I will try to avoid sentimentality as I write, sitting at the Board of Ed on my second to last day of work. I actually don't have much to write here, so I will post some pictures and see what happens.

First up is my going away party, thrown by Higashino Junior High. We had a reservation at the Seifukan beer garden, attached to the island's one big hotel. I had never been to the hotel before, and it was decidedly surreal. A giant lobby is staffed by people in tuxedos, it has its own gift shop, bus service, and restaurant. It is visited mostly by big groups of businessmen who arrive in giant coach buses and are taken directly to the hotel, which they never venture out of. Kind of depressing, actually. Either way we had our party at the beer garden.


By "beer garden" they mean "table on a patch of grass with a keg on a cart and a nice view." It was incredibly windy at first, but then it calmed down. The beer garden was kind of ridiculously situated, because just to the left was the men's onsen, so during the meal we kept seeing naked men getting in and out of their hot spring bath. They were behind a little hedge, but not much was hidden. Lovely.


The assistant principal. We were talking about Japanese warplanes and ships, and he told me that his father was an engineer for Zero fighters. Not only that, but he was an engineer on an aircraft carrier, and he prepped planes and worked on them at Pearl Harbor. After Pearl Harbor, his father's ship fought at Midway, where five Japanese carriers were sunk. Two escaped, one of which was his father's ship. They escaped by steaming into a squall, and then staying under the heaviest part of the storm, following the clouds until they had escaped the American dive bombers that had so thoroughly defeated the Japanese torpedo planes.

Questions for me during the evening included: "Don't you think America is selfish, trying to force 'freedom' on everyone?" "What gives America the right to be a world police force?" "Why did America drop an atomic bomb on Hiroshima?" After dealing with these questions in a pleasant and hopefully informative way, I feel like I am prepared for any job interview I could ever face. The questions sound nasty and mean when written out, but in person they were honest and curious, and they just wanted to know how I saw these things.

After the first part, a second party of course. We went to Yoisa, the bar that Mori and his friends frequent.


It was funny, seeing my co-workers sleeping in front of the walls that Mori and his friends painted.

The next day was the first summer festival of the year, in Kinoe. Kinoe is the oldest town on the island, and also the sleepiest. It stretches along the water, jammed between mountains and sea, a line of houses snaking along the coast. I don't have much business in Kinoe, but my schools are around it and going from one to the other I pass through it very often. Kinoe is a sleepy town, you can usually pass from one end to the other seeing only a couple cars and maybe an old woman pushing a cart. The shops all look closed and the houses seem to lean on each other for support. I took the scooter over on Saturday morning to see the preparations for the festival, and it was wonderful.

It was like the town had come alive. It wasn't bustling and crazy, but there were people out in the streets. Parents and children were stringing paper lanterns up along the roads, men were hoisting banners, flags, and bigger lanterns over the streets. Old folks sat in the shade, watching everyone go by. I don't think I have ever said more konnichiwas in my life, nor have I ever felt more comfortable or happier greeting groups of old Japanese people who - as I approached them - stared at me as though I was some sort of rare wild animal. As I walked off, I inevitably heard someone informing the rest of the group as to my name, where I was from, and what I was doing on their island.


Last year, the prospect of walking down this street alone would have been terrifying. This year it was the best part of my day.


Downtown Kinoe. I'm not joking. It's one road, and there you can see the buildings on either side of it. Something about this picture looks old to me.


My favorite spot in Kinoe. This ancient little harbor is dry at low tide and full at high. To my right is a big old hotel.


On Kinoe's main street.


Side streets. I love side streets.


In an open door in Kinoe. I have taken long road trips to see houses like this one.

At one point I passed a spot where the road I was on split off, the bigger road I was on going straight, and the smaller one angling off to the left, and then continuing parallel to the road I was on. You see that a lot here, the old main road being bypassed by a little bit by a bigger road better able to handle two lanes of faster traffic. I had never been on the old road before, and so obviously, I started down it. I didn't get far before I realized it was completely wonderful, so I parked my scooter and got off and walked.






Some of these alleys were just barely wide enough to fit through.


Some of them had shrines.




I don't know if this shop was open anymore, but they had a huge amount of beautiful onions hanging on the second floor.



So that was wonderful, feeling Kinoe alive again, festivals and decorations around some beautiful old and sagging buildings. I went home as the weather turned grey, and then that night I played volleyball. After volleyball I ran home, grabbed my tripod (the worst tripod ever made) and my camera, and jumped on my scooter and went back to Kinoe at unsafe speeds. I got there right at the end of the big fireworks show, the booms and flashes echoing across the island as I went zipping along the empty roads. I got into town for the last ten minutes of the show, and managed to take all of about two pictures before the show ended. Here is one.



I parked my scooter and got my camera and walked down to the water. The entirety of Kinoe was out, strolling, talking, laughing, and just enjoying being out, together, as a town. I waved hello to elemetary schoolers, some of them dragging me by the hand to meet their parents. My middle school girls, forever stuck in the too-big white blouse and knee-length navy skirt at school were all out in their summer kimonos, beautiful brilliant fabric and hair all done up. The guys were all wearing their coolest clothes, pretending they weren't too shy to talk to the girls. Everyone was happy, watching the men row long wood boats, eating fried octopus balls, and suddenly I got what summer festivals were all about.

Last year, just after I arrived, I went to a few summer festivals with Cory and Megan. At the time, I thought they were nice, the fireworks were always impressive and loud, and everyone seemed to be having fun, but I didn't really get the appeal. The fried octopus balls were not my favorite, the festivals seemed short and kind of chaotic, and without any great appeal that I could see. Last weekend in Kinoe was different, and I finally understood.

The festival is familiar. It happens the same way every year, but it's not about the events, or the food, or any of that - it's about the town being together. Everyone is out, walking the beautiful old streets, faces lit by paper lanterns, the shouts of sake-fueled boat racers floating across the water. The girls get a chance to really dress up and go out with their friends. The parents walk together, or just stand and watch the boats, the lights reflecting on the water, the dark mountiains rising up into the night behind the town. In a town where the last bar closed years ago, the population is slowly dwindling, and the biggest shipyard in the middle of town rusts away abandoned, on that night it was vibrant with life and community. Everyone together, living and existing in this tiny beautiful place, enjoying a summer night together.


Of course, pictures can't hope to capture any of that - but here are a few.


Those are the boats that were sitting on the mud earlier that day.


Some middle schoolers of mine. Actually, not any more, I guess.


Kinoe town shrine, all lit up and smoky with incense.


Inside the shrine, the mikoshi - like the one I carried last year.

After the shrine I lost a good 20 minutes because I lost my camera bag somewhere in the festival. I went walking up and down the streets, trying to remember where I had left it, and as I was looking, the festival ended. I found the case near the shrine, placed on top of a bush, but the festival was over. The town may well have been more beautiful after everyone left, quiet and peaceful, but with the decorations and memories of the festival still lingering.


Four girls walking home.






By now it was so quiet that I could hear someone walking towards me while they were still three or four blocks away.


And then, as I set up this picture the lights went off, the night got deeper and softer, and I took this picture and went home.

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