Despite rumours to the contrary, I drew the line at wearing fundoshi (loin cloth) but donned a San-gawa uniform Jimbe (short jacket) to help carry the Mikoshi (portable shrine) from Kikukawa to Kameido as part of the Kameido Tenjin Taisai which is the annual Summer Festival of for one of the largest Shinto temples in Tokyo.


I was invited by members of my Shuko-kai woodwork group, ah well I thought ... try anything once. So at 7 am in the morning, already over 25^oC, with Taiko drums and flute band, we set off to follow the Shinto priests the 3 km or so from Kikukawa to Kameido.
Mikoshi are the vehicle for the local deities; there were 25 Mikoshi in the parade, one from each ward in Koto-ku, lavishly decorated, each weighing at a guess two ton and carried on four poles by up to 40 persons at a time or as many as can fit under the poles. Carried is the wrong word, its more of chant/shuffle/shake, as the Mikoshi gets shaken up and down, and from side to side, in time to chants of ISHA ISHA ISHA ISHA ISHA with other groups bellowing HA HA HA HA, on the off beats, whistles PEEP PEEP, PEEP PEEP, bells drums. It’s hypnotic, exhausting and painful when the poles come crashing down on the shoulders, which being taller than most is every shake.


Never mind, as soon as one person ducks out from exhaustion, someone else takes over. This old man thought five minutes was about the limit and even so, my shoulders and back know I have been carrying a weight.
The whole thing was brilliantly well organized; were were sent on our way by magnificent taiko drumming group, some Mikoshi were preceded by a truck with a taiko band playing on the back. Every Mikoshi was followed up by trucks with copious supplies of Ocha (green tea), salt sweets and glucose sweets and especially for me, ice to wrap in the towel on my head. Side marshals kept the parade in check with long ropes. lt took four, exhausting, dehydrating, sweaty hours. Huge fun, and a great honor to be invited. Lots of pictures here.

Saturday we spent at a Japanese music festival, Japanese singing and sitting in on workshops on Taiko (drums), fue (side blown flute) and Shimasen (three string lute).

Linda has started back at school, and I am back into auditions, acting, and science editing.

We finally found somewhere we think we can live in a suburb called Musashi-Koyama, about twenty minutes from the centre of Tokyo on the metro. The apartment is on the fifth floor of the Grand Chalet Kawabe. Although it is not quite as Grand as it pretends, it does overlook a small park of deciduous trees. There is a combined living and dining area, two small bedrooms, the usual shawa and toilet, two balconies, about 60 m2 all up. The kitchen is basic, a three burner gas stove and a fish grill, but the loo is equipped with the most amazing toilet seat, a sort of bidet designed to spray warm water up your bum at the touch of a button.
Moving was something of a trial, formal contract signing lasted over an hour, (numerous cups of green tea, and was followed by formal inspection. When we moved onto the balcony, I admired the view and tripped over a metal plate. “What’s this metal bit for?” I asked (in English).
“That’s the fire escape ladder”, they said (in Japanese probably adding “don’t lift it”).
So I lifted it and and automatic ladder and twenty years of accumulated muck shot out the bottom, scattering dirt all over the neighbor's washing on the balcony below. Oooops. Obviously no-one had cleaned the trapdoor for a very long time. At least we know it works.
The following day, we had a bed delivered. The delivery men managed to jam the automatic door; the gas man failed to come, no Flanders and Swann here; the washing machine (2nd hand loan from the school) sprayed jets of water three feet in the air; I left the balcony door open in a tropical rainstorm and we daren’t use the oven till we get the instructions translated. But we did work out how to use the toilet seat.
Photographs here.

Whilst we are still operating on New Zealand time, we though we’d go to the Tsukiji fish market. Quite a sight and in some ways a bit depressing. Twenty seven million people eat a lot of fish; and Japan only grows/catches 40% of its food. There was a report in the Japan Times that size of Tuna from the Sea of Japan has declined dramatically, but local officials are refusing to release data.
But if you are fish eater, its as fresh as you can find. Photographs here.
Also time for the Azabu-juban festival. We are not quite sure what they were celebrating, good excuse for booze and food stalls. Cucumber on a stick anyone, oh how about spiral potato chips, sake in box, or speared Ayu. Photographs here.

Well we’ve arrived. I’m sitting on the bed in a tiny (about 40 m2) apartment in Azabujuban in Tokyo. It is stinking hot, about 30 degrees C or so, fortunately we have fairly effective air conditioning, which means we sleep. Sunrise is about 5 am, so I can explore before it gets too hot.
Our little suburb, Azabujuban, has one small main street, with bars and restaurants and drug stores and furniture shops and art galleries and noodle bars and rusk sellers. The area is an eclectic mix of stunning architecture and low dives, wealthy mansions, cheap laundries, little machine shops, shopping centres, art galleries and the red light district - it is a long time since I have been propositioned by so many well made up young ladies and certainly the first time at 7 am in the morning.
We’ve had two earthquakes, last weeks was quite substantial and had us standing in the doors; it rattled all the lights, but nothing fell over, and no-one appears particularly concerned. It turned out to be 6.9, which is big enough to worry about, Edgecumbe was only 6.3.
Then last night, it started to rain. A speaker car was doing the rounds at 6.30 am, telling everyone to stay indoors cos “tropical storm Edo is on its way, extreme caution required in the underground,” (they might flood). Tokyo Rocks