The people line the streets, dancing, playing their taiko drums and fue, welcoming the new wife of the local lord to the old castle town of Matsue. The streets are bedecked with colourful cloths and the citizens are drinking and partying in order to cheer up the wife of the local lord, for she is sad at the prospect of starting a new life in a strange new town.

Having come to realize that the great attraction of Japan lies not in its sights, cities or sunsets, but in its people and their legendary celebrations, it came as no surprise that, on October 16th, the crowds and sounds of the Dougyoretsu Festival staggered me. Because I failed to see a dull face all day amidst the cacophony of sound and blaze of colours surrounding the streets of Matsue Castle, I can only presume that, all those years ago, the new wife of the local lord cheered up as well.

Every year about 16 groups representing areas across the city don their happi and assorted add-ons, and then, after two weeks of practice, wheel their two-metre diameter drums around the city. Because it is quite costly for each group to enter and maintain the drum, it is often the case that some groups only enter the festival every two years.

For the outsider who is allowed to participate in the events, the experience is a special insight into the social life of a Japanese neighbourhood. Urban JETs can often be heard musing about the potential advantages of living in the countryside, offering as it does the wistful peace, closeknit communities and opportunity to live a “more Japanese” life. The Dougyoretsu Festival gave me my first chance to have any kind of community involvement in Japan, and this sense of belonging highlighted my entire experience.

Complementing this sense of community was the fact that our group came from one of the oldest areas of Matsue, meaning that there was a slight possibility that some of the families who formed the backbone of the group had ancestors who could have taken part in that first festival hundreds of years ago. This continuity was evident when, during one practice, it was the children's turn to take to the drums. It was later explained that the responsibility of the drums and doudai (elaborate drum covers) would one day fall to these children, the offspring of the families. And what a responsibility! The doudai covering the three drums weighs over 3 tonnes, but, more than that, the cost is most overwhelming: 30,000,000 yen worth of craftsmanship (and that's discounting the actual drums!)

Statistical and historical ponderings aside, it was fascinating to observe the locals gathering around the drums and interacting at practices. There was no need for us to ask what time they started, because we could hear the thump of the taiko−dumdum- dum-dum-dum-dum-dum-DUM!! The sake flowed each night, but it didn't make it any easier for us, as we were constantly urged to bend our knees more and move to the beat. After the first few nights, my back and knees ached as bad as they have ever done; however, by the final practice, my 6'2”frame had finally gotten used to the bouncing around the drum.

"This is our pride and treasure; it is our soul and our heritage"

In a land where there is such minute attention to detail, it didn't surprise me to learn that each group has their own distinct role, including unique music and clothing, in the day's events. Some groups looked almost sailor-esque, with blue happi coats and white trousers; others had special dancers prancing to the pounding beat of the taiko. Following the opening ceremony, one group, that had what can only be described as a double-decker doudai, started throwing mochi out into the crowd, offering good luck. My group's special offering was the yanagi bachi style of drumming whereby the two most skilful drummers played with slightly longer and thinner bachi made from a local willow (or yanagi) tree. The effect was awesome, producing a rawer, flatter, snappier sound as compared to the usual hollow, deep thud of the normal bachi.

One suggested reason for the amount of festivals in Japan is that before the dawn of industrialization, people got bored from waiting for the rice to harvest and thought of ways to spend the time. There are festivals in my home country, Scotland, but nowhere near as many, and even those that do take place don't pay as much attention to detail as is evident and customary in Japanese celebrations. As I took in the striking black and red hachimaki (headbands), the shimmering copper roofsupports of the doudai and the miniature shrines that sit at the front of each group, it occurred to me that however frustrating life here can be, there are pockets of intrigue that keep on popping out to entice the non- Japanese. This complex reality was perfectly summed up when I once asked the local fish-shop owner why there are so many festivals in Japan. He looked at me with a knowing smile and answered, "Atode kangaete kudasai."

My friend Graham, JET Prefectural Advisor Will O'Gorman, Matsue City CIR Matt Sleath and myself would like to thank the 1st Ishibashi-Cho drum group for allowing us to take part in the festival. It was awesome. As for this article I would like to thank the Kato family for their help with the details of the article.

JET is the Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme. It employs Assistant Language Teachers (ALTs) and Coordinators for International Relations (CIRs) in various schools and local government organisations throughout Japan. It aims to promote internationalisation in Japan's local communities by helping to improve foreign language education and developing international exchange at the community level.