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Dear Language Enthusiast,
Welcome to the Japanese
Monthly, the Internet newsletter from
Transparent Language. In this issue, you are
going to learn how Japanese people
enjoy summer, the most exciting and lively
season of the year. You will also
learn some summer vocabulary that might help
you if you travel there.
Sincerely,
Transparent Language
www.transparent.com
In English:
The Japanese summer begins in June with
tsuyu (also called baiu), a misty rain
that lingers day after day, sometimes
bursting forth into a downpour but rarely
into prolonged sunshine. It's a hot and wet
time of year when no one leaves home
without a handkerchief (hankachi) to absorb
the perspiration that persists on
one's brow, and an umbrella (kasa) to
deflect the raindrops. Because dampness
invades everything, including closets,
housewives occasionally bring out their
winter heaters just to thwart the humidity.
During tsuyu, hydrangea (ajisai)
bloom in rich tones of blues and pinks,
their blossoms resplendent with
raindrops. Such natural beauty is always
around for respite if one just takes
the time to see it. Parents and friends
often distribute this advice to cheer up
those who may become discouraged by the
rainy season, or whatever may be
troubling them, perhaps even the economic
recession.
By mid-July, the sun begins to appear
regularly and the festivals begin. From
this time through August, a passerby might
emerge from a quiet, narrow street
where only the sound of wind chimes (fuurin)
tinkle in the heavy air. Then a
group of rowdy festival (matsuri) revelers
suddenly appears, carrying a small
shrine and forming a ragged procession,
pushing through the crowd and the clamor
of shouts and music. The people bring the
local gods (kami) out of their shrines
in a temporary, portable dwelling called a
mikoshi and parade them through the
streets in raucous celebration and
veneration. Young men and not-so-young men
dress in brightly colored happi, sport a
sweatband called hachimaki, and wear
special white socks called tabi, or
sometimes no footwear at all. In fact, some
teams of mikoshi bearers wear no clothing at
all except a white loincloth called
a fundoshi. The men, ranging from 10 to 50
in number depending on the size of
the mikoshi, shoulder the wooden poles to
which the mikoshi has been securely
strapped and chant their way through the
streets, careening from the weight of
the shrine and the effects of the sake they
have been drinking. Crowds gather
and the merriment intoxicates the air.
Sometimes the mikoshi is so large the men
cannot carry it and must pull it on a float
to prevent an accident, thus
protecting the dignity of the god within.
The music of drums, flutes, and bells
plus the press of sweating bodies weaving
through the onlookers inspire Japanese
throughout the country to revel in summer.
These days, one particular summer festival
is associated with the city of
Sendai, although the entire country
celebrates it: the famous legend of love
called Tanabata. The story came from China
originally. Two stars, known as the
Shepherd (Altair) and the Weaver (Vega) were
separated by the Milky Way and
allowed to meet just once a year on July 7th
(the 7th day of the 7th month of
the lunar calendar) -- if it did not rain.
Rumor has it that the girl's father
imposed this unlucky fate on the hapless
lovers because the Shepard's attentions
caused her to slack off on her weaving. In
the past, before people watched the
Sendai Tanabata festival on television,
enthusiasts would gather anxiously and
watch the sky for clear weather, decorate
their homes with bamboo, and offer
sweets and fruits to the lovers, praying for
the reunion of the Weaver and the
Shepherd. In former times, when love
marriages were uncommon and arranged
marriages the norm, such a romantic legend
had considerable appeal, and even
today, its appeal endures.
In addition to festivals, summer brings
rooftop beer gardens where friends and
coworkers visit, hoping to capture a night
breeze while enjoying soybean
(edamame) and dried squid (ika) snacks and
delicious, cold Japanese beer. Later,
while walking home near a park or along a
residential street, the same friends
and coworkers will hear the sounds of
locusts (semi) filling the air with the
compelling fervency of their song. By now
it's August and the ajisai have faded
with the rainy season, replaced by the pert
faces of the morning glory (asagao).
The Japanese morning glory is as much a
symbol of summer as the matsuri, and it
appeals to the Japanese sensibility in much
the same way as the spring cherry
blossoms (sakura) do. That is, the colorful
morning glory blooms early in the
morning, as early as 4 a.m., and fades by 9
a.m., capturing the beauty and
brevity of life, especially the beauty and
brevity of the fleeting summer, in
that brief bloom of color and vitality.
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