Hello, readers.
This is the first post of July, which means I have less than a month to savor the rest of my time here.
To start off the hottest month in Japan, my friends and I spent last weekend amid a rainbow of colors: we sat among a sea of orange and black rooting for the Yomiuri Giants at Tokyo Dome 東京ドーム and we strolled under swaying Tanabata 七夕祭りstreamers of fuchsia, magenta, emerald, and sapphire that lined Kappabashi Street かっぱ橋通り.
Tokyo "Trevor Time"
As some of you may know, my sister also travelled to Kyoto with Sensei and her Japanese class in high school. Shelby had the opportunity to spend a week with a host family where she spent most of her time under the wing of her host sister, Yuka. During my sophomore year, Yuka came to stay with us for a couple of weeks and experienced several wonders of San Diego. She saw a variety of animals at the San Diego Zoo; she hopped on the carousel in Seaport Village; she boogie boarded for the first time at Carlsbad State Beach; she felt the soaking spray of Shamu at Sea World; and she even embraced her inner child at "The Happiest Place on Earth."
What was her favorite tourist attraction 観光名所?
You'll never guess.
"Trevor Time" during a Padres baseball game!
When I came to Tokyo, I knew I needed to witness a Japanese baseball 野球 game for myself to see why Yuka had placed this sport above everything else.
Last Saturday night my Giants-fan friend, Takao たかお, guided James, Erika, and I to our first Japanese baseball game. Entering the giant, igloo-shaped building, my eyes beheld a full, indoor stadium with three-fourths of the spectators cloaked in their devotee, Tang orange and black jerseys. Taking our seats, we donned our own Giants jerseys (courtesy of Takao who had four spare ones to lend us) and let our ears become attuned to the ambiguous Japanese chants of our fellow Giants-clad fans.
From our high seats, we could make out not one but four Giants rabbit うさぎ mascots, mocking the introduction of the night's opposition: the Yokohama BayStars ベイスターズ. Takao pointed out the Yokohama enthusiasts who sat on the other side of the stadium. Dressed in their best blue and white garb, they roared their own cheers with three people waving enormous, heavy-looking 重そう flags. I asked Takao if he knew the BayStars cheer and he explained that each team has their own. Due to this, although he's been to quite a few games against the BayStars, Takao admitted he only recognized the melody. I told him that in America everyone sings the same song, "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," and then we insert our own team's name. He responded with "Oh, is that so?"『ああ、そうか』.After the BayStars' introduction, it was the Giants' turn. Cheerleaders with gold pom-poms emerged, dancing and cartwheeling to lead the crowd in welcoming the home team. Our flag bearers appeared in the stands as well waving their equally heavy flags of highlighter orange.
As we took in the rest of the ambiance, I noticed the vendors scaling the steep stairs and sweating profusely as they reached our seats. Getting a workout in their "super cute" 『ちょうかわいい』outfits, these girls heaved their drink and snack carriers with customer-first smiles and high-pitched thank yous ありがとうございます. Yet another example to follow from the Japanese.
Turning my attention back to the field, I realized the game had already started! With no national anthem to signal the start, I had missed the first few minutes of the initial inning. Luckily, though, the excitement was just beginning. The first two innings flew by with impressive plays by both teams. At the end of the second inning, the scoreboard read: 2-2.
During the next four or five innings, the scoreboard remained unchanged. However, far from being bored we were captivated by the game with so-close hits and a shifting reaction from the spectators--from pleased to dismayed to concerned to relieved (two players, one from each team, received a blow to the head from the ball, dropped to the ground, and took awhile to get back on their feet).Despite my attempts to sing in harmony "Let's Go Giants" (to a different beat than in America) and clap in unison with the other fans, I was not able to assimilate as well as I had hoped. It was a spectacular night, though, with the BayStars (the underdogs) barely beating the Giants (the reigning champions) in the end with a final score of 4-3.
Tanabata Take Two
I had my eyes on the calendar for some time as the festival of Tanabata, July 7, approached. When I first came to Japan as a sophomore, my Japanese classmates and I were able to experience the festival in borrowed summer yukatas. It was raining that day and thankfully a kind Japanese woman stopped in her tracks to help me fix my yukata and avoid having it drag in the plethora of puddles.
After telling my friend, Erika, my desire to seek out a Tanabata festival site in Tokyo, she immediately began researching places nearby. Stumbling upon Shitamachi 下町, Erika assured me this would be a great place to go, especially to participate in the celebration at night.When we arrived at Shitamachi, we followed an elderly man dressed in the traditional yukata and sandals. He served as our tour guide and led us to our destination successfully. With Tokyo Skytree スカイツリー in the background, an array of brightly colored booths greeted our gaze while delicious smells occupied our noses.
Once Erika and I got our baked potato fix, we joined James in entering a nearby shrine illuminated with traditional lanterns painted with one of the seasonal flowers: the petunia. With a line of people waiting to enter the shrine, we assumed this must be a place where we could write our Tanabata wishes, 願い. To our surprise, this elaborate shrine wasn't part of the festival. After chatting with some local shop clerks, we were directed to the Tanabata Festival held only a few blocks away at Kappabashi Street.
Taking the long way there, we finally arrived at the nearly deserted street. No matter. The Tanabata decorations 飾りstill wavered in the wind, hanging on the power lines above. Catching the street lamps' light, the tasseled head of the streamers appeared to dance in the growing-darker dusk. Stopping to admire the various paper shapes overhead, we could make out Skytree in the distance with its electric blue and purple lights blinking at the night sky.
On our way back to Shitamachi, the three of us paused to write down our 願い on scraps of paper and tie them to a nearby bamboo tree.
As I knotted mine next to a few stragglers at the top of one branch, I felt myself connecting to the writers of these wishes.
Though far from my physical home, I feel a sense of home in a spiritual way here. Like my Japanese counterparts, I wish. I hope. I reach. We all have dreams, and the act of tying our wishes onto the same tree links us together. Unifies us. In harmony. I wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.
