was warm and comfortable. As I passed by the house that our Tomosukai group had eaten lunch at during the Fire Festival, I noticed that the residents were throwing a little yakiniku party out of their garage. The kids were in the street playing with bubbles and fireworks, and one of them noticed me. “Lucas-sensei! Lucas-sensei!” she shouted to her mother, and before I knew it, the adults were beckoning me over to the garage.

The local Seicomart.

They had quite an impressive barbeque going, with Jingiskan, yakitori, horumon, squid, clams, and plenty of veggies, plus several onigiri on the side. They asked me to have a seat, so I sat down on their wood plank bench and slid my bag of “groceries” underneath. I was offered beer, which I accepted, and was handed a large plastic cup which was immediately filled to the brim. Then I was told that they had too much food and that I should eat as much as I possibly could. I was giving wooden chopsticks and a paper bowl, and I started picking this and that off the grill.

I learned that this was Kida-san’s house, which made sense, since he had been working the Tomosukai dashi for the entirety of the Fire Festival. No wonder the group had had lunch at his place. I was gradually forming the impression of Kida-san as one of those organizer type people, the kind of guy who would take it upon himself to plan and execute events, much to the benefit of everyone around him. Almost everyone at this particular party was Kida-san’s coworkers. They all worked on the second floor of the town office, and surprisingly, they all worked on the local IP Phone announcements. The bear warnings that I seen morning after morning, that was their work.

They asked me lots of questions, about my family, about Seattle, and especially about my girlfriend. I got the impression that I was very interesting in their eyes. While talking, I did my best to grab veggies like onion and pumpkin off the grill, but the lady next to me kept insisting that I eat the meat that was almost getting overcooked. As a result, I ate a ton of delicious—but filling—Jingiskan. My beer was also constantly being refilled, not just when I emptied it, but when it got even half way down.

I recognized one lady at the party as the town reporter. She had photographed and interviewed me when I first arrived. Although I had imagined that she was a newspaper reporter, like the Shakotan equivalent of Lois Lane, it seemed that the IP Phone was a much bigger part of her job than I had thought. She told me that I was very popular in Shakotan and that my appearances on the IP Phone very always the most popular posts. I’m such a sucker for flattery.

Then she said that the IP Phone people would love to do a series of English lessons with me. She said that they would be really basic—like Elementary school level—English conversation points, and they’d be transmitted all over Shakotan weekly, via IP Phone. At this point there was a bit of awkward silence as I looked up from stuffing my face with barbeque-grilled mutton; everyone was staring at me. What sounded like an off the cuff suggestion had taken on the appearance of a serious proposal.

“Sure,” I said, “that sounds like fun.” Here I was, eating their food and drinking their beer, was I really going to say ‘no’? Besides, I did kind like the idea of having my own IP Phone broadcast; it was just a question of how many responsibilities I wanted to have in Shakotan. Considering the amount of time I had on my hands and what little I had done with it up to this point, a new responsibility would probably do me good. Everyone appeared pleased that wanted to do it. We started making plans for me to drop by the office the next day to get started on it. Once we got a template made, it would be really easy to create multiple posts.

The reporter lady’s daughter began making a fuss outside and she stood up to go check on her. Once on her feet, she fell back against the wall of the garage with a bang. Laughing embarrassedly, she said “chidoriashi” (千鳥足), a term I was familiar with that means “drunken stagger”. The thought occurred to me that everyone might forget this conversation by the morning and my IP Phone English lessons might never come to fruition. Either way’s fine, I thought to myself.

As the drinking and conversation continued, I was introduced to a gentleman named Iwaki. As luck would have it, Iwaki-san lived in my same apartment building, directly below me. He was a jovial guy, and I was surprised that it had taken so long for us to make an acquaintance. We talked about out small building and he told me that I could hear my guitar playing whenever I practiced. I tried to apologize but he said that I never played too loud or too late. I was more worried that my playing sucked. We speculated about whether residents had moved into all six of the building’s units. I thought maybe the place was full, but he hadn’t seen any new folks.

Then my phone rang. My phone didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway. Apparently the “nominacation” was working for me, because I was able understand the conversation and communicate back, all in Japanese. The call was from Sa-san, Yasuda-san’s sister-in-law. She was going to Snack Cocoro with her sister and mother for some karaoke, and she invited me come along. What were the chances, two surprise invitations on the same random Thursday? I told her that I would be slightly delayed, but I’d meet them there.

The timing was great, as the yakiniku party was just winding down. Kida-san and the rest weren’t offended by me skipping out to sing karaoke. In fact, my neighbor and new friend, Iwaki-san, decided to come along. Before setting out, I ran my bag of “groceries” home to the apartment, which was only just around the corner. To my surprise, I ended up running into my two new neighbors who had just moved into units 201 and 202. This was especially ironic since Iwaki-san and I had just been speculating if they existed or not. I think both men were fishermen and I remember that they seemed nice enough, although I had forgotten their names as soon as they told me. At that point, I was drunk from the bottomless cup of beer at yakiniku.

Iwaki-san and I walked to Snack Cocoro together, and I told him about meeting our new neighbors. I’m not sure if he believed me. At Cocoro, Ota-chan, Sa-chan, and Baba-chan were waiting for us. I sat down with them, but Iwaki-san, perhaps in an effort not to encroach on anyone’s space, sat at the bar close by. Yasuda-san’s family and I exchanged ‘hisashiburi’s (久しぶり – “been a while”, “long time, no see”) and talked about doing dinner sometime.

The entrance to Snack Cocoro in the daytime.

Singing karaoke was as fun as ever. The highlight of the evening was singing along with Sa-san on the theme from “Neon Genesis: Evangelion”. I had actually sung that song in choir at Iowa Central Community College, so I can phonetically sing through it pretty well. I’m pretty sure that I also sang the Beatles classic “Yesterday”, and probably Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”, but after two more beers at the bar, my memory gets a bit fuzzy.

By midnight, everyone was heading home. It seemed a little early to me, until I remembered that it was only Thursday. In a good example of chidoriashi (千鳥足), Iwaki-san and I staggered back to our apartment together.

The next day, I paid a visit to the second floor of the town office. As I remembered, I had agreed to do some English conversation points over the IP Phone and I needed to talk to the reporter lady about it. As it turned out, she wasn’t in the office that day. Kida-san apologized and asked me to come back another time. “Sure,” I said, confident that my IP Phone project was destined to be forgotten. It would be a few weeks later until I learned that I was wrong.

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