I’m starting to get very worried that I might be living in a town full of cultists. Every morning when I get up to go for my jog, there is always a large congregation of people in my local park. Lead by a group of four or five figures dressed in white and on raised platforms, everyone sings songs and does what looks like stretching exercises. At first I thought that this was some kind of Japanese tradition, but after asking one of my teachers, it is one that he had never heard of. Now it could well be that what they are doing is completely harmless, or more likely still that I didn’t quite explain the conundrum correctly to my teacher. But just in case I have been keeping a very keen eye on recent proceedings, and am ready to go and take refugee with the Jehovah’s and their tandems should there be any more sinister developments.
Today we were blessed with absolutely glorious weather, and where better to horribly burn myself than at the ‘One Love Jamaica Festival’ in Yoyogi Park. Seeing throngs of dancing Japanese Rastas, whilst eating salt fish & ackee and listening to Japanese Reggae music I was reminded of why I love this country so much. If I closed my eyes, and ignored the sound of the singer’s attempts at a Jamaican accent, it was like I was right there in the Caribbean. It was heavenly, and what made it all the more wonderful was that there wasn’t a single prospective cultist in sight.