Japanese cedars around four hundred years old stretch deep along the approach.

This is 戸隠神社 (Togakushi Jinja) in Nagano Prefecture. Looking up at the towering cedars, I felt as though I had shrunk to the size of a tiny person and wandered into a world of giants.

Togakushi Shrine consists of five shrines, situated from the foot of the mountain to its innermost reaches. One preserves traces of a Buddhist temple, another enshrines a deity of water, and others are dedicated to deities from Japanese mythology. Each bears the imprint of Togakushi’s long history.

Why do the five shrines within a single sacred complex look so different? This time, I will follow the history of Togakushi as I make my way from 宝光社 (Hōkōsha) to 奥社 (Okusha) and 九頭龍社 (Kuzuryūsha).

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Japan is the only country to have experienced the use of nuclear weapons in war.

At 8:15 a.m. on this day 81 years ago, the uranium-based atomic bomb known as “Little Boy,” dropped from the U.S. B-29 bomber Enola Gay, detonated at an altitude of approximately 600 meters above the area near Shima Hospital in Hiroshima.

Intense thermal radiation and blast waves struck the city, destroying most wooden houses within a radius of approximately two kilometers from the hypocenter. Reinforced-concrete buildings also had their windows and interiors destroyed, and many were engulfed in flames. The damage extended even farther: people directly exposed to the thermal radiation suffered burns as far as approximately 3.5 kilometers from the hypocenter.

Massive amounts of radiation penetrated people’s bodies, affecting not only those who died at the scene but also those who survived the explosion for many years afterward. Three days later, on August 9, another atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki.

This spring, I visited Hiroshima.

Hiroshima today is a beautiful city with rivers flowing through it. There are paved roads, bridges spanning the water, and tall buildings rising beyond them. Trees grow throughout 広島平和記念公園（Hiroshima Heiwa Kinen Kōen / Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park）, and people walk across its broad lawns.

Within that landscape, the 原爆ドーム（Genbaku Dōmu / Atomic Bomb Dome）alone had a presence that set it apart from everything around it.

Collapsed outer walls, exposed steel beams, and windows that are no longer there. Although the city has been rebuilt and time has moved forward, this building alone retains the form it had on August 6, 1945. As I walked around the Atomic Bomb Dome, I had the strange feeling that time had stopped in this one place.

Many people were gathered around it. There were Japanese visitors, as well as many people from overseas. Some took photographs, some read the information panels, and others stopped in front of the Dome and looked up at it for a while. Each person seemed to be turning their thoughts toward what had happened 81 years ago through what remained before them.

Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park is visited by many people. Even so, I do not think it is an easy place to approach with the same frame of mind as an ordinary tourist destination. Visiting requires a certain degree of resolve about what you may see there.

I could not know what each person in the park was thinking. Yet as I watched people press their palms together before the Cenotaph, I felt that, beyond race and nationality, they were praying for the souls of those who had died and for peace in the future.

The People Who Were Here 81 Years Ago

The land now occupied by Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park was once a neighborhood known as 中島地区（Nakajima district）.

It had developed as a center of transportation and commerce since the Edo period. By the early years of the Shōwa era, the area was lined with houses, shops, inns, movie theaters, temples, and hospitals. Although it is difficult to imagine from the park we see today, this was once a place where many people worked, shopped, and lived with their families.

On the very day the atomic bomb was dropped—August 6, 1945—an estimated 350,000 people were in Hiroshima.

No complete record of the number of people in the city that day survives. The estimated 350,000 included not only residents, but also military personnel, commuters, and people who had come from surrounding areas to work.

At the time, a process known as 建物疎開（tatemono sokai）was underway in Hiroshima. Buildings in the city were demolished to create open spaces intended to prevent fires from spreading during air raids. Unlike the evacuation of people to safer areas, this involved removing the buildings themselves.

On the morning of August 6, members of the 国民義勇隊（Kokumin Giyūtai / national volunteer corps）brought in from nearby municipalities, workplace volunteer groups formed by companies and factories, and mobilized students from middle schools and girls’ schools were working in the city. Many children were outdoors, clearing away roof tiles and timber left behind after buildings had been demolished.

The people in Hiroshima also came from many different national and cultural backgrounds. Among those exposed to the bombing were people from the Korean Peninsula and Taiwan, which were then under Japanese colonial rule; students from China and Southeast Asia; foreign priests; White Russian émigrés; and American prisoners of war.

The exact number of people who died as a result of the atomic bomb remains unknown.

Near the hypocenter, some bodies were so badly burned that they could not be identified. Some people were blown away by the blast, some died after fleeing into the rivers, and some remains could never be returned to their families. In some cases, entire families died, leaving no one to report their deaths. Government institutions were also devastated, and many population and death records were lost.

Many people died after initially surviving the explosion.

In addition to thermal radiation and blast waves, the bomb released massive amounts of radiation. Even people with no visible injuries immediately after the explosion began to experience hair loss, fever, diarrhea, vomiting, bleeding gums, and bleeding beneath the skin several days later. People who entered the city after the bombing to search for family members or take part in relief work were also affected by residual radiation.

It is impossible to draw a clear line between those who died at the scene and those who died days, weeks, or months later. Hiroshima City estimates that approximately 140,000 people had died by the end of December 1945, with a margin of error of about 10,000.

The figure of 140,000 alone is beyond anything I can imagine. I was also deeply shocked that the margin of error itself was as high as 10,000. So many people died under circumstances in which even their deaths could not be accurately recorded.

The objects preserved at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum return that immense number to individual human lives.

What I Saw at the Museum

The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum displays clothing worn by people caught in the bombing, letters written to family members, diaries, lunch boxes, school uniforms, watches, photographs, and other belongings.

These objects were not created later to explain history. They were actually used, worn, and held by their owners until August 6, 1945.

Inside the museum, I wanted to look away many times.

Photographs of people with burns, damaged clothing, belongings left by children who died, and words preserved by their families. Each object inside the glass cases conveyed something of the life of its owner and the family members who had searched for them.

At times, I found it difficult to continue looking at the exhibits. Yet this was not a story created after the fact. It is what actually happened in this city 81 years ago.

The museum also displays a section of stone steps known as 人影の石（Hitokage no Ishi / Human Shadow Etched in Stone）.

The steps once stood at the entrance to the Hiroshima branch of Sumitomo Bank, approximately 260 meters from the hypocenter. When the bomb detonated, a person believed to have been waiting for the bank to open was sitting on the steps.

The surface of the stone directly exposed to the intense thermal radiation turned pale. The area shielded by the person’s body did not undergo the same change and remained in the form of a dark shadow.

This is not the trace of a human body vaporized and burned into the stone. The person sitting there is believed to have suffered severe burns and died at the scene, unable to escape.

The person’s identity has never been conclusively established. Several bereaved families came forward believing that the shadow might have been left by one of their relatives.

As I looked at the stone, I thought about the person who had certainly been there that morning, yet whose name had been lost. That person must also have had a family, a reason for going to the bank, and plans for the day ahead.

The health effects of the atomic bomb did not end on August 6, 1945.

Cases of leukemia began to increase two or three years after the bombing and peaked around six to eight years later. Increases in various types of cancer were also observed beginning approximately ten years after the bombing. The effects extended to people exposed in the womb and those who entered the city to search for their families.

The horror of the atomic bomb lies not only in its ability to take a vast number of lives in a single explosion. It also lies in the lasting effects on the bodies and lives of those who survived. Some 被爆者（hibakusha / atomic bomb survivors）lived with anxiety about their own health and that of their families, as well as prejudice and discrimination surrounding marriage and childbirth.

The Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum’s Peace Database allows visitors to view belongings held by the museum, photographs taken after the bombing, drawings made by survivors, video testimonies, and other materials.

Some of these materials are difficult to look at. I believe each person should decide for themselves whether to open them.

Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum Peace Database

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“Rest in Peace, for the Error Shall Not Be Repeated”

After leaving the museum, I walked toward the 原爆死没者慰霊碑（Genbaku Shibotsusha Ireihi / Cenotaph for the Victims of the Atomic Bomb）. Its formal name is the Hiroshima Peace City Memorial Monument.

It was built in 1952 and designed by architect Kenzō Tange. Its roof is shaped like a house depicted in ancient Japanese 埴輪（haniwa）clay figures and is intended to shelter the souls of the dead from the rain. A stone chamber inside contains the registry of those who died as a result of the atomic bombing.

The following words are inscribed on the Cenotaph:

Rest in peace,
for the error shall not be repeated.

The inscription was conceived and written in calligraphy by Tadayoshi Saika, a professor at Hiroshima University who was himself a survivor of the atomic bombing.

In Japanese, it is common for a sentence’s subject to remain unstated. This inscription does not specify who is promising not to repeat the error.

In 1952, the year the monument was erected, Indian jurist Radhabinod Pal visited Hiroshima and objected to the subjectless wording. He argued that the Japanese had not dropped the atomic bomb, and that the inscription did not make clear whose error it referred to.

His objection prompted a debate over what the “error” meant and who was making the pledge.

Saika did not limit the subject of the inscription to the people of Hiroshima or to the Japanese people. He explained that the implied “we” referred to all humanity as citizens of the world.

Hiroshima City today also explains that the “error” does not refer only to the actions of a particular person or nation. It is a pledge made by all people not to repeat the errors of war and the use of nuclear weapons—errors committed by humanity as a whole.

This interpretation is not intended to obscure the historical facts that led to the atomic bombing or the decisions made by governments at the time. Knowing and examining what happened can coexist with people living today accepting responsibility for the future beyond the boundaries of nationality.

I did not feel that the inscription was placing guilt on visitors because of their nationality.

Instead, its words seemed to ask, “What will we refuse to repeat from this point forward?”

Japanese visitors and people from overseas stood before the Cenotaph with their palms pressed together. Even when our races and nationalities differ, we can mourn those who died and pray for peace in the future.

That peace is not peace for Japan alone.

The people who preserved the Atomic Bomb Dome, and the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki who have continued to share their experiences, have never wished only for Japan to be safe. They hope that no one, anywhere in the world, will ever experience the same suffering caused by nuclear weapons.

The Cenotaph is surrounded by 平和の池（Heiwa no Ike / the Pond of Peace）. The pond was created in 1957 so that the Cenotaph would appear to float on the water.

Immediately after the bombing, many people with severe burns sought water and made their way to nearby rivers. Testimonies and drawings record that the rivers which carry beautiful waters today were then filled with the bodies of people who had died there.

Since 1974, Hiroshima has continued a water-offering ritual known as 献水（kensui）to mourn those who died while asking for water. Water collected from locations across the city is offered before the Cenotaph and poured into the Pond of Peace after the ceremony.

The pond was originally created for an architectural purpose. The water that continues to be poured into it today also carries the meaning of offering water across time to those who died seeking it 81 years ago.

The park is also home to 平和の灯（Heiwa no Tomoshibi / the Flame of Peace）, which has burned continuously since 1964.

A single flame burns above a pedestal shaped like two hands opened toward the sky. It honors those who died in the atomic bombing and carries the pledge that it will continue to burn until nuclear weapons have disappeared from the Earth.

“What Disappears from Sight Also Disappears from the Heart”

Looking beyond the Flame of Peace from the Cenotaph, I could see the Atomic Bomb Dome.

This building was not created to preserve the memory of the atomic bombing. It opened in 1915 as the 広島県物産陳列館（Hiroshima-ken Bussan Chinretsukan / Hiroshima Prefectural Products Exhibition Hall）. It was used to display and sell goods produced in the prefecture, provide industrial consultation, and host art exhibitions. It was later renamed the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall and became a familiar place for the city’s residents.

The building was designed by Czech architect Jan Letzel. With its Western-style exterior and oval dome, it stood out in Hiroshima even at the time.

The atomic bomb detonated at an altitude of approximately 600 meters, about 160 meters southeast of the building. Everyone inside was killed, and most of the structure collapsed and burned. Because the blast struck almost directly from above, and because some of the outer walls were particularly thick, the walls of the central section and the dome-shaped steel frame remained standing.

After the war, opinions were divided over whether the building should be preserved or demolished.

Some believed that it should remain as a way of conveying the horror of the atomic bomb to future generations. Other survivors wanted it demolished because seeing it brought back memories of the day they lost their families. Some argued that reconstruction should take priority, while others opposed preserving a building that was at risk of collapse.

Today, the Atomic Bomb Dome is a World Heritage Site and is known as a symbol of Hiroshima. Yet its preservation was not something that all citizens agreed upon from the beginning. The decision to keep it involved the conflict felt by people who believed that the building had to be passed on to future generations, even though looking at it caused pain.

The movement to preserve the Dome gained momentum because of a diary left by one girl.

楮山ヒロ子（Kajiyama Hiroko）was one year old when she was exposed to the atomic bombing in Hiroshima. She later developed leukemia and died in 1960 at the age of sixteen.

On August 6, 1959, the year before her death, Hiroko wrote in her diary:

Only that painful Industrial Promotion Hall will continue, for all time, to tell future generations about the terrifying atomic bomb...

Fourteen years had passed since the bombing, and the physical scars of the atomic bomb were gradually disappearing from the rebuilt city. Hiroko feared that if those visible traces vanished, the horror of the bombing might also disappear from people’s memories.

Her diary was given to 河本一郎（Kawamoto Ichirō）, a survivor of the bombing and an organizer of the 広島折鶴の会（Hiroshima Orizuru no Kai / Hiroshima Origami Crane Association）.

The Hiroshima Origami Crane Association was founded in 1958 as a peace organization centered on middle and high school students. An 折り鶴（orizuru）is a crane folded from a square sheet of paper. In Japan, the crane symbolizes longevity. Large numbers of paper cranes are often folded and strung together to express hopes for recovery from illness or for peace. These are known as 千羽鶴（senbazuru / a thousand paper cranes）.

In Hiroshima, paper cranes became a symbol of mourning for the children who died because of the atomic bomb and of the hope for the abolition of nuclear weapons. The Hiroshima Origami Crane Association carried those hopes forward as an organization in which children themselves took action for peace.

Moved by Hiroko’s diary, the middle and high school students in the association read it aloud at a gathering on May 5, 1960. The event was broadcast nationwide, and calls to preserve the Atomic Bomb Dome began to spread.

Kawamoto gave the children these words:

What disappears from sight disappears from the heart.

If the Atomic Bomb Dome disappeared, the visible evidence capable of conveying the horror of the bombing would disappear with it. That was why it had to be preserved. Supported by his words, the children gathered signatures in front of the Children’s Peace Monument and collected donations for the cost of repairs.

Some people responded harshly to the preservation movement. Survivors who were reminded of that day whenever they saw the Dome asked for it to be demolished. Even so, the children continued their work.

In July 1966, the Hiroshima City Council passed a resolution to preserve the Atomic Bomb Dome permanently. The following year, the first preservation work was carried out using donations received from across Japan and overseas.

Citizens also played a major role in securing its designation as a World Heritage Site.

At first, the Atomic Bomb Dome was considered too recent to meet the criteria for designation as a national Historic Site. In 1993, a citizens’ group began a nationwide petition campaign and collected more than 1.65 million signatures. In response, the national criteria were revised. The Dome was designated a Historic Site in 1995 and registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1996.

UNESCO recognizes the Atomic Bomb Dome as both a symbol of the most destructive force ever created by humankind and an expression of hope for world peace and the abolition of all nuclear weapons.

Preserving the Atomic Bomb Dome alone does not automatically convey its meaning to everyone. In Hiroshima today, many people continue to work so that both the building and the memories it carries will remain.

Alongside survivors who share their own experiences, Hiroshima City trains 被爆体験伝承者（hibaku taiken denshōsha / A-bomb Legacy Successors）. These successors learn the experiences and hopes for peace of a specific survivor, then pass that testimony on to the next generation in the survivor’s place. There are also 家族伝承者（kazoku denshōsha / Family Legacy Successors）, who inherit and share the experiences of relatives who survived the bombing.

As of the end of March 2026, the average age of people holding an Atomic Bomb Survivor’s Health Handbook in Japan was over 86. The time remaining to hear directly from those who experienced the bombing is limited. For this reason, the work of learning, recording, and passing their testimonies on to others becomes more important each year.

Volunteer guides in Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park also explain its history in English to visitors from overseas.

One of them is 佐々木駿（Sasaki Shun）.

Shun first became interested in the Atomic Bomb Dome when he was in the first grade of elementary school. He wondered why such a badly damaged building had been preserved and began researching the bombing and Hiroshima’s reconstruction with his family.

In the second grade, he began volunteering as an English-language guide for international visitors to Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park. Using materials he made himself, he explains the history of the Atomic Bomb Dome and the Cenotaph, as well as his great-grandmother’s experience of the bombing. At the end of each tour, he gives the visitors a paper crane he folded himself.

Shun Sasaki explaining Hiroshima’s history in English（YouTube）

In the 1960s, middle and high school students were at the center of the movement to preserve the Atomic Bomb Dome. Today, in front of that same building, a child of the next generation tells visitors from overseas about the history of the bombing.

The physical building has been preserved, and people have continued to explain its meaning in words. Because both have endured, the memory of 81 years ago continues to be passed on to those who visit Hiroshima.

When I stood before the Atomic Bomb Dome this spring, I became one of the people who received that memory.

The existence of this place may have forced some people to relive painful memories again and again. Even so, because it was preserved, we are able to remember what happened, refuse to abandon the act of thinking, and continue asking what we can do to prevent it from happening again.

Hiroshima has not remained in the destroyed state of 81 years ago. People rebuilt the city. They live, work, and raise children here.

At the same time, Hiroshima did not replace every trace of the past with something new.

The city preserved the Atomic Bomb Dome, protected personal belongings, recorded the names of the dead, shared survivors’ experiences, and continued explaining them to visitors from overseas. This was not done to present Hiroshima as an eternal victim. It was done to prevent the same thing from happening anywhere else in the world.

As a Japanese person, I felt proud of this strong and beautiful city.

That pride is not about comparing the scale of suffering or blaming anyone alive today. It comes from seeing a city that chose not to erase a history that is painful to confront, did not confine its memory within one country, and transformed that memory into words calling for peace throughout the world.

The day the Flame of Peace is extinguished will not be the day Hiroshima’s memory disappears.

It will be the day nuclear weapons have disappeared from the world and there is no longer any reason to keep the flame burning.

I hope that day will come.

—Written by Sumire

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They show Kumamoto’s rich natural landscape and the places I encountered during my journey. I photographed them again and again because I did not want to forget what I saw in a place I was visiting for the first time.

Kumamoto, where I took those photographs, is now facing a major earthquake.

Every Saturday, in “Life in Japan,” I share Japan’s seasons, everyday life, and the things I notice while living here. The summer heat, seasonal foods, school events, and the scenes found across Japan at different times of the year. Until now, I have mainly written about these familiar subjects.

This Saturday’s article is not about the season in the usual way. Even so, I believe that telling you what is happening in Japan now is also an important part of “Life in Japan.”

News reports about disasters tell us the scale of an earthquake, the number of people affected, and the damage to buildings and roads. Every one of these details is essential for understanding the current situation.

At the same time, the places described as disaster areas had ordinary lives before the disaster. People lived and worked there, and children went to school. They are someone’s hometown and places that hold someone’s precious memories.

For me, Kumamoto is a place filled with beautiful memories from a journey. It is also the place that led me to change the course of my life.

Alongside the damage now being reported, I want to share the beauty that existed in Kumamoto before the earthquake. That is why I am including photographs I took three years ago in this article.

Damage reports continue to be updated. The figures in this article are based on information released by 熊本県（Kumamoto Prefecture）and the 気象庁（Japan Meteorological Agency）on August 1, 2026.

What Is Happening in Kumamoto Now

At 4:27 p.m. on July 28, 2026, a magnitude 7.1 earthquake struck the Kumamoto region of Kumamoto Prefecture. The earthquake occurred at a depth of 16 kilometers, and a maximum seismic intensity of 7 was recorded in 宇城市（Uki City）and 氷川町（Hikawa Town）.

The Japan Meteorological Agency has named this earthquake and the sequence of seismic activity that followed the 令和8年熊本地震（2026 Kumamoto Earthquake）.

In Japan, magnitude represents the overall size of an earthquake, while seismic intensity indicates the strength of the shaking recorded at a particular location.

The Japanese seismic intensity scale has ten levels: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, lower 5, upper 5, lower 6, upper 6, and 7. Seismic intensity 7 represents the strongest level of shaking. A magnitude of 7.1 and a seismic intensity of 7 do not mean the same thing.

By 9:00 a.m. on August 1, 327 earthquakes with a seismic intensity of 1 or higher had been recorded. The Japan Meteorological Agency has said that seismic activity remains high and has warned people in areas that experienced strong shaking to remain alert for about one week after the initial earthquake, as another earthquake could produce shaking as strong as seismic intensity 7.

According to information released by Kumamoto Prefecture as of 2:00 p.m. on August 1, 36 deaths have been reported. Damage has been reported at 3,429 homes, including 181 that were completely destroyed. A total of 9,068 people are staying at 218 evacuation shelters, while approximately 69,400 homes remain without running water. Kyushu Electric Power has announced that electricity has been restored to the high-voltage distribution network affected by the earthquake, although repairs to damaged low-voltage lines and service wires leading to individual homes are continuing.

On the 九州新幹線（Kyūshū Shinkansen）, damage to sound barriers and other structures has been confirmed at more than 200 locations, along with two broken rails and one displaced bridge pier. As I have shared in the past few “Life in Japan” articles, Japan is currently experiencing extremely severe heat. In 九州（Kyūshū）, temperatures have continued to exceed 35°C（95°F）, with some areas nearing 40°C（104°F）.

Kumamoto is also experiencing heat that can be life-threatening without air conditioning. With power and water outages continuing, the risk of heatstroke has become a serious concern for people staying in evacuation shelters, inside vehicles, and in their homes.

In places where water cannot be used freely and air conditioning cannot operate properly, it is difficult to lower the body’s temperature. If people are unable to sleep because of the heat, their physical strength will gradually decline. We must consider not only injuries and damage to buildings caused by the earthquake, but also the effects that life after evacuation can have on people’s health.

Kumamoto Prefecture is distributing drinking water, portable toilets, and portable air conditioners to evacuation shelters and strengthening measures to protect people from the heat.

Kumamoto also experienced a major earthquake ten years ago.

During the 2016 Kumamoto Earthquakes, the same region recorded the maximum seismic intensity of 7 twice. Many lives and livelihoods were lost, and homes, roads, railways, cultural properties, and other parts of the region were damaged. A long recovery process began across Kumamoto.

熊本城（Kumamoto Castle）is still undergoing restoration work following the earthquake ten years ago.

During the 2016 Kumamoto Earthquakes, all 13 buildings designated as Important Cultural Properties and all 20 reconstructed structures were damaged. Stone walls collapsed at approximately 50 locations. Around 23,600 square meters of stone walls were affected, representing about 30 percent of the total.

The stone walls of Kumamoto Castle cannot simply be rebuilt by gathering the fallen stones and stacking them again. Each recovered stone is assigned a number. Its original position is identified using its shape, size, surviving records, and other evidence before it is carefully returned to its place. Preserving the historical value of Kumamoto Castle while restoring it requires extensive time and specialist research. It is an immense undertaking.

The main keep was restored in 2021, but work is still underway on 宇土櫓（Uto Yagura / Uto Turret）, 飯田丸五階櫓（Iidamaru Gokai Yagura / Iidamaru Five-Story Turret）, 本丸御殿（Honmaru Goten / Honmaru Palace）, and several other stone walls and turrets. The target year for completing the restoration of the entire castle is fiscal 2052. Many people had already spent years on this work and were preparing to continue rebuilding for decades to come when this earthquake struck.

New collapses in the castle’s stone walls have been confirmed following this earthquake. Kumamoto Castle has been temporarily closed until its safety can be confirmed, and detailed surveys of the damage are continuing. The same place where stones that fell ten years ago had been rebuilt one by one has now been struck by powerful shaking once again.

In the middle of a recovery that had been progressing little by little over the course of ten years, Kumamoto was struck by another major earthquake.

What Kumamoto Means to Me

I first visited Kumamoto three years ago.

At the time, I was working as a nurse in 北海道（Hokkaidō）.

As I continued working as a nurse, I became physically and emotionally exhausted. I was tired of thinking about work and about the life that might come afterward. I no longer knew where or how I wanted to live.

When I quit my job, I went to Kumamoto.

I still remember the beauty of the natural landscape I saw there. The vast sky, the mountains, and the sight of water in the landscape. As I looked at the views before me, I felt that I had travelled far away from the life I had known while working.

I also experienced the warmth of the people I met there.

When visiting a place for the first time, no matter how beautiful the scenery is, I am still a traveller. As I spent time in Kumamoto, however, I began to see it as more than a destination. I started imagining myself living there.

I imagined waking up, going outside, shopping, working, and spending my days near those views. Instead of thinking about the next part of my journey, I was thinking about a life that could begin there.

During that trip, I began to want to move to Kumamoto.

Until then, I had never seriously considered living anywhere outside Hokkaidō. It was a significant change for me. My time in Kumamoto gave me the possibility of beginning a life in a new place.

Even after the trip ended and I returned to Hokkaidō, the desire to live in Kumamoto remained. It was no longer the temporary excitement of travel. It became a decision to change the way I lived.

Hokkaidō lies in the north of the Japanese archipelago, while Kyūshū, where Kumamoto is located, lies in the south. Moving from Hokkaidō to Kyūshū is like moving from one end of Japan to the other.

The seasons unfold differently, as do the climate and the plants. It is not a distance from which I could easily return to my former life. Leaving the familiar surroundings of Hokkaidō and moving to Kyūshū was a bold decision for me.

About one year later, I left Hokkaidō and moved to 福岡（Fukuoka）.

I began a job that required frequent business travel, which meant I could not choose Kumamoto as my base. Even so, I chose to live in neighbouring Fukuoka Prefecture, where I could easily travel to Kumamoto.

It was different from my original hope of moving to Kumamoto, but I began my new life in Kyūshū. Kumamoto did not become my address, but it became the starting point of my decision to leave Hokkaidō.

If I had not encountered Kumamoto’s landscapes and people during that journey three years ago, I might never have moved from the north of Japan to the south.

Every photograph in this article was taken during that journey.

At the time, I pointed my camera at the scenes I found beautiful because I wanted to preserve them. I never imagined that, several years later, I would look back at those photographs while watching news of an earthquake.

The landscapes in these photographs show the beauty of Kumamoto as I experienced it. They are also a record of the period when I decided to leave Hokkaidō and begin living somewhere new.

I was not born or raised in Kumamoto, nor do I currently live in the affected area. I cannot speak on behalf of the people who have experienced this disaster.

What Kumamoto gave to my life is something I can describe in my own words.

It reminded me, when I was exhausted, that there were still landscapes I could find beautiful. It made me want to try living in a place I did not know. It gave me the reason to make a decision that would take me from one end of Japan to the other.

For me, Kumamoto is not simply one of the prefectures I have visited. It is a precious place that changed the direction of my life.

What to Do If You Experience an Earthquake in Japan

Finally, I would like to explain what to do if you experience an earthquake while travelling in Japan.

Around Japan, the Pacific Plate and the Philippine Sea Plate are subducting beneath the plates on the continental side. Because Japan is subjected to complex forces from multiple plates, earthquakes occur throughout the country. The truth is that there is no region of Japan that can be described as entirely free from earthquake risk.

Shallow inland earthquakes, such as the current Kumamoto earthquake, occur close to the places where people live and can cause serious damage.

If an earthquake occurs while you are visiting Japan, protect your head first and move to a safe place, such as beneath a sturdy table. Running outside while the ground is shaking can expose you to falling glass, signs, and parts of buildings.

In hotels, stations, shopping centers, and other facilities, do not run toward the exits. Follow the instructions given by staff. Facilities in Japan conduct evacuation drills every year. Try not to panic, and listen carefully to the instructions around you.

If you are inside an elevator, stop it at the nearest floor and get out. If you feel strong or prolonged shaking near the coast, do not wait for a tsunami warning. Move away from the sea and head to higher, safer ground. If a tsunami warning or advisory has been issued, do not return to the coast until it has been lifted.

Even after the shaking stops, stay away from damaged buildings, stone walls, cliffs, and slopes. Rain following an earthquake can increase the risk of landslides.

The disaster information app “Safety tips,” created for international visitors, provides multilingual earthquake early warnings, tsunami warnings, evacuation information, and other emergency alerts. I recommend downloading it before visiting Japan and enabling notifications.

The Japan National Tourism Organization’s “Japan Visitor Hotline” operates 24 hours a day and provides assistance in English, Chinese, Korean, and Japanese for accidents, illness, and disasters.

Telephone: 050-3816-2787

When you arrive at your hotel, check the emergency stairs and evacuation routes. Before going to sleep, keep comfortable walking shoes, your smartphone, a portable charger, any medication you regularly take, and your passport within reach.

It is also a good idea to check the evacuation shelters near your accommodation. Nearby schools and community centers are commonly designated as shelters.

Kumamoto Will Move Forward Again

Kumamoto is strong. Japan is strong too. And people in Japan know how to support one another.

The strength I want to convey does not mean that people remain unaffected when disaster strikes.

People have died. People have lost their homes, and others are still living in evacuation shelters. Places that took many years to restore have been damaged again.

It is the strength to face that reality and continue working to restore daily life and culture. To repair the railways, rebuild the stone walls one by one, and rebuild life within the community. I believe that is the strength Kumamoto has shown until now.

Below are the verified channels for anyone who would like to support Kumamoto. Donations are used differently depending on the recipient.

Relief funds distributed to people affected by the disaster

Kumamoto Prefecture 2026 Kumamoto Earthquake Relief Fund

On-site assistance providing food, daily necessities, and support to welfare facilities for people with disabilities

AAR Japan Emergency Response to the Kumamoto Earthquake

Three years ago, Kumamoto’s landscapes and people gave me, when I was exhausted, the possibility of beginning a life somewhere new.

Now, I want to share what is happening in Kumamoto and what makes this place so remarkable.

Kumamoto’s beauty will not be erased by this earthquake. The places that have already been restored remain, as do the skills that have been passed down and the experience of the people who have supported their communities.

Kumamoto will move forward again.

I believe that I will see the beautiful landscapes I encountered three years ago again, along with beautiful parts of Kumamoto that I have yet to discover.

—Written by Sumire

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The twenty-four solar terms divide the year into 24 periods based on the movement of the sun, with each period given a name that reflects the season. True to its name, Taisho marks one of the hottest times of the year.

This year in Japan, those words no longer feel like a seasonal expression. They describe the reality right in front of us.

In Japan, hot days are given different names according to the day’s highest temperature. A day that reaches 25°C（77°F）or above is called 夏日（natsubi）. At 30°C（86°F）or above, it becomes 真夏日（manatsubi）, and at 35°C（95°F）or above, it is 猛暑日（mōshobi）. This year, the Japan Meteorological Agency officially decided that a day reaching 40°C（104°F）or above would be called 酷暑日（kokushobi）.

In recent years, temperatures above 40°C have been recorded almost every summer. Japan needed a new term to describe a level of heat beyond mōshobi.

On July 23, the day Taisho began, the temperature reached 41.1°C（106.0°F）in Sakuma, Hamamatsu City, Shizuoka Prefecture. This tied for the sixth-highest temperature ever recorded in Japan. On the same day, Toyota City in Aichi Prefecture and Mino City in Gifu Prefecture both recorded 40.8°C（105.4°F）. The following day, the temperature also reached 40.8°C（105.4°F）in Kuwana City, Mie Prefecture.

In a country where a day above 25°C（77°F）is already called natsubi, temperatures more than 15°C（27°F）above that threshold are now being recorded. Describing this as “life-threatening heat” is no exaggeration.

During the week from July 13 to 19, 10,857 people across Japan were taken to hospital by ambulance for heatstroke. That figure covers only the period through July 19. Since then, temperatures above 40°C（104°F）have been recorded in one place after another, and the intense heat has continued. I think the number of people transported by ambulance from July 20 onward may be even higher when the next figures are released.

I am currently in Nagano Prefecture for work.

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Nagano has many high-altitude areas, some of which are well known as summer retreats. Even so, the prefecture is experiencing record-breaking heat this year. On July 23, the temperature reached 39.5°C（103.1°F）in Minamishinano, in southern Nagano. This tied the highest temperature ever recorded in the prefecture.

In Suwa, where I am staying, the temperature reached 35.4°C（95.7°F）on July 22, making it a mōshobi. I had thought Nagano would be a little cooler, but simply moving around outside drained my energy. After continuing with my reporting and other work, I found myself completely worn down by the heat.

In Japan, the physical fatigue, sluggishness, and loss of appetite caused by prolonged heat are known as 夏ばて（natsubate / summer fatigue）. When people begin to feel natsubate, many say, “I need to build up my stamina.”

Here, stamina does not refer only to physical performance. It is an everyday way of talking about eating something nutritious to regain the energy lost to the heat.

During the Japanese summer, cold noodles and shaved ice are easy to eat even in hot weather. At the same time, there is also the idea that eating foods that seem restorative, such as meat, garlic, and 鰻（unagi / eel）, will help us make it through the summer.

In a previous article, I wrote about unagi while introducing some of Japan’s freshwater fish. Unagi has been eaten in Japan for centuries, but today it is expensive and no longer something people can enjoy casually. Eating it at a restaurant that specializes in unagi feels a little more special than an ordinary meal.

So even though I wanted to eat unagi, I felt that I needed a few reasons.

土用の丑の日（Doyō no Ushi no Hi / Day of the Ox during Doyō）was approaching. Every day was hot, and I was already suffering from natsubate. The area around Lake Suwa, where I am now, is also known for unagi. And I was away on a business trip, working every day.

With that many reasons lined up, I began to feel that I could allow myself to eat it.

I ate unagi at a restaurant near Lake Suwa. Doyō no Ushi no Hi was still a few days away, but I decided that I was eating it to help myself withstand the heat. I borrowed some of the unagi’s strength a little early.

Wild unagi were once caught in Lake Suwa. As a result, there are still many restaurants serving unagi around the lake. Okaya City, on the western side of Lake Suwa, is especially well known as うなぎのまち（unagi no machi / the town of eel）. Unagi has long been enjoyed by the people of Okaya and has become part of the area’s distinctive food culture.

Eating unagi near Lake Suwa gave me another reason beyond Doyō no Ushi no Hi: this was the right place to eat it.

So what exactly is Doyō no Ushi no Hi, the day that Japanese people talk about every summer?

土用（Doyō）is pronounced the same as 土曜（doyō）, the Japanese word for Saturday, but the two words are written differently and have entirely different meanings. Doyō does not refer to a single day either.

Doyō is a period of roughly 18 days just before the seasons change. The Japanese calendar includes 立春（Risshun / Beginning of Spring）, 立夏（Rikka / Beginning of Summer）, 立秋（Risshū / Beginning of Autumn）, and 立冬（Rittō / Beginning of Winter）. Each marks the beginning of a new season. Because Doyō comes before each of these seasonal turning points, there are actually four Doyō periods every year.

This idea comes from 五行思想（gogyō shisō / the theory of the Five Elements）, which was introduced to Japan from ancient China. This system groups aspects of the natural and human worlds into five elements: wood, fire, earth, metal, and water. Wood was assigned to spring, fire to summer, metal to autumn, and water to winter. Earth was assigned to the periods between the seasons.

In Japan today, Doyō usually refers to the summer period before Risshū. In 2026, the summer Doyō began on July 20 and continues until August 6, the day before Risshū.

丑（Ushi / Ox）is one of the twelve signs of the zodiac, following 子（Ne / Rat）and preceding 寅（Tora / Tiger）. The zodiac is also known overseas as a way of identifying a person’s birth year. In the past, however, Japan assigned a zodiac sign not only to each year but also to each day.

Imagine assigning the twelve zodiac signs to the calendar one day at a time. The first day is 子の日（Ne no Hi / Day of the Rat）, the next is 丑の日（Ushi no Hi / Day of the Ox）, and the following day is 寅の日（Tora no Hi / Day of the Tiger）. After reaching the twelfth sign, the Day of the Boar, the cycle begins again with the Day of the Rat. This means that Ushi no Hi returns every 12 days.

Because Doyō lasts for about 18 days, it contains one Ushi no Hi, or sometimes two depending on the year. An Ushi no Hi that falls within the Doyō period is known as Doyō no Ushi no Hi. In the summer of 2026, it occurs only once, on July 26.

Why, then, do people eat unagi on Ushi no Hi?

The connection between unagi and summer has a long history. Unagi even appears in 『万葉集』（Man’yōshū）, Japan’s oldest poetry collection, compiled in the eighth century. The poet 大伴家持（Ōtomo no Yakamochi）wrote a poem telling a man named 石麻呂（Ishimaro）, who had grown thin during the summer, to catch and eat an eel because it was said to be good for summer weight loss.

This was not a serious record of a health remedy, but a humorous poem teasing a thin friend. Even so, it shows that unagi was already associated with the hot season in Japan more than a thousand years ago.

鰻の蒲焼き（unagi kabayaki / grilled eel glazed with sauce）contains protein and fat, as well as vitamins A, D, and several B vitamins. Eating unagi once will not protect anyone from the heat, but it is certainly a nutrient-rich food.

The best-known explanation for how the custom of eating unagi on Doyō no Ushi no Hi became widespread is a story about 平賀源内（Hiraga Gennai）, an Edo-period scholar and inventor.

According to the story, an unagi restaurant owner was struggling because eel did not sell well during the hot season. He asked Gennai for advice, and Gennai suggested putting up a sign outside the restaurant that read, “Today is Doyō no Ushi no Hi.” At the time, there was a belief that eating foods whose names began with the sound “u” on Ushi no Hi would help people avoid summer fatigue. The Japanese word for eel is unagi, so it fit the belief perfectly.

The restaurant prospered after putting up the sign, and other unagi restaurants began using the same idea. The practice is said to have spread throughout Edo and eventually became the custom of eating unagi on Doyō no Ushi no Hi.

No definitive historical record remains to prove that this story was the origin of the custom. There are several theories about the connection between Doyō no Ushi no Hi and unagi. Even so, the story of Hiraga Gennai remains the best-known explanation today. Its appeal may also come from how easy it is to understand: an advertisement from the Edo period gave rise to a seasonal custom that has lasted for generations.

In Japan today, not everyone eats unagi only after learning about Doyō or the theory of the Five Elements. There are also few occasions in everyday life when people think about the zodiac sign assigned to each day.

Yet as the summer Doyō approaches, signs announcing Doyō no Ushi no Hi appear at unagi restaurants and supermarkets. Unagi is featured on television and in the news, and when people realize that the day is approaching, they decide to eat it simply because “it is Doyō no Ushi no Hi.”

Some people know the history well. Others enjoy it as a seasonal custom without knowing the details. Japanese has a word for this: あやかる（ayakaru）. It describes the feeling of connecting yourself with an auspicious person, object, or special occasion in the hope of sharing in its good fortune or power.

Even expensive unagi becomes a little easier to justify when the reason is, “Today is Doyō no Ushi no Hi.” A date on the calendar gives people the final push to choose a meal they might otherwise hesitate to buy.

The intense heat will continue for a while. Please take care of yourselves, and once in a while, perhaps give yourself a little indulgence. Find something to ayakaru, and enjoy something a little more expensive than usual.

And if you have the opportunity to visit Japan, please try unagi. Even if it is not Doyō no Ushi no Hi, I am sure you will find a reason to eat it.

—Written by Sumire

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After nightfall, two dragons, one male and one female, would descend from the mountain and ravage the fields at its foot.

That legend still survives on Shōdoshima（小豆島） today.

The two dragons that tormented the villagers were eventually sealed inside a vessel made from stone taken from the mountain. But the story did not end when the dragons disappeared from sight.

The stone vessel in which the dragons were sealed is called the Akazu no Ishigame（開かずの石瓶）. It remains enshrined inside a cave that leads deep into the rocky mountain. Beside it, water known as Ryūsui（龍水） continues to spring from the rock.

Inside the dim cave, the faint sound of water echoes through the stillness. Beyond the cave lies a vast view across the Seto Inland Sea（瀬戸内海） and its islands.

Why does water spring from the place where the dragons were sealed?

Who entered the mountain, and why did they choose to seal the two dragons inside a stone vessel instead of killing them? And why are the dragons that once tormented the villagers still enshrined at an altar today?

Because this is a legend, there is no way to know whether these events actually occurred. Yet the stone vessel said to contain the two dragons and the Ryūsui that springs beside it can both be found on Shōdoshima today.

That place is Nishinotaki Ryūsuiji（西之瀧龍水寺）, Sacred Site No. 42 of the Shōdoshima 88 Temple Pilgrimage（小豆島八十八ヶ所霊場）.

On an afternoon in mid-June, I drove up a narrow, winding mountain road toward the rocky mountain where this legend has been preserved.

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I rarely catch colds, but until a few days ago, I had been in bed with a summer cold. Colds during the hot season can be troublesome because even after the fever goes down, the fatigue and cough often linger, making it difficult to feel fully recovered. Cicadas were singing outside and the summer days continued, but I spent several days almost entirely indoors.

I have finally begun to feel like myself again, although severe heat continues across many parts of Japan. Please take good care of yourselves and enjoy the summer safely.

And now, in the middle of this Japanese summer, the summer vacation that children look forward to is about to begin.

Schools in Japan have a summer vacation, a winter vacation, and a shorter spring vacation before the new school year begins. The dates of long school vacations at public schools are not the same throughout the country, and the beginning and end vary slightly by region. In many areas, summer vacation lasts for about six weeks, from late July until the end of August. In places with severe winters, such as Hokkaido, summer vacation may be shorter, while winter vacation is longer.

Some Japanese companies also provide summer leave or time off around Obon. Because this period overlaps with the school summer vacation, it becomes easier for parents and children to take several days off together, and more families make plans for travel, visits to their hometowns, festivals, and fireworks displays. It is also one of the busiest times of the year at train stations, airports, and on expressways.

When I was in elementary school, summer vacation was something to look forward to, but it was also a battle with a large amount of homework.

Math and Japanese workbooks, book reports, independent research projects, illustrated diaries, and one-line daily journals. The assignments differ depending on the school and region, but children in Japan usually bring home many tasks to complete during summer vacation.

On the first day of summer vacation, we would make a schedule and think, “This year, I will finish everything early.” But it was difficult to overcome the desire to play. Homework that was supposed to be completed little by little was postponed, and panic would set in as the end of August approached. I think many people in Japan have had this experience.

For an independent research project, children choose their own subject, conduct observations, experiments, or investigations, and turn the results into a completed piece of research. Some create something like a book, while others make models or devices. Some observe plants or insects, while others study cooking, local history, or scientific experiments. When summer vacation ends, the classrooms are filled with the results of these projects.

When illustrated diaries and one-line journals are left untouched until the second half of summer vacation, real memories gradually become insufficient. You can no longer remember the weather or what you did on a particular day, and the entries slowly begin to fill with lies. Of course, I also have experience inventing random summer memories to fill the blank spaces.

During summer vacation, it is easy to sleep late, stay up at night, and lose a regular daily rhythm. The local radio exercise gatherings helped bring structure back to our mornings.

Radio taisō is a widely known form of exercise in Japan in which people move their whole bodies to music and spoken instructions. For many Japanese people, their bodies begin to move naturally as soon as the familiar music starts.

It is taught in physical education classes and practised at school sports days, as well as at community events. Some companies and factories also have all their employees perform radio taisō during the morning assembly. Public broadcasters air exercise programmes every morning, and some people exercise at home while watching television or listening to the radio.

Radio taisō began in 1928, inspired by an exercise programme introduced by an organisation responsible for an insurance service to promote public health. It later spread throughout the country through schools, workplaces, local communities, and broadcasting.

Radio taisō is so widely known in Japan because it is not simply a trend belonging to one generation. People experience it repeatedly in many areas of daily life from childhood onward. Children and older adults can perform the same exercises together to the same music.

During summer vacation, radio exercise gatherings for children are held in local parks and open spaces. People gather at around six or six thirty in the morning, and adults and children exercise together to music played over the broadcast.

The origin of these summer radio exercise gatherings is said to be the Children’s Early Rising Event held in Tokyo in 1930. The aim was to encourage children to continue waking up early and maintain a regular daily rhythm by exercising in the morning, even when they were not attending school. That purpose continues in local radio exercise gatherings today.

In the area where I lived, children went to the park with radio exercise cards hanging around their necks. After the exercises, we received one stamp or sticker on the card. It was satisfying to watch the proof that we had attended without oversleeping increase day by day, and collecting the stamps became another reason to wake up early.

Depending on the number of days we attended, we sometimes received stationery, sweets, or other small prizes at the end of summer vacation. The length of the programme and whether prizes are offered vary by area. Some communities continue throughout summer vacation, while others hold the gatherings for only a few days.

Children were not the only people who gathered in the park in the morning. Parents and older local residents also joined. It was a time to see people in the neighbourhood whom we did not usually have many opportunities to speak with. Radio taisō helps children maintain healthy routines while also creating a place for local residents to connect.

When I entered junior high school, I also had club activities during summer vacation. At my school, both sports clubs and cultural clubs practised almost every day, so we continued going to school throughout the vacation.

Compared with the long summer vacations in some other countries, summer vacation in Japan is relatively short and still includes homework and club activities. During my school years, it never felt like a period when I was completely separated from school. I was always thinking about how to finish my assignments while still finding as much time as possible to enjoy myself.

By the time club practice ended, the heat outside had begun to soften slightly. Some evenings, I had barbecues with friends or family, or played with handheld fireworks in front of the house or in the garden.

I also wore a yukata to local festivals. I remember inviting someone I liked, walking together, trying to decide what to buy from the food stalls, and staying close so that we would not lose each other in the crowd. My summer vacations hold both the simple happiness of childhood and the bittersweet memories of junior high school.

From this time of year onward, fireworks displays are held across Japan.

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Crowds gather along wide riverbanks, lakes, and coastlines to look up at fireworks launched into the night sky. When a firework bursts, people may respond with a collective “Oh” or with applause. Rather than constantly shouting and cheering as they might at a live music performance, many people spend the time carefully watching the shape and colour of each firework, the pause before it bursts, and the sound that resonates through the body.

I also tend to keep looking at the sky and wait for the next firework rather than talking continuously. At a fireworks display, I enjoy not only the brightness at the moment of explosion, but also the smoke that remains after the light disappears and the sound that reaches us slightly later.

Gunpowder, the material used in fireworks, was developed in China and was introduced to Japan together with firearms around the sixteenth century. Fireworks for entertainment became widespread during the Edo period.

An event often associated with the development of Japan’s summer fireworks displays is the fireworks at the Ryōgoku River Opening, which began in 1733. Fireworks were launched near Ryōgoku Bridge on the Sumida River as part of an event held to mourn those who had died in the famine and epidemic of the previous year and to pray for protection from disease. It became an annual event in Edo and continues today as the Sumida River Fireworks Festival.

The call “Tamaya!” that can sometimes be heard at fireworks displays also has its origins in the Edo period.

Two famous fireworks makers active in Edo were known by the shop names Kagiya and Tamaya. When an impressive firework was launched, spectators called out “Kagiya!” or “Tamaya!” to praise the firework maker. In modern terms, it was similar to shouting, “Wonderful!” or “Magnificent!”

“Tamaya!” remains the better-known call today, but it was originally not the name of the firework itself. It was a call of praise directed toward the craftspeople who made it.

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One of Japan’s most famous fireworks events is the Nagaoka Festival Grand Fireworks Show, held every year on August 2 and 3 in Nagaoka City, Niigata Prefecture.

【長岡まつり大花火大会　The Nagaoka Festival Fireworks Festival】

The Nagaoka fireworks carry prayers for the victims of the Nagaoka air raid on August 1, 1945, as well as wishes for recovery and peace. Large fireworks, including shō-sanjakudama shells, vast star mines, and the Phoenix Fireworks of Prayer for Recovery, are launched above the Shinano River. In 2024, approximately 340,000 people attended over the two days.

Another major event is the National Fireworks Competition, known as the Ōmagari Fireworks, held in Daisen City, Akita Prefecture.

【大曲花火The Ōmagari Fireworks】

The Ōmagari Fireworks is a competition that has continued since 1910, bringing together selected fireworks makers from across Japan to compete in technical skill and artistic expression. It is also the only competition in Japan to include daytime fireworks, which use coloured smoke to create changing shapes and patterns. Attracting around 700,000 visitors each year, it is one of the largest fireworks events in Japan.

While the Nagaoka fireworks carry forward prayers for mourning, recovery, and peace, the Ōmagari Fireworks is a competition in which fireworks makers demonstrate their technical and artistic abilities. Even among Japan’s major fireworks displays, their origins and purposes differ.

I enjoy going to large fireworks displays with family and friends, but small handheld fireworks in front of the house also feel like an essential part of the Japanese summer.

We prepare a bucket of water and light the fireworks one by one. Some release bright, energetic sparks, while senkō hanabi end with a small glowing ball of fire. We compete to see whose senkō hanabi will last the longest and watch closely until the flame finally falls. It is a familiar summer experience, very different from a large fireworks display.

Now that I have recovered from my cold, I will leave tomorrow on a reporting trip.

I will conduct interviews and take plenty of photographs so that I can continue sharing the appeal of Japan with all of you.

I hope you will look forward to it.

—Written by Sumire

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Japan has now entered 小暑（Shōsho / Lesser Heat）, one of the twenty-four solar terms.

Shōsho refers to the time when the intense heat of summer begins. In recent years, however, there have been days in Japan when the gentle expression “the heat is beginning” no longer feels sufficient.

In some regions, temperatures rise above the temperature of the human body, creating heat that is described as disaster-level. Heatstroke alerts are issued, and it is not unusual for people to be advised to avoid going outside or exercising. Every year, many people are taken to hospital by ambulance because of heatstroke.

Drinking water frequently, using air conditioning, and avoiding overexertion are essential. Protecting yourself from the heat is an important part of spending summer in Japan.

Summer seems to bring back my childhood memories more vividly than other seasons.

Perhaps this is because I always preferred summer to winter. The long school holidays, training camps with my school club, trips to the sea, camping, and the hours I spent outside until evening all come back to me. I remember not only the heat, but also what I ate during the season and the time I spent laughing with other people.

Many of the foods associated with summer in Japan are served cold. There is shaved ice, watermelon, and chilled somen noodles.

One summer activity closely connected to my memories of watermelon is スイカ割り（suikawari）, or watermelon splitting.

At summer camps, school club training camps, family gatherings, and days spent at the beach with friends, a round watermelon and a single wooden stick would sometimes be prepared whenever a large group gathered.

I also played suikawari during a school club training camp when I was a child. The time we spent standing around the watermelon and calling out to one another between demanding practice sessions remains one of my summer memories.

Some readers may have seen a suikawari scene in a Japanese anime or television drama.

One person is blindfolded and given a stick. After turning around several times, they lose their sense of direction and must find the watermelon by relying only on the voices of the people around them.

“Right!”

“A little farther forward!”

“There!”

Instructions come from every direction. Sometimes, however, everyone begins shouting different directions at the same time, leaving the blindfolded person even more confused.

Eventually, the player reaches the area near the watermelon and swings the stick down at the place where they think it is. If they strike the watermelon successfully, everyone cheers. If they hit the ground instead, the group bursts into laughter.

When described in words, it may sound like a slightly strange game: food is placed on the ground, and a blindfolded person tries to hit it with a stick.

While writing this article, I began to wonder who first started suikawari and why, so I decided to investigate.

In fact, it is not known exactly when or where suikawari began. One explanation that has been proposed connects its origins to Japanese samurai and sword culture.

For samurai, the Japanese sword was once a weapon used in battle. To learn how to handle it accurately, samurai repeatedly trained in disciplines such as swordsmanship and iai.

The technique of drawing a sword from its scabbard and cutting an opponent as part of the same movement is called 居合（iai）. It has been passed down to the present as a martial art designed to develop the ability to respond immediately to an opponent’s movements and use the sword without hesitation.

試し斬り（tameshigiri）, or test cutting, is also practised to assess the sharpness of a Japanese sword and the skill of the person using it. Targets may include rolled straw or bamboo.

A sword does not cut cleanly through an object simply because it is swung with great force. The position and angle of the blade, the speed of the movement, and the motion of the body must all work together for the intended point to be cut accurately.

One theory suggests that samurai test cutting and the movements of iai eventually developed into entertainment using vegetables and fruit, which then became a popular game among ordinary people and evolved into suikawari.

No historical documents have been found that prove this theory, so it cannot be presented as the definitive origin of the game. Even so, when I see someone standing before a round watermelon and swinging a large stick down toward it, I can understand why someone might have imagined a samurai holding a sword.

Today, suikawari is a summer game enjoyed together by children and adults.

In Japan, people also place importance on not wasting food. For this reason, it is common to spread a clean plastic sheet or mat beneath the watermelon before playing.

After the watermelon has been split, it is shared among everyone present and eaten until none remains.

The purpose is not simply to see whether someone can split it successfully. Everyone calls out instructions, laughs whether the attempt succeeds or fails, and then shares the same watermelon at the end. This entire experience has long been enjoyed as part of people’s summer memories in Japan.

Another thing I associate with summer in Japan is 流しそうめん（nagashi sōmen）, or flowing somen noodles.

Somen are thin noodles made mainly from wheat flour. Well-known production areas can be found across Japan, including 小豆島（Shōdoshima）in Kagawa Prefecture, 播州（Banshū）in Hyogo Prefecture, 三輪（Miwa）in Nara Prefecture, and 島原（Shimabara）in Nagasaki Prefecture.

Somen can be eaten in a warm broth, but in summer, it is common to rinse the boiled noodles in cold water and serve them thoroughly chilled.

They are dipped into a cold sauce and eaten with condiments such as green onion, ginger, myōga ginger, and wasabi. Somen are easy to eat even on days when the heat reduces your appetite, and they frequently appear as a summer lunch in Japanese homes.

Somen are delicious when simply served in a bowl, but nagashi somen turns the meal into a game.

In the traditional form of nagashi somen, a long piece of bamboo is split lengthwise, and the internal joints are removed to create a channel. The bamboo is placed at a slight angle so that water can flow from the upper end to the lower end.

Cold water is poured through the bamboo, and small portions of boiled and chilled somen are placed into the channel from the top. The noodles travel down the bamboo with the water, sliding along its surface.

The participants stand on both sides of the bamboo, catch the passing noodles with chopsticks, and dip them into their own sauce before eating.

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The somen do not wait until you are ready.

Sometimes the noodles pass directly in front of you just as you try to catch them. At other times, someone standing farther upstream takes all of them first. Those who catch the noodles successfully are delighted, while those who miss them wait for the next portion.

Everyone may be eating a meal, but their eyes remain fixed on the noodles flowing toward them.

I first experienced nagashi somen at a small local festival.

Local organizers had prepared long pieces of bamboo and built a structure through which the noodles could flow. Children and adults gathered around the bamboo, eagerly following the somen as they came down from above.

Just when the noodles seemed about to reach me, they passed by with the water. The people who caught them laughed, and the people who missed them laughed as well.

The sight of local people gathered around a long bamboo channel, all trying to catch the same somen, remains one of my summer memories.

Nagashi somen is held in many different settings, including family gatherings, local festivals, children’s community events, campsites, public halls, and outdoor activity centers.

In some regions, participants begin by cutting the bamboo and making the bowls, chopsticks, and structure used to carry the noodles. The entire day, including the preparations, becomes a summer event rather than an occasion focused only on eating.

There are also restaurants and facilities throughout Japan where visitors can experience nagashi somen.

千穂の家（Chiho no Ie）, located in 高千穂峡（Takachiho Gorge）in Miyazaki Prefecture, is known as the restaurant where nagashi somen originated.

【千穂の家Chiho no Ie】

According to the Takachiho Tourist Association, in 昭和30年（1955）, newspaper reporters boiled somen outdoors and ate it after cooling it in the cold water of Takachiho Gorge. A newspaper later introduced the scene. After seeing the article, the restaurant’s owner is said to have devised a method of sending water and somen through bamboo.

Visitors can still enjoy nagashi somen made with the clear water of Takachiho Gorge at Chiho no Ie today.

In 長瀞（Nagatoro）, Saitama Prefecture, there is a restaurant where visitors can eat nagashi somen while looking out over the surrounding gorge. In 南島原市（Minamishimabara City）, Nagasaki Prefecture, a large event has also been held using 島原手延そうめん（Shimabara hand-stretched somen）, a local specialty, with the noodles flowing along a structure measuring one hundred meters in length.

Tabletop nagashi somen machines are also sold for households where preparing bamboo would be difficult.

Some models circulate the noodles around a round container, while others allow users to assemble a small water channel. With many different types available, ordinary somen can become a small summer event at the family dining table.

Nagashi somen is a relatively new way of eating somen that began during the Shōwa era.

It is not a traditional dish with a long history. Even so, it has been loved by many people since its creation and has become a summer scene familiar to almost everyone in Japan.

Suikawari and nagashi somen have much in common.

A watermelon can easily be cut with a kitchen knife. Somen can also be served in a bowl and enjoyed just as they are.

In Japan, however, people sometimes add an element of play to the process of eating.

They search for a watermelon while blindfolded. They chase flowing somen with their chopsticks.

Whether they succeed or fail, everyone present laughs together.

The experience is not only about eating something delicious, but also about enjoying it with other people. I believe that this shared time is also part of the taste of summer in Japan.

Should you have an opportunity to visit Japan during the summer, I hope you will try suikawari or nagashi somen. You may encounter them not only at restaurants in tourist areas, but also at local festivals, accommodation facilities, and summer holiday events.

The heat in Japan will become even more severe from this point onward. Please remember to drink enough water and take good care of your health.

Finally, I would like to introduce the latest video from the personal vlog I produce.

I did not play suikawari in this video, but I did enjoy watermelon, one of the familiar symbols of summer in Japan. I hope you will also enjoy the present-day summer scenery of Japan and the moments of everyday life shown in the video.

—Written by Sumire

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Tanabata is one of Japan’s summer seasonal events. Every year on July 7, people write their wishes on long, narrow strips of paper called 短冊（tanzaku）and tie them to bamboo grass. Tanabata decorations are placed in many everyday places, such as schools, shopping streets, stations, shrines, and hotels.

In the lobby of a hotel where I stayed recently, there was also a Tanabata bamboo decoration. Tanzaku were prepared beside the bamboo grass, and guests were free to write their wishes and tie them there.

When you live in Japan, you sometimes come across these small signs of the season. Tanabata can be celebrated as a large festival, but at the same time, it is also a familiar event that appears in hotel lobbies or in a corner of a station.

Tanabata has a story about two stars, 織姫（Orihime）and 彦星（Hikoboshi）. In Japan, Orihime is described as a woman who weaves cloth, and Hikoboshi as a man who tends cattle. The two are separated by the 天の川（Amanogawa, the Milky Way）, and it is said that they can meet only once a year, on the night of July 7.

This story is based on a star legend that came to Japan from China. Tanabata also had another side as an event for praying for improvement in the arts and skills. A culture that came from China was accepted in Japan and came to be valued as a court ritual.

At the Japanese court, Tanabata was held as an event to pray for improvement in sewing, calligraphy, and waka poetry. It became associated not only with the story of the stars, but also with the wish to work with one’s hands, polish one’s skills, write words, and compose poems.

People in the past wrote words and poems on 梶の葉（kaji leaves）and entrusted their wishes to them. Kaji leaves are known as a plant closely connected with Tanabata. The custom of writing wishes on tanzaku today still carries the history of Tanabata, in which people polished their skills, wrote words, and gave shape to their wishes.

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Half of 2026 has passed, and July has begun. Spiritual Japan Journal has also reached its first anniversary. Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading. I feel truly happy to be able to share Japan’s seasons, customs, shrines, and the small pieces of culture found in everyday life with you every week.

When July arrives, it feels as if summer has finally begun in Japan. The temperature rises from the morning, the sunlight grows stronger, and supermarkets begin to fill with summer vegetables and cold noodles. On the news, I start hearing about 海開き（umi-biraki, the opening of the sea-bathing season）and 山開き（yama-biraki, the opening of the mountain-climbing season）, and that makes me feel that summer has truly started. In many Japanese schools, summer vacation begins in the latter half of July, and for children, one of the most special times of the year is approaching. Some families go sea bathing, go camping in the mountains or by rivers, or visit their grandparents’ homes. Even as adults, when summer comes, memories such as the smell of the sea, the sound of insects, wet sandals, and cold barley tea sometimes come back to us.

One of the things that makes me feel the beginning of summer is the opening of the sea-bathing season. Japan is an island country surrounded by the sea. When you look at a map, the sea may seem very close and familiar. In reality, however, places where people can swim in the sea are limited. Some coasts are rocky, some have fast currents, some are used as ports or fishing areas, and some are not suitable for swimming. Even in regions near the sea, beaches with sand, where people can swim safely under proper management, are limited.

Many sea-bathing beaches in Japan have an official opening period. Safety staff and lifeguards are stationed there, first-aid stations are set up, and the areas and times where people are allowed to swim are decided. Beach houses open, and showers, changing rooms, and restrooms become available. Japan has relatively distinct seasons, so the time when people can comfortably enter the sea is mostly limited to summer. However, it is not simply a matter of whether the weather is warm enough. There is a period when a beach is prepared as a sea-bathing area, and the opening of the sea-bathing season marks the beginning of that period.

The opening date is not the same across the country. Some regions, such as Okinawa, open their beaches earlier, while in many parts of Honshu, beaches open on July 1 or in early July. This year as well, many popular sea-bathing beaches opened on July 1. When I hear this kind of news, I feel that summer has truly begun.

At some beaches, a Shinto ritual is held to pray for safety at the opening of the season. An altar is set up on the sand, a Shinto priest recites norito prayers, and people connected with the beach, as well as local officials, attend the ceremony. It is a prayer that no accidents will happen at the sea, that visitors will spend the summer safely, and that people will give thanks for the blessings of the sea. I feel something very Japanese in the fact that before the lively events begin, there is first a moment of prayer facing the sea.

I found a short video showing the 海開き（umi-biraki, the opening of the sea-bathing season）ritual, so I would like to share the link here.

Popular sea-bathing beaches in Japan have a slightly different atmosphere from the kind of beach resort people may imagine overseas, where visitors lie back on beach chairs and spend time slowly. Of course, there are also quiet beaches, but at famous sea-bathing beaches, an astonishing number of people gather. Parasols line the sand, children walk around holding swim rings, and the smell of food and drinks comes from the beach houses. Yakisoba, shaved ice, ramen, beer, soft drinks. In some places, music is playing, and rather than being quiet and relaxed, the atmosphere is lively and full of summer energy.

Personally, I am not very good with places that are too crowded, so I have hardly gone to famous sea-bathing beaches since I was a child. Even so, I think the sight of many people gathering, children playing in the sea, and beach houses lining the shore is one of Japan’s summer traditions. It is very important and wonderful that sea-bathing beaches are prepared with proper facilities, supervision, and first-aid systems so that families and friends can enjoy the sea safely.

To me, Japanese sea-bathing beaches seem not only like places to spend time in nature, but also like temporary towns that appear only for a short period in summer. Beach houses line the shore, people gather, food is sold, children play, and in the evening, sunburned visitors head back toward the station. There is a brightness there that feels very much like summer in Japan.

On the other hand, if you want to enjoy cool, beautiful waterside scenery that feels very Japanese, I would definitely recommend rivers. Clear water flowing near the mountains, the coolness of the shade beneath the trees, and the feeling of walking over stones all have a different kind of summer pleasure from the sea. I will save that story for another time.

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Still, every year, lives are lost at the sea. In Japan, more than 100 people die in water accidents at the sea during summer alone. Sea bathing, fishing, playing in the water. Danger exists very close to enjoyable moments. Even when the sea looks calm, there may be places where the water suddenly becomes deep or where the current pulls people offshore. Even people who are used to swimming cannot overcome waves and currents by force.

That is why I think the Shinto ritual at the opening of the sea-bathing season still has meaning today. Before enjoying the sea, people pray for safety. They wish for the season ahead to pass without accidents. Within this long-standing custom, there is not only the feeling of looking forward to the sea, but also the caution of people who know the power of the sea.

Japan also has many sayings and folk beliefs connected to waterside places. For example, many people have heard that it is better not to enter the sea after お盆（Obon, the season when people welcome the spirits of their ancestors）, or that if you swim in the sea, something may pull your legs. The wording differs depending on the region or family, but the feeling that people should avoid the sea in the latter half of summer has long been passed down. Obon is the season when people welcome the spirits of their ancestors. Perhaps the sea and rivers were felt to be places close to the boundary between this world and the other world. At the same time, the latter half of summer also brings typhoons, high waves, rip currents, and jellyfish. I think some of these folk beliefs also contained wisdom for keeping children away from dangerous waters.

In folklore records, there is also a tradition from 愛媛県（Ehime Prefecture）saying that if someone swims after July 7, the day called 七夕（Tanabata, a summer festival held on July 7）, an “Enko” will appear and pull their legs. Enko is a being spoken of as a waterside yokai. For children, the waterside is a fun place to play. Yet if adults take their eyes off them even briefly, it can also become a dangerous place. Stories about waterside yokai probably contained both the fascination of a frightening tale and a warning meant to protect life.

July is also the season of mountains. In Japan, there is a term called the opening of the mountain-climbing season. It refers to the beginning of the mountain-climbing season for that year. The timing differs depending on the mountain, but July 1 is known as a day for this opening, and many mountains have held rituals to pray for the safety of summer climbers.

Behind the opening of the mountain-climbing season is Japan’s mountain worship. In the past, mountains in Japan were seen as places close to Shinto and Buddhist deities, places of spiritual training, and places with special power. They were not places ordinary people could freely enter. Usually, ordinary people were forbidden from entering, and only during a certain period in summer were they allowed to go into the mountains. This custom is said to be one of the origins of the opening of the mountain-climbing season. It was both a day to celebrate entering the mountain and a day to pray before being allowed to do so.

I myself enjoy mountain climbing, so I understand the joy of entering the mountains. The scenery that changes with each season, the time spent gradually climbing with my own feet, and the sense of achievement when reaching the summit. Mountains offer a kind of joy that can only be felt in a place slightly removed from everyday life.

At the same time, the opening of Mount Fuji became major news again this year. In 2025, the total number of climbers on all Mount Fuji routes was about 205,000. This year, some routes opened on July 1, and many foreign tourists have already arrived, hoping to see the sunrise.

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富士山（Fujisan, Mount Fuji）is Japan’s most iconic mountain, and for people visiting from overseas, I think it is also a special place they want to climb at least once. In recent years, however, more people have begun approaching Mount Fuji as an extension of sightseeing, and problems such as climbing in light clothing or attempting a bullet climb to the summit overnight without staying at a mountain hut have become social issues. This year as well, reports showed people trying to climb in short sleeves or without warm clothing.

From 2026, both the 山梨県（Yamanashi Prefecture）side and the 静岡県（Shizuoka Prefecture）side require a 4,000-yen entrance fee per person for climbing Mount Fuji. Time restrictions, advance registration, advance learning, and equipment checks are also being carried out. On the Shizuoka Prefecture side of Mount Fuji, more than 40 people were involved in mountain accidents in 2025, including accidents outside the official climbing season. There are also discussions about charging rescue fees and restricting entry for climbing during the closed season.

When I hear about these issues, I feel that the beauty and danger of mountains always exist side by side. If people come to visit Japan’s mountains, I hope that their time there will be safe and become a beautiful memory. I hope that everyone who enjoys the sea and mountains this summer will be able to return home safely.

Both the opening of the sea-bathing season and the opening of the mountain-climbing season are words that announce the beginning of summer pleasures. Yet before those pleasures, there is prayer, a set period, and rules to be respected. Old folk beliefs and modern regulations take different forms, but I think both are boundaries that help people relate to nature.

Japan’s summer has only just begun. I hope to continue sharing summer in Japan with you.

Once again, I am grateful that SJJ has reached its first anniversary. I will continue choosing my words carefully so that I can share the beauty of Japan with you.

To celebrate the first anniversary, I am offering a discount on paid subscriptions. If you subscribe by August 2, you can receive 20 percent off for 12 months. Paid subscribers can read all SJJ content, including past articles.

Paid subscriptions support the work of SJJ. I would be very happy if you joined us as a fellow traveler on this SJJ journey, looking at Japan together.

—Written by Sumire

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Washi is traditional paper that developed in Japan. In English, it is sometimes translated as “Japanese paper,” but its materials, production methods, and uses are different from those of modern copy paper or notebook paper.

Washi is made by loosening plant fibers such as 楮（kōzo, paper mulberry）, 三椏（mitsumata）, and 雁皮（ganpi）in water, scooping them up, and drying them. Depending on the region, the materials, thickness, texture, strength, and uses differ. Those differences have long been connected to the climate, water, plants, and daily life of each place.

In Japanese life, washi has been used in many different settings.

It was used as paper for writing, and for keeping letters and records. For 障子（shōji, sliding screens）, washi was pasted onto wooden frames, allowing light from outside to enter a room softly. Washi was also used for 掛軸（kakejiku, hanging scrolls）, 屏風（byōbu, folding screens）, 襖（fusuma, sliding doors）, and 表装（hyōsō, mounting）. It has also been connected to decorations for festivals and annual events, as well as to tools related to light, such as 提灯（chōchin, lanterns）.

Japanese schools still have 習字（shūji, calligraphy）classes today. In these classes, students use brushes and ink to write characters. The 半紙（hanshi, calligraphy paper）used there is also a type of washi.

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This week in Japan, news about typhoons, earthquakes, and heavy rain has continued.

Living in Japan, I often feel the force of nature close by. The amount of rain, the strength of the wind, the shaking of the ground, and the humid air. The seasons bring beauty, and at the same time, they also make me feel their threat. I can only pray that earthquakes and typhoons will not cause damage.

Now, June is nearing its end, and the first half of the year is about to come to a close.

At this time of year, the humidity of the rainy season remains, the temperature rises, and the presence of summer grows stronger. During this season, when both the body and the mind can begin to feel a little heavy, Japan has a purification ritual that has long been cherished.

In this week’s Life in Japan, I would like to introduce the sense of misogi-harai, purification and cleansing, that takes place at this time of year, along with a seasonal wagashi eaten at the end of June.

On June 30, shrines across Japan hold a ritual called 夏越の祓（Nagoshi no Harae）.

Nagoshi no Harae is a Shinto ritual in which people purify the 穢れ（kegare）they have accumulated over the past half year and pray to spend the remaining half of the year in good health. In the grounds of shrines, a large ring made from bundled chigaya grass or straw is set up. This is called a 茅の輪（chinowa）.

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Worshippers pass through the chinowa and purify their bodies and minds. A well-known way of passing through it is to move in a figure-eight pattern, first to the left, then to the right, and then once more to the left. The detailed practice differs depending on the shrine, but there is great meaning in receiving this turning point of the year through the physical act of passing through the ring.

During Nagoshi no Harae, some shrines use 人形（hitogata）, pieces of paper cut into the shape of a person. People write their names on the hitogata, rub them over their bodies, breathe onto them, and then offer them after transferring their own kegare to them. Some shrines also hold rituals in which the hitogata are floated down a river.

The word kegare is a little different from ordinary dirt or physical uncleanliness. It has been understood to include things such as fatigue, disorder, and the seeds of misfortune that attach themselves to people through everyday life.

Passing through a ring. Entrusting something to paper. Bringing one’s hands together in prayer.

Many Japanese seasonal rituals take prayer and place it into physical movements or small objects. Nagoshi no Harae is one of them.

During Nagoshi no Harae, the following poem is sometimes recited.

“水無月の夏越の祓する人は千歳の命のぶというなり”

It means that those who perform Nagoshi no Harae in Minazuki are said to have their lives extended for a thousand years.

The 水無月（Minazuki）that appears here is the traditional Japanese name for the month of June. And in this season, there is also a wagashi with the same name.

That wagashi is also called 水無月（Minazuki）.

Minazuki is a wagashi made with white uirō topped with azuki beans and cut into a triangular shape. Centered especially in Kyoto, it has been eaten in connection with Nagoshi no Harae on June 30.

The triangular shape of the white uirō is said to represent ice. The azuki beans on top are said to carry the meaning of warding off evil.

For us today, ice is very familiar. We can open the freezer and find it there, and we can put it into drinks. But before refrigerators became common in ordinary homes, eating ice in summer was something special. Storing winter ice in an ice house and preserving it until the hot season required a great deal of effort. It is said that in the imperial court, there was a custom of using ice in summer to ward off the heat.

Minazuki has been spoken of as a sweet that recalls that precious ice.

Inside this small triangle are a longing for coolness and a wish to pass safely through the hot summer.

I bought this Minazuki in Okayama.

As the end of June approached, I had been looking for Minazuki in shops near my home in Fukuoka. But I had a hard time finding it in Kyushu. The timing may have been part of the reason, but since Minazuki is a ritual sweet especially known around Kyoto, I feel that there are limited places in Kyushu where I can find it.

A few days later, I happened to have a work trip to Okayama, Shōdoshima, and Kagawa. I thought I might be able to find Minazuki in Okayama, so during the trip, I went to the wagashi section of a department store.

There, Minazuki was lined up in the display. I wanted to share a photo of this seasonal wagashi with all of you. That is why I bought it.

Minazuki is a wagashi that does not keep for long, and the one I bought also needed to be eaten by the next day. So I took the photo on the ferry to Shōdoshima. It was still in its wrapping, so the photo turned out a little less than well-mannered.

I had actually wanted to eat it with the new tea from Yame that I have at home.

The delicious tea from Yame, which I wrote about in last Tuesday’s article, would surely go very well with Minazuki.

The uirō of the Minazuki was soft and pleasantly chewy. Its sweetness slowly spread through my mouth. The azuki beans on top had a gentle texture, and within the sweetness, the flavor of the beans remained.

The simple act of eating that sweet at the end of June made me feel the season itself.

Finally, I would like to briefly introduce the place where I took the photo of the chinowa.

The photo of the chinowa was taken at 福島八幡宮（Fukushima Hachimangū）in 八女市（Yame City）, Fukuoka Prefecture.

Fukushima Hachimangū is known as a shrine where people can visit together with their dogs, cats, and other pets. The shrine offers prayers for the health of pets, as well as pet amulets and goshuin.

Near the gate, there were dog figures placed almost like komainu guardian dogs.

And in the shrine grounds, I also met Shiro-chan, the shrine’s mameshiba signboard dog.

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A shrine is a place with a solemn atmosphere of prayer. At the same time, I felt that it can also be a place that gently welcomes local people and animals.

Passing through the chinowa at the end of June, eating Minazuki, and meeting Shiro-chan at Fukushima Hachimangū made this year’s Nagoshi no Harae a warm memory for me.

Every week, when I share the present moment of Japan through the Life in Japan series, readers sometimes leave comments telling me about the present moment in their own countries. That makes me very happy.

I began this series because I wanted to share the beauty of Japan and the real atmosphere of life here, but thanks to all of you, I am also able to learn about life in many different countries.

Thank you always.

Whether you are in a country where the season is growing hotter, or in a place that is entering a colder season, please take good care of yourself.

The year 2026 has reached its halfway point, and I hope you will continue to follow Spiritual Japan Journal and me, Sumire.

—Written by Sumire

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Over the past few years, I have felt the presence of Japanese tea growing stronger overseas.

Matcha lattes, matcha-flavored sweets, and drinks chosen with health in mind. Japanese tea has come to be enjoyed by people overseas in many different forms. I feel very happy that tea, one part of Japanese culture, is loved around the world.

Tea originally came to Japan from China. After that, it developed in its own way within Japan’s land, climate, daily life, religion, 茶の湯 (chanoyu), the tea ceremony, and the custom of drinking tea in everyday life. It became connected to temples and samurai culture, spread into town life, and in tea-producing regions across Japan, the techniques of cultivation and tea processing were refined.

When you live in Japan, tea is naturally present in daily life. After meals, we drink 番茶 (bancha) or 煎茶 (sencha). With something sweet, we often have tea. When we want to take a short break, we sometimes brew tea in a 急須 (kyūsu), a Japanese teapot. I have always liked tea myself, and after meals I have often drunk bancha or sencha.

Now that Japanese tea is spreading overseas, I wanted to share its background as well. Matcha lattes and matcha sweets are enjoyable entry points into Japanese tea. Some people may come to like Japanese tea through sweet drinks. Some may visit tea fields during their travels. Others may buy Japanese tea and brew it in their own countries.

Behind a cup of tea is the work of people who grow, pick, process, finish, and deliver the tea leaves. That is why I would be happy if people could learn a little about where the tea was grown, how it was made, and how it has been enjoyed, not only its name or its popularity.

In Japan, there are tea-producing regions known nationwide, such as 静岡 (Shizuoka), 宇治 (Uji), 鹿児島 (Kagoshima), 三重 (Mie), and 狭山 (Sayama). Among them, 八女 (Yame), in southern 福岡県 (Fukuoka Prefecture), has long been highly regarded as a region that produces high-quality tea.

In recent years, Yame has also begun to attract interest from overseas travelers. In addition to the scenery of its tea fields and the quality of its tea, I feel that its white-walled townscape, the warmth of local people, and the culture of handwork that has been passed down there are what draw visitors to the area.

This time, I visited that town of Yame.

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June is already entering its second half. The 2026 FIFA World Cup has begun, and the excitement around soccer is growing all over the world. In Japan too, I have been seeing more news and social media posts about the matches.

Are many people in your country watching the World Cup as well?

Tomorrow, June 21, 2026, is the summer solstice.

In the Northern Hemisphere, the summer solstice is the day when the daylight is longest and the night is shortest. In the Japanese calendar, it is one of the seasonal markers known as 二十四節気（nijūshi sekki）, the twenty-four solar terms. These include 春分（shunbun）, the spring equinox, 秋分（shūbun）, the autumn equinox, 冬至（tōji）, the winter solstice, 立春（risshun）, 立夏（rikka）, 立秋（risshū）, and 立冬（rittō）. They divide the seasons according to the movement of the sun.

In the past, when farming and daily life were closely connected to the movements of nature, these calendar words helped people read the seasons. Even today, they still appear in weather forecasts, news reports, and seasonal greetings. They are not something most people think about every day, but when we hear them, they help us sense where we are in the year in a way that the numbers on a calendar alone cannot show.

When people hear the words “summer solstice,” many may imagine strong sunlight and a bright sky.

In Japan, the summer solstice comes during the rainy season. Even when the sky is covered with clouds, or when fine rain is falling, the evening light remains for a long time. This is the season when we can enjoy the beautiful evening sky for a little longer.

At this time of year, water fills the rice fields, and young rice seedlings are planted in rows. The timing of rice planting differs by region, but in June, rice field scenery is common in Japan. The surface of the water reflects the sky, and the thin green seedlings move in the wind.

The summer solstice is a turning point of the sun. But in Japan, the June solstice is also close to rice fields, water, rain, and the growth of plants. Rather than feeling the season only through the sun, we can sense the approach of real summer in the flooded rice fields and in the young seedlings beginning to grow.

While writing this article, I also looked a little into how the summer solstice is observed overseas.

For example, in England, many people gather at Stonehenge to see the sunrise on the summer solstice. Stonehenge is known as a place deeply connected with the solstice sunrise. In Sweden, Midsummer is cherished as an important annual event. People make flower crowns, gather with family and friends for meals, and dance around a maypole.

It is interesting how the same summer solstice can be experienced so differently depending on the country or region. In some places, people celebrate the sun. In others, they gather with family and friends.

Japan also has Shinto rituals connected with the summer solstice.

At 二見興玉神社（Futami Okitama Jinja） in Ise City, Mie Prefecture, a summer solstice festival is held.二見興玉神社（Futami Okitama Jinja） is well known for 夫婦岩（Meoto Iwa）, a pair of sacred rocks standing in the sea.

According to the shrine, preparations begin on the day before the solstice. On the day itself, a ritual is held before sunrise to pray for the happiness and health of the participants, as well as for world peace. At sunrise on the summer solstice, participants perform 禊（misogi）, a purification ritual in the sea, and receive the divine power of 日の大神（Hi no Ōkami） and 興玉大神（Okitama Ōkami）.

日の大神（Hi no Ōkami） refers to a solar de

ity and brings to mind 天照大神（Amaterasu Ōmikami）, the sun goddess. On the morning of the summer solstice, people pray to the sun rising between 夫婦岩（Meoto Iwa） and enter the sea to purify themselves. I think of it as a Shinto ritual in which the sun, water, and prayer come together, rather than merely a seasonal event.

In Japan, mountains, seas, and rivers have long been seen as more than scenery. People have regarded them as presences beyond human power. The direction of the sunrise, the water of the sea, the shape of rocks, the form of mountains. People have sensed something sacred in such parts of nature.

The summer solstice festival at 二見興玉神社（Futami Okitama Jinja） is one example of a calendar day becoming connected with a Shinto ritual. Rather than saying that Japan as a whole celebrates the summer solstice in a large way, it may be closer to say that in certain places, prayers connected with the sun and water remain.

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Across Japan, there are also foods that have been eaten around the time of the summer solstice.

In the Kansai region, for example, there is a custom of eating octopus. The solstice season overlaps with the time of rice planting, and it is said that people ate octopus with the wish that the roots of the rice plants would spread firmly like the legs of an octopus.

In Nara, there are rice cakes known as 半夏生餅（hangeshō mochi） and さなぶり餅（sanaburi mochi）. These were made around the time when the wheat harvest and rice planting were coming to an end, and they are foods connected with the turning point of agricultural work.

Other examples include grilled rice cakes made with newly harvested wheat in the Kanto region, 水無月（Minazuki） in Kyoto, a wagashi eaten around the time of 夏越の祓（Nagoshi no Harae） at the end of June, 半夏生サバ（hangeshō saba） in parts of Fukui, and いちじく田楽（ichijiku dengaku） in parts of Aichi.

Rather than having one fixed dish for the summer solstice, Japan has regional food cultures connected with rice planting, harvests, preparation for the heat, and wishes for good health.

And this year, June 21, 2026, is not only the summer solstice. It is also Father’s Day.

Father’s Day began in the United States. The first Father’s Day event was held in Spokane, Washington, in 1910, after a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd wanted to create a day to express gratitude to her father, who had raised his children after their mother died.

Father’s Day later spread across the United States and was eventually introduced to Japan. In Japan, Father’s Day Council was established in 1981. The following year, it began the Father’s Day Yellow Ribbon Campaign and the Best Father Awards. The yellow flowers and yellow ribbons now associated with Father’s Day in Japan are connected with these activities.

As the third Sunday of June approaches, Father’s Day gifts appear in supermarkets, department stores, and online shops. Alcohol, wagashi, 鰻（unagi）, meat, shirts, handkerchiefs, and health related items are common. The gifts are a little different from what we often see for Mother’s Day.

My earliest memory of Father’s Day is drawing a portrait of my father in kindergarten. I remember bringing it home and giving it to him, feeling a little embarrassed. For a child, too, Father’s Day was a day to put gratitude into a visible form.

In Japan today, each family spends Father’s Day in its own way. Some people send gifts. Some invite their fathers out for a meal. When families live far apart, a phone call or message may be enough to share their feelings. In families with small children, portraits and letters are still common Father’s Day gifts.

In Japan, people do not often say “I love you” directly to their families. Daily hugs between parents and children, or between spouses, are also not as common as they are in many Western cultures. I think affection is often shown more through everyday actions than through words or physical gestures.

Working every day. Picking someone up. Preparing meals. Helping when help is needed. There can be affection in these actions.

Father’s Day gives people a chance to express feelings that can be hard to put into words in daily life. Rather than being a day for expensive gifts, it is a day to give shape, even briefly, to gratitude and affection for family. A short message, a phone call, a portrait, flowers, or food can all become ways to share those feelings. I hope it will continue to be valued as a day for expressing what we often leave unsaid.

A calendar turning point based on the movement of the sun, and a modern day for expressing gratitude to family. This year, the two fall on the same day.

How do you spend the summer solstice in your country?

Do you have foods connected with the solstice, or customs for spending time with family? I would love to hear about them.

Finally, to go along with this season of longer days, I made a vlog of a day when I started early in the morning and ended by seeing a beautiful sunset. It connects a little with the feeling of the “long day” I wrote about in this article. I hope you will enjoy watching it as well.

—Written by Sumire

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Near the Asano River, this area is lined with teahouse architecture with latticed facades, stone-paved streets, and shops selling gold leaf and traditional sweets. For those who want to take photographs that feel unmistakably Kanazawa, Higashi Chaya District is a very attractive place.

Higashi Chaya District was established in 1820, the third year of the Bunsei era, as a chaya district east of the Asano River with the permission of the Kaga Domain. Today, it is designated as the Higashiyama Higashi district of Kanazawa and has been selected as a national Important Preservation District for Groups of Traditional Buildings.

The buildings facing the street have latticework on the first floor, while the second floors are built high. Rows of machiya townhouses with guest rooms, typical of a chaya district, still remain here. Many people may have seen this scenery before in articles or videos introducing Kanazawa.

Near the Asano River, there is another memorable chaya district. This is Kazuemachi Chaya District.

Teahouse buildings stand along the Asano River, giving the area a different expression from Higashi Chaya District. The sight of buildings continuing along the river has the beauty of a town shaped by the water beside it.

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Kazuemachi is thought to have developed as a chaya district during the Meiji period. Today, it is designated as the Kazuemachi district of Kanazawa and has been selected as a national Important Preservation District for Groups of Traditional Buildings. The townscape, closely connected with the Asano River, creates a charm that belongs uniquely to this place.

I also enjoy spending time in well-known places. Popular sightseeing spots are popular for a reason. Both Higashi Chaya District and Kazuemachi Chaya District are places that make you want to walk through them when you visit Kanazawa.

At the same time, I feel that Japan’s deeper charm often remains in the alleys beside famous places and in the roads that receive less attention in sightseeing guides. This is exactly the kind of perspective I want to value in Spiritual Japan Journal. Along with well-known sites, I want to find the Japan that appears when you walk just a little farther, using my own feet to discover what lies beyond the usual landmarks.

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In Japan, there are incense sticks made for enjoying scent. There are also incense sticks offered at butsudan, Buddhist altars kept in the home. And when summer comes, another kind of incense stick with a distinctive shape appears in daily life.

It is the spiral-shaped katori senkō, a mosquito coil used to keep mosquitoes away.

When it is lit, it burns little by little from one end. A thin line of smoke rises, and its distinctive smell spreads through the air. It is not made to enjoy as a fragrance. It is a practical tool used in summer to deal with insects.

By mid-June, insect repellent products begin to fill the shelves of supermarkets and drugstores. There are sprays, hanging insect repellents, battery-operated devices, and the old-fashioned spiral-shaped mosquito coils. When I see these products in the damp air of the rainy season, I feel that preparations for summer have begun again.

The history of katori senkō goes back to the Meiji period. Ueyama Eiichirō, the founder of Dainihon Jochugiku, now known as KINCHO, worked on developing mosquito coils using pyrethrum. Pyrethrum is known as a plant that contains insecticidal compounds. The first mosquito coils were stick-shaped, but they are said to have changed into a spiral shape so that they could be used for a longer time.

The spiral form allows a long incense stick to fit into a limited space. If stretched out straight, it measures about 75 centimeters and is said to burn for about seven hours. This shape, which could be used while people were sleeping, spread through Japanese daily life.

Readers who like Studio Ghibli films may have seen mosquito coils before. Katori senkō appears in My Neighbor Totoro and When Marnie Was There. In Japanese anime and television dramas, it is often used as a small prop to show a summer scene. Many people may have seen it placed inside a pig-shaped incense holder.

Alongside wind chimes, the sound of cicadas, mugicha barley tea, engawa verandas, and sudare bamboo screens, katori senkō has become one of the symbols of summer in Japan.

Katori senkō is used not only at the entrance of homes and in gardens, but also outdoors. Japan is famous for onsen hot springs, and when you visit facilities with rotenburo open-air baths, you may find mosquito coils or insect repellent products placed in outdoor rest areas or along walkways. At hot spring inns in the mountains, by rivers, or surrounded by forest, nature is close, and so are insects.

Some people who work in gardens or fields, go camping, or go fishing carry mosquito coils in special cases. There are types that can be attached to the waist, hung from a bag, or used with a string. To people from overseas, the sight of someone walking around while carrying a smoking mosquito coil may look a little amusing.

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Of course, delicious seasonal foods are also an important part of what tells us summer is coming. Around this time of year, river fish begin to come into season.

I once posted a photograph of ukai on Substack Notes. Ukai is a traditional fishing method that uses cormorants to catch river fish. Along Japanese rivers, there are scenes where fishing techniques, food culture, and the seasonality of the riverside come together.

When people think of summer river fish in Japan, ayu may be the most familiar. Ayu is known as a symbol of summer, and because of its distinctive aroma, it is also called kōgyo, meaning “fragrant fish.” It is often eaten grilled with salt. When I see the word ayu at riverside restaurants, ryokan inns, roadside stations, or on seasonal menus, I feel that summer is getting closer.

Salt-grilled ayu is a summer dish that is easy to recognize by sight. The fish is skewered and grilled, and it may be served with salt on the tail and fins. It is a dish that lets you enjoy the aroma of river fish and the lightness of its flesh. Many people may encounter it as part of a meal while traveling.

Other river fish are also enjoyed in cold mountain streams, such as iwana, or char, and yamame, or masu salmon. In some regions, amago, a type of river trout, is also well known. Nijimasu, or rainbow trout, is often seen at fishing areas and aquaculture farms. In areas closely connected with lakes and watersides near rice fields, koi carp, funa crucian carp, and namazu catfish also appear in local food culture.

The Japanese archipelago stretches a long way from north to south, with many mountains and rivers, so the kinds of river fish eaten vary by region. Even when we use the single term “river fish,” the connection to daily life differs between fish eaten in mountain streams, fish eaten near lakes, and fish connected with waterways around rice fields.

Unagi is also popular overseas as part of Japanese cuisine. In Japan, unagi is often treated as a high-end fish, and it is deeply connected with Doyō no Ushi no Hi, the Day of the Ox in the summer doyo period.

Some people may not immediately recognize the word unagi, but they may have heard of dishes such as hitsumabushi or unajū. Both are dishes made with eel.

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Unagi is a delicious fish, but Japan has long depended on wild eels, and the pressure on those populations has become a serious issue. Today, research and efforts toward the practical use of fully farm-raised eel are moving forward in Japan. In 2023, the Kindai University Aquaculture Research Institute became the first university in Japan to achieve the complete aquaculture of Japanese eel. Also this year, through efforts by the Japan Fisheries Research and Education Agency, Marino-Forum 21, Yamada Suisan, and others, kabayaki made with fully farm-raised eel was test-sold to the general public in limited quantities.

Unagi is also considered a food that gives stamina, and it is something many people want to eat in summer, when the heat can make the body feel tired. It is a high-end ingredient and not something most people eat every day, but it is one of the dishes I would like visitors to Japan to try.

This time, I followed the change of the season through incense sticks and river fish. As summer gradually approaches, mosquito coils begin to appear in shops, insect repellents are seen at hot springs and in gardens, and river fish dishes slowly begin to catch the eye. We also start seeing the words ayu and unagi more often.

The shop shelves, the dining table, and the scenery outside are all moving little by little toward summer.

In your country, what do you begin to see when summer approaches? It does not have to be a special event. If there is a scent or food in daily life that makes you feel that summer has arrived, I would love to hear about it.

When people think of the pleasures and seasonal sights of summer in Japan, they may think of fireworks, festivals, yukata, rivers and the sea, and summer foods. From here on, I will continue to share the summer scenes of Japan that I see in my own life as directly as I can. I will bring you Japan not as a tourist destination cut into images, but as a summer that continues here and now as everyday life. Please look forward to the Saturday Life in Japan series.

Thank you for reading.

—Written by Sumire

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The Japanese word ryū（龍）overlaps with that image in some ways, but it also has a different cultural breadth. In Japan, dragons have often been connected with water. Rain, clouds, rivers, ponds, lakes, and the sea. Water is necessary for human life, yet at times it cannot be stopped by human power. Japanese people have projected both sides of water’s power onto the form of the dragon.

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In Japan, June is also called Minazuki（水無月）.

This is one of the old Japanese names for the months. Today, Japan uses numerical month names such as January, February, and March. But in the old calendar, each month also had a name that reflected the season. January was Mutsuki（睦月）, March was Yayoi（弥生）, May was Satsuki（皐月）, and June was Minazuki（水無月）. These names were not simply words for counting the months. They were seasonal names connected to nature, farming, and everyday life.

At first glance, the kanji for Minazuki（水無月） can look as though it means “the month without water.” But in this name, the character 無 is commonly understood not as “nothing” or “without,” but as part of an old expression that points to “the month of water.” It is the month when water is drawn into the rice fields. It is the month when water becomes necessary for rice planting. In that sense, the name Minazuki fits the Japanese season of June very well.

As I mentioned in last week’s article, Japan is now entering a season with a great deal of rain. Typhoons, heavy rainfall, and flooding can occur during this period, so water arrives both as a blessing and as something that requires caution. For those of you living in countries or regions with a similar climate, please take care during typhoon and hurricane season as well.

When the season of Minazuki arrives, green ume begin to appear near the entrance of Japanese supermarkets. They are often sold by the kilogram in bags. Nearby, you will find rock sugar, shōchū, and large glass storage jars. When those jars, which are not usually so prominent, begin to appear in visible places, I feel that ume season has arrived again.

In Japan, June is the season when umeshigoto（梅仕事） begins. Umeshigoto means the seasonal work of preparing ume. People use fresh ume to make umeshu（梅酒, ume liqueur）, ume syrup, umeboshi（梅干し, salted pickled ume）, ume jam, and other preserved foods. Every year around this time, this seasonal handwork appears around the kitchen and dining table.

Firm green ume are used for umeshu and ume syrup. Yellow, ripened ume are better suited for umeboshi and jam. The fragrance of ume is very distinct. Green ume have the scent of young fruit, while ripened ume have a sweet fragrance close to peaches. Even just walking near the boxes or bags, you can tell that ume season has arrived.

The easiest places to begin are ume syrup and umeshu.

Ume syrup is made by placing ume and sugar in a storage jar. It becomes ready to drink after a few weeks, so it is one of the easier ume preparations to enjoy as the weather begins to heat up. Mixed with sparkling water, it becomes a refreshing drink for summer. Since it contains no alcohol, it can also be enjoyed by people who do not drink and by children, which makes it a common seasonal preparation at home.

Umeshu is made by placing ume, rock sugar, and white liquor such as shōchū in a storage jar. It takes longer than ume syrup and usually needs about half a year before it is ready to drink. Umeshu prepared in June captures the beginning of summer inside a jar and becomes ready around winter. By the following summer, the flavor becomes deeper and more rounded.

If made and stored properly, umeshu can be enjoyed for many years. Over time, its color deepens and its taste becomes softer.

This is umeshu I made four years ago.

Even now, after four years, it still has a good fragrance, and I sometimes enjoy it in the evening. It is common to make umeshu with rock sugar and white liquor, but that year I made mine with brown sugar and Japanese sake. Being able to choose your own sugar and alcohol is one of the pleasures of making it by hand.

※When making umeshu or other fruit liqueurs at home in Japan, there are strict legal requirements. The alcohol used must have an alcohol content of at least 20% and must already be subject to liquor tax. Ordinary Japanese sake is usually around 15–16% alcohol, but the sake I used was a higher-alcohol sake intended for making fruit liqueurs.

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Among the different kinds of umeshigoto, umeboshi may be the one that feels most distinctly Japanese.

Many people overseas may have heard of umeboshi. If you are interested in Japanese food, you may have seen it as a red, sour preserved food. In Japan, umeboshi can be bought at supermarkets and convenience stores, and it is also a classic filling for onigiri.

Homemade umeboshi has a different kind of deliciousness from store-bought umeboshi. The ume are carefully washed, their stems are removed, and they are packed with salt. After several days, liquid begins to come out of the ume. This liquid is called umezu（梅酢, ume vinegar）. Even after the umezu rises, the umeboshi are not finished right away. The ume are left in the umezu for about a month so the flavor can settle. After that, they are dried under the strong summer sun for about three days.

Umeboshi takes time to make. That is why homemade umeboshi can taste especially good. Old-fashioned umeboshi made with enough salt have remained in Japanese homes as a food that can be preserved for a long time. Umeshigoto is not only about enjoying seasonal fruit in the moment. It is also a way of keeping the season inside jars and crocks.

At my grandmother’s house, I remember seeing many jars of umeboshi lined up in the basement. I still remember that scene from childhood. I loved the salty, sour umeboshi my grandmother made.

Umeboshi is also deeply connected to Japan’s bento culture.

In Japan, many people bring bento to school or work. A Japanese bento is often not just a sandwich or a light snack, but a proper meal packed with white rice and side dishes. Tamagoyaki, grilled fish, fried chicken, and vegetable side dishes are placed inside a small lunch box and eaten as lunch. Bento appears in many parts of Japanese life, from school events and club activities to lunch breaks at work and train journeys.

In bento, umeboshi is a very familiar presence.

A bento with one red umeboshi placed in the center of white rice is called Hinomaru Bento（日の丸弁当）. It is named this way because the red umeboshi in the middle of white rice resembles the Japanese national flag. For Japanese people, it is a well-known bento style that is immediately recognizable.

Umeboshi brings out the flavor of plain white rice. Because it has a strong sourness and saltiness, it can make rice easier to eat even during the hot season, when the appetite may be low. Ume is also a classic filling for onigiri sold at convenience stores and supermarkets. There are many kinds of onigiri fillings, such as salmon, kombu, and tuna mayonnaise, but ume feels especially Japanese to me.

When I eat ume onigiri after hiking or walking for a long time, the saltiness and sourness seem to reach my body. After sweating, there are moments when I want the sharp sourness of ume more than something sweet. After walking under strong sunlight, an ume onigiri is such a simple food, yet it can feel as if the body has received exactly what it needed.

Umeboshi has long been loved in Japan not only because it tastes good, but also because it is considered good for the body. It contains organic acids such as citric acid, which gives it its sourness, and it also contains salt, making it a familiar food for seasons when people sweat. Umeboshi is often associated with preventing summer fatigue and heatstroke, and in recent years it has also drawn attention for its possible relationship to dieting and gut health.

Although umeboshi has long been eaten as part of everyday wisdom, its components and effects have also become the subject of research. Components found in ume, such as citric acid, polyphenols, ume lignans, and vanillin, have been discussed in relation to fatigue, lipid metabolism, and the intestinal environment. It is also interesting that compounds found in heated umeboshi have attracted attention for their possible action on fat cells.

The fact that we crave ume onigiri on hot days, that the sourness of umeboshi helps rice go down when our appetite is low, and that its saltiness can feel right after sweating, may have reasons beyond old household experience. Umeboshi is a food where Japanese family wisdom and modern research overlap.

June is an important time in Japanese life for preparing the body and the home for summer. The rain increases, and the heat approaches. Before the height of summer arrives, people prepare ume, pay attention to humidity, and bring sourness and saltiness into the daily table. In these small preparations, we can see how Japan receives the changing seasons.

In a previous SJJ article, I wrote about Japanese “grandmother’s wisdom.” When I look at umeshigoto, I am reminded of the kind of household wisdom I wrote about in that article. Long before such knowledge was explained as theory, people watched the seasons, chose ingredients, preserved food, and cared for the bodies of their families.

Do you have foods in your country that are prepared before summer begins, or seasonal wisdom passed down through your family? If you have never tried umeboshi, I hope you will try it someday when you visit Japan. It is sour and salty, and it may surprise you at first. But inside that small piece of umeboshi, Japan’s June way of life is tightly packed.

—Written by Sumire

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In situations where it would be much easier to use a fork, it makes Japanese people happy when someone chooses to use chopsticks. It shows a willingness to experience Japanese food culture.

It is natural to feel unsure about how to hold chopsticks. You may not be able to pick up food well, and you may drop something. Even among Japanese people, there are differences in how chopsticks are held. Being good or bad at using chopsticks is not the issue. However, there are some manners that I truly hope you will avoid. A single movement can remind people in Japan of offerings for the dead or funeral customs.

This time, we will look at the history and value of chopsticks, and the manners worth knowing at the Japanese table.

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The wheat has turned golden, and beside it, young rice seedlings have been planted in water-filled paddies. In early summer in Japan, fields ready for harvest and paddies just beginning to grow can sometimes appear within the same landscape.

A full week has already passed since I shared that article. When I write while following the seasons, I feel the speed of time more clearly than usual.

From tomorrow, Japan’s 72 micro-seasons will enter Mugi no toki itaru（麦秋至）. This is a phrase in the Japanese calendar that describes the time when wheat ripens and reaches the harvest season.

The character for “autumn” appears in the phrase, but the season is early summer. The fully ripened wheat will soon be harvested and transformed into familiar foods such as bread, noodles, sweets, and barley tea.

The Japanese calendar contains many small seasonal words like this, and they are very interesting.

May is almost over. June is approaching.

In your country, what comes to mind when you hear the word June? In Japan, I think many people would answer, “the rainy season.”

Tsuyu（梅雨）, the rainy season, is a seasonal phenomenon that comes as spring shifts into summer, bringing many rainy and cloudy days. Every year in Japan, the Japan Meteorological Agency announces the beginning of the rainy season by region. The season begins in the southern regions first, then gradually moves northward through the Japanese archipelago.

This year, Okinawa and Amami already entered the rainy season in early May. Meanwhile, from Kyushu to Tohoku, the rainy season is expected to begin later than usual. Southern Kyushu is expected to enter the rainy season in early June; Shikoku, the Chugoku region, Kinki, Tokai, and other areas in mid-June; and Tohoku in late June.

The rainy season is essential when talking about Japan’s seasons. But it is not simply a time to enjoy the rain. It is also a season when people need to be careful about heavy rain, rising rivers, and landslides.

If you are planning to visit Japan in June, it is important to prepare not only for rain, but also for heat and humidity. A folding umbrella, water-resistant shoes, quick-drying clothes, and a way to stay hydrated can make your trip much easier. On days of heavy rain, it is better not to pack your schedule too tightly. Checking transportation updates and weather information will help you move around safely.

Many visitors to Japan are surprised not only by the summer temperature, but also by the humidity. For many people, the humidity is what they feel most strongly.

If you look only at the temperature, you may think it is not so different from summer in your own country. But from the rainy season into summer, the air in Japan holds a great deal of moisture. Depending on the day, even indoor humidity can rise above 70 percent. The air can feel heavy, almost like a bathroom after a hot bath, clinging to the skin.

This humidity affects both the body and the home.

Laundry becomes difficult to dry. Moisture gathers in shoes, bags, closets, and bathrooms. If people are careless, mold can appear on clothing, leather goods, furniture, and even around walls. In Japanese homes at this time of year, moisture absorbers, dehumidifiers, air conditioners set to dry mode, ventilation, and laundry detergents for indoor drying all become useful.

Drugstores and supermarkets also begin to show signs of rainy-season preparation. Moisture absorbers, mold-prevention products, raincoats, folding umbrellas, cooling goods, sweat wipes, and many other items appear on the shelves.

In an earlier article, I introduced some of the heat-protection goods used in Japan. If you are planning to visit Japan from June onward, that article may help you prepare.

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There is one region in Japan where the beginning of the rainy season is not announced.

That is Hokkaido, where I was born and raised.

Hokkaido does not have the rainy season in the same way that Honshu and Kyushu do. Even in June, it is relatively comfortable, and the heaviness of the air feels very different. Of course, in recent years, Hokkaido has also had more hot days because of climate change. Even so, compared with regions that have a rainy season, the feeling of June is very different.

I grew up without experiencing the rainy season. Later, I moved to Kyushu. Last year, when I spent the rainy season in Kyushu for the first time, I was truly surprised by the humidity and the amount of rain.

I realized how different the same country can feel.

Japan is sometimes imagined as a small island nation. But between northern Hokkaido and southern Kyushu, the experience of the seasons is completely different. The cold of winter, the humidity of summer, and the way rain falls cannot be fully explained with a single description.

If you are traveling in Japan in June, Hokkaido can be one good option. For people who are not comfortable with rainy-season humidity, it is a relatively easy region to visit.

But June in Japan is not only a season of high humidity and rain.

There is a flower that blooms beautifully across Japan at this time of year: Ajisai（紫陽花）, hydrangea.

Gaku-ajisai（ガクアジサイ）, one of the original forms of hydrangea, is considered native to Japan. After the Edo period, it was taken to Europe, where it was selectively bred and spread as Western hydrangea. Today, the hydrangeas seen in Japan include older Japanese varieties, varieties that were developed overseas and returned to Japan, and many other cultivated forms.

Hydrangeas are plants that love moisture. A hydrangea in the rain shows a different expression from one seen on a sunny day. Water droplets gather on the parts that look like petals, and the blue, purple, white, and pink colors can appear deeper.

The rain of the rainy season can sometimes make daily life feel heavy. But the fact that there is a flower that becomes beautiful in that rain is also part of June in Japan.

There are many well-known hydrangea spots across Japan.

Meigetsu-in（明月院） in Kamakura, Kanagawa Prefecture, is widely known as an “ajisai temple.” The blue hydrangeas that fill the temple grounds are often called “Meigetsu-in Blue,” and many people visit during the season.

Yata-dera（矢田寺） in Yamatokoriyama, Nara Prefecture, is another place known as an “ajisai temple.” Many varieties of hydrangeas are planted throughout the temple grounds, and visitors can enjoy the flowers from mid-May into summer as different kinds bloom in succession.

Kibitsu Jinja（吉備津神社） in Okayama City, Okayama Prefecture, is also a place where hydrangeas can be seen. When I previously visited Kibitsu Jinja for reporting, I photographed hydrangeas blooming within the shrine grounds.

Kibitsu Jinja is also known for its long corridor and its connection to the legend of Momotaro. If you are interested not only in the hydrangeas, but also in the shrine’s history, architecture, and the stories that remain in the land, you can also read the article.

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Hydrangeas are often seen in the grounds of temples and shrines.

One reason is the environment. Temples and shrines are often built on mountain slopes, in green places, or on land that holds moisture, and these conditions can overlap with places where hydrangeas grow well. Hydrangeas are also relatively hardy plants, so they are thought to have been easy to use as plantings in temple and shrine grounds or on slopes.

Hydrangeas are also sometimes connected with the Buddhist idea of shogyō mujō（諸行無常）, the teaching that all things continue to change. Because hydrangea colors change, it is easy to place the flower beside that way of thinking.

Hydrangeas have also been spoken of in connection with memories of illness and prayers for the dead, partly because they bloom during the rainy season. They are beautiful flowers, but they have also stood near human prayer and sorrow.

Hydrangeas seen at temples and shrines look a little different from hydrangeas seen on ordinary streets. Stone steps, old trees, wet ground, and the greenery along an approach all change the way the flowers appear. In such places, hydrangeas show the rainy season in Japan very clearly.

As beautiful as hydrangeas are, their flower meanings include some surprising words.

The general flower meanings of hydrangea include “changeable heart” and “infidelity.” These meanings are said to come from the way the flower’s color changes.

On the other hand, meanings by color can be more positive. For example, blue and purple hydrangeas are sometimes associated with “patient love,” white hydrangeas with “tolerance,” and pink hydrangeas with “energetic woman.”

Change, instability, beauty, and patience all exist within the same flower. In that sense, hydrangeas may be a fitting flower for the rainy season in Japan.

At the end of May, wheat ripens in Japan, water enters the rice paddies, and preparations for the rainy season gradually begin. Inside the home, people deal with humidity. Outside, hydrangeas bloom in the rain.

There are still many June topics and landscapes in Japan that I would like to share with you: the rain of the rainy season, early summer flowers, seasonal foods, and the changes in daily life that appear only at this time of year. I will continue introducing them little by little in upcoming articles.

What kinds of events or seasonal topics do you have in June in your country? There may be landscapes completely different from Japan, or customs that feel unexpectedly similar. Please tell me in the comments.

Whether you are in a hot region or a cold one, please eat well and take good care of yourself.

—Written by Sumire

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