After spending most of my time in Tokyo for the past four months, I was
finally given the chance to go outside the capital, north, to Ueda, recently
by a really good friend and his family out there.

The Japanese country-side has such striking landscapes. Just on the way
there I was surprised to see such rugged, steep cliffs challenging the sky
to see who could rise higher; the green grass, the rice fields; just from
this seat on the shinkan-sen such a prelude I was priviliged to hear. It was
as if I was hearing everything anew, whisked away by some Stravinsky; people
with the ears for that seem to be few.

The afternoon was spent around Ueda castle: it's been said that pushing
over 40 celsius at that time. That only added some element of beauty to the
abundance of schools (elementary, middle, high schools), empty buildings,
and lazy residences that we passed on our way to the castle. We did all the
traditional shrine-things when we arrived, pitching our five-yen coins in
the shrine-box in the hope of accruing five-yen.

That evening there was a small, neighborhood festival; we took the bus to
get there and still encumbered by our weekend-trip things entered the
festival grounds. In reality, the festival was held in a vacant lot,
healthily numbered by a fistful of covered tents serving yakisoba,
cotton-candy and drinks to the residents of this neighborhood. From the
festival grounds, I could see the mountains which surround Ueda on nearly
all sides, dark silhouttes against the pale blue sky, tending orange and
then black as the afternoon lapsed to dusk.

All seated around that little table, eating more watermelon than a person
should ever consume in one sitting and spitting the seeds here and there,
yakisoba is brought and then drinks: some Asahi really plays well with the
atmosphere of the whole festival.

All totaled, there are maybe 120 people, so I've heard. They are all people
from the surrounding houses except us, people having lived there for
innumerable years under steeping rooves and tiled rooves alike are out here,
seated in the relaxed fashion at tables on a spread tarp.

Some fireworks, sou-men catching, then concluded by the watermelon-spilitting.

We pleasantly walk back to the house.

I wish to tell the rest of this tale but it will need to wait until the
morning; it does not do a young man any good to stay up later than it has
become now.