They will survive

Yesterday was a holiday here in the land of the Rising Sun (yes, rising- it has never set, as with other empires around the world, despite the best and worst of intentions), so I trekked (well, really, was driven) to the nearby town Shiogami for their annual summer festival.  Having never been to a proper festival (that wasn't about music and beer, or barbeque and beer, or an unhealthy mix of all three), it was surely interesting to see the level of participation at this local event.  Every generation participated in their own way, and nobody was denied a role.  What was most interesting for me was the division along gender lines, the so-called tradition, and this made a whole lot of sense (for example, they let the men carry the one ton shrine, which is probably a relief even for more feminist women hidden in the town).

The whole point of the festival was to transfer the portable shrines (each weighing a literal ton) from the Shrine proper, down two hundred steep stairs (whose bright idea this was is probably asked every year),whereupon it is transported by hand through the town down to the port, where two elaborate ships (one with a dragon motif, the other with a phoenix) are awaiting them.  They are then sailed around the local ports and then return gloriously to their original location.  It is meant to herald the beginning of a new season/year, and to protect the local community and town.

That all this happened in Shiogami, one of the places that was affected by last year's damned earthquake and tsunami, is all the more astounding.  If I was not told, I would not have realized the extent of any damage- but, the truth was that there were many new homes, which had to be built to replace the old ones.

And even the sun, glaring down with heat stroke inducing fury, could not stop them, nor us, nor me from being there to celebrate.

awaiting the portable shrines as they proceed down.

it only looks a little hard.  it's actually very hard.

dance, dance, dance come what may