After a 45 minute walk up a small mountain road to a viewpoint overlooking a village in a remote mountain valley in Japan I am about as far from Akihabara as I can imagine being so I am surprised to run into a group of people cosplaying in the lookout parking lot. Cars with human size anime character decals on them and dakimakura in the front seat, girls with long blue tresses in interesting costumes complete with neko mimi and shippo. There must be some kind of context here but it is beyond my experience.

The view from the lookout is well worth the climb. The mist in the valley adds to the ambiance and except for the parking lot full of tour buses and the paved streets you could be stepping back 400 years in time.

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The trip to Shirakawa is only about 40 km from Takayama but takes about an hour by bus on the mountain roads. Climbing out of Takayama on the toll road we go through a series of long tunnels all of which are all named. A lot of the road is hung off the side of the mountain or raised on bridges over gaps. It has the feel of a railway route. Again there is a resemblance to BC and I am reminded of the Sea to Sky highway.

There are more fall colours here on the still mostly green hills which are covered with a mix evergreen and deciduous trees. What flat land exists is farmed and has the orderly checkerboard look that farmland always seems to have although on a smaller scale than I am used to seeing.

The bus has a real mixture of people and around me I can hear conversations in Japanese, Spanish  French and Madorin. One Japanese woman sounds like she was born in Spain.

I was not able to get on the tour I had wanted this morning as it was already fully booked due to the festival which I had only found out about when I arrived in Takayama. Instead I walked down to the station and queued for the local bus which for some reason is more expensive than the tour.

I have to get back to Takayama by 6 to get the last train that connects all of the way back to Okazaki. I probably should have bought my ticket before I left but there was not enough time before the bus left. I didn’t even have time to grab a bite of breakfast so it will be festival food for me today.

When the bus arrives in Shirakawa  I am really glad that I had not rented a car for the weekend. There is a traffic jam with a lineup of cars back out onto the highway.

What do you do with a small mountain village that thousands of people want to visit on the weekend? In Shiakawa’s case you pave it and turn most of the buildings into souvenir shops, museums, food stalls or stores. It is a jarring contrast. There is still historical beauty here but it is also like visiting a theme park. Considering that I am one of the thousands I have nothing to complain about but as I walk through the village I wonder what it must be like to live here.

The traditional buildings all have thatched roofs that look the same as the thatched roofs on cottages in England. These roofs though are steep in the manner of alpine roofs everywhere to shed the inevitable heavy winter snow. They are also made from rice rather than wheat straw and have other interesting details that make them unique.

I wander through the village taking pictures. It’s obvious that people live here but I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a constant stream of tourists walking beside your house every day taking pictures and examining every detail of your life. After a while I wander through the village and end up at the local shrine where there are food stalls, awnings and all the other trapping of a festival.

One of the reasons that there are so many people here today is the Doburoku Matsuri. Doburoku is a sort of unrefined sake. It looks a lot like congee. The local shrine has an exception to produce doburoku as private production of alcoholic drinks is generally banned in Japan. The festival like rural fall celebrations everywhere is about celebrating the harvest. In this respect I guess doburoku is sort of like beaujolais nouveau of Japan. I line up with the other festival goers and buy a shallow commemorative sake dish from the shrine. I line up again to wash it in the water from a spring and then a final line up where a shrine maiden pours doburoku into my dish. I take a sip. It is thick with lumps of rice sort of sweet but at the same time it has the tang of fermentation. It is definitely alcoholic. I like it.

I stay around for the initial parade to the shrine and a few other events. There is quite a show planned but if I stay I will miss the last train and I have classes in the morning. I buy some okonomiyaki from a stall and eat it while watching some of the people going by. One couple is pushing a stroller with 2 small poodles dressed up in clothes in it. I also buy a couple of bottles of doburoku to take with me.

The trip back to Takayama is uneventful but pretty. I buy my train ticket and an ekiben (station bento) and wait for the train. There are a bunch of girls in middle school uniforms waiting to get on a train. I wonder where they are commuting to on a Sunday night. The sun is setting as the train leaves and I eat my bento on the train. It is long past dark when I get to Okazaki. I walk back to school and unlock my bike and drive home in the dark. My new parents seem relieved to see me back safe. We have a cup of tea together and I give them some souvenirs from the trip. I did not study enough this weekend and try to do some before bed but I don’t think that it does much good. Lights out. Oyasuminasai.