Sunday, April 5--Japan for the NC-17 Crowd

Spring is the season of new life—flowers bloom, baby birds hatch, weeds sprout between the bricks of my front porch…. What better way to mark this season of renewal than a fertility festival? We had heard talk of these fertility festivals from some of Jim’s coworkers who had attended one in March, and the descriptions sounded a little far-fetched for the seemingly prim and proper Japanese. Yet the base had gone so far as to ban anyone under 18 from its tour buses bound for the festival, so we decided we had to check this out for ourselves. Well, it seems the Japanese are not quite as prim and proper as they appear.

The Kanamara Matsuri was held at a small shrine in Kawasaki. The directions by train were very easy, but we feared like many previous excursions the “short walk” from the station to the shrine would turn into an epic journey of frustration. No worries this time…all we had to do was follow the hordes of gaijin (foreigners) who had also come to witness this spectacle. Did I mention the shrine was small? The grounds couldn’t have been more than half a football field in area, and were cluttered with the shrine itself, several smaller buildings, stone lanterns, gardens, vendor stalls, and a few thousand camera-toting visitors, many with their young children. Not even on a Tokyo train at rush hour have I felt so claustrophobic. Once you waded into the sea of people, you lost all control and were forced to follow wherever the tide took you. It was impossible to see what the vendors were selling or to get near enough to anything to take a decent picture.

So what exactly were all these people crammed in to see? Well, literally translated, the Kanamara Matsuri means “Iron Phallus Festival.” Large replicas of the male anatomy, including one made of steel, were sheltered lovingly in mikoshi (portable shrines), which were eventually carried through the streets of Kawasaki on the shoulders of beaming young couples and vibrantly attired transvestites. There was a giant, hand-carved wooden phallus around which hundreds of people were waiting their turn to “ride” and be photographed. The vendors were all hawking penile themed goods (which we only saw outside the shrine when people unwrapped their purchases to show to friends), from headbands to keychains to candles to lollipops. Let me just say, there is nothing quite so shocking as seeing a wide-eyed three year old sucking on a candy penis.

Now before you get to thinking that the Japanese are a bunch of perverts, let me explain the origins of this festival, which has been held each April since the Edo period (1603-1868). It began all those years ago after a local blacksmith carved an iron phallus to protect a local girl from a demon that had murdered her first two husbands on their wedding nights. The blacksmith was honored with Kanamara shrine. Later, prostitutes began coming to the shrine to ask for protection from STDs. Now, worshippers come to pray for harmonious marriages and healthy pregnancies. The annual festival is also a huge draw for the gay community, as it raises money for HIV and AIDS research.

Although we usually really enjoy the excitement and entertainment of Japanese matsuri, the crush of humanity at this festival was just too much for us and we headed back to the train pretty early. The view of the cherry blossoms from the train windows was much more rewarding than being crushed between busty, blond-wigged trannies. We’ll chalk this adventure up to “been there, done that, don’t need to do it again.”