Oni Matsuri; Or, I am a Cookie Now

Have you ever wanted to know what it's like to be a cookie? Yes, obviously. Through this blog, if you've been watching closely, I've already showed you that Japan has taught me what it's like to be a poo:

Never give up.

But when I went to a nearby festival last Wednesday, I did not expect to end up looking like human cookie dough ready to be rolled out on a kitchen surface. But what would life be if you always got what you expected?

This festival was in Toyohashi, where the local mascot is apparently a grumpy sewer worker:

Or he's holding...exploding corn?

As far as I understand, the festival follows the story of an oni (demon), who invades the local shrine, gets up to some mischief, is defeated by Tengu (god of martial arts) and shows his contrition by throwing sweets and flour. If you get hit by the flour, you will have a healthy and happy year, so everyone does their best to ensure you get covered in flour. I'd sort of forgotten that part.

The festival began pretty normally. There was some waiting around, nibbling at street food, getting elbowed by old women and watching various rituals you have no idea of the meaning of. So far, so futsuu. There was a moment where a string of men brought down some boxes on a rope, which I thought might have oni hidden inside, but they were never opened so I guess not. Or at least, that's what they want you to think.

Classic distraction technique.

Suddenly, there was a wave of cries washing towards me, and the oni rushed forward. There was some confusion in the midst and my memories aren't quite clear, but at some point soon afterwards the oni, priests and various others were up on the pedestal above the crowd, throwing bags of sweets out. I didn't quite have the dexterity to catch one, but one did knock me on the head before being swept away by a greedy child. I'm hoping that means my head will stay healthy this year. 

After the oni did some mockful dancing and threw a couple of handfuls of pre-main-event flour, he pissed off for a bit and there was basically a lunch break. We wandered off for more street food and sat in a nearby car park watching children chase each other, fall straight onto gravel, and then get back up immediately as if the impact had only fuelled them further.

One small gripe I have with Japanese festivals is that there's often quite a bit of waiting around in between the fun bits. Call me a tourist (and I am) but my feet would feel much happier at the end of the day if they could just be condensed a little. We returned to the shrine and waited for an hour before the oni returned to continue his reign of terror. This time, he was met by long-nosed Tengu, who engaged him in a heavily-stylised fight (i.e. they don't actually touch at all) and was defeated. You think he'd have learned, having done this every year since 940 A.D.

To apologise for his sins, the oni throws more sweets and more flour. A lot more flour.

Most people got at least lightly coated at this point. The festival seemed to finish here and we all felt thoroughly satisfied and ready to walk back to the station. We did not know that the festival had not ended.

After leaving the shrine, the oni runs around the city centre, visiting all the local businesses that donated money to the shrine and gives them his blessing. He is not wordy by nature, so his blessing consists of running around waving a stick and shouting "aaaargh!". Moreover, everyone needs a little help sometimes, so he has a crew of assistants who crowd round him and help him throw flour and shout "aaaargh!".

Also, you know how before there was flour, and then a lot more flour? Well, then there was a lot lot more flour. All pretense of general dusting flies out the window; at this point the assistants will literally grab you and gleefully rub flour into your hair like an infuriating older brother. Immediately afterwards they will turn super-polite though, and actually hand you your own bag of flour, as if inviting you to get your own back. (I didn't though. I'm far too hampered by niceness. The little bags all ended up nesting in the bottom of my handbag, where no doubt they will be forgotten and get me arrested a few months down the line.)

Happily or unhappily, I actually came out relatively unfloured (though still the most floured I've ever been in my life. Ready to roll, cut and be baked at 180 degrees for 15-20 minutes). Some of my friends ended up looking like they'd walked out of some horrible accident at a Mr. Kipling factory. Pretty much everyone ended up with pure white hair (except maybe me, the owner of hair so thin and fine in texture even powder particles can't get stuck in it). As a mostly foreign group who were even whiter-looking than usual, we attracted a lot of attention on the way back from the station and a TV crew even interviewed us. Fortunately we were able to scrape off the excess before we got on the train and the station staff didn't seem to mind that we were flaking everywhere.

I can't recommend this festival highly enough. Combines culture with ridiculous, childlike fun. A+. Aaaaaarghhhhhh.

Lights, Camera, Action! - Light-Up at Nabana-no-Sato

Lights! They're good, aren't they?

Don't agree? Don't read this post. There's bloody loads of lights in it.

Two weeks ago I was in the midst of a streak of failed weekends. I try to do something worthy of note every week on my days off, but the days come and I lie in bed and potter about and suddenly it's mid-afternoon and too late to make a proper trip anywhere before it gets dark. Winter puts up obstacles; there's not much daylight and the outdoors is mostly a little unpleasant. Indoor things to do are a bit limited. There's coffee houses and a handful of local museums, and a couple of cinemas that show films that came out three months ago in the West that you didn't want to see anyway. All in all, I hadn't really done much since my trip to Nagano at the beginning of the year, so on Friday I steeled my resolve, set my alarm and prepared to go to Nabana-no-Sato, a tourist attraction famous for its winter illuminations (or light-up, in Japanese. Not even the Japanese translation of light-up. Just: light-up.)

Getting there seems a bit of a hassle at first, but isn't too bad in practice. Quick train to Nagoya, change to a local train heading into Mie Prefecture, get off at Kuwana, get a bus directly to Nabana-no-Sato. That's if you do it correctly. If you're an idiot, like me, you get the bus from Kuwana to a completely different nearby tourist attraction because you thought they were the same thing. We wandered around Nagashima Spaland - a theme park/waterpark/shopping mall complex - for about half an hour before slowly realising that maybe we weren't in the right place. After stopping in one of Nagashima's cafés for a commiseratory bagel (Nick) and cup of tea (me), we got the bus again, this time to the correct location. Fortunately it wasn't far away, and we got there in plenty of time for the illuminations. Nabana-no-Sato is a kind of artificial village/botanical garden/resort-type...thing, which is probably not at its best in the harsh icy daylight of February. We whiled away the time until sunset wandering around the flower gardens for a bit, but there weren't really any flowers in bloom so we then we switched our tactics and wandered to the bar instead. The local German-style craft beer was decent, though served with the requisite Japanese-style nine centimetres of foam.

The green line is to show where the beer starts.

After dark is when the magic happens. What was previously a totally out-of-place model of Mt. Fuji rises up from the ground and becomes a totally out-of-place UFO-like viewing platform.

To reach the heart of the illuminations, you walk through the gardens and through tunnels threaded with squillions of coloured lights:

The centrepiece is a giant projector wall cleverly camouflaged against the sky. Against this screen, waves of light appear to crest and tumble like a waterfall crashing in from another dimension. It's only a light show, but it's a bloody good one. Very good to enjoy with a chocolate-and-ice-cream waffle (which sadly I had to pay for myself, as it wasn't covered by the 1000¥ of food vouchers you receive when you buy your entrance ticket. Guess those vouchers don't cover anything that's too delicious.)

I'd definitely say these illuminations are worth the trip if you're in the area, especially since Nagashima Spaland is nearby so you could easily do both in one day - rollercoasters, onsen or shopping in the day, and then getting the bus to Nabana after sunset. Or do both accidentally because you're stupid like I am. That is also an option.

Valentine's Neigh

Yesterday, outside the train station, there was a gentleman holding an empty bucket with "choccy please" written on it. I gave a 20-yen konbini chocolate to him - it was only his second - and then we took a selfie. By the time I left work his bucket was overflowing. Happy Valentine's Day, uma-san.

Snack Reviews: Salted caramel crisps

I'm pretty limited in my choice of crisps here, generally. There's no salt and vinegar, which as we all know is the superior flavour of crisp. Instead, the most popular varieties appear to be consommé (Japan is really into consommé) and butter. Not really to my taste. I've noticed that crisps are sometimes a little bit sweet here, and the melange of flavours can be a little confusing for my palette. Overall I just prefer to steer clear, which I'm sure has come as a great relief to my poor squeezed-up arteries. I've found a couple of exceptions though. The delightfully named 'Deepo' brand does a very good duplicate of McCoy's sadly discontinued ham-and-mustard from back home - a little more hollow and woody in texture, but almost identical in taste and pleasingly ridged. Last year there was also a limited-edition KFC flavour, which was brilliant (and when it returns in March I shall have enough empty packets around me to build a little fortress). Both of these came from Calbee, who appear to be the reigning monarchs of Japanese crisps.

As I said, I rarely treat myself to a packet these days. But then I saw something that shocked me, nay, invited me to as-yet untasted alleyways of delight. Calbee's new salted caramel crisps. Clearly I was meant to buy these. Salted caramel has been ubiquitous the last couple of years - the sleek, edgy, trendy niece to treacle pudding's dumpy aunt - but that's because it's completely delicious. And to my mind, it seemed a more practical idea than sweet crisps in general. Crisps are salty, salted caramel is salty. How could this fail?

As an amuse-bouche I got another newish Calbee flavour, Japanese seven-spice chili. I got it because it seemed more reliable and less of a novelty, and also the packaging reminded me of Walkers Sensations Thai Sweet Chili, which would easily be in my top three of crisps if it weren't for the obscene pricing. Off I went to finish the rest of my boring shopping, and then home for the moment of truth.

First, the seven-spice. It was very good. Despite the vaguely intimidating name - seven's quite a big number, ergo it must be quite a big amount of hotness, surely? - seven-spice chili is a common ingredient in Japanese cooking and is pretty mild in terms of heat, with a pleasingly light, citrus-y flavour. When I opened the bag the scent was zingy and a little sweet. Oh, and when I actually tasted them, I realised that they taste exactly like Froot Loops. Exactly. Well, a bit more chili-ish, I suppose. Not quite what I was expecting, but it walked the line between sweet and savoury well, which gave me little more faith in the salted caramel idea. To the second packet!

*********

In my head, the idea worked really well. The salt, the nutty caramel, the subtle sweetness, it was all working in my nasal imagination. But when I finally opened the bag and sniffed, I reeled. It was very...buttery. But not in a good way.

I'm not quite sure how I feel about the whole situation, to be honest. I wonder if it's like when you take a drink of something but you expect it to be something completely different, and the shock of it makes the taste disgusting even though it's still something you'd usually like. Maybe my mind just can't handle it. But these were really not nice. Kind of a mildly rancid butter flavour, which someone had tried to cover up with sugar. I wanted them out of my sight immediately, but I made myself continue, because I have the spirit of adventure within me. After a couple of bites I calmed down a bit from my initial disgust and settled into level-headed exploratory nibbling, but I still didn't feel very happy about them and ended up throwing away 90% of the packet. I just don't know what to think. I wanted to like them. I really, really did.

Still. I took a look at Calbee's website and KFC comes back in three weeks. That'll salve my fetid wounds. 

Ten Minor Things About Japan You Might Like To Know

It's the little things. Yes, karate and kabuki and kawaii and all that. But what I like most about living in a new country is the small, mundane differences; the paintstrokes that make the landscape. A day out to experience a famous temple or sumo wrestling or a seven-storey geek palace is really just a special day out; I'm pretty sure the average Japanese person doesn't do those things every day either. So here are some small details you might not know about Japan that might fill in the picture a bit, and help you better imagine what it's like for me every day when I get up and go to work and come back and sit down and browse cat calendars on Amazon.

1) There are no big dogs. This might be specific to city centres, I don't know. But in the year I've been here I've seen maybe four big dogs. And when I say 'big', I don't mean Hound of the Baskervilles, I mean Labrador-and-upwards. I think it's because living spaces tend to be small, so almost everyone who has a dog goes for the miniature sizes. Fashion might also play a part, though I've yet to see anyone carry their shih-tzu in a handbag. There's a vaguely interesting element to this involving masculinity; Japan is pretty conservative with gender roles but loads of men have toy poodles and chihuahuas and there seems to be no suggestion that they are 'girly' dogs. In a way, there's a strength and dignity to watching a middle-aged man pick up his Pekingese one-handed and carry it home after it was all tuckered out from four minutes of walking.

2) North is not a constant. If you're looking at a map, at the station or on the street, the map doesn't automatically denote 'north' and 'up' as the same thing. This messed with my sense of the geography of Nagoya for a good eight-to-ten months.

3) Everything is individually wrapped. Bought a bag of sweets? Every sweet in the bag is in its own wrapper. Bought something that comes in a bag? That bag then has to go into its own bag. I sew myself wedding dresses out of plastic now just to make myself feel environmentally friendly. However, Japan does its best to make up for this massive overuse of materials -

4) The bins are insane. In the U.K., depending on your borough, you might have a regular bin and a recycling bin. Here, you must separate everything into the following categories: combustible waste, non-combustible waste, plastics, paper, card, cans, PET bottles, and the ominously named "big garbage". And they're all taken away from different places at different times. I struggle to keep up but I try my best because I'm reliably informed that Nagoya City Hall employs bored old women to shout at you if you don't do it right.

5) The fruit is massive.

Look at this apple. It's clearly trying to eat its special apple-cradle. You pay a lot for fruit here, and Japan's protectionist import policy means it's difficult to get anything which is domestically out of season (there was a potato shortage here a couple of months ago and, for a few weeks, McDonald's only sold chips in the smallest size). But the farmers clearly try and make up for it. Look at that thing.

6) Fillings are never what you think they'll be. Another food-related one. If you buy any bread product, an innocent-looking plain roll, a little brioche thing, whatever, it is guaranteed is will have an unexpected filling in the middle and it is guaranteed it will be something you don't want. A weird cheese-butter thing, a gristly meat thing, a bastardised mayonnaise. Whatever it is, you won't like it.

7) Squatting. People in Japan grow up training their thighs like gymnasts. Squat toilets are still pretty common; sitting in seiza (a kneeling position which puts a lot of pressure on the leg muscles) is no longer commonplace but still sometimes practiced on more formal occasions. And sitting on the ground is considered unhygienic so if a chair is unavailable, and you want to take a break from standing, you squat. Out and about you'll see plenty of people squatting to take their smoke breaks outside the office, checking their phones outside convenience stores, sheltering under awnings in the rain, and other general loiterings. To the uninitiated like me, it burns after the first twenty seconds, but I'm told you could do it comfortably for hours if you were properly accustomed to it. 

8) No-one will let you put your bag on the floor. I think this is related to the previous point. The ground is considered dirty, even if it's a floor in a nice shop, restaurant or bar. If you take a handbag into a restaurant and try to put it down under your table, someone will rush forward with a box or a chair so you can put your bag there instead. If, like I did for the first few months, you act all baffled and say your bag is fine as it is, people get very unsettled and keep insisting you have the special bag box. Eventually I figured out it was easier for all involved if I just went along with it rather than waste time protesting, since it doesn't do any harm and seems to give the people around me peace of mind. Won't be too long until I become used to it and then feel constantly disgusted by the thought of bag-floor diseases.

9) Old men with useless jobs. Japan has a very different employment culture from the West. Graduates tend to apply for jobs straight out of university and then stay in that job until they retire - or rather, 'retire'. For some reason I haven't really investigated yet, the retirement age is 60 but a state pension is only available at 65, and a lot of people come back to their old jobs after they've officially 'retired' for the first time. Perhaps it's for the money, perhaps to feel productive and valued, I don't know. Japan's big companies also tend to have very high levels of job security, so these older people are welcomed back and even when they aren't needed by the company any more, they're just stashed in some obscure department and left to do whatever. I notice that in office car parks, for example, there's often an old guy just waving cars in and out all day. No-one really needs to be doing that job; there's usually no big traffic or security checks to be done or anything. Just waving the cars to come in, and come out, maybe usher the occasional pedestrian across when they could already work out perfectly well when to cross. I'd love to know more about the economics of this situation but, you know, browsing for cat calendars.

10) Businesses in creepy buildings and nowhere. Land space is at a premium here. Buildings are built tall and all over the place. There are also a lot more small businesses over here, another thing which intrigues me with its unfamiliar economics. I have no idea how these places survive; everywhere you see dry cleaners, restaurants, bars and travel agencies which would die in their first year back home. You see small businesses on random streets where no-one would ever have any reason to go. There's a café three streets parallel from me which appears to be run out of a residential garage. And Japanese cities are difficult to navigate due to most streets not having names, so before smartphones I have no idea how you'd ever find a nice restaurant even if you heard of one via word of mouth. ("Oh yeah, you just come out of the station, go right and then left, and then left and round a bit and it's in the grey tower next to the other grey tower.") There's a pretty nice Mexican restaurant I go to occasionally, and a lovely shop selling secondhand English books near my house. Both are located in random buildings that feel like crack dens from a bad TV drama. They're perfectly safe, as are most places in Japan, but they just look like old disused office blocks or apartment buildings. Walk in and there's no sign of life or commerce, just some dusty stairs and a creepy echo. There might be a cheapo sign on the front of flat number 308 with the name of the business, you're 40% convinced you're about to walk into an elaborate kidnapping plot, and then when you get in there it's all warm and friendly and the enchiladas are delicious. These buildings are like the world between worlds in the first Narnia book, except the pools of water come from a leaky roof instead of Aslan's magic.