Takeshi Asai's Japanese Newsletter - Summer in Japan

The Japanese summer begins in June with tsuyu (also called baiu), a misty rain that lingers day after day, sometimes bursting forth into a downpour but rarely into prolonged sunshine. It's a hot and wet time of year when no one leaves home without a handkerchief (hankachi) to absorb the perspiration that persists on one's brow, and an umbrella (kasa) to deflect the raindrops. Because dampness invades everything, including closets, housewives occasionally bring out their winter heaters just to thwart the humidity. During tsuyu, hydrangea (ajisai) bloom in rich tones of blues and pinks, their blossoms resplendent with raindrops. Such natural beauty is always around for respite if one just takes the time to see it. Parents and friends often distribute this advice to cheer up those who may become discouraged by the rainy season, or whatever may be troubling them, perhaps even the economic recession.

By mid-July, the sun begins to appear regularly and the festivals begin. From this time through August, a passerby might emerge from a quiet, narrow street where only the sound of wind chimes (fuurin) tinkle in the heavy air. Then a group of rowdy festival (matsuri) revelers suddenly appears, carrying a small shrine and forming a ragged procession, pushing through the crowd and the clamor of shouts and music. The people bring the local gods (kami) out of their shrines in a temporary, portable dwelling called a mikoshi and parade them through the streets in raucous celebration and veneration. Young men and not-so-young men dress in brightly colored happi, sport a sweatband called hachimaki, and wear special white socks called tabi, or sometimes no footwear at all. In fact, some teams of mikoshi bearers wear no clothing at all except a white loincloth called a fundoshi. The men, ranging from 10 to 50 in number depending on the size of the mikoshi, shoulder the wooden poles to which the mikoshi has been securely strapped and chant their way through the streets, careening from the weight of the shrine and the effects of the sake they have been drinking. Crowds gather and the merriment intoxicates the air. Sometimes the mikoshi is so large the men cannot carry it and must pull it on a float to prevent an accident, thus protecting the dignity of the god within. The music of drums, flutes, and bells plus the press of sweating bodies weaving through the onlookers inspire Japanese throughout the country to revel in summer.

These days, one particular summer festival is associated with the city of Sendai, although the entire country celebrates it: the famous legend of love called Tanabata. The story came from China originally. Two stars, known as the Shepherd (Altair) and the Weaver (Vega) were separated by the Milky Way and allowed to meet just once a year on July 7th (the 7th day of the 7th month of the lunar calendar) -- if it did not rain. Rumor has it that the girl's father imposed this unlucky fate on the hapless lovers because the Shepard's attentions caused her to slack off on her weaving. In the past, before people watched the Sendai Tanabata festival on television, enthusiasts would gather anxiously and watch the sky for clear weather, decorate their homes with bamboo, and offer sweets and fruits to the lovers, praying for the reunion of the Weaver and the Shepherd. In former times, when love marriages were uncommon and arranged marriages the norm, such a romantic legend had considerable appeal, and even today, its appeal endures.

In addition to festivals, summer brings rooftop beer gardens where friends and coworkers visit, hoping to capture a night breeze while enjoying soybean (edamame) and dried squid (ika) snacks and delicious, cold Japanese beer. Later, while walking home near a park or along a residential street, the same friends and coworkers will hear the sounds of locusts (semi) filling the air with the compelling fervency of their song. By now it's August and the ajisai have faded with the rainy season, replaced by the pert faces of the morning glory (asagao). The Japanese morning glory is as much a symbol of summer as the matsuri, and it appeals to the Japanese sensibility in much the same way as the spring cherry blossoms (sakura) do. That is, the colorful morning glory blooms early in the morning, as early as 4 a.m., and fades by 9 a.m., capturing the beauty and brevity of life, especially the beauty and brevity of the fleeting summer, in that brief bloom of color and vitality.

published as Japanese Monthly, July 2000 issue
edited by Marcia Allen

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