During the coldest time in Japan, the Sadaiji temple in Okayama hosts one of the most unique festivals not only in Japan, but all of the world, so of course I planned to attend. The Hadaka Matsuri is a violent, chaotic, testosterone fueled mess where thousands of men battle for just a handful of lucky charms tossed out by the temple monks at night in the bitter cold winter air. Oh, and everyone is practically naked too.
To give you a bit more background on this event, the Hadaka Matsuri started over 500 years ago, when small groups of worshipers competed to get talismans created by the monks during the new year. Since these talismans were believed to bring good luck, the crowds grew over the years. Due to the increasingly competitive nature of the crowds, the talismans were changed to wooden sticks called shingi, and thrown into the crowd. At the same time people in the crowds began to wear less clothing, enabling them to better maneuver through the masses to grab the shingi. Eventually it transformed into the modern event of thousands of practically naked men battling for luck.
My day did not start quite so eventfully. Once I arrived in Okayama on February 20th, I went to a cafe where I met an old man who was excited to talk with me. It turns out he was formerly an employee at Okayama's library. He was at the cafe to meet up with a reading club, a group of other retirees who take turns reading a book aloud together. I am impressed with the intelectual and physical activeness of Japan's elderly population. I have seen and spoken to many elder people at this point who belong to clubs that keep them engaged in activities they love.
After grabbing a delicious katsudon lunch at a chic restaurant with a cool wooden interior, I met up with a large group of ALTs from Okayama and a few other areas, including Caleb who I met in Hokkaido. We hopped on a bus and headed across town to Sadaiji temple for the big event.
The venue was quite different from what I imagined. Sadaiji temple is an average local temple in Japan, residing next to small roads and local shops and apartments. It was hard to imagine 9000 participants and more spectators would soon flood this quiet suburb. The temple grounds had been retrofitted to accommodate the event, with temporary walls, bleachers, and scaffolding set up for spectators and TV crews. Around the temple grounds temporary tents were set up, where participants bought their fundoshi and socks and got changed. Within these tents were assistants who wrapped the fundoshi for participants, giving wedgies which almost hoist them in the air to ensure a secure fit. Within our tent an animated news personality chatted with us as we got changed, news crew and all. Apart from our traditional underwear, we wrapped our socks with athletic tape to ensure they would stay on, since shoes aren't part of the attire and we would be trudging around a gravel filled complex for the next few hours.
Exiting our tent, we joined the masses marching into the temple grounds. There we lapped the complex three times, chanting "Wasshoi!" loudly the entire time. The entire procession huddled closely together, both for camaraderie as well as for warmth, especially since the route led us right around a fountain, which was of course spouting freezing cold water into a waist deep pool. As we marched around the temple, everyone also rang a bell at a neighboring shrine, and proceeded under a small gate of ritualistic importance.
After these laps, the crowds dispersed and regrouped in their respective tents, prepping for the big event (and many probably drinking heavily). But soon enough we all found ourselves back at the temple grounds for the main event.
About an hour before the actual start time, we were allowed to enter the temple. Unlike many temples, this one had a large veranda, presumably constructed for the festival. It also had an upper balcony, where a monk who looked surprisingly akin to Johnny Depp stood with a ladle. He threw water down on the crowd, who had crammed tightly onto the veranda in anticipation of the stick being thrown.
However, his actions served another purpose. Due to how tightly packed people were, some attendees would pass out, leading him and his assistants to throw a tether line to the incapacitated person, who would be shuffled out by the crowd. Upon success the crowd would cheer, and immediately fill that empty space with not one, but two more people. When I thought it couldn't get any tighter, they announced we had twenty minutes until the drop. I was crunched even more, pressed right into the center of the veranda, my arms in the air not of my own volition, but because they were resting on my neighbors shoulders. The mass of humanity ebbed and flowed as people continued to press in, give up, and struggle for an opportune spot. The crowd was truly unique, desperately physical and competitive, yet still considerate.
But that attitude quickly changed at 10pm, when the monks shut the lights and hurled the much desired shingi into the crowd. The instant bombardment of camera flashes cut through the darkness, and the crowd peered around in confusion. (Un)fortunately, none ended up in my proximity, leading me to join the rest of the crowd in a manic search for those who caught one. Those who did ended up in a violent scrum, with people prying at them. A common strategy is to wedge the shingi down the fundoshi, which has resulted in people reaching down other people's underwear if they look remotely suspicious. Some particularly aggressive competitors wore black fundoshi, and many had tape covering their backs. These guys were yakuza, who needed to cover their tattoos in order to participate in the competition. Yet they played to the same rules as everyone else, with their stylistic choice probably being just an intimidation tactic.
The struggle continued for a fairly short while, with those unlucky enough to be near the steep stairs getting bucked down. My buddy Caleb got pretty banged up taking a tumble down them himself.
Yet soon after the crowd abated, and as the festival ended, the competitors began to clean up the venue, picking up lost socks, tape, and even unwrapped fundoshi.
Afterwards some of the ALTs went out to Karaoke, but Caleb and I were famished, and grabbed a well deserved pot of nabe before parting ways.
I headed to my hotel for the evening, which was unexpectedly another unique experience. I booked a capsule hotel, an accommodation unique to Japan which were popular in the 70s and 80s. The Capsule Hotel Hollywood was one of the most accommodating places I have been to, especially for the modest price of about $25 USD. The hotel is old, but the bath area was recently refurbished. When you enter a capsule hotel, there is a locker for all of your stuff. You are provided a robe, which you wear the entire time you are within the building, storing your clothes in the locker. The Japanese style bath had a massive sauna room, complete with TVs, and the other amenities were quite nice too, being provided with toiletries and even pumice stones for the bath. Upstairs was a lounge room, with comfortable recliners and reading materials for guests. And above that were the capsules themselves. The capsules themselves are plenty spacious and comfortable, with a tiny TV and radio built into the wall. These must have seemed like space age tech when it was first introduced. To top it all off, breakfast was included.
That next morning I had some time to kill before catching my train back to Tottori. I set off to check out on of Okayama's museums, where I ran into the retired librarian again. We cheerfully exchanged greetings, which was a great way to start the day.
I was joined by Tony, another attendee from the festival who teaches in China, and takes a month off every year and visits Japan for vacation. We went to the museum, only to find it closed. But no matter, for we went to Okayama castle, and this time I actually got to go inside. Much like other castles, the interior had been turned into a museum, where historical information was presented about the castle. This is still one of my favorite castles, due to it's unique architecture (one floor has 5 sides instead of 4), and the entirely black facade.
Soon after that I caught my train back to Tottori. On the way I met some German girls on the train who were traveling Japan for three months during their gap year between high school and college. I was surprised to see them heading to such a rural area, but after three months in Japan I imagine they had already seen many of the bigger sights. I am still baffled at how the Europeans I have met can afford to travel the way they do. Even though I have been booking trips every weekend, I have my workweek to offset the costs, I cannot fathom how they spend three months hopping between hostels and tourist attractions without replenishing funds. I should ask one sometime how they manage it. Honestly though, I am jealous of their leisurely, extended vacations.
My day did not start quite so eventfully. Once I arrived in Okayama on February 20th, I went to a cafe where I met an old man who was excited to talk with me. It turns out he was formerly an employee at Okayama's library. He was at the cafe to meet up with a reading club, a group of other retirees who take turns reading a book aloud together. I am impressed with the intelectual and physical activeness of Japan's elderly population. I have seen and spoken to many elder people at this point who belong to clubs that keep them engaged in activities they love.
After grabbing a delicious katsudon lunch at a chic restaurant with a cool wooden interior, I met up with a large group of ALTs from Okayama and a few other areas, including Caleb who I met in Hokkaido. We hopped on a bus and headed across town to Sadaiji temple for the big event. |
| Those windows above is where the monks monitor the festival, and eventually threw the shingi. |
Exiting our tent, we joined the masses marching into the temple grounds. There we lapped the complex three times, chanting "Wasshoi!" loudly the entire time. The entire procession huddled closely together, both for camaraderie as well as for warmth, especially since the route led us right around a fountain, which was of course spouting freezing cold water into a waist deep pool. As we marched around the temple, everyone also rang a bell at a neighboring shrine, and proceeded under a small gate of ritualistic importance.
About an hour before the actual start time, we were allowed to enter the temple. Unlike many temples, this one had a large veranda, presumably constructed for the festival. It also had an upper balcony, where a monk who looked surprisingly akin to Johnny Depp stood with a ladle. He threw water down on the crowd, who had crammed tightly onto the veranda in anticipation of the stick being thrown.However, his actions served another purpose. Due to how tightly packed people were, some attendees would pass out, leading him and his assistants to throw a tether line to the incapacitated person, who would be shuffled out by the crowd. Upon success the crowd would cheer, and immediately fill that empty space with not one, but two more people. When I thought it couldn't get any tighter, they announced we had twenty minutes until the drop. I was crunched even more, pressed right into the center of the veranda, my arms in the air not of my own volition, but because they were resting on my neighbors shoulders. The mass of humanity ebbed and flowed as people continued to press in, give up, and struggle for an opportune spot. The crowd was truly unique, desperately physical and competitive, yet still considerate.
The struggle continued for a fairly short while, with those unlucky enough to be near the steep stairs getting bucked down. My buddy Caleb got pretty banged up taking a tumble down them himself.
Yet soon after the crowd abated, and as the festival ended, the competitors began to clean up the venue, picking up lost socks, tape, and even unwrapped fundoshi.
Afterwards some of the ALTs went out to Karaoke, but Caleb and I were famished, and grabbed a well deserved pot of nabe before parting ways.
I headed to my hotel for the evening, which was unexpectedly another unique experience. I booked a capsule hotel, an accommodation unique to Japan which were popular in the 70s and 80s. The Capsule Hotel Hollywood was one of the most accommodating places I have been to, especially for the modest price of about $25 USD. The hotel is old, but the bath area was recently refurbished. When you enter a capsule hotel, there is a locker for all of your stuff. You are provided a robe, which you wear the entire time you are within the building, storing your clothes in the locker. The Japanese style bath had a massive sauna room, complete with TVs, and the other amenities were quite nice too, being provided with toiletries and even pumice stones for the bath. Upstairs was a lounge room, with comfortable recliners and reading materials for guests. And above that were the capsules themselves. The capsules themselves are plenty spacious and comfortable, with a tiny TV and radio built into the wall. These must have seemed like space age tech when it was first introduced. To top it all off, breakfast was included.That next morning I had some time to kill before catching my train back to Tottori. I set off to check out on of Okayama's museums, where I ran into the retired librarian again. We cheerfully exchanged greetings, which was a great way to start the day.
I was joined by Tony, another attendee from the festival who teaches in China, and takes a month off every year and visits Japan for vacation. We went to the museum, only to find it closed. But no matter, for we went to Okayama castle, and this time I actually got to go inside. Much like other castles, the interior had been turned into a museum, where historical information was presented about the castle. This is still one of my favorite castles, due to it's unique architecture (one floor has 5 sides instead of 4), and the entirely black facade.Soon after that I caught my train back to Tottori. On the way I met some German girls on the train who were traveling Japan for three months during their gap year between high school and college. I was surprised to see them heading to such a rural area, but after three months in Japan I imagine they had already seen many of the bigger sights. I am still baffled at how the Europeans I have met can afford to travel the way they do. Even though I have been booking trips every weekend, I have my workweek to offset the costs, I cannot fathom how they spend three months hopping between hostels and tourist attractions without replenishing funds. I should ask one sometime how they manage it. Honestly though, I am jealous of their leisurely, extended vacations.
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