by Justin Ehringhaus
夏の風物詩
Before departing from the office for the Ichikawamisato Fireworks Festival yesterday evening, my supervisor said to me, "Justin, there is something very important that you must understand about summer festivals here in Japan." There was the usual, enigmatic glimmer in his eyes, which suggested that what he was about to tell me would be just as "important" as it would be trivial. In fact, most of what he teaches me during the days' downtime seems to be a mixture of the two -- ancient proverbs that are hardly used nowadays but hold history, culture, and beauty in their meaning; facts about the history of this or the origin of that, about which are unimportant for and unrelated to my job, but the dialogue itself becomes a source of perpetual intellectual entertainment.
He spoke slowly, making sure that I could hear the pronunciation of each respective syllable:
夏の風物詩 (なつのふうぶつし・natsu no fuubutsu shi).
Summer, wind, thing, poem. I sat there looking at him for a moment, thinking about the literal meaning of the Chinese characters one by one. For some reason it sounded poetic, irrespective of the fact that its final character did indeed translate to "poem." I began to imagine some sort of object floating in the warm breeze of summer -- yes, very poetic.
"Do you understand?"
I admitted to my supervisor that I had no idea. He shook his head, his smile growing even wider and, if possible, more enigmatic.
At that moment my coworkers brought it to my attention that we had to rush to make the train, and my supervisor motioned that I should join them. "Think more about it while you're there," he said with a wave, turning back to face his computer screen.
When we arrived to the festival there were thousands of people milling about, many of them wearing Japanese traditional summer outfits such as yukata and jinbei. The smell of summer foods such as takoyaki, yakitori, and yakisoba drifted along in the summer wind. We each made our respective purchases and strolled toward the viewing area, taking it easy in the heat of the summer. Paper lanterns lit the pathway we walked along, yet it was not quite dark enough for them to attract much attention. The view was spectacular. It was my first time being outside of Kofu City, and I found myself turning in slow circles just to take it all in.
After two hours of the most impressive fireworks display I had ever seen, I felt content and ready to head home to sleep. We collected the trash we had accumulated, packed our bags, and proceeded to join the long line of people making their way down the hillside pathway. It was at that moment that the paper lanterns caught my attention for the second time. This time, however, they shone brightly against the backdrop of the night sky. As far as the eye could see, they lined the pathway, rocking gently back and forth in the summer breeze. The phrase my supervisor taught me earlier came to mind.
夏の風物詩 (なつのふうぶつし・natsu no fuubutsu shi).
Summer, wind, thing, poem. I must admit that my hand dove into my pocket at that moment to turn to the greatest source of collective knowledge available at my disposal: the Internet.
Ahh. It is one of those times that English simply cannot convey the same depth nor beauty as that which is inherent to the native tongue.
"A feature or tradition of summer." The poetic feeling, although lost in translation, can still be felt through experience.
Until next time.
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