New Friends

Thevy, Pisey and I ready to do some serious fishing in our little hut at Soun Sobin, Garden Dream. On a side note, my brother was right when he said all the clothes I buy in Japan look like maternity clothes.

After the kids went back to work, I watched the sun sink and colors of the river change before deciding it was time for another shower! Hanging out, playing with kids in the cruel Cambodian sun can make you feel pretty, scrubby pretty quick. This time I took a long, cool shower and stepped out on to the balcony to get a glimpse of the riverside coming to life as the light of day slowly faded away.

Below me was a group of men showing off their fancy footwork in a game of "sai", the southeast Asian equivalent of hackysack played with feather weighted shuttlecock. I watched them for awhile from above, before deciding to go down for a closer look.

The new crew: Setha, Pisey, Chhay and Thevy.

Almost as soon as I crossed the street and sat down on the pavement, one of the players greeted me with that famous Khmer smile. When the round of sai ended, he came and sat beside me, asking me where I was from and what I was doing in Cambodia. Soon his friends joined him, and we sat chatting for quite awhile. As it somehow always does, the conversation turned to food. I felt obliged to confess that Cambodian cuisine is one of my favorites. They asked me what I liked, and were quite suprised when I began expounding the virtues of Chaa Kreung Ma Rass Prowt. I guess its not the typical tourist response, because they were impressed. They invited me to breakfast the next morning with the promise of some delicious Chaa Kreung and a chance to meet their girlfriends. How could I refuse?

I was up with the sunrise, ready to wander the streets before we planned to meet at 9:00 AM. As promised, Setha was waiting on his motobike with his girlfriend behind him, and Chhaya at his side. I hopped on behind him and off we went, wither to I did not know. "Did you eat?" He smiled back over his shoulder. "Ofcourse not!" I shouted back. " Chaa Kreung! MA RASS PROWT!" We all giggled. As we got further outside of the city, more and more of the moto drivers and passengers turned to watch us pass, smiled, waved, and shouted "Hello" with a beautiful smile. We must have been quite the sight: 3 to a bike is no big deal, unless 2 are Khmer and 1 is foreigner who can't stop smiling.

After about a half hour we arrived at Pisey's house, where I met her family and Thevy, Chhaya`s girlfriend. "Well, what do you want to do today?" Setha asked me. "Have fun!" I said. "Ok!" he laughed. " Let's go fishing!"

Fishing was not the first thing that came to mind when I thought of fun, but I figured he knew what he was talking about. We hopped back on the motos and headed out to the countryside. In another 30 minutes we had arrived at a quite, hidden paradise without a tourist in sight. Soun Sobin, Garden Dream.

Soun Sobin is a lush, secluded garden paradise, filled with cool breezes, cozy lakes, verdant flora, tropically colored flowers and comfy, quaint little bamboo huts, thatched with palm leaves, and softly standing on slender sticks over the surface of the water. Many Cambodians come here to picnic, fish, and and take advantage of the romantic setting, the perfect backdrop for the many couples snuggling in the shade of their private huts. With much deliberation Setha selected our own, and then set to work ordering a ridiculous amount of food and pouring a round of iced Tigers for he, Chhaya and I. " Oh, I don't like beer!" I protested as he raised my glass with a smile. "Oh! Sure! Come on! Cheers!" He laughed. " What about them?" I said, looking to Pisey and Thevy for support. "Oh they`re girls. They don`t like to drink!" Right. Well, seeing that I could no longer use the "girl" card I had so often and foolishy relied on, I was at a loss. "What the heck!" I thought, "I`m in Cambodia!" I couldnt refuse. "Cheers!"

The girls, Thevy and Pisey ... and me?

We laughed and drank and ate a great deal. I definately do NOT like beer, but with Cambodian deliciousness to wash it all down with, I somehow survived. I have no idea what i was eating, but it was all good. I must have asked a million times, and though they always kindly and patiently answered, repeatedly, I forgot. It didnt help that my glass never got past the halfway mark. When I tried to pour for the guys, as is the duty of women in Japan, they refused. "You are our guest! We pour for you! And for ourselves."

Thevy and I get cozy on a hammock.

After eating, drinking and enjoying the beautiful day away, we decided to head back to town. Setha and Thevy`s continuous attempts at reeling in a big one had all been in vain, despite the fact that all around our little water hole fishermen were faring far better. Reluctantly we headed back to the bikes, and hit the road.

After about 10 minutes, we stopped at a little roadside hammock house, an open, rickety-looking structure built on long, shakey stilts over a water-filled feild. "Oh! This place has delicious Chaa Kreung!" He smiled. Thanks to the overwhelming amount of food we had just consumed, I thought maybe he was telling me for later refrence, but he pulled his bike right into the entrance and Pisey hopped off. "Lets eat!" She laughed.

The tiny restaurant/karaoke bar was empty, except for us and a small group of college students singing Cambodian love songs in between beers. They all stared as I walked past, and even after we sat down a few hammocks behind them. It wasn`t long before we were all singing and drinking together.

Now I'm no Backstreet Boys fan, but after 6 Tigers, if someone puts a mic in my hand I will gladly sing along! As Long As You Love Me...

Ok. Everyone knows I don't like beer, but there is no saying "no" to Cambodian hospitality! So 12 Tigers later, I think I'm an Apsara, and Thevy is finally smiling!

Thevy and her boyfriend are planning on getting married sometime next year. I'm invited. Oh. And their first child's name is going to be Melissa (^_<) Hopefully it won't be a boy!

Day 1: Children of Phnom Pehn

Arriving in Phnom Phen felt strangely familiar, as if I was coming home. I very casually walked out of the airport and hopped on a moto with very little idea of where I was going to stay, but I knew where I wanted to go: The riverside, Sisowath Quay. I was sure once I got to the riverside everything would work itself out.

Swerving with squinted eyes through the dusty, crowded streets, the muffled melody of moto engines, kept in time with the occasional toot of a horn, seemed almost soothing to me. The sidewalks were swarming with shoeless children and sellers of all kinds of goodness. Women peaked out from behind fluffy, golden piles of freshly baked French baguettes, or walked with perfect posture past sweaty men slurping down breakfast noodles at their favorite sidewalk cafes, balancing colorful combinations of exotic fruits on their heads. The unmistakeable saffron robes of the many monks collecting alms along the street never failed to catch my eye and make me smile. Finally! I was back in Cambodia!

When we arrived on the bustling banks of the Tonle, I thanked my moto dup and hopped off. He seemed a little worried about leaving me on the side of the road, and offered to take me to the backpacker area to find a cheap guesthouse. I`m sure he meant well, but if there was one place I wanted to stay away from, it was the backpacker ghetto! I mean, I did not come to Cambodia to meet other travelers.

Playing with the children of the NCCLA Orphanage in Phnom Pehn during my trip last year.

The riverside hadn't changed at all, and I felt very much at home as I walked towards Vieyo Tonle, a non-profit restaurant that uses the proceeds from its buisness to support the New Cambodian Children's Life Association, an orphanage providing a clean, safe place to live, food, clothes, medicine, and a proper education to 24 children. During my last trip to Cambodia I ate here quite often, and even had the opportunity to visit the orphanage, teach a bit of English, play with the beautiful children and watch them perform traditional dances. It was one of the best memories of my trip, and I couldn't wait to see all the kids and the kind staff again.

Children of the NCCLA orphanage.

I didn't expect them to remember me quite as clearly as I remembered them, but I was happy and relieved to be greeted by the same smiling faces I came to know last year. As I sat down and searched the menu for Fish Amok, Cambodia's national dish, a tall, slender, 17 year old street kid came to my side with a stack of "Cambodia Daily" and shyly peered at me from beneath his long eyelashes. I apologized and told him I didn't need the paper, but could use some company if he was hungry. He told me he hadn't had a chance to eat yet, so I motioned to the seat across from me and said "Sit down! Let's eat!" He looked around, suprised and maybe a bit scared, but finally sat down. He spoke English suprisingly well, and when I told him to order whatever he wanted, he asked me to order for him. "But I don't know what you like!" I laughed, handing him the menu. He flipped through the pages with a blank stare, and I realized that like almost 60% of all Cambodians, he probably couldn't read. "Ok! I know!" I smiled. " Just tell him what you want," I told him as I called over Ear, one of the staff. "Anything is Ok!"

As he ate a simple dish of fried rice, he slowly began to tell me about his life in Phnom Pehn. He and his older brother had come from the countryside to make money for the family, but since he had gotten older, and taller, it is was getting harder for him to sell to tourists. "They only want to talk to small children," he said shyly. " I'm too old." He was, however, very excited about the chance of becoming a moto driver, an occupation many street kids aspire to for the opportunity to make a bit more money, but getting a bike is difficult and expensive. When he had cleared his plate and waited for me to do the same, he thanked me, and apologized before wishing me good luck, health, and happiness and going back to work, wandering up and down the riverfront, ignored by most of the people he passed.

I sat there for awhile, alone, wishing I could help all the children in Cambodia, and knowing I could not. That's when Ear came back to my table and thanked me for feeding the boy. "I wish I could feed them all!" I said, trying to smile. "So do we!" he siad, "but even we can not help all the children. We can only do a little, but every little bit helps." He looked at me for a few moments, and finally said "You look very familiar... I think I remember you!" Suprisingly enough, he did! He even remembered that I was living in Japan, and was very excited to tell me that the children of the orphanage had been sponsored by a Japanese NGO to travel to Japan and perform their traditional dances in a cultural exchange. They had left only a few days before I arrived, and would return just before I had to. The restaurant was strangely quiet without the kids running around laughing, and being the low season, the tourists were few. Most of the restaurant's buisness is brought in by Intrepid tour groups, who also come to see the children perform, but with the children gone, the seats sat empty. He asked where I was staying, and when I said I still wasn't sure yet, they laughed and offered to help me find something good.

The silhouettes of life on the Riverside. Dusk from my room at the Paragon.

One of the friends of the restaurant owned the Paragon Hotel, way out of my league at a staggering $15 dollars a night (I was looking at something more along the lines of $3) but offered to give me a river　view room only a few minutes walk away from the restaurant for 7$ a night. With aircon, hot water, and a view of the river, I couldn`t refuse. I thanked them all, sure that i would see them again soon, before sliging my backpack over my shoulder and heading for the Paragon.

After a quick. warm shower and a change of clothes, I walked across the street to the riverside. I sat down next to a young boy staring out over the water, watching the fishermen bring in their catch. He looked at me and smiled, and we became friends right away. At just 12 years old, after only 2 years of studying English, his fluency was amazing! He understood everything I said, and answered without hesitation. Beside him sat his pink plastic bin, filled with lonely planet guidebooks and stories of Cambodia's tragic history. After school every morning he comes to the riverside , hoping to sell a few books to help support his family and pay for school.

Soon a crew of kids had gathered around, so I spent the rest of the afternoon talking and playing with them. During the entire time, none of them asked me for money, or to buy anything. But eventually they did have to work get back to work. The money they bring to their families is essential for their survival, and any hope for a better life. I looked for them later that night and invited them all to dinner at Vieyo Tonle.

All my new friends enjoying coconut shakes and waiting for their meal.

After a hard days work, Sna enjoys his coconut milk shake too. He refused to get any food because he was worried I was spending too much money.

The kids were busy working all day, so we didn't get to dinner until 10:00! I was so sleepy. I can't imagine how these kids feel everyday, up with the sun and out on the streets at all hours of the night...

Hamburgers and french fries transcend all cultural boundries ...

Cambodians have the most beautiful smiles...


Camera-jacked by Lin, a brilliant 12 year old who's father recently died in the countryside, leaving her and her mother alone in Phnom Pehn, where they sleep on the street. Without her father's income, she can no longer go to school.

A Night in Kuala Lumpur

This amazing image was shot by SicEmRex. Sadly, my camera was not cooperating (i0i)

My pre-Phnom Phen night in Kuala Lumpur, led by Sir Andy of the British Isles, consisted of trekking around town in the general direction of the Petronas Twin Towers, one of the tallest and, in my opinion, most beautiful modern structures in the world. Kuala Lumpur is a fascinating mix of colors and cultures, ultra-modern architecture and old school, southeast Asian goodenss. The streets were buzzing with women draped in brilliantly colored sari, their long, luxurious braids swaying from shoulder to shoulder with every step. Burquahs gaurding their well-kept secrets floated silently by, dark as the night. From a distance, the soft glow of the magnificently designed towers reminded me of the Emerald City, and I skipped along with excitement like Dorothy along the yellow brick road. The mix of iridescent light, shining metal and sparkling glass stretching up towards the stars seemed like two delicate lotus blossoms rising up from a mirky pool, bathed in moonlight. I thought of the enigmatic, sacred peaks of Angkor Wat, wonder of the ancient world, piercing the sky for centuries, and couldn't help but wonder how long this modern marvel will last.

Sir Andy sporting his new hat during a brief shopping stint at the night market in KL's Chinatown.

Sues'day!

The smile of a young monk (17 years old) reflected in the ancient carvings of the Bayon, Angkor Thom, part of the world heritage Angkor Wat temple complex in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Behind him, one of 216 faces watch over the temple.

Cambodia: Here I Come!

A beautiful Miko, or shrine maiden, wearing a hanagasa (a hat decorated with fake flowers) during Gion Matsuri.

I'm on my way to Cambodia and I won't be back until the 31st... Just in time for the never-ending Sports Festival practice, also known around here as the second term of the Japanese junior high school year. Unfortunately, I'm going to miss some prime matsuri time (festival season), but at least I made it to Gion Matsuri this year, even if it did rain everyday! Here's a few more images from the archives...

Actually, the rain was a good thing. Yay for Japanese umbrellas!

This little White Herron Dancer was interviewed after performing at Yasaka Shrine, but she wasn't the only one. A Gaijin's (foreigner's ) impressions of Gion Matsuri, tonight at 5! Thats what makes the news in a country with a comparatively low crime rate (^_<)

Destination Cambodia: 4 Days and counting!

Could it be?

Is that Angelina Jolie? Sadly,no. It's only me (although the resemblence is startling). I've always been a bit of a tree- hugger, but I think this sudden outburst of affection was the due to the realization that I had finally found a place where I could live out my childhood dream of being Indiana Jones. Angkor Thom, Cambodia.

Here's to you, Ms. 70 Years Old, Bright Purple-Haired, Kimono-Wearing Koto Player...

A local obaachan (old woman) jammin' on her koto during a community arts festival. Is that Kool-aid grape colored hair? You better believe it! And she ain't the only one. Obaachans all over Japan dye their hair ridiculously bright and flashy colors, such as the classic Candy Apple Red or the slightly more eccentric electric blue. Straight out of Osaka, this cooky-colored-kami-craze has taken even the inaka by storm!(Kami means hair, inaka means countryside)

To be quite honest, that shade of purple it is the perfect compliment for your kimono! So keep on rockin' out to those classic Koto hits like Sakura, Kimigayo and...sakura! And don't forget the traditional favorite "Purple Haze"! Play that koto, girl! We here at Mboogiedown:Japan salute you!

Guess Where I'm Going...

The Flower Procession: Gion Matsuri

Maiko from Miyagawa-cho being pulled through Kyoto by young men from their neighborhood.

I'm sure you're all sick of seeing pictures from Gion Matsuri, but I just can't help myself! I'll try to write more later...Until then just enjoy the view from here (^_<)

Young women carrying their hanagasa, straw hats covered with fake paper flowers, seek shelter beneath their umbrellas.

Kanazuru, a maiko from Miyagawa-cho.

A young White Herron Dancer giggling as she ran for cover from the relentless rain.

A maiko from Gion.

A shrine maiden of Yasaka Jinja tries to keep her hanagasa in place.

BLEACH Rocks! (^o^) ♪

Just a little somethin' somthin' to break the monotony of Gion Matsuri: The second opening of BLEACH: D-Technolife, by UVERWORLD. I tried to put up the karaoke-style version, but I'm experiencing techo- Difficulties. Until then, here's my own personal translation: You've been hurt by unspeakble pain and sadness Try to carry the burden of the unerasable past Don't throw away your life! I held your hand... Will I lose you someday I wonder... I want to protect your fading smile, and you. Even if the resounding voice that calls me withers Even if its erased by the winds that come with time I WILL FIND YOU! You, who's been hurt by unspeakable pain and sadness Don't say things like "I can't laugh" or "I hate people" There's meaning in everything that will happens in the future we can't see You're fine just as you are There will definately come a time when you realize it. You and me, True as spoken. Because someday we'll understand each other.

Yoiyama Kyomai : Gion Matsuri

Geiko from Gion glide gracefully across the stage with their shamisens, as the long trains of their kimonos flutter behind them.

The Geiko took their place on the side of the stage, sitting seiza style, on their knees, and played as 3 maiko danced in the traditional Kyoto style. The maiko in the purple Kimono is Suzuha, who if I am not mistaken, recently appeared on the cover of the Japanese Playboy magazine! She is renowned for her classic beauty among many of Gion's customers.

Kotoha, a high ranking maiko (in green) and superb dancer, performed the lead role in the short performance. The young maiko behind her is only in her first year. Her upper lip is not yet painted, and her collar is still predominantly red.


The extravagance of the flowing layers of colorful silk kimono, the breath-taking contrast of the porcelian-white makeup and delicately painted red lips, and the grace and dignity of the dance set to the haunting music of the shamisen create a scene of ethereal beauty beyond description.

As their dance ends, the maiko bow low to their audience. The maiko wear a very special hairstyle during the month of July specifically for Gion Matsuri.

Gion Matsuri: Yamahoko Junko 2006

A young man, dressed in his area`s yukata, seeking shelter from the relentless rain that threatened to dampen the festive atmosphere of Gion Matsuri`s most anticipated event: the procession of the gigantic yama and hoko floats. The umbrellaless men behind him wait patiently for their cue to continue pulling their float through the streets. The heavy rain kept spectators to a minimum this year, with only 130,000, almost half last year's record-high of 240,000 people.

Is it still raining? You better your yukata it is!

Maiko make their ways through the soggy streets of Gion beneath their beautiful oiled-paper umbrellas.

Gion Matsuri: Yoiyama 2006

Yuko and I in front of one of the smaller festival floats, haku raku ten yama (White Paradise Mountain) at Gion Matsuri's Yoiyama (the night before the main procession, Yamahoko Junko). Yuko has played a major part in my adventures in Japan since my first day at Kansai Gaidai, when she and a bunch of friends waited for me outside after class and very politely asked if they could be my friend (^-^)/ Look at her! How could I say no? Kawaii! (^-<) *wink*

An elementary student performing the sacred Shirasagi Mai, the White Herron Dance, infront of Yasaka Jinja (Shrine) on Shijo dori (Avenue).

A high ranking maiko taking time out of her busy schedule to teach a younger maiko how to count.

Taiko: It's an art.

Zettai Shounen! A group of young boys donning their neighborhood yukata making music in the streets.

Suzuha, one of Gion's most beautiful and popular maiko, enjoying Yoiyama with a few friends.Say Peesu! (^-^)v

More Coming Soon!

Gion Matsuri, Here I Come!

One of the many floats that Gion Matsuri is famous for, softly lit by paper lanters during Yoiyama.

I'm on my way to Kyoto's Gion Matsuri, on of Japan's biggest festivals. Expect me to be MIA until Monday (^o^)< Washoi! If you've never heard of this ancient, month long party in Japan's traditional culture capital, check these out!

Gion Matsuri:Yoiyama
Gion Matsuri: Yamahoko Junko

Don't worry! I haven't quite finished expounding the finer points of anime, as exhibited by BLEACH. All previously scheduled programming will resume with when I return! Have a great Ocean Day Weekend, everyone (^-^)v. Let us join Japan in expressing " our gratitude for the favor of the sea," and the Happy Monday System, too!

On My Conversion from Anti-Anime to Anime Addict

No, I haven`t dyed my hair a las Hilton heiresses. This is much more serious.

I`ve become addicted....to Anime. Well, one anime in particular.

BLEACH.

"So what? No big deal! Anime is anime-zing! " You might say, but to be honest, I was about as Anti-Anime as anyone could be. I vaguely remember watching the classic Akira with my older brother as a junior high schooler, and promptly forgetting it ever existed. I also recall trying to pass the 4 hours of complete and utter bordem afforded by my Saturday detention (part of my punishment for 'inciting a riot and being obligerent to an officer` in my cheerleading uniform) by sketching a wide-eyed, anime-style girl, although I don't know what posessed me to do so. Other than Akira, my Asian exposure was almost nonexistant, and I made little effort to rectify my　ignorance on the subject. For one thing I was too busy concentrating on other cultures and forms of art, speaking Spanish, escaping to Mexico, playing softball and any other sport the boys would let me get in on, cheerleading, or partying. Japan was an exotic land of sushi eating samurai and geisha on ketais (cell phones), lost in a neon colored concrete jungle...And it was the last place I ever thought I`d end up.

I'm not sure why or how, but by the time events had conspired to send me to Japan as a study abroad student (my senior year of university), I had somehow formed a rather unfavorable opinion of anime (despite of my lack of information on the subject) . I was shocked to find that at least half of the gaijin students at Kansai Gaidai had come to Japan with the expressed intent of watching anime they couldn`t see in their home countries. While the other half of us explored the adventure-filled streets of Kyoto and Osaka with our new Japanese tomodachi, they stayed in the dorms watching anime, or dressed up in their Cosplay-best and headed to the nearest gathering of anime otaku (dorks, nerds, freaks).

Japan's culture and customs were basically brand spankin' new to me. I had been transported from a land where cartoons and comics were mostly for small children, to a hardcore manga metropolis where everyone from the ojiisan's (old men) waiting for the next bus, to my university-aged boyfriend, stood in cornerstore conbini's for what seemed like forever, viewing the newest, phonebook-sized releases of their favorite comics. Buisnessmen in gloomy black suits shamelessly scanned page after page of manga on crowded trains, even when they were blatantly pornographic. Sexy depictions of young girls in school uniforms and the shady, smiling, salarymen staring at them seemed to me to be the source of the problematic tsukebe and chikan (perverts) obsessed with anonymously violating women on crowded trains, not to mention the endless score of old men that paid young girls to 'play' with them (enjou kosai).


The original opening for Bleach to one of my favorite Japanese songs: *ASTERIK* by Orange Range.

The connection stuck. Needless to say, I made it through an entire 3 and a half months of study in Japan without ever reading manga or watching anime, not to mention the 3 years since then. In fact I was irritated when, during my breif visit back home for a friends wedding, I found an entire section devoted to Anime at a Borders book store. Shelf after shelf of big-eyed, big-breasted, long-legged school girls, in sailor uniforms, with super-short skirts and clothes molded to every curvey contour of their illustrated bodies.

The seemingly huge success of anime in America shocked me, especially since it seemed to have created and conquered such a huge market in such a short period of time. For the first time, I wondered..."What is it that makes Manga and Anime so special? How are they able to transcend the boundaries of age, nationality, ethnicity, and sex?" Let's face it. People all around the world are obsessed!

Depite the fact that I had always admired the art form, I never considered investigating the substance behind the style.

That is, until now.

Enter BLEACH.

...to be continued

The Joys of Engrish

A T-shirt in Osaka.

If ever the army of native-speaking ALTs, invited to invade Japan to teach "proper" English, should succeed, thus eliminating the miracle of Engrish in its purest, most unadulturated form, the saddness and sense of responsibility I would feel for taking part in such a tragedy would be nothing something unBERRYBERRYable.

また七夕： Tanabata Revisited

Growing up in a Geisha house makes you tough! Ryu and big bro Kaito beneath the branches of their Tanabata tree. Warning! Due to inherent laziness, this post you are about to read may be recycled from a previous post concerning the same topic. Reader discretion is advised.

Tanabata, Japan's version of the Chinese festival Pinyin, or “The Night of Sevens" (because it falls on the 7^th day of the 7^th month), celebrates the love between the stellar shepherd boy, Hikoboshi (Vega), and the Weaver Princess, Orihime (Altair). Although the shepherd boy was of lowly birth, the princess’ father, the Emperor of Heaven, worried that Orihime worked so hard weaving cloth for the gods that she had time to do little else, allowed them to be married. They were so in love, however, that they neglected their work and spent all of their time together.

Ryu, holding his hand-made tanabata ornament.

Without the princess to weave their heavenly cloth, the once oshare, stylin' gods were forced to sport the same threads again and again, causing them to loose face and fall in their social standing (not to mention the public opinion polls). Without a herder to care for them, the flocks were scattered and scared. The infuriated emperor forced the love-struck couple to split, relocating them on opposite banks of the River of Heaven (the Milky Way). Watching each other from afar, they tried desperately to focus on their work, but their depression overcame them. At last the emperor took pity on them, and promised to let them meet once a year if they worked as hard as they could. At the chance of being together again, they began to work as hard as before. Ganbaruzo!

Ryu, Moe and I beneath the tree. Moe has been taking Nihon Buyou, or traditional Japanese dancing lessons, since she was 3. All the girls ( 6 Geisha) in dance.

True to the emperor's word, every year on the 7^th night of the 7^th month, a magical bridge of magpies forms over the heavenly river, allowing the young lovers meet. It is said that if it rains, the heavenly river overflows, and the young lovers must wait another year for their chance to meet again.

Unfortunately for them, Tanbata falls right in middle of Tsuyu, Japan's rainy season.

On Tanabata Eve I went to the Kamiya house (which just happens to be a modern Okiya, or Geisha house, albeit in good old inaka Ena) for our weekly English playtime. In front of the house, proped up on the porch, was a fresh, green bamboo tree, decorated in a rainbow of intricately folded origami and long, colorful strips of paper wishes. Traditionally people wrote their wishes for the star crossed lovers to be reunited, but nowadays people write their own wishes and hang them on the bamboo tree in hopes that they will be granted. If the rain holds off and the lovers can meet, they believe their wish will come true, but if it rains, they, too, must wait till next year.

Are you wondering if it rained? It's TSUYU! Of course it rained! No wish for you!

Hisamari

Hisamari, the most beautiful, popular and successful maiko in Pontocho, performing in this spring's Kamogawa Odori.

Souji Time!

Souji is just one of the many time-honored traditions that unite students scattered throughout the islands of Japan. A special time for students to come together to fight grime and gomi (garbage and dust), it is a time of meditation, a chance to reflect on and purify not only their school surroundings, but their internal minds as well.

That's right! In Japan, there are no custodians to clean up after the students~the students "clean up" after themselves! Every day, as the precious freedom of recess draws to an end, "cleaning time" music shoots from speakers strategically placed throughout the school, summoning students to their battle stations. Equipped with all manner of low-tech weapons in the war against grime, the most important of which are mini-brooms and zouki (cleaning rags), students engage in a 20 minute battle to reclaim the cleanliness of their school.

This video is a salute to their fighting spirit...

(Thanks to Luke at Gaijin for Life for sharing! *bows* m(- -)m )