Parent Invasion Part 2: The Unsinkable Friday

 My mother has always wanted to see Japan. Her own mother didn't like to talk about her last few years in southern Japan, but she kept many household traditions and practices alive. No shoes inside. Rice. Pots of tea my grandmother would keep full all day every day and drink from constantly. Cleaning on your hands and knees, getting every nook and cranny. She even had a few kimono, records, parasols and fans and demonstrated Japanese dances in public events.

There weren't many international cultural events in Indiana then.

Finally, my mother has the chance to see her own heritage. While I can't speak for her, I can identify. And she came with a 7 year old's Christmas list-long itinerary of what she wants to see a do.

I'm positioned perfectly for my parents to start their trip in Tokyo then take a break from the big city and see life in old Japan. They started the week in Tokyo and Nikko, visiting my dad's work friends and seeing Ueno and Asakusa. By Friday night, they were in Hanamaki, tired and being bowed to.

On Saturday morning, I went to Kitakami Station to meet them. When I saw them sitting on the train as it pulled it, I couldn't keep but bouncing on my toes. There was no containing how excited I was to see them. No holidays in America, no parties, no birthdays, I've missed engagements and births all in just the past year and a half. Finally, they were here. Not on the other side of a computer screen, not on the other side of the planet. Just one platform away.

Right away, I wanted to take them out of town for the day. They wanted to see Hiraizumi and Chusonji. We talked nonstop the whole drive down. When we arrived in Hiraizumi, we were barely in the gates when the skies opened and it poured in buckets on us! We ran back to the museum to wait it out. When it was a little lighter, we saw the entire grounds flooded and streaming out to the streets.

Easily, there were 3 inches on the ground! We watched the storm pass and when it did, we continued around the temple grounds.

For lunch, we went to a soba shop at the base of the Chusonji hills. Dad accidentally ate my Morioka reimen and I got his soba but we have no regrets. They've been studying a little Japanese so we used the wall menu to practice their katakana. They're not half bad!

As we hiked up the hill, the day changed drastically. It got much hotter and muggier and the sky cleared beautifully. All sound is sort of muffled once you're among those trees at Chusonji, so the small crowd was muted in almost a compulsory awed hush.

By the time we got to the car again, it was time to head back so they could check in and relax a little at their hotel before the evening.

I remember the feeling I had the first time I watched a Japanese festival. The dancing and smells and music and costumes overwhelmed me...and I was eager to share that feeling with my parents.

We met at the station and used an underground pass to get to the parade route. My dad was in front of me and I was in front of my mother as we walked up the stairs. Right at the top I turned back and said to her, "Welcome to a Japanese parade!" Her surprised shout was all I needed to hear. The Kitakami Michinoku Geino Matsuri was in full swing.

We wandered up and down the street, taking pictures and grabbing snacks along the way (tuna on a stick and yakisoba for them, ichigo kakigori and condensed milk for me). The parade went on for a couple hours, ending with the first oni kenbai performance of the weekend.

At the end, they went back to their hotel and I went on to do a little bar-hopping with Will and his new friend. We had snacks and drinks at Roots and went back to Honky Tonk for some outrageously expensive beer. Premium malt isn't that good, guy. Sheesh.