We came around the corner, working our way through the crowd and into the stadium, when suddenly a giant shrine ca

me lurching toward us. The police starting yelling for us to get out of the way, so we pressed up against the wall with dozens of other spectators as 70 men carried the huge shrine out of the stadium and down the street.
It was the Nada Fighting Festival, one of the highlights of festival season in this part of Japan. I had been there all day, including sitting in some choice seats for the morning program. Chelsey had arrived after work to take in the main part of the spectacle.
There were essentially two components of the festival. One involved groups of 70 men carrying around these huge shrines - essentially a souped-up version of what Chelsey and I did at the Shinzaike festival the prior weekend. In the morning I saw the "portable" shrines get carried into the main shrine of the city for display - but

only after stopping in front of the gate to have their tops unscrewed, because otherwise they wouldn't fit through the gate.
After the morning festivities, these shrines were carried through the city streets and up the hill where the night's action takes place. At the top of the hill, they gave thanks to the gods. After dark, the men carried the lit-up shrines back down the hill. Carrying a really heavy shrine uphill is hard work - sometimes the men would only make it a few meters before having to rest again. But carrying it downhill can't be a lot of fun either.
The second major feature of the festival is the shrine fighting, whence the festival gets its name. This involves two smaller, but still big, shrines being shoved against one another until one topples the other. This can be dangerous; reportedly, someone actually died this year, although not while Chelsey and I were there. I saw a couple of bouts in the m

orning from my seats, but the main event is the nighttime jousting. This is held at the bottom of the afore-mentioned hill, and people crowd into seats all up both sides of the hill to watch. The net result is several thousand spectators. We lucked into some seats, so we had a bird's-eye view for the beginning of it.
People aren't confined to the seats, however, they're also allowed down in the "pit", which is where we headed after a while. That's when we had our encounter with a shrine (not the fighting kind). We joined the crowd in the pit as the large, lit shrines descended the hill. You had to be alert, because the shrines, and therefore the crowds, tend to move and change direction erratically. Twice I was forced to abandon the main area as the crowd in front of me started to surge back away from incoming shrines.
It was certainly one of the biggest spectacles we've seen in Japan so far. Perhaps next year we'll go back with a better idea of what's going on, and how to deal with things. We'll try to keep out of the way of the shrines, however.
-Jason
There are more pictures on the picasa site. Videos to come soon. Jason did a great job of taking pictures while he was there in the morning, and I took a few more after I got there in the evening. All of the men who were carrying the shrines were wearing what I call the "sumo diapers" -- I'm sure they have a proper name, but I don't know what it is. But everyone was wearing them. Jason joked that it was tough to take a picture that didn't have "cheek" in it. I saw several men who were wearing them sitting on a bench near the train station and it has given me second-thoughts about ever sitting on a bench in Japan again. But I still think that both of my brothers and my nephew need one of these for Christmas. :)