The summer of 1998 was my first in sleepy Monmouth, Ore. Best known as the home of Western Oregon University and the west coast’s last dry town, Monmouth had a permanent population right around 7,000 people in the late 1990s, but you’d be hard-pressed to find more than a few of them on a typical weekday.
I lived in a small duplex one block south of Main Street. On the morning of July 4, my roommate and I opened our curtains to discover cars parked end-to-end and people streaming en masse down our typically quiet street.
Certain the zombie apocalypse was upon us, we turned on the television for further instructions. Instead of warnings from the Emergency Broadcast System, we found the local television channel introducing the annual Western Days Parade.
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It would be nearly 20 years later before I actually attended the parade in person. Small-town Americana is on full display as kids on bicycles and makeshift floats pulled by pickup trucks make their way down Main Street and through neighboring Independence before arriving at Riverview Park on the banks of the Willamette River.
Independence Day celebrations have a long history in Independence. The first recorded July 4 event was held in 1903. The all-day affair began at 9 a.m. with a parade of nearly 30 floats followed by a “Grand Barbecue.” The competition heated up in the afternoon with tug-o-war, pie eating contests and baseball games. A “Grand Ball” finished up the evening.
The event was also the first time many locals saw an automobile in person. The “horseless carriages” shuttled visitors between downtown Independence and Pioneer Park just under a mile away.
Click any photo in the gallery to see a larger version and start a slideshow view
The celebration hasn’t changed much in the 114 years since that first event. The 2016 Western Days spanned four days with thousands of visitors coming in for the 5K fun run, parade and riverfront festival. Two nights of top-notch fireworks—funded through the hard work of year-around community fundraising efforts—anchor the holiday festivities.
The Independence Enterprise wrote after the first July 4 festival, “…the celebration of 1903 at Independence has set a new standard, a comparison to which will be drawn, and the highest compliment to be paid to any to come will be: It equals the splendid demonstration held at Independence in ’03.”
The community of Monmouth-Independence continues to set the bar high.
Special thanks to Peggy and Shannon at the Independence Heritage Museum for historical information about Independence Day in Independence, Ore.
Today marks the official beginning of the Japanese holiday of Tanabata. Tanabata (七夕) translates to “Evening of the Seventh” and celebrates the once-a-year meeting of star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi (read their story here or watch the video at the end of the post).
The legend says if it rains on Tanabata, the two lovers must wait until another year to meet. But a light sprinkle didn’t stop thousands of Tokyoites and tourists from heading out for a day of celebration.
We chose the Shitamachi Tanabata in Tokyo’s Kappabashi District in the shadow of the Tokyo Skytree. More than half-a-mile of street was closed off to traffic and lined with vendors serving all sorts of festival fare, including a rare vegetarian treat—deep-fried soybean “meat” on a stick!
One of the traditions of Tanabata is to write a wish on a piece of paper and tie it to a bamboo tree. Trees and bamboo branches lined the street, each fully decorated with the wishes of children and adults alike.
The festival happened to fall on July 4, which is also America’s Independence Day holiday. July 4th celebrations often include local parades, so it was a cool coincidence that we got to see a parade that day. After the first group passed, people headed back into the street and we thought it was over. But a few minutes later, everyone headed back to the curb and another parade group would pass through. This continued several more times until the last parade group passed through. Very efficient!
These festivals always offer a lot of opportunities for the kids to have fun. While many sat alongside the road, enjoying their treats, several participated in the parade. We felt bad for those little legs having to make the hike from one end of town to the other.
Kappabashi literally means “raincoat bridge.” In the old days, residents of the area would hang their raincoats on the nearby bridge to dry. However, “kappa” is also the name of a mythological bird-like creature (interesting story about the kappa) thought to live in Japan’s rivers. In those same old days, farmers would make agreements with the kappa to ensure good irrigation for their farms. Kappabashi uses the kappa as its neighborhood mascot and the image appears all over town on banners and carved wooden statues. Two live-action kappas wandered the parade, one kid-friendly and one with the more menacing appearance of the kappa from folklore.
After the parade, we headed for the Kanda neighborhood to check out a craft beer bar. Devilcraft is run by American ex-pats from Chicago who brought their city’s famous pizza with them.
We sat at the bar and enjoyed an awesome deep-dish veggie pizza and a couple American craft-beers. Two guys came in a few minutes after we arrived and took the seats next to us at the bar. One of them spoke great English (he’d done a homestay in Minnesota as a child) and we struck up a conversation over dinner.
Turned out he was a blacksmith specializing in Imperial-era Japanese swords called katana. His craftsman name is Kanemasa the second. His master, Kanemasa the first, passed away a few years ago at age 88 after 78 years as a sword maker. That’s right… he started at age 10!
Kanemasa the second has made swords for some pretty impressive clients, including the Crown Prince of Abu Dhabi. He has photos on his website in the Royal Palace presenting the katana to the Prince.
There’s only one thing anybody wants to know right now…
Did you do anything for Golden Week?
I’ll concede there’s a small chance this topic is only relevant among people living in Japan and, if it’s coming up in English, it’s only a hot topic among 0.01 percent of the population. But hey, that’s my demographic!
UN Farmers Market and Cinco de Mayo
We started our Golden Week with a weekend trip into Tokyo to visit one of our favorite farmers markets and hit up the Cinco de Mayo Festival at Yoyogi Park.
Chichibu’s Hitsujiyama Park
Chichibu is our favorite place for outdoor adventures in Japan. It’s about an hour away by train and is usually pretty quiet. However, during Golden Week, thousands of people descend on the otherwise sleepy town to see the shibazakura or mountain phlox at Hitsujiyama Park.
Video: Mountain Phlox in Chichibu
Koburi Pass
We milked every last second out of Golden Week, heading out on the last day of the holidays to nearby Hanno for some hiking. We found a very non-touristy spot called Koburi Pass. We befriended a couple of older Japanese ladies at the train station, one of whom nearly missed the train when she went upstairs to get us some local sightseeing pamphlets.
How did you spend Golden Week? Leave a comment below!
Japan celebrates Shōwa Day today, kicking off a series of holidays known as Golden Week. This year’s holiday comes with a healthy dose of controversy.
Shōwa Day marks the birthday of Shōwa-era emperor Hirohito, but less as a celebration and more as a time of reflection. It was during Hirohito’s reign that Japan invaded China, used toxic gas against its enemies and entered into a treaty with Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany leading up to World War II.
2015 marks the 70th anniversary of the end of World War II. Japan’s current Prime Minister Shinzō Abe is in the United States, preparing to speak in front of a joint session of Congress—the first Japanese leader to address Congress since the end of WWII.
Abe is under fire from Chinese and Korean leaders for his “revisionist” views of Japan’s role in the war, in particular the sexual enslavement of women in Japanese military brothels. Previous Japanese prime ministers have offered up apologies, but Abe’s stance has hardened relations with Japan’s neighbors.
Abe’s U.S. visit also comes with positives. In addition to new trade and defense agreements, Abe toured the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and used the opportunity to tell the story of Chiune Sugihara.
In 1939 and 1940, while Japan was aligning itself with Germany, Sugihara served as Japan’s Imperial Consul in Lithuania. During these years, he issued visas allowing more than 6,000 Jews fleeing the Nazi pogroms to travel to Japan.
He died in 1986, largely unknown in his own country, but a hero to many outside Japan. Prior to his death, he was honored with Israel’s Righteous Among the Nations honor, given to non-Jews who helped save refugees during the Holocaust. He has streets named for him in both Lithuania and Israel and asteroid 25893 Sugihara was named in his honor.
As of last weekend, I’m officially in the middle of my late 30s. And where better to spend a birthday that in one of the greatest cities on the planet. We spent the entire weekend in Tokyo with no real agenda, which ended up being an action-packed three days.
Instead of a long rundown of events, please enjoy some photos from the weekend.
This playground near Tokyo Skytree had an awesome metal-roller propelled slide. We only saw adults use it in the short time we were there. Video below.
Working with young people, I have a chance to hear about some of the “exciting” first rites of passage into adulthood. Students getting their driver’s licenses or first jobs. First forays into drinking, smoking, sex. Forming opinions. Rebellion. Normal teen stuff.
Each culture has its own definitions of the not-so-fine line between childhood and adulthood. But, in the U.S., there’s no official ceremony surrounding it. The closest thing we have is perhaps a “Sweet Sixteen” or the 18th birthday. Latino cultures have the “Quinceañera” for young women at 15 years of age. In Japan, there is a public holiday on the second Monday of January, which is deemed “Coming of Age Day” (Seijin no hi).
In Japan, the legal age of adulthood is 20—for voting, drinking and smoking. For about a year, I’ve been hearing about the preparations for this day from some of our sophomore students at the university. And finally, it was here. My Facebook feed was suddenly flooded with loads of young women in beautiful kimonos and ornate hairstyles.
Japan really is a curious mix of the old and the new. To see young women transformed from their jeans and t-shirts to feminine visions from a past era was fascinating.
I asked a few students to share the significance of this day. Maybe it’s similar to asking an 18-year-old in the states why all of a sudden they can now vote, join the military or get a tattoo. “It’s a tradition,” they say. “We’re now considered adults based on our age.”
The Coming of Age ceremony usually takes place the weekend before or around the official public holiday. Young people who turned 20 after April 2 of the previous year or 19-year-olds who will turn 20 before April 1 of the current year take part in the ceremony. Students traveled across Japan to go home for this occasion.
Women usually go to a shop about a year in advance to be fitted for their “furisode” kimono with all of its intricacies. It’s similar to how women choose a wedding gown. It’s a chance to put your stamp of creativity and stand out in the sea of beauties. The family plays a large role and it’s not a cheap endeavor with kimonos costing in the thousands of dollars (many borrow or rent). Young women wake up early—about 6 a.m.—and go to a special salon that does hair and makeup. There is also someone who helps with fitting the furisode.
At around noon, students join their former junior high school classmates in a public hall for the ceremony. From what I understand, there are many speeches and formalities. Most of the men wear suits and a few wear the men’s version of the kimono, which is called a hakama.
I taught Masaaki when he studied abroad in Oregon (he has now returned to Japan). His appearance stood out to me as he was one of the few who chose to rent a hakama for this day. He said three people had to help him dress in the kimono. “After I wore the kimono, I ate special lunch with my relatives gathered,” Masaaki said.
And after the ceremony? Students have a reunion with their classmates. And, then the parties! And rowdiness! “I had second and third parties. I enjoyed until next morning ‘cause we were legally able to drink alcohol!” Masaaki said.
Shuta is a student at the university. He just turned 20 in October and he traveled two hours by plane to get to his hometown of Isahaya in Nagasaki Prefecture. He wore a suit for his ceremony and he said he didn’t have enough time to rent a kimono. In October, when some of the other students surprised him for his birthday in our class, he said a few words about the significance of 20 and how he must be a man now and take schoolwork and his future seriously.
But when I ask some of my students if they feel like an adult now that they have gone through the ceremony, most of them say not really. Are they ready to vote and form opinions and explore all of the fun and not-so-fun rites of adulthood? Maybe not. And that’s OK. There’s no hurry to grow up.
A mysterious sign appeared in our neighborhood trash collection area around New Year. In addition to being the receptacle for our weekly waste, the concrete bunker also serves as the neighborhood bulletin board. Usually the messages are related to trash pickup, but I could read enough of this sign that I knew it wasn’t about garbage.
I snapped a photo and, after a few minutes with Google Translate, I discovered the local community center was hosting a South American music performance. I slapped it on our calendar and we made plans to attend.
On the day of the performance, we climbed to the second floor of the community center, greeted by a row of shoes placed on newspaper. A basket of slippers sat nearby and we dutifully replaced our shoes with the public slippers. Many brought their own slippers, so we’ll know for next time.
The band was made up of nine very skilled Japanese musicians. A couple of them played the zampoña (pan flute), two others played the charango (lute) and an energetic drummer pounded away on the bombo legüero, all the while urging the crowd to clap along. They reminded us of a less-authentic—yet equally talented—version of an Ecuadorian group we sought out at the Oregon State Fair every summer.
We were handed a couple sheets of paper when we came in. One was a schedule and the other a lyric sheet. Over the course of an hour, the audience was encouraged to sing along with about half of the songs. I couldn’t read fast enough to sing along, but I was surprised at how well I was able to follow along while our fellow listeners harmonized with the band.
After the show, people shuffled into a room across the hall for snacks. We tried to slip out quietly, but were stopped by one of the organizers who spoke just enough English to get his point across—it’s very important that you stay and celebrate. OK… shoes off, slippers back on.
We were glad we did. We told the man our address and he attempted to find our neighborhood table. In the end, I think we were just added to a table with some empty space as we didn’t recognize anyone at the table. Immediately, our new neighbors poured us green tea and began asking questions. One man spoke excellent English while another couple had a daughter living in the U.S. and learned a little bit of English each day on the internet.
Each table had the same spread: pizza from the recently-opened Domino’s, assorted hosomaki (thin sushi rolls), sandwiches, fruit and desserts. We waited and watched how they handled the food (some ate the pizza with their hands, others with chopsticks!) and followed suit (pizza with hands… our chopstick skills are good, but this was some next level stuff!).
At the end of the meal, the best English speaker asked if we wanted some New Year dessert soup. Oshiruko is a cold, sweet bean soup often served with mochi cakes. Ours came with small, multicolored, flower-shaped cakes that resembled the marshmallows in Lucky Charms cereal.
After lunch, a man named Naka, who participated in the local English Club, came over to talk with us. Shortly after, he brought over another member—Kuni—who works as an investment banker and spent five years in the 1980s working in the World Trade Center in New York City. They asked the usual questions (where are you from, why are you here, etc.) and we talked about how difficult it is to learn each other’s languages.
While we talked, the organizers passed out rubber bands to everyone in the room. We were about to play the biggest game of Rock, Paper, Scissors (janken/じゃんけん) that I’ve ever participated in.
We paired off and began to battle. In the one-and-done format, if you win, you get the other person’s rubber band and move on to the next opponent. I beat Kuni in the first match, but then lost to a man from the next table who slow-rolled my scissors (choki/ちょき) with his rock (guu/ぐう).
A lady from our table made it all the way to the final group. Although she didn’t win it all, she did return with some sort of coffee-related prize.
We helped cleanup the table as best as possible. As we picked up, each of the ladies nearby placed a handful of the leftover Lindt truffles in front of us. We must have taken six or so with us.
We walked home and I couldn’t help but shake my head. It seems like every time we venture out into our neighborhood, something special happens. We’re still a bit of a spectacle, but people accept us into their communities so readily that the novelty wears off quickly and, before long, we’re just another neighbor.
The first week of the New Year is all about starting anew. There’s something about the changing of the calendar that invites retrospection of the year gone by and the setting of goals for the coming year.
Most of Japan is closed during the days surrounding New Year’s Day, giving people the opportunity to focus on starting the year right. In Kawagoe, that means heading out to Kita-in Temple’s Daruma Festival, held annually on January 3.
Daruma are round-ish dolls with bushy-featured faces and are believed to have inspired Russia’s iconic matryoshka dolls. Daruma dolls are about goal-setting for the coming year. They come in a variety of sizes and colors, each with a different meaning. They’re slightly weighted in the bottom so, if they’re tipped, they’ll always remain in an upright position like a Weeble. The feature is a metaphor for resiliency as Daruma are often associated with the phrase “nanakorobi yaoki (七転び八起き),” meaning “fall seven times and stand up eight.”
The Daruma’s eyes are both blank. Once you’ve decided on your goal for the year, you color in one of the eyes. If you accomplish your goal, you color in the other eye. If you don’t achieve your goal, well… I guess you have a Popeye Daruma.
At the beginning of the New Year, people bring last year’s Daruma and other charms (decorative arrows called kabura-ya (鏑矢) are another common New Year charm) back to the temple or shrine to be ceremonially burned. Mountains of 2014 charms piled near Kita-in’s main temple.
Vendors lined the paths of the temple grounds with new Daruma and charms for sale. If you want general good fortune, buy a red one. Want to focus on love and happiness? Get a white one. Even corporations get in the act, buying larger Daruma equal to the audacity of the goal.
It wouldn’t be a Japanese festival without Japanese festival food and the Daruma Festival had plenty. Hockey puck-shaped pancakes filled with cream or sweet bean, called imagawayaki (今川焼き), are a popular sweet treat. Hot, steamed potatoes with butter, mayonnaise and kimchi are another mainstay at the local festivals. We managed to catch the okonomiyaki guy just before he sprinkled on the fish flakes, making for a filling lunch.
Walking through town, many of the shrines were still packed with visitors paying their first respects of the year. One of our favorite little shrines, Kawagoe Hachimangu, featured a brand-new mural celebrating the year of the sheep.
A couple days later, we visited Koma Shrine in nearby Hidaka. One of Viktoria’s students, Akinari, is a local and volunteers at the shrine during the holidays. He had ample opportunity to practice his English with us as we peppered him with questions about the traditions and meanings of different things.
He patiently walked us through the ceremonial hand washing process (temizu/手水) before paying respect at the shrine (toss a coin in the bin in front of the shrine, bow twice, clap twice, make your prayer then bow once).
We bought our fortunes (omikuji/おみくじ) for the year, which Koma Shrine kindly offered in English and Korean in addition to Japanese. Mine was only “Slightly Lucky,” so I tied it to the tree branch with all the others in hopes that the slight luck would attach to the tree instead of me.
Akinari’s job at the shrine is selling omamori (御守), charms that provide blessings and luck for the holder. Viktoria and Akinari each bought a ryokō anzen omamori (旅行安全御守) or a travel safety amulet to protect us on our various adventures abroad in 2015.
Akinari also gave us the low-down on some of the festival foods that we always wondered about. Hidaka’s past is intertwined with Japan’s complicated relationship with Korea and, as a result, has a lot of Korean influences. He explained toppoki (tteokbokki in Korean), which is mochi, tofu and eggs in a spicy sauce. We’d seen it before, but the mochi look like little sausages, so we always avoided it. It was delicious! We also continued our search for the best imagawayaki. This one may be the leader in the clubhouse!
Afterwards, he took us to nearby Kinchakuda-Manjushage Park, close to one of our favorite restaurants (Alishan Cafe). The park is famous for its red spider lilies, which bloom by the millions in the fall, flooding the rice field in a sea of red. Goats and horses at a farm opposite the park were apt as we closed out the Year of the Horse and rang in the Year of the Sheep (goats… sheep… close enough!).
Getting the local experience was really valuable and we couldn’t be more appreciative of Akinari giving up a Sunday night to show us around. It’s a great memory of our first New Year in Japan.
I started thinking about “The Christmas Post” a few weeks ago, somewhere around the writing of Thanksgiving in Japan.
I’ve even been kicking around a parody of “The Night Before Christmas” in my head, maybe poking fun at some of the unique ways Japanese folks celebrate the American holiday (December 25 isn’t an official holiday in Japan). In a country where about 1 percent of the population identifies as Christian, Christmas is much more about the secular celebration—more Valentine’s Day than what Americans think of as Christmas.
In the 1970s, an American visiting a Tokyo branch of Kentucky Fried Chicken commented that, in a country where turkey is hard to come by, a bucket of KFC is the next best thing. The enterprising store manager overheard the comment and launched an advertising campaign touting “Kentucky For Christmas!” Today, people order their buckets of chicken weeks in advance, waiting in long lines on Christmas Eve to pick up their now-traditional chicken dinner.
There’s also a lot of preordering and long-line-waiting for extravagant and expensive Christmas Cakes. The origins of the cake come from the post-World War II recovery of the country. NPR recently did an excellent story about what Christmas Cake really means in Japan.
All that said, my take on this post changed today while watching a toddler shoving a cookie in his face at the checkout line. I caught his eye and he smiled big and waved. That got me to thinking about the spirit of the people we encounter every day, which made me feel bad about my “Night Before Christmas” parody.
To me, Christmas is all about traditions. And the great thing about traditions is that they can change as we change. Our families grow and contract and grow again as the years go by and our traditions update accordingly.
As a kid, I’d wake up early and start coffee on Christmas morning to make sure my folks would be awake enough that we could open presents—although I suspect my dad was awake before I was. I always made sure our dog, Sampson, had something to open as well. We’d have bear claws or butterhorns for breakfast.
In recent years, we’d spend a day in Leavenworth, WA, taking in the famous holiday celebration in the small Bavarian-style town, stopping for Starbucks Peppermint Lattes both on the way up and on the way back. We’d then host the whole family for dinner on Christmas Eve. This year, we’ll start a new tradition.
KFC for Christmas dinner might seem odd. There are no “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” signs in our neighborhood. Yet, Japan has created its own set of traditions. Christmas isn’t a national holiday, but it’s still a time when people show a little more kindness and a little more cheer.
This week, I’ve seen a hairdresser and a pizza delivery guy dressed in Santa suits and a dog wearing a Christmas sweater. “Illuminations” are popular and bountiful. Twinkling lights and guys in Santa suits yield the same joyful reaction here as they do in the U.S.
The Christmas season is one of the few times we Americans set aside our differences. We smile more, give more and spend a little more time together in community. Seeing the season from another perspective, in a society where the community is always the priority over the individual, shows that it’s possible to make that sense of community the norm instead of a seasonal exception.
So, whatever your flavor of the winter holidays may be, I sincerely wish you the happiest season. May that joy continue through the year to come. Happy Holidays!
Japan was in full holiday spirits, enjoying the day off with family and friends. The wait was finally over. The magical day was here.
The Emperor’s Birthday.
December 23 was Emperor Akihito’s 81st birthday. His birthday is a national holiday. Businesses close and thousands flock to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo to catch a glimpse of the Imperial Family. It’s one of two days where the inner grounds of the Palace are open to the general public.
With each new emperor, the date of the holiday changes. During Emperor Hirohito’s reign, the holiday was held on his birthday, April 29. After his death in 1989, the holiday changed to Greenery Day, encouraging Japan’s population to commune with nature and recognize Hirohito’s love of plants without mentioning the still-controversial Emperor by name (Hirohito was Emperor during World War II and his legacy is still a point of contention among historians).
In 2007, the holiday was renamed to Shōwa Day, officially recognizing Hirohito (Emperor Shōwa, named for the period in which he reigned). The holiday is part of the long vacation period known as Golden Week.