Phalluses
Today I went to the fertility festival in Inuyama, Japan. It is more commonly known as the penis festival.
It was good times, and filled to the brim with phallic imagery. Penis lollipops, hot dogs with the ends modified to look like the head of a penis, and, that old classic, chocolate covered bananas. And I'll be damned if those bananas, phallic though they were, didn't still look delicious.
Even knowing what you're getting yourself into, it's hard to prepare yourself for just how fond of wangs this temple is. There were so many rocks (naturally formed and otherwise) and sculptures dedicated to the body part. Also, it was very weird seeing parents pick up their young children so that they could touch these phallic rocks. Not that I'm juding or anything. I'm very open-minded. But seriously, Japan. (The female shrine, on the the other hand, is curiously devoid of female body parts. Some might argue sexism?) The whole thing culminates in a parade where they march this year's giant wooden dong through the streets as excited onlooks are able to touch the mighty phallus for sexual good fortune in the coming year. From where I was standing, it seemed as though old women were most eager to gain such luck. Moving on...
There were also demonstrations at the festival by kendo swordsmen (and swordswoman) and a taiko drum team. Both were awesome, but I think I honestly enjoyed the taiko drums more. They were fun to watch, as well as listen to. They really did a great job and I dug their crazy music. And after the taiko demonstration, the most amazing thing that's happened to me since I've come to Japan.
As I turned around, a young woman standing beside me tapped my shoulder. She was standing with her friend, and they eagerly pushed their cell phone towards me, pointing at the screen. On the screen was the message, "I stained your clothes with ketchup." I took off my sweatshirt to see what the damage was, only to find an extremely small discolored spot where they had apparently spilled ketchup (although it didn't look like ketchup, but I chalked that up to an unreliable cellphone translator). The spot was so small that I had trouble finding it, and they actually had to help me in locating it. I tried to tell them it was fine (in the best Japanese I could manage), but they just kept saying sorry and bowing.
Now, honestly, if most people accidentally spilled something on the person standing in front of them, especially a small something, I'm willing to bet that most people would just hope the other person didn't notice and perhaps sneak away when an opportunity presents itself. I'm not a little bit embarassed to admit that that would probably be my first instinct. If they did notice? Maybe I'd just play dumb, pretend I didn't know what they were talking about. Not only did these women decide to tell me what had happened, but, upon seeing that I was a foreigner, they had whipped out a cell phone translator and translated a message explaining (in English) what had happened. Seriously, who the hell does that? Whose first reaction is to think, "Oh no, I spilled a tiny amount of food on the guy in front of me. He'll probably be upset when he finds it hours later. I better quickly find a way to explain what I did to him in English and apologize at the soonest possible opportunity."
Seriously, Japan. I know you're polite, and I'm okay with that, but you some times go above and beyond. Some might argue too far.
Or maybe the wang festival just brings out the best in people.
It was good times, and filled to the brim with phallic imagery. Penis lollipops, hot dogs with the ends modified to look like the head of a penis, and, that old classic, chocolate covered bananas. And I'll be damned if those bananas, phallic though they were, didn't still look delicious.
Even knowing what you're getting yourself into, it's hard to prepare yourself for just how fond of wangs this temple is. There were so many rocks (naturally formed and otherwise) and sculptures dedicated to the body part. Also, it was very weird seeing parents pick up their young children so that they could touch these phallic rocks. Not that I'm juding or anything. I'm very open-minded. But seriously, Japan. (The female shrine, on the the other hand, is curiously devoid of female body parts. Some might argue sexism?) The whole thing culminates in a parade where they march this year's giant wooden dong through the streets as excited onlooks are able to touch the mighty phallus for sexual good fortune in the coming year. From where I was standing, it seemed as though old women were most eager to gain such luck. Moving on...
There were also demonstrations at the festival by kendo swordsmen (and swordswoman) and a taiko drum team. Both were awesome, but I think I honestly enjoyed the taiko drums more. They were fun to watch, as well as listen to. They really did a great job and I dug their crazy music. And after the taiko demonstration, the most amazing thing that's happened to me since I've come to Japan.
As I turned around, a young woman standing beside me tapped my shoulder. She was standing with her friend, and they eagerly pushed their cell phone towards me, pointing at the screen. On the screen was the message, "I stained your clothes with ketchup." I took off my sweatshirt to see what the damage was, only to find an extremely small discolored spot where they had apparently spilled ketchup (although it didn't look like ketchup, but I chalked that up to an unreliable cellphone translator). The spot was so small that I had trouble finding it, and they actually had to help me in locating it. I tried to tell them it was fine (in the best Japanese I could manage), but they just kept saying sorry and bowing.
Now, honestly, if most people accidentally spilled something on the person standing in front of them, especially a small something, I'm willing to bet that most people would just hope the other person didn't notice and perhaps sneak away when an opportunity presents itself. I'm not a little bit embarassed to admit that that would probably be my first instinct. If they did notice? Maybe I'd just play dumb, pretend I didn't know what they were talking about. Not only did these women decide to tell me what had happened, but, upon seeing that I was a foreigner, they had whipped out a cell phone translator and translated a message explaining (in English) what had happened. Seriously, who the hell does that? Whose first reaction is to think, "Oh no, I spilled a tiny amount of food on the guy in front of me. He'll probably be upset when he finds it hours later. I better quickly find a way to explain what I did to him in English and apologize at the soonest possible opportunity."
Seriously, Japan. I know you're polite, and I'm okay with that, but you some times go above and beyond. Some might argue too far.
Or maybe the wang festival just brings out the best in people.