No culture is complete without a festival where they burn piles of stuff. Not quite as cool as the giant straw cat monster burning festival I saw in Italy where flaming piles of hay were falling into the crowd, but pretty good.
Those ain't mallows. That's mochi-- gummy balls of rice paste-- the taste of which resembles nothing even remotely food-like. Despite the 10 foot sticks you still had to get close enough to melt your face off in order to cook the stupid things.
Dan and me.
Tania and Dan.
Taiko guy. 
Dancin' in the street. 
The best part was when we were coerced into dancing and banging sticks together with these kids in front of the taiko stage for a good half an hour in the rain. I saw thousands of novely photos of dancing foreigners being taken.
3 comments:
Wow, wouldn't Poppy love that. A burning festival. We should start one at the lake for him. He could wear one of his cool looking burning outfits....maybe the green cowboy shirt and the polyester plaid pants!
Mom
look how arty we are in that blurry picture. so arty.
"arty" is that Japanese code for various stages of drunk and disorderly. Looks like fun though.
Mom
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