Author: John D. (Page 101 of 202)

Gion Revival Overview

The floats with their tightly-packed musicians and gorgeous tapestries (some of Silk Road origins) are the highlight of the month-long festival. This year there are two parades, the Saki Matsuri with 24 floats and the Ato Matsuri (today) with 10 floats.

 

The Gion Matsuri is a complex month-long festival in Kyoto, with events spread out over the 30 days which are all directly related to this millennium-old event.  In the grand parades there are 33 floats involved altogether, each with its own history, tradition and religious orientation.  But there is far more to the festival than its main parade, and there have been significant amendments this year.  The best single overview of it all can be found in the article below, courtesy of the Kyoto Visitors Guide (the page also has a full list of the month-long events).

The chimaki charms for warding off pestilence and evil demons lie at the religious centre of the festival. Each float has its own version, and one is even edible!

Key points
* origins in 869 as a festival against pestilence
* 2 mikoshi processions, one from Yasaka Shrine to the resting place (otabisho); the other back again a week later
* 2 parades of floats, which take place in the mornings of the mikosi processions (July 17 and 24)
* On the evenings before the parades, floats are open to visitors and their treasures displayed

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Gion Matsuri  by the Kyoto Visitors Guide

Gion Matsuri – synonymous to Kyoto’s summer, is Kyoto’s biggest and most important and one of Japan’s three largest festivals. The city of Kyoto becomes filled with the energy of people who have waited for this exact moment a year ago, except, this year things are going to change!

This year, exactly 48 years in history, the Gion Festival will return to its original form. The current united-procession will be again separated into the Saki Matsuri and the Ato Matsuri, and this means that the year 2014 will truly be special for everyone who witnesses and participates in this historic moment.

The Saki Matsuri, its style and schedules will basically stay the same, and the parade being gorgeous and boisterous with many floats as usual. In contrast, for the revived Ato Matsuri, it will be held in a much quieter atmosphere as there will be no stalls, nor extra goodies, etc. For tourists who can stay a bit longer, you may have a great chance to see the contrast of both the gorgeous and fun Saki Matsuri along with the solemn and beautiful Ato Matsuri like the light and shadow of the festival.

The ropework involved in the massive wooden floats is an example of immaculate Japanese craftsmanship (not a single nail is used).

History of Gion Matsuri
Throughout history, Japan has suffered many times from serious epidemics, floods, fires, earthquakes and recently tsunami. These were always viewed as signs that the ”gods” and ”goddesses” were not pleased. To appease the deities and pray for the deceased, rituals called goryo-e were held which over time, developed into festivals associated with a certain shrine. The Gion Matsuri, one of Japan’s oldest and largest goryo-e festivals, is dedicated to Yasaka Shrine (also known as the Gion Shrine).

The first goryo-e in Kyoto was held in 869 in response to a devastating plague. In desperation, the reigning emperor decreed that special prayers be recited at Yasaka Shrine. The prayers were successful and from then on were repeated any time the imperial capital was beset by a plague or natural disaster. This was how the Gion Festival came to be.

Though the festival began as a religious purification ritual, by the end of the Kamakura period (1185-1333) it had also become a way for certain craft guilds and kimono textile merchant families to show off their wealth and expertise.

From the late 16th century onwards, as a result of the growing prosperity of Kyoto’s textile merchants, textiles from China, Persia, and even Europe, imported via the Silk Road, were added to the floats. During the Edo period (1600-1868) and early Meiji period (1868-1912), the floats and the city of Kyoto were badly damaged by war fires on several occasions. However, each time the citizens worked hard to rebuild everything and the festival continued to grow in popularity and fame.

Floats offer different items for sale, with their stalls staffed by neighbourhood volunteers of all ages.

Behind the ScenesRevival after almost half a century
In traditional Japanese festivals, people transfer the deity from one shrine to a special place during the festival, and then, return it to the original place as the festival ends. Therefore, two rituals are naturally very important: the one to welcome the deity and the other to return it to the original place.

The ritual to carry the deity out is called the Shinko-sai Festival while the one that returns the deity is called the Kanko-sai Festival.  In the Gion Matsuri Festival, the Shinko-sai Festival is held on the 17th and the Kanko-sai Festival is on the 24th of July.

Gorgeously decorated floats were considered to be the preliminary celebration before the important mikoshi processions. Also, there is an important meaning to entertain the deity with beautiful crafts & treasures and with special kinds of festive music, to harmonize the religious solidarity and joyfulness together in this special occasion.

The float parade prior to the Shinko-sai Festival is called the Saki Matsuri (Preceding Festival) and the parade prior to the Kanko-sai Festival is called the Ato Matsuri (Later Festival). Hence, the original Gion Matsuri Festival used to have two float processions.

The backstreets of downtown Kyoto are illuminated for a few days by the bright lanterns of the floats

During Japan’s high economical growth period, the parade routes had to be changed due to increasing car traffic on roads, etc. In 1966, the Saki Matsuri and Ato Matsuri were merged and only one parade took place on July 17th until last year, 2013.

There are several reasons for the revival of the original festival this year, but one reason is that the voices on reviving the original festival have increased recently, to rethink and recognize the meaning of the Gion Festival once again.

A second reason is that the numbers of locals who knew and experienced the original festival held more than half a century ago are now slowly decreasing, and it is regarded as the best timing to return them while those locals are still able to share their advice to younger generations to inherit the festival’s traditions.

So this year, the Gion Matsuri Festival has returned to its original form. In order to succeed the tradition of the festival faithfully, two float parades will again commence. The original form of the festival that has existed for over 1000 years will return to the present-day, at last.

Some of the treasures displayed during the festival are exquisite works of art, such as this sliding screen by Maruyama Okyo from the late eighteenth century

Maritime festival

Dragon boat at Matsushima in Miyagi Prefecture (All photos by Nathan Hill)

 

Yesterday (July 21) was Marine Day (Day of the Sea) in Japan and a public holiday.

By way of celebration, Japan Today carried a piece about a portable shrine being ferried across Matsushima Bay, north of Tokyo.  It was part of the 67th Shiogama Port Festival in Shiogama City, Miyagi Prefecture.  Two local mikoshi were paraded through the streets before being loaded aboard decorative boats and transported throughout the bay, accompanied by up to 100 fishing vessels.

Historically Matsushima Bay is a noted beauty spot, celebrated as one of Japan’s three most scenic views, alongside Miyajima (Kamakura) and Amanohashidate (on the Japan Sea in northern Kyoto Prefecture).  Though the area was hit by the devastating earthquake of 2011, it suffered relatively minor damage and still retains its beauty.  There are some 260 islets in the bay, offering different views and perspectives as one travels around by boat. When Basho visited on his Journey to the Deep North, he was at a loss for words (count the syllables!)…

Matsushima, ah!
A-ah, Matsuhshima, ah!
Matsushima, ah!

Horse archery

An archer opens the festival (this photo and those below by Angeles Marin Cabello)

 

Yabusame Archers of the Lonely Chugoku Mountains
BY STEVE JOHN POWELL   JUL 19, 2014   Japan Times

What are those peculiar scarecrow figures, lolling about the villages of the Chugoku Mountains?  Is that a man fishing from a bridge? A couple leaning against a railing? A whole family in a field? Some are dressed in kimono or peasant costumes, others are in jeans; they’re all so lifelike we almost stopped to ask one for directions.

My wife, Angeles, and I have driven up to these mountain villages in Hiroshima Prefecture in search of a yabusame (traditional archery on horseback) display. Yabusame originated in the sixth century, as a form of ritual prayer for warriors seeking health and good fortune. During the Kamakura Period (1185-1333) it was only performed in shrines and developed into a spiritual and physical exercise for samurai warriors who wanted to develop a Zen-like focus.

It is believed that yabusame was first performed in the Usa region of Kyushu by order of Emperor Kimmei (509-571) at the site of Usa Shrine (the earliest Hachiman shrine in Japan) to pray for peace and abundant harvests. However, the first recorded yabusame performance was in 1096, for the retired Emperor Shirakawa. Hachiman is a popular deity who protects warriors, agriculture and generally looks after the well-being of the community.

Today, this spectacular ritual is performed at famous shrines such as Tsurugaoka Hachimangu in Kamakura and Meiji Jingu in Tokyo. These contests attract thousands of spectators, who come to marvel at the sight of mounted archers in sumptuous costumes firing arrows at stationary targets while charging at full gallop.

The display we have come to see in the tiny village of Togouchi, however, is far less grand. Although the event dates back to 1439, during the Muromachi Period, it stopped being held at some point and was revived in 1991 after a long absence.  It’s now held annually on the first Sunday of October and is the only yabusame contest still held in Hiroshima Prefecture.

As we motor on through magnificent forest-clad mountains, following the majestically broad Ota River, our pulses quicken as we see the flapping flags and bright banners that confirm we’re in the right place. The event is billed as “A rare opportunity to see yabusame in Hiroshima Prefecture,” so we’ve arrived nice and early to make sure we get a good place.

We needn’t have worried: The riverside track is empty except for a long line of tripods, left by their owners to secure the best viewing spots.  One of the few people there is an old-timer with a weather-beaten face under a big, straw hat. It turns out he’s something of a yabusame veteran. He’s been to “the big one” in Kyushu, and recommends going to another popular contest, “around cherry blossom time,” down in Tsuwano, Yamaguchi-ken,

“Where is everybody today?” Angeles asks him.  “Up at the shrine, for the ceremony,” he answers, nodding toward the hill over the road. Not wanting to miss out, we trot up to the shrine.

Togouchi’s Hori Hachiman shrine dates from 1715 and is one of roughly 25,000 Hachiman shrines in Japan. It’s shaded by several towering cedars, each looking like they’ve been there since Amaterasu Omikami — the Shinto Sun Goddess — left her cave and brought light to the world.

Inside the shrine, elders chant and bang drums for what seems like an eternity. The chanting, the doleful drumbeats and the creaking of the bamboo flagpoles are the only sounds to ruffle this sun-dappled morning.

We hang around with the ranks of photographers waiting patiently outside; the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly. This must be exactly what it’s not like at the big yabusame events in Tokyo and Kamakura. Here, the small-scale makes the ceremony’s ancient roots palpable — among the ancient trees, the Shinto kami (gods) loom closer.

A lady from the shrine comes and hands Angeles and I a happi coat each, a straight-sleeved cotton coat worn at festivals, which is the matsuri (Japanese festival) equivalent of a backstage pass.  A white horse appears, led by a young boy holding a plastic bag and shovel to keep the path clean. Immediately, a new sound: the rapid chatter of dozens of cameras set on continuous-shooting mode.

A rider — tall, strong and resplendent in his silken robes — emerges from the shrine and mounts the steed. He’s Okazaki Susumu, the reigning champion. A priest comes out, blesses him and his horse by waving a haraegushi (sacred zigzag-shaped papers tied to a wand) over them, and ties a white prayer-paper to the horse’s mane.

Another rider joins the group: Toshie Aoshiba, a female of archetypal jockey build, no more than half the size of Susumu. Now comes a pivotal yabusame moment, as the rider places an arrow in his bow and pulls the bowstring taut. With a folded prayer-paper clenched between his teeth, he ceremoniously aims his arrow — first at the ground and then at the sky, to symbolize harmony between heaven and Earth — before firing the arrow off into the distant forest canopy. Enthusiastic applause ensues.

Finally the elders come down the steps from the shrine in their splendid gold robes and black, pointy hats or tortoise-shell-shaped helmets. The leader wears a red tengu mask, half-man, half-bird, with tufts of gray hair, a huge red nose and grotesque expression. A group of strong-armed firemen carry the mikoshi (a portable Shinto shrine) down the steep steps leading to the main road and off they all go. This sparks a veritable charge of the camera brigade.

We make quite a spectacle, parading down the side of the busy highway: The champ on the horse, the taiko drummer playing from the back of an open truck, the priests (and everyone else) following on foot, including the flute player, playing while he walks, and little kids in turquoise happi who pull the mikoshi on a trolley. The photographers trot backwards trying to keep a few steps in front of the procession to get good shots.

Finally we all arrive at the banks of the river, where mountains — the domain of bears and boar — reach right down to the 140-meter riding track. A sweet, smoky tang wafts up from a stall where mochi (soft rice cakes) are roasting over an open flame. Near the starting line, another ceremony is taking place at a small altar inside a roped-off square. A priest makes offerings of sake and mochi, then blesses the archers again. The weather is a perfect mix of sun and cloud — “not hot and not cold,” as the emcee observes in his preamble.

At last, the contest begins. The champ’s first shot shatters a wooden target with a resounding thwack. The small crowd erupts in a huge round of applause. The female rider fails to hit the target on her first run but is warmly applauded for the speed of her horse’s gallop. After each round the targets are presented to the judges for inspection.

Warrior skills, here celebrated at a Tohoku festival, were an important part of medieval life in Japan

Both riders take turns shooting at three square targets 60 cm wide, spaced about 63 meters apart, positioned 2 meters to the left of the track where they will gallop. Statistics aside, I’m in awe of how they manage to charge full-tilt while their arms are raised shoulder-high to fire the arrow.

The actual yabusame lasts just 30 minutes, after which it’s time to go back up to the shrine for goodbyes. We congratulate the archers on their amazing riding skills and with typical Japanese modesty, Aoshiba laughs it off. “I’ve been doing yabusame for four years, but I get so few opportunities to practice from one year to the next that I never get much better!”

Just as we’re leaving, I hear a voice calling out to me. It turns out that as all the firemen are taking down the banners and dismantling the targets, the elders need help carrying the mikoshi (and the deity inside) back up to the shrine. I never imagined that such a small object could be so heavy. Still, we were given a bag of okashi (snacks) for our efforts. They are meant for the kids really, but it was a nice gesture.

With the deity safely put away, Angeles asks one of the women about those scarecrow figures we’d been seeing all day.  It turns out they have nothing to do with birds at all.  With the depopulation of the countryside, the lady explains, mountain villages are becoming emptier and these humanlike dolls help make the place seem less lonely.

Life in these mountain villages is still all about that human connection. Even a symbolic population is preferable to the loneliness of empty spaces.

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Getting there: Togouchi is a 2.5-hour bus ride from Hiroshima City. Shinkansen and flights leave daily from Osaka and Tokyo for Hiroshima Prefecture.

Kojiki musical version

 

Izanagi and Izanami, creators of Japan according to the Kojiki mythology

 

Bamboo flute musician Tosha borrows from the modern to teach traditional tranquility
BY SEI DICKINSON Japan Times JUL 15, 2014

Music changes from generation to generation, which is as true in Japan as it is everywhere else.  But how can traditional music manage to keep itself from being forgotten?  Shinobue (bamboo flute) musician Kisho Tosha is trying to find an answer to this question.  “It’s sad that kids don’t know about, or have much interest in, the culture of their own country,” he says.

Tosha is trying to connect with younger music fans by mixing traditional and modern sounds via collaborations with more modern musicians — and he’s getting positive results. He says that after collaborating with DJ Kentaro at a show, he was surprised by the audience’s response. People told him they had no idea the shinobue could sound so “intense” or “rock.”

Tosha says he achieves such intensity by using classical techniques as a base for his performances. Not solely focusing on the music, though, he also emphasizes visual presentation through dancing and dialogue. The result produces energetic moments that can just as easily slip into a moment of calm.

This is likely what he’ll bring to the upcoming “Sakimitama-Kushimitama: From Kojiki” event, which consists of a Japanese oratorio featuring text from the ancient Kojiki (712) rewritten to make it understandable to younger listeners.  “Japanese youth are likely to get bored if they don’t understand the lyrics,” Tosha admits.

The Kojiki (“Records of Ancient Matters”) is a manuscript from the early eighth century that details the creation myths of Japan and its gods. “Kojiki is an origin story for the Japanese people,” Tosha says. “Even when arranging it in a modern way, the themes are still old ones.”

The musician hopes that in making the Kojiki more accessible, Japanese people will get a sense of their heritage and tap into its tranquillity.

The Sakimitama-Kushimitama event will also feature a dance performance by Kikunojo Onoe, the fourth headmaster of the Onoe School of Dance, as well as other dancers and musicians. The lyrics to the contemporary Kojiki have been written by Takashi Matsumoto, a former member of the popular 1970s band Happy End, who now writes lyrics for pop groups such as Kinki Kids.

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For an exciting nine-minute video of the performance, with taiko, full orchestra and vocals, see this youtube video.  The production reminds me of a Kabuki version of Amaterasu I saw last year starring Bando Tamasaburo.

“Sakimitama-Kushimitama: From Kojiki” takes place at Kioi Hall in Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, on July 23 (3 p.m. and 7 p.m. starts; ¥6,000 for S rank seats, ¥5,000 for A rank seats and ¥2,000 for students). For more information, visit www.mukeibunka.com/#sakimitama.

Gion’s historic year

Kyoto Shimbun 2014.6.30 News

Map showing the direction of the two parades, with the second reversing the processional route of the first. (Kyoto Shinbun)

Turning Point Year for Gion Festival

The Gion Festival, one of Japan’s three major festivals, kicked off on July 1. This year, the “Ato-matsuri,” or the latter festival, is being revived on July 24 for the first time in 49 years, so the “Yamahoko Junko” float procession will parade through central Kyoto City for two days, on both that day and on July 17 for the “Saki-matsuri,” or the former festival. Another hot topic is that the Ofune-hoko float has been revived after 150 years and will hold the last position in the Ato-matsuri Junko procession. This year is a very special in the Gion Festival’s long history.

Formerly, the Yamahoko float procession was divided into two parts, parading on both July 17 for the “Shinko-sai” ritual (Saki-matsuri) and on July 24 for the “Kanko-sai” ritual (Ato-matsuri), as “heralds” for the portable shrines of Yasaka Shrine in Higashiyama Ward, Kyoto. However, after the Second World War, there was a great discussion over which issue was the priority, “Religious faith or tourism.” As a result, it was decided to integrate the Ato-matsuri Junko procession into the Saki-matsuri’s procession for the 48 years from 1966 to 2013, with all Yamahoko floats parading through the city only on July 17.

While this “joint procession” gained a good turnout, the prolonged procession and visitors’ congestion became issues for the festival. As the festival will “return to its original style” this year, the floats will be split with 23 floats in the Saki-matsuri and 10 floats in the Ato-matsuri.

The Ofune-hoko float, which was destroyed in the great fire of the Hamaguri Gomon Incident in 1864, has been reproduced in its original style and will rejoin the festival for the first time in 150 years. It participated in the festival through a “Karabitsu,” a kind of legged, covered chest, in which was placed a divine mask that was saved from the fire, for two years from 2012.

Due to the revival of the Ato-Matsuri Junko procession, there will be traffic restrictions, mainly in Nakagyo and Shimogyo Wards, from July 18 to July 24 as well.   (translated by Galileo, Inc)

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For more detail about the historic changes in 2014, see this posting.

 

The 'chigo' with a peacock feather headdress performs a dance to initiate the proceedings of the Naginata float on July 5 (for a report, see the Kyoto Shinbun link at the top of the article)

Bowing to trains

Cleaners bowing to a train as it arrives (courtesy Rocket News)

Japanese have exquisite manners, and respect is extended not just to people but to objects.  Swords for example are particularly revered, for they are thought to contain spirits, but there are many other occasions where objects are treated with a reverential bow (the tea ceremony for example).  One thing that strikes visitors to the country are the way cleaners bow towards the train for which they are responsible, giving rise to a recent news item.

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Why do Japanese cleaning crews bow at trains?
By Krista Roger    Rocket News JUL. 14, 2014

TOKYO —
The cleaning crews who maintain Japan’s high-speed bullet trains have a mere seven minutes to make the interior of the train spotlessly clean for its next journey. Those seven minutes are carefully divided into different tasks to make sure everything gets done in the allotted time.

Another curious detail people often notice about these cleaners is the way they bow as trains are entering and exiting the station. While this act is generally thought to be a respectful gesture, the intended recipient of the bowing seems to be a matter of great debate, with plenty of conflicting opinions out there, even among the Japanese.

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Bowing to a train – even when it’s empty

Some of the reactions from different countries were revealing…  “It’s the same as Pavlov’s dogs, or the deer in Nara,” commented one person.

China: “I’m Chinese, and I honestly don’t feel comfortable with all the bowing in Japan. It’s because in China, people mostly bow to honor those who have passed away.”

United Kingdom:  “Japanese traditions are the best in the world!  We’ve lost courtesy and grace in the West.”

United States:  “If people in the West were more respectful to each other, America wouldn’t have become the police state it now is.”

Japan: “Isn’t it just a regular greeting to the train driver and the train that conveys something like, ‘Work hard today!’ and, ‘We appreciate your efforts!’  And wasn’t the idea that inanimate objects have a spirit (tsukumogami) born out of the custom of showing respect?”

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Now that last idea is intriguing, and it’s one taken up by a reader of Japan Today who gives a similar take on the matter.  The idea appeals to Green Shinto, which is dedicated to the notion that Shinto thinking lies at the base of Japanese culture as a whole….

CGB Spender  Japan Today JUL. 16, 2014
“It pays respect and appreciation to something or somebody. As that, it’s a very important, fundamental custom so there is a lot of meaningful purpose to it. It’s also anchored in Shintoism in which every being and object has a spirit, even a rock. A person who sees value in even a simple rock is a better person than one who sees no value.”

Don’t you love that last sentence?!

“A person who sees value in even a simple rock is a better person than one who sees no value.”

 

Gion ‘spirit body’ removal

The West Gate (Nishi Romon) of Yasaka Jinja, the host shrine of Kyoto’s Gion Matsuri, is filled with people coming and going

Two nights before the big Gion Matsuri parade, and the streets of Kyoto are packed with excited visitors.  Most are wandering around visiting the floats, viewing the treasures on display, watching the entertainment, looking at the attractive yukata, and eating the snacks on offer from a myriad stores.

Inside the entrance gate, stalls line the way into the shrine compound

Meanwhile, at Yasaka Jinja this evening took place the spiritual essence of the festival.  It consists of the removal of the ‘spirit-bodies’ (goshintai) of the three kami from the sanctuary and into portable shrines.  The kami in question are Susanoo no mikoto, the storm god, together with his wife and their children. For a whole week, from the 17th to the 24th, they will be in downtown Kyoto in their ‘resting place’ (otabisho) in Shijo Street.

The removal ceremony began at 8.00 in the evening, with a large crowd gathered around three sides of the inner compound.  The three mikoshi were placed in the Dance Stage that dominates the centre.  For twenty minutes nothing seemed to happen, as piped gagaku music was played from speakers and placards circulated stating that photography was not allowed.

At 8.20 all the lights in the compound went off, and the shrine was plunged into darkness.  ‘It’s been a while since I saw the stars,’ a Japanese man whispered to his wife.  Then from out of the Worship Hall came some eight or nine priests dressed in white, barely visible in the dark except for a torch shining downwards to ensure they could see the way.  As they proceeded towards the mikoshi one of the priests made an eerie noise to signify the presence of the spirits (a shamanic legacy).

At the head of the small procession a priest waved a haraigushi to purify the way.  Behind him others held up a white protective sheet to shield from view the boxes containing the ‘spirit-bodies’.  The small procession then mounted into the Dance Hall to place the spirit-bodies within the mikoshi.  The priests then returned into the Worship Hall and disappeared from view.

At 8.30 the lights went back on again and the ceremony was over.  To my surprise, given the spiritual nature of the occasion, there were a lot of foreigners present, especially Chinese.  Reactions of the Japanese were quite mixed; a middle-aged man near me stood very devoutly with hands together throughout the ceremony.  Others chatted and used their phones quite unconcerned.  One young girl near me asked her boyfriend, ‘Is it Buddhist?’, to which he replied, ‘I don’t know.  I’ll ask my grandmother, she’ll know.’  I guess you could call that an interesting case of the transmission of tradition!

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For a talk about the history of the Festival and the significance of the 2014 Matsuri, see here.  For the first of nine articles about the Gion Matsuri, click here.  For more about the floats, click here.  For a list of events and the order of floats, click here.

Three mikoshi (portable shrines) stand within the Dance Stage (buden), lined with a triple row of paper lanterns which were turned off during the removal ceremony.

 

After the ceremony festival-goers stream back out through the West Gate and into Gion

 

Right in front of the shrine there was shamisen entertainment…

 

… and maiko were serving beer, a reminder how the spiritual and the secular have always gone hand-in-hand in Japan

 

In the light of day the next morning, the three mikoshi look resplendent. They'll stay here a couple of days before being taken to their 'otabisho' on July 17

In the light of day the next morning, the three mikoshi look resplendent. They’ll stay here a couple of days before being taken to their ‘otabisho’ on July 17

A divine container for a divine spirit, the gold of the mikoshi considered to have a purifying effect and the phoenix on top a Chinese symbol of social harmony

A divine container for a divine spirit, the gold of the mikoshi considered to have a purifying effect and the round mirror a shining device for keeping away evil spirits

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