Summer in Japan is like going to a sauna in the Amazon: it's hot inside, hot outside and you're going to be sweating buckets, trying your hardest to stay alive and not lose your mind due to dehydration in the process. I could tell stories about how I was sprawled out on my hardwood floor, not moving, and how beads of sweat were still trickling down my back... and I probably will write a story about it... but later. Right now I'm going to talk about the fun part of Summer: festivals!
Summer is festival season in Japan and no one does festivals quite like the Japanese. Street food, entertainers, parades and fireworks that go on for hours (and I'm being quite literal here) - Japan has it all. One of the biggest Summer festivals in Nagoya is the Minato (or port) Festival held in July around Marine Day. Yes, Japan has a national holiday called Marine Day. I don't really know the story behind it but do we always need to have a reason to celebrate? Anyway, on Marine Day the people of Nagoya gathered to the port for a huge festival and since we had nothing better to do, a bunch of us foreign exchange students decided to head to the port as well.
As soon as we got to there we realized what a huge event it was. It took us five minutes to even get out of the subway due to the huge mass of people slowly shuffling along. When we got to the street it was sheer madness: food and souvenir booths stood on both sides of the street, surrounded by throngs of people moving in every direction. Nagoya is by no means a small place, there's about 2 million people living there (which is more than in Estonia...) but I'd never seen this many people in one place before. Was the entire population of Nagoya there? For a moment it seemed like it.
We'd made the mistake of not getting drinks beforehand - I guess we were worried they wouldn't be cool anymore once we got to the port - so we had to make a little combini run to get supplies. Bad idea. The store was packed with people, so much I could barely move. But once I'd gotten in there I couldn't leave: I had to see it through... and I really wanted a drink... It took us - as a group - almost twenty minutes to get what we wanted. It almost looked like people were preparing for a nuclear apocalypse - the way the shelves were almost half empty was insane. This is Japan, we're talking about! Everything works like a well-oiled machine there and most of the time they restock so quickly and inconspicuously that it looks like magic... But I'm not here to talk about how I had to stand in line.
After getting our drinks and watching the parade - people carrying huge shrines that seemed strangely familiar to me - we headed toward the ocean for the fireworks. The best spots were already taken so we had to settle for sitting on the stone pavement. But at least we had a nice view of the spot where they were going to shoot the fireworks. Somehow we found out that it was supposed to last for an hour. Not uncommon for Japan. If there's one thing they know it's fireworks. As we settled down, opened our drinks and snack bags, we noticed another foreigner sitting just a few steps away from us.
Now, living in Japan you learn to notice 'foreigners'. I mean, you yourself are a foreigner but somehow other foreigners just tend to pop out much more than anywhere else. You just see them and think 'What are they doing here? Are they tourists? What do they want?' A part of you feels a sense of belonging and camaraderie with them since they too know what it's like to be a foreigner in a country like Japan. And the other part of you mistrusts them. Why? Because when in Rome... I just feel like distrusting foreigners is contagious when you're among distrustful people... However, this particular foreigner looked strangely at ease and a part of the whole scene, even though he kind of looked like a hippie. He was middle-aged, with shoulder length curly gray hair and pink shirt... and before we knew it we'd started a conversation with him.
Apparently he was a pastor. Yup, the guy who looked like an aging hippie and talked with the voice of a chain-smoking rock star was a pastor. Okay, to be honest he wasn't like a pastor-pastor. He just worked as one: marrying people who wanted a western wedding. Apparently he held ceremonies in Japanese and when he didn't even know what he was saying most of the time. Like he was just reading a script. He compared it to being an actor: he just read his lines, looked presentable and acted in a way people expected him to. He was loving it and hey, he got payed for it! What not to love! He'd been living in Japan for a while, his wife being Japanese and for a while he hung out with us, sharing tips on living in Japan. He and his wife had been together for 20 years or so and they were adorable together.(*This information is brought to you by Tytti, who remembered more than me and helped me out with reconstructing some of the events that took place. Obviously she had a few Strong Zeroes less than me). Of all the random foreigners we'd met during our stay in Japan, he was by far the coolest. He was fun, easygoing and looking at him I started to believe that it is possible for a foreigner to live in Japan and love it. Granted, you'd probably need a Japanese spouse to fully enjoy your life there.
The fireworks display was absolutely amazing! It lasted for an hour and the finale was mindblowing: it was colorful and bright and just gorgeous. It was totally worth sitting on the hard stony ground for an hour. By the time it was over it was already dark outside. We got up and decided to start heading back toward the train station with the rest of the mass. Within a few minutes we'd lost most of our group in the sea of people and it was just me, Mary and Tytti left.
Now, heading back was actually a lot of fun. Most of the food booths were closing and therefore trying desperately to get rid of their excess food. They were offering all their food items for ridiculously cheap and we, being just tipsy enough, decided to take advantage of the opportunity. By the time we reached the closest subway station I was munching on a stick of grilled chicken and I think both Mary and Tytti had found some snacks as well. The station was so packed that we decided to keep moving. Usually the distance between two subway station isn't that far and we really didn't feel like being shoved into a cramped subway car with hundreds of other people. Besides, there were more snacks to be had and the night was still young.
We passed a few more blocks, got some more street food and just enjoyed the warm Summer evening and the bustling city. I remember one moment I was looking around, trying to decide if I wanted to buy a toffee apple or not and then turning around to see Tytti's hand in Mary's cleavage. My first thought was 'What did I miss?' and the second one 'Should I turn around again and give them a moment?' Apparently a bug had flown straight into Mary's cleavage and Tytti was trying to help get it out. You really don't make the most logical decisions when you're drunk... The bug was not found, however, and for several hours Mary was trying to figure out if she'd imagined it altogether. Spoilers: she didn't. She found the bug hours later when she was changing into her pajamas. By then it was already deceased. RIP pervy bug.
On our way to a less crowded station we needed to make another stop in a teeny-tiny alley that was barely wide enough for one person to get through. We needed to use the bathroom but most of the shops, cafes and restaurants were closed by that time. The only one that still looked open was in that tiny alley. It was a real hole-in-the-wall place owned by an elderly couple who were just closing up. They were nice enough to still let us in and let us use their bathroom, even though we weren't paying customers and they had already packed up most of their stuff, ready to call it a night. We made small talk, they asked us where we were from and what we were doing in Japan and so on. It was very sweet of them to let us in like that - three drunk foreigners just looking for a bathroom while smelling of alcohol and fried food - and we must've thanked them a dozen times as we were leaving.
I think we must have passed at least two or three more subway station on our way back, trying to find one less crowded. In the end the streets started to get less crowded, the booths disappeared and finally we managed to get on a train that... well, it was crowded but we could still breathe in it... just barely though. I think that must've been one of the most excruciating subway rides of my life: it was hot as hell, there was little to no air and everything smelled of booze. Well, at least we fit right in. And in the end we managed to get back home in one piece, although sweaty and tired as all hell. Still, we were richer by the experience and even though I don't remember much of that night I do know I enjoyed the long walk back home and the amazing fireworks. It was also one of the last festivals I went to in Japan, making the memory just a tad bittersweet. Thankfully Mary caught a lot of it on video so I'll always have that. 
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