I arrived around 8 in Himeji, went to the hostel to deposit my backpack, and searched how to go to the “Nada no Kenka” festival. I took one of the rental bicycles to the central train station, and a local train for 15 minutes. A lot of people went to the festival at the Matabura Hachiman Shrine, so I didn’t have any difficulties to find it. I saw lots of people and beautifully decorated shrines. The local men carried around sticks with a pompom on top. I went through the gate and saw even more people.
A portable shrine, carried by 30-50 men, arrived. They removed the decoration from the top, so that it fit through the gate. Apparently they ask for the god’s blessing at the main shrine. After a while they carried it back through the gate. All the time the carriers cry something which sounded like “yo-desaaa”. At the big place at the outside of the shrine complex, they put the shrine on the floor, luffed it several times, then lifted it into the air and let it fall down from about 1 meter - with four drummers sitting inside! Those guys drum all the time, and don’t seem to mind what happens outside.
Later those half-naked men (wearing just a traditional loincloth) brought smaller shrines. They lift the shrines, carry them around, so far so good. Then they bump the shrines into each other. At one point two of these small shrines even stuck together, one over the other, and two guys had to climb up to separate them. Watching those guys makes one hungry, so I wandered around and ate some small things (cheese rolls and extra-long French fries). I met two Japanese guys (Masa and Masa), who explained me that the warcry means something like “Let’s lift it together”.
People started to walk away, until the place became almost empty. An old man told me that they go to a nearby hill. I followed the path, which became more and more crowded. Until I saw the hill, and the fighting place at its bottom. I think I have never seen so many people in such a small space before. I stood with other people in front of a wall. A group of carriers passed by with one of the seven portable shrines, in two meters distance, pressing us against the wall. That spot didn’t feel safe, so I decided to search a place to sit up the hill.
I walked up a street with a lot of other people. After the next bend I saw another of these portable shrines. They carried it up the hill! This festival astonished me more and more. The places seem reserved, so I just took the courage to ask a guy in his 50s whether I could sit at the corner of the blue mattress. He sat there with family, friends and neighbors. He had drunk a little bit too much, and offered me beer, soup, and other things to eat. I tried to talk Japanese with the people at the table, but I had a hard time to understand them. Luckily two girls spoke English. They recommended me to not leave the festival too late, if I want to avoid crammed trains.