The full Kagura, 33 sacred shinto dances, were performed from 5:30 pm on Saturday until sunrise on Sunday, in a house in the Takachiho mountains. To get there, I rode over a gorge and up steep roads, steeped in lush green mountains. When I walked into the house, two middle-aged women were sitting in the corner drinking apple juice boxes. Two groups of older men were sitting around heaters, drinking sake. I saw ice boxes of food and sleeping bags in the corner, and I worried that I had only brought an orange and some coffee for the next 16 hours.
However, at 7 pm the juicebox ladies gave me an aluminum plate and offered Brian and me onigiri and inari tofu. The men in front of us tossed chicken and vegetables onto our plate with a flick of their chopsticks. As we shared food, we shared talk. The men in front of us had all (except one newcomer) been attending the Kagura dances for over ten years. They pointed to the glossy photographs that lined the walls and named who had taken each dynamic dance shot. Each man had expensive-looking cameras and seemed to be playfully competing for the best pictures. Brian showed them his almost-antique Leica, and the cameras were passed around and admired.
However, at 7 pm the juicebox ladies gave me an aluminum plate and offered Brian and me onigiri and inari tofu. The men in front of us tossed chicken and vegetables onto our plate with a flick of their chopsticks. As we shared food, we shared talk. The men in front of us had all (except one newcomer) been attending the Kagura dances for over ten years. They pointed to the glossy photographs that lined the walls and named who had taken each dynamic dance shot. Each man had expensive-looking cameras and seemed to be playfully competing for the best pictures. Brian showed them his almost-antique Leica, and the cameras were passed around and admired. 
Regarding food, the Japanese share. Dinner, in the home or at a restaurant, is normally served family-style, as everyone takes a little bit of each entree. Even snack bags come with each candy/cookie individually packaged, since the pieces will be distributed to friends. In dance class, it is usual for someone to open a gift box of candy or their own box of cookies and promptly run over screaming "Kay-chan!" with the piece designated for me. (On right: Example of girls who scream "Kay-chan!" and dance well.)
At 8 pm older men and women emerged from the kitchen, carrying wooden trays full of onigiri, plates of nabe-style vegetables, and bottles of sake. We ate, again. One man was careful to ensure that my sake cup was overflowing to the point that it spilt on the tatami floor.
About one-third of the way through the dances, the middle-aged men in front of us began tearing off white paper decorations and wrapping a coin in the paper. They passed me one of the bundles and made a motion for me to throw it at the same time they did, onstage while the dancers were performing. They chortled each time someone had to dash on and off stage to pick up the coins. They were sitting on a sleeping bag, while i was sitting just outside of it, on the tatami floor. One of the men motioned for me to take a sitting space on the sleeping bag.
I'm not suggesting that this is a grand gesture for me to move from outsider to insider status, but it does make me think of the juxtaposition of uchi and soto that is prevalent in Japan. Uchi is the inside space, and soto is the outside space. Literally, uchi can mean "house" or the pronoun "I." Soto means "outside," and the Japanese word for foreigner literally means "outside person." A characteristic of the pair is that uchi and soto are perceived as opposites. Maybe, in Japan it looks like this:
Uchi: Soto
Japan: Rest of the World
One's Personal Space: Other People
The people in our vicinity were aware of us and casually pulled us into conversations or actions involving the event. Around midnight four dancers brought trays of rice onstage and threw them on the ground. (I assumed as an offering to the gods.) One of the men gave me a few grains of rice and told me to keep it. I asked him what it means and he said, "Omamori," which means "good luck charm." I said, "I don't know what that means, but I'll put it in my wallet, OK?"
As it got later, my mind began to wander. It felt strange to be thinking weird thoughts at a religious ritual. Almost immediately after thinking this, one of the men passed me a beer and peanuts, soon to be followed by more beer. I allowed my mind to roam freely for a while.
At 8 pm older men and women emerged from the kitchen, carrying wooden trays full of onigiri, plates of nabe-style vegetables, and bottles of sake. We ate, again. One man was careful to ensure that my sake cup was overflowing to the point that it spilt on the tatami floor.
About one-third of the way through the dances, the middle-aged men in front of us began tearing off white paper decorations and wrapping a coin in the paper. They passed me one of the bundles and made a motion for me to throw it at the same time they did, onstage while the dancers were performing. They chortled each time someone had to dash on and off stage to pick up the coins. They were sitting on a sleeping bag, while i was sitting just outside of it, on the tatami floor. One of the men motioned for me to take a sitting space on the sleeping bag.I'm not suggesting that this is a grand gesture for me to move from outsider to insider status, but it does make me think of the juxtaposition of uchi and soto that is prevalent in Japan. Uchi is the inside space, and soto is the outside space. Literally, uchi can mean "house" or the pronoun "I." Soto means "outside," and the Japanese word for foreigner literally means "outside person." A characteristic of the pair is that uchi and soto are perceived as opposites. Maybe, in Japan it looks like this:
Uchi: Soto
Japan: Rest of the World
One's Personal Space: Other People
The people in our vicinity were aware of us and casually pulled us into conversations or actions involving the event. Around midnight four dancers brought trays of rice onstage and threw them on the ground. (I assumed as an offering to the gods.) One of the men gave me a few grains of rice and told me to keep it. I asked him what it means and he said, "Omamori," which means "good luck charm." I said, "I don't know what that means, but I'll put it in my wallet, OK?"
As it got later, my mind began to wander. It felt strange to be thinking weird thoughts at a religious ritual. Almost immediately after thinking this, one of the men passed me a beer and peanuts, soon to be followed by more beer. I allowed my mind to roam freely for a while.
Another meal of onigiri and tsukemono was served at 1:30 am. Afterwards, People began to pass out in sleeping bags. One man was using an empty sake bottle as a pillow. My notes at this point were composed of different colored pens and illustrations. I tried to stay awake, because the action onstage was becoming more interesting.
Two gods move through the audience, one acting as a bull pulling a plow while the other god whips it. A young god does a precise and pleasing dance with a hoe, testing the air with two fingers pointing skyward. Three of the dancers, wearing a woman's head cloth covering, walk onstage and gesture downward to imply planting. One purpose of the Kagura is to thank the gods for a good harvest and to ensure another in the year to come.
A god enters the stage with a large wooden dowel. He begins chasing a "woman" god and prodding her in the butt with his now-phallic dowel. One of the men in front of me cackles maniacally at each butt-poke.
At 5:20 am I surrendered to exhaustion and lay down in the spot where I sat. When I wake up, I was positioned butt-to-butt with one of the older men, sharing his covers. If I didn't have to use the bathroom, I would have pretended to remain sleeping in order to savor the old man butt warmth. It was very cold.After the dances about Amaterasu were performed at dawn, the event concluded at 8 am. Then, they served breakfast - more onigiri, tsukemono, and miso soup. The vinegar and unusual flavor of the food had already upset my stomach, but the old woman serving the food would not let me turn down an onigiri with a pickled plum in the center. I ate two. Brian and I both looked and felt awful, and I called a taxi to take us to the bus station. Bus, subway, shinkansen, train - I slept the whole way home.
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