Fast Food Religion
...written on 2001-01-02, @ 11:38:39
Mon January 1, 2001
Nine of us squeezed into two cars. Yasuyo, Ivan, Chad, Kazuki and I in one, and Yasuyo's mom, dad and two sisters in the other. We were going to participate in a very important Japanese custom on New Year's Day, visiting Shinto shrines.
We pulled out of the driveway behind Yasuyo's father and before Yasuyo could even straighten the wheels of her car, the car before us emptied. All the passengers had scurried out of it and were putting the equivalent of ten dollars (US) in a little metal box decorated with strips of white paper and what looked like the bottom part of a wood broom, clapped their hands together twice and bowed their heads.
"What!", exclaimed Ivan, "are we supposed to get out here? We could have walked!"
But before we could get out of our car, the others had climbed back into theirs and were off. We followed, we Americans still laughing at the abruptness of the ritual we just witnessed.
Our next stop was at a shrine in a triangular crossroad. We were the only ones there at the moment. On the grounds we stopped at a fountain guarded by a stone dragon with water spewing from its mouth. Hazuki picked up the silver dipper, got some water from the fountain and rinsed her hands. We did likewise. Yasuyo's family had already taken the lead and after washing their hands were throwing coins at the door of the shrine. We met them on their way back. We each pitched the recommended 15 cents at the shrine door and got back in the car.
"Hey", I said after speeding a few minutes down the highway, "we missed one!", turning my head to watch the passing of another roadside shrine.
"You did", said Ivan solemnly, "I prayed." We laughed and talked while we passed the time in the car. We knew we were headed to another shrine, but we had no idea of the magnitude of people that we would encounter there.
"Quit pushing me, People!" growled Chad as the more than 5,000 strong babystepping crowd moved like an ameoba down the packed street towards the shrine.
"Just go with the flow", I thought as I felt arms, knees and elbows all around me, praying that noone, including myself would fall and then be crushed under the feet of the unrelenting hoarde. I felt sorry and afraid for the small children walking among the throng who could see nothing of the sky.
Everyone stopped. Evidently, they were only letting so many enter the shrine grounds at a time, so we stood maybe ten minutes in front of one of the many food and souvenir shops that lined the street. I watched the shopkeeper deftly dip the skewered meat in batter, then in bread crumbs and then set it afloat in a vat of boiling black grease.
"Yummm", said Ivan contradicting my reservations regarding the freshness of the oil, "that's FLAVOR, girlfriend!". The crowd started the babystep march again. Chad said that this kind of pushing would never happen in the States, but then I reminded him of several rock concerts and sports affairs.
After several stops and starts, we finally got onto the Shrine grounds. Chad and I, by the force of the crowd got separated from the rest of our party. We clutched tightly the offerings of a candle and a triangular wedge of what looked like fried tofu that Yasuyo's father had given us as we made our way to the candle shrine place. You had to push, you had to manuever or you would never get anywhere. I realized that this was part of the fun of visiting the shrine. To strategize the weakest point to push your way through and make your way to the head of the crowd.
We stuck our arms through the cramped windows of the candle gazebo, feeling all the while our backs shaking with the pressure from the worshippers behind us, and lit our small thin white candles on one of the hundreds of lit candles inside. Then we knocked off an unlit candle and placed our lit candle on the candle spike. Next stop was the throwing the money & the fried tofu place.
The crowd was maybe 30 people deep all around and I could see arms hoisted throwing fried tofu and coinage of all kinds, then I heard the two claps, saw the bowing heads and those that finished would head on to the next praying place.
"Do you pray at these things?", Chad asked Ivan who had spotted and caught up with us because both he and Chad towered easily over the crowd. Ivan bristled a little at the question, perhaps quickly thinking that it was an invasion of sorts, but it was just Chad trying to reconcile US traditions with Japanese ones. I felt that they were being a little loud and obnoxious with their comments. We may have been outside, but it was still sacred ground, and I can't imagine either of them feeling ok with foreigners or ANYONE for that matter laughing and joking during a Catholic mass or whatever.
We finally got our party of nine together and drove off. I was with Yasuyo's family this time and settled back to try and enjoy the ride. I had no idea where we were going, but the twists and turns of the car in the road combined with the smell of the okonomiyaki that had been purchased for me that was sitting in my lap, made me car sick, so instead of talking gaily I was subdued and concentrated on not losing the lunch I had eaten at Yasuyo's house.
We got closer and closer to the mountains. Oh no, I prayed, this would certainly finish me off. Ogaki is surrounded by mountains which are really quite beautiful and I could see two of them were covered by snow, but the thought of going up them in a car without my anti-motion-sickness-behind-the-ear patches and in my current condition, well . . .
Somehow Yasuyo's father bypassed the traffic headed for our next shrine stop, found a back way and a rather empty parking lot. We had been driving for what seemed like and eternity and so everyone lined up at the public bathrooms (always remember to take tissue paper with you!).
This shrine wasn't as crowded and had a pleasant bonfire going on in the courtyard, but as soon as the prescribed rituals were completed, hand rinsing, throwing money, clapping and praying, we didn't linger. Later in the car I asked Yasuyo (Chad took my place in the family car) how long they had been going to these shrines and how they came to pick which ones to go to. She said her family had been going to the last big shrine since she was little, but that they started coming to this shrine about 3 years ago on the recommendation of some friends. A tune of "It's a small world after all" interrupted her explanation. I looked for the offending cell phone (most cell phones in Japan are programmed to ring with sappy songs), but Yasuyo said it was her radar detector.
We then drove all the way to Gifu to find a restaurant. We stopped at a Yakiniku place, the ones with the grills in the tables. I had been here before with Fred and his mother. They ordered cow tongue, chicken and beef, vegetables and plain rice (which my upset stomach was so glad to see). We ate until we thought we'd pop. Off into the night we rode again and I began to doze until I felt the car turn and I opened my eyes to see a Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop.
"Oh my god!" I said as Ivan laughed.
We got ice cream and bid sayonara to Yasuyo's family. They were heading back home. It was a wonderful day and we thanked them profusely.
Yasuyo took Chad and Ivan home and then she and Hazuki came up to my apt to write a note to put on my bicycle. In the previous entry I mentioned finding a note from the landlord on my bicycle. That finished the girls left and I stripped, threw down the futon, electric blanket, etc. turned on heater, closed the bedroom doors and went to brush my teeth in the bathroom. It had been a long day and I was ready to crash. Just as I pulled the warm covers over my ears I heard a knock at the door. It was Yasuyo bearing gifts of food and wine. I thanked her again for gifts and the wonderful day and she left.
Back into the futon I crawled. It was 9:30pm. About two hours later I heard the phone ring. I knew it would. After I brushed my teeth, I had turned the ringer down and covered the phone with a towel. I knew that if I talked to him I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep.
I groggily listened to his voice filter through the towel as it became part of my dream.