Japan, I’m starting to discover, is a place that love fireworks and barbecues. It is summertime, and the days usually end with the sky a milky pink-white, with an armada of clouds slowly scrolling across the sky. After a great trip to Tokyo and Osaka on tour with my cousin Beniton the Menance and Maxi Priest I’m more open to heading to different places. I’m meeting up with Emily and some friends to go to the Kajima fireworks.
Emily wants to meet at seven thirty to catch the fireworks, which start at eight-thirty. Since it will be a thirty minute drive to get there, it sounded like a good plan. However, Emi ended up calling me at ten minutes past eight to go, and it seemed like I’d miss the meat of the show. Still I went. Emi waved at me from across the street at Zaza city where we met up, adorned in an attractive Yukata. A Yukata is a traditional Japanese dress worn for these kinds of occassionas (not to be confused with Happis worn during Golden week).
The drive there is quiet, sprinkled with light conversation from Emi and her friends in the car. The fireworks are in Hamakita, just outside Hamamatsu city. As we near Hamakita, I can already see the flash of fireworks in the sky. A loud boom echoes through the air. I can just imagine the screaming crowds jostling to see what was happening. Emi was excited, more excited that I normally see her. “There is where my elementary school was.” She said, pointing towards a small building we drove past.
I tried to imagine Emi as a child, with the small smooth face, bone straight hair and endless energy. For her fireworks were a normal part of her life. She had invited me to no less than four viewings in a month and a half.
We met up with some other friends of hers, all dressed in Yukatas and found some parking. We had a good walk to the river. Every fifty feet or so, I would see a firework explode in the sky, the boom sounding like quick thunder. Behind me, Emi, her friends and the other Yukatagirls walked and talked, smiling each time another firework exploded.
Hamamatsu isn’t a very metropolitan area, and more than once I saw a few people looking at me for long stretches, wondering who I was. We were walking on the main road, which eventually diverted onto a small dirt path leading to an intersection below an overpass. We walked pass some tall grass and then came back to a normal sidewalk. There I saw several thousand people, many of them in Yukatas walking around. There were dozens of stalls sell food, fireworks and liquor. It was a frantic mess of lights, voices and bodies.
I made sure to keep and eye on the girls near me, because the Yukata girls around looked startlingly similar, with their hair in buns, walking with a similar, practiced gait. A few more people glance at me now (I think at this point its impossible for them not to, I am the only black person I have seen thus far in a crowd of thousands of Japanese people) and we walk up a hill. It is densely packed, but as we near the top, I can see the outline of the river below, and hundreds more people sitting around there. A structure on a small field is setup, and a voice says something over loudspeakers.
“They are going to show the final fireworks.” Emi tells me, darting to a spot with a good view. I stand where I am and take in the last of the fireworks, which are magnificent, brilliant and beautiful.
One the last of the glowing particles faded into nothing, the crowd stared moving. The group of us–four Yukata girls, one husband and wife and another friend of Emi’s who wasn’t wearing a Yukata, decided to eat some Chinese food afterwards. I groaned inside a little… I don’tnormally like the mixed outings because most people order beef and pork dishes, but we all chip in for the final bill. But I didn’t drive there, and it didn’t really matter. It was only nine o ‘ clock or so.
I met the other Yukata girls, Yuka and Emily who were also regular Salsa dancers. They were both very thin with mischievous eyes. I like something about Emily, who had a thin, long face and a bright smile. We snapped a picture by the car before heading to the restaurant and headed off.
I had never eaten Chinese food in Japan, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure if it really tasted that Chinese. I figured out a way to get enough chicken and shrimp dishes to survive, while chatting and laughing with the group. It was a good outing, and I was glad to take in the
fireworks as a start to my Friday night. Hopefully next time I’ll reach earlier to another such outing, and be able to see more of the stalls and mingle with the crowd. 
Update there is a video for this blog post available: Read the article, then view it here. – Marcus
Two Japanese girls are lying on either side of me. One, a cute girl named Wakana has a sleeping mask on her face, the other is in a bundle by my left arm. My head is spinning from drinking an entire bottle of Vodka but I’m smiling. I’m in a tent, in the mountains two hours from Hamamatsu, in Japan.
A week before, I was invited to the party by a tall bartender named Hachi. “It will be good man.” He said to me. I wasn’t sure what to think. At first Hachi asked me if I wanted to DJ for the event, then seemed to forget about me after I enquired if the DJs would be paid. Another guy, a young Japanese man I see at a bar I frequent, told me his friend was going.
“She is very cute, you will like her.” He said. I wasn’t sure. I still don’t have much faith in the Japanese girls I’ve been meeting, but I said okay. He told me this the day before the party, on Friday
night. She came to the bar later than night to see me (at the guy’s request) and she was wearing some kind of Kimono.
“I just came from work.” She said with a smile.
I smiled back and made light conversation with her. She was very cute, but generally Japanese women dressed in traditional clothing don’t do anything for me. I would need to see her later in A regular outfit. We decided to check out the party.
My routine in Hamamatsu had been cyclical. The stream of the same bars and clubs wasn’t fun, or thrilling. Half the places I knew I already knew the people who worked there and a couple of the regulars. Going out often felt saturated and required too much energy to socialize. A trip to the mountains with a fresh face seemed like a good idea.
I rode my bike to Zaza city and parked. Their car, like most I’ve seen, was a compact cube-shaped vehicle. They looked small but were generally spacious. My mood was good, and when I came into the car, I heard dancehall reggae playing through the radio.
“It’sDJ Kenny.” Wakana said with a smile. I chuckled. A DJ Kenny mixtape in a Japanese car in Japan always seemed weird. In fact, anytime I’m at a reggae party and I’m the only Jamaican there, and I see the Japanese girls scream “Bap! Bap! Bap!” when they like a song gives me chills.
Something about it doesn’t seem real. Thegirls are both very cute and genki, and I fall into my routine of stories, jokes and fun conversation. We stop at a convenience store to grab some snacks for the trip. It’s an estimated two hours from Hamamatsu to the party. On the way there, we stop at another convenience store and I received a free coffee for a reason I still can’t explain. We drive and talk about life, mostly about Jamaica and I constantly tease Wakana’s friend.
After an hour or so, it becomes apparent that we are lost. We are on a road so narrow it feels like being in a tunnel. We are surrounded by trees so big they block the sky and my phone has spotty service. Every few minutes, the girls stop the car and consult the GPS on their phones, but to no avail. I toss in my iphone for good measure and it doesn’t help.
There were a few dangerous moments as well. Once we had to turn the car on a narrow road, with the back of the car near a fifty foot precipice. Each time I felt the half a second period between the touch and release of the car brakes, I saw us in the car, falling through the darkness until we hit something solid with a sickening crunch. After a few more wrongs turns and wasted time, we end up near where we started. The girls are determined to find the party.Being on a main road after traveling through the claustrophobic mountain roads was a relief. A street light was like a bottle of water after a long run. We drive for a few more minutes, and the consensus if we are “probably” going in the right direction. We left Hamamatsu at eight-thirty. It was now past eleven o’ clock. A huge dam comes into view and I marvel at it. I probably marveled more because out of boredom I opened my bottle of Vodka I purchased for the party and started chasing it with soda. In the nighttime, the dam was a gigantic looming structure. A powerful monolith of man’s will and desire. It was between two mountains, way up here and very old. The section of the dam that connects
to the road forms a bridge between the two mountains. On our side, near the entryway of the bridge is a parked car. Near it, are a man and two boys. The boys have what look like small fish nets in their hands. They are a few feet in front of their father, walking around in the darkness. Wakana asks him directions and he gives us a good idea of where to go. When I ask her what the
boys were doing, she said they were collecting bugs.
A larger, more modern road comes into view and we cheer because we’ve found whereto go. After several hours, a few near misses on the mountain roads and one DJ Kenny CD on repeat the whole time, we were on the way to the party. It was still at least forty-five minutes away, and I spent some of the time watching the vegetation go by the car in a dark green blur, or asking the ladies questions about their lives. Eventually we saw a few horribly made signs that indicated where the party was.
The roads became somewhat narrow again, but nowhere as frightening at the roads we were on earlier. After going up a stretch of hill that revealed the night sky and moon to us, we saw several parked cars in the darkness, and bodies moving in the distance on a large field. We had found the mountain party.
The party was on a large open field, where a lodge was built. From what I could see, there wasn’t any gate, any guard or anyone collecting money for that matter. It was about twelve thirty by now, and the party was in full swing. We walked in, our bags of drinks in tow. A bonfire blazed about thirty feet from where I was standing, with Japanese guys with shaggy hair and baggy jeans dancing around it. I turned a corner to see a sea of familiar faces, all residents of
Hamamatsu.
“Hey!”the voices chanted in chorus.
Everyonewas drunk, high or both already. Several tents were setup and I proceeded to erect the tent that Wakana, I and her friend would sleep in later. After setting it up, (with the help of two or three drunk people) the drinking started.Thisis where things get a little fuzzy. I certainly remember chatting to an English girl I know, who seemed to reprimand me for being nicely dressed and coming to the party with two Japanese girls. There was some conversation with a friend or two from Hamamatsu, but it most likely involved nothing worth remembering. Then I danced with two rave cones beside the bonfire, fueled by liquid confidence. Then as the night progressed, everyone started playing the drums and drinking beer at the same time. Somewhere, I could smell marijuana smoke, but I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. After the drum fest, there was more drinking, spotty conversation and obvious sexual innuendo. I tried to make a move with one of my girls, who told me she had a boyfriend.
Day broke and the sun started to rise and some genius decided we should all play early morning soccer. Drunk, shirtless and filming at the same time, I fall on my first pass, slashing my elbow but not feeling much pain because of the alcohol in my system. I hail up a few DJs and some people who are still dancing by the bonfire and eat some rice from a huge bowl near the drum area. People
are settling down and things are getting quiet.
This is when I retreat to the tent, and make myself cozy with the two girls. Once I zipped up the tent, the pounding of the music outside became a dull throb.Later,driving down the mountain, I c could really see where I was. Ancient trees swaying in a morning breeze numbering in the tens of thousands were all around me. I could see far away, the lines of other mountains in the distance.
I saw small hill towns and old railway cars, little groves with brooks and gushing rivers
and tons of vegetation. I was still tired and a bit hung over, but it was a good time. I stepped groggily out of the car when I got back to Hamamatsu, giving both ladies a weak but smiley faced goodbye. I found my bike, and started riding home, laughing at the fact that I was raving dancing only hours
before, in my purple shirt, with a bonfire blazing behind me.
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