Whether low-key or nationally lauded, Japanese festivals are always a lot of fun — events where one can enjoy a variety of sights and sounds as well as fill up on a dazzling array of food and drink.
However, arguably more interesting are the actual people participating; a fascinating array of faces that suggest something, and yet at the same time nothing, about their owners.
All the time begging the question: Are these really the same suited and staid salaried workers that come Monday morning will be crammed into a carriage like millions of other commuters? Or alternatively, do they include the likes of Mr and Mrs Sato who run the little restaurant down the road, or maybe Baba-san the local builder?
But whatever work they do, or regardless of what kind of lives they lead, come festival time the whole lot is left behind.
And instead, amidst the din of the drums:
It’s time for geniality.
Joy.
Jubilation.
And sometimes just jolliness.
Plus, for those who have seen it so many times before, it’s a chance, for most of them at least,
to enjoy a much more leisurely experience.
One that involves noticeably more looking,
than lifting.
But, in no time at all, it’s over, with nothing left to do but savour the last of the sounds,
then walk back to wherever it is they come from, and whatever it is they do.
