I made a few friends at the Sanja Matsuri. The most notable were a girl named Yoko and her family. Probably early to mid 30's, her and her two sisters, one of her sister's husband and their two kids, and mom were eating next to me. Cool family. I had my gaijin charm on full blast and they were gobbling it up. They invited me to their house for another Matsuri in Tokyo - Asakusabashi. I accepted their invitation cooly - concealing my spaz-pandemonious-excitment. I'd been waiting for an opening like this for a while. Kind of like when a girl you really like asks you out - "Yeah, dinner would be great - you know, whatever."
Sunday, June 10th, I got into Asakusabashi at about 11am - it was raining - Yoko met me at the station with an extra umbrella and we walked to her apt. about 5 minutes away. Really cool, compact, urban Tokyo neighborhood. Her apt. was right above a rice shop. As we were taking off our shoes, someone yelled, "Adamuuu!" from upstairs. "Hai!" I responded, and laughed a quick, loud and nervous laugh. She shot back "Konichiwaaaaa! You - are - welcome!". More laughter as we started up the stairs. Here we go.
Sisters, brother in law and kids were all there and all smiles - a nice place - main room, small kitchen, window to the street. The next hour or two was spent making them laugh with broken japanese, shoveling food down - sashimi salad, tuna & snapper, yaki soba, tofu, pork sandwiches and beer, beer, sake, beer - sitting crosslegged at the head of their little table. They (this family and Japanese people in general) are very gracious hosts - so nice - almost to the point where it's alienating - so when I don't have to clear my plate, or fill my glass, or pay for anything - it's nice - but it's also a subtle nudge reminding me that I'm still an outsider.
Mom arrived a little later, with more sake, an aunt and an uncle. The whole time I was trying to get a handle on what was going on outside in the street below. A crowd was forming, in the rain, of mostly men, in kimono type festival garb - waiting - standing on the sidewalks. It seemed like it would be more portable shrines like I'd seen at the previous Matsuri in Asakusa. (See my videos for examples from Sanja Matsuri) "Ok," I thought, "I can do this again." An hour more of eating and drinking and then the first shrine of the day came by. The street was swarming, full. The yakuza were very well represented - the boss shielded by a black and red umbrella, held by one of his henchmen. Yoko tried to explain the socio-whatever of the Yakuza and their interactions with the law abiding citizens and people of power. I was having trouble understanding, had a nice buzz going, and let it all drift out the window with the rest of the noise that I didn't understand. Yoko's sister (the childless one) was down there - in it - among the swarming carriers of the huge shrine - they told me it weighed 2 tons - I didn't believe him then - I do now. We spotted her in the mob - being smushed under one of the carrying rods - as everyone around the street punched, kicked, clawed, and mawled their way to the shrine, trying to get in as one of the lifters. "Crazy people." I thought - then it hit me. What i had agreed to earlier... they asked me if I wanted to go down and participate in the carrying (now as I look back the more appropriate word is lugging) and I agreed - whole-heartedly - smiling in between Asahi sips and tuna bites. The family was pumped when I accepted their invitation. I had no idea the waters I'd cast myself into. Should've been much more afraid than I was.
After this first shrine of the day passed by, Yoko, her little nephew and I went down to the street to follow for a while. It was now drizzling and cool - showing signs of letting up. She carried the boy on her shoulders as I held the two umbrellas. Aunts are always the coolest. This relaxed scene was more like it. "I can handle this," I thought. We walked back to the apartment and ran into her sister who looked trodden, wet and exhausted from the brawl. Her shoulder was sore. We went back up for a few and then came back down for the real deal - the mob was a few blocks down. The older generation stayed home for this round. I skipped down the steps to the street, drunk and full, the rain had pretty much stopped - I was the only gaijin I'd seen all day and I was confident in my role and that I could suavely handle anything these bustling people could throw at me.
I've never been suave in my life.
We walked quickly down the street - the noise getting louder every block we crossed. We came to the mob. This shrine was about the same size as the previous one. The swarm carried it by three massive wooden beams that shot out from underneath the shrine in all four directions, shouting, "He! He! He! He!"with some clacking of wood and japanese exertion exclamations mixed in. We were walking quickly along with the shrine, behind it, with the women and those resting. Met up with a few of their friends - a few guys, all very nice and completely hammered. After a few jokes and slurred introductions, I found myself taking off my shirt, shoes and socks, donning a kimono and following these guys through the crowd to the shrine. I'm definitely the only westerner there. Remember what I look like, and smile.
The people underneath were grunting and chanting - sweating and smiling. It was pretty much a revolving door for lifters: when there's an opening underneath one of the logs someone fills it - when you can't take it no more - you step out. My buddies shoved me in first and then crammed in a few spaces in front of me. Heavy - massive - intense - must have been 40 of us carrying it at one time and I felt my shoulder and knees giving with every step - at times you just want to run out from underneath it for safety's sake, especially when the person in front of you ducks out, quickly followed by the person behind you. You try to power through but realize your minute effect on this massive thing and you just keep moving with the group. I got in there 3 more times in the next couple hours as we paraded it through the streets. It was never too difficult to get in there...until the last one. A fight, in every sense of the word. Punching , grabbing kicking yelling choking . My buddies insisted we get in there so I suited up and climbed on for the ride. Took about 15 minutes to get to the front- pushing and shoving until I realized I was there - and that I lost my guide. Hell. I saw an opening under the middle beam and slipped in. "He! He! He!"- 3 steps - then I felt my collar being yanked from behind and at least 3 pairs of hands on my bruised shoulders slinging me out from underneath and tossing me backwards into the ship's wake. I was stunned, maybe more delirious, happened so quickly. My legs were shaking and my shoulders were on fire. Like I'd been beaten heavily for three hours by an evil monk of some sort who'd been "waiting for this for a long time." I was done. Fortunately so was everyone else. They said they saw me in there - I laughed about it and reenacted it all for their amusement - cracking up - sitting on the sidewalk. Someone had gone on a beer run, the sun was out, my feet were cool on the wet asphalt.
After a couple beers worth of catching our breathe we went to follow one of the other last shrines of the day and then stopped and ate dinner on the sidewalk below one of the guy's house. Everyone was draggin a bit - the effects of lugging around several tons of shrine, fighting and day drinking. It was 7 or 8 pm and i was settling into a nice post-booze haze, prepping myself for the trek home. I thought it was over; it wasn't.
We packed up all our stuff and started walking - I kept inline with all the other fish and swam along. One more shrine to go. The big one. They barracked off the main street - about 5 lanes wide - wire fencing keeping the the registered participants and the necessary security in, and us observers out on the sidewalks. Designed to do that at least. Our school found a perching spot up front, we'd gotten there early. Someone had gone back and brought down two ladders that we leaned up on the fence and light poles to increase our vantage point. Great people. Prepared for everything. The crowd grew quickly. After an hour of waiting around I was getting bored, conversation was a strain and hungover. The street was getting organized - various groups of supporters were gathered and seated along the street waiting for the shrine to arrive - structured and organized. I think it was supposed to pass evenly along from group to group, everyone getting a turn. This was not the case. People started buzzing when a set of lanterns on tall bamboo poles were carried down the street - 20 of them maybe - like scouts sent to test the terrain. Then the shrine turned the corner and nudged its way onto the main street. Chaos. Jumping, screaming. All of the groups that were arranged so perfectly 10 minutes ago were haywire. Slamming up from their seated cross legged positions and sprinting to the float - hundreds of them - raging. The shrine kept going - though at one point it took a dip. One side dropped slowly and they sturdied it somehow - crowd was going nuts and 20 seconds later it was slowly pushed back up. As it got further down the street approaching and passing us at our spot some of the outsiders made attempts to join those on the inside by jumping the fences. They wore no clothes. Only little sumo type diapers. Security swarmed on em but didn't do anything once apprehended. Just pushed em back over the fence and move on to the next perp. No punishment, which encouraged the lawlessness. There was fighting among the Yakuza too and at one point after the shrine had passed, the cops made a human wall - maybe for sanity's sake.
The shrine was gone. We had peaked. The crowd dispersed. Walked blindly back to the apartment - said goodbye to those in my marching group. Rested briefly. The father was there now, head of the table - we had another beer - great people. The sister, bro in law and kids packed up and said it was time to go home. I said thank you very much and we walked to the station. They all saw me off, and said they had fun. I said the same; thank you very much and got on my train - bridges fully in tact.
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