Japanese hillbillies? - Japan Series #12

H was remarkably generous with V and I this summer. He lets us take long weekends to visit places, spends much of his time translating stuff for us, and buys us food. To top it off he took me and V to visit his home town of Takayama.(V writes about our trip in her blog.)

If Hiroshima is the Cleveland of Japan, Takayama is the Morgantown, West Virginia of Japan.

Tucked in the Japan Alps, Takayama is a picturesque small city. It has many preserved buildings from the Edo period, because it was spared WWII bombings. Freshly melted snow, flows down the crystal clear creeks throughout the the town. Of course, the price to pay to get to such a place is a 10 road trip from Hiroshima, which entailed some curvy mountain roads with signs warning of deer, monkey, rabbit, and badger crossings.

Since H had some family business to attend to on Saturday, we were left to the care of his parents and their friend, who speaks a smattering of English. The family friend, Mr. M, took us around to some touristy places that afternoon. It was during the car rides, we learned some interesting facts about Takayama and its people. Most people do not leave Takayama, and if they do they rarely come back to live there. H is hero there, for going to college in Kanazawa, and then going to the US. And the favorite music of its residence is Japanese folk music which Mr. M commented "It is like your country music."

That night H returned from his trip, and we had dinner with H and his parents. After eating our artery-clogging-melt-in-your-mouth Hida beef (the new Kobe beef), we went to H's parent's house. At some time H had called his little brother and told him to buy some fireworks for us. H thought it was weird I had never played with fireworks, but those who know me well understand why my parent tried to keep me away from all flamable and sharp objects.

In their front yard/driveway/street, we started off by lighting some dazzlers. In the picture, you can see V and I with our lit dazzlers and cans of Asahi beer in hand. Somehow I have a sinking feeling that that was not the safest behavior but it was fun.


We left the next day, and I thought about all I learned about Takayama, the people and the town and I could not help but feel some kind of weird kinship to the place I visited so briefly. At the train station, I could not help singing to myself:

Country Roads take me home to the place I belong
Takayama, mountain mama
Take me home Country Roads