On Japanese Summers

As a foreigner, I’m apparently meant to hate Japanese summers. I don’t know why it is, but whenever a foreigner starts talking about the seasons in Japan, it always ends with something like “But I can’t stand the summers.” This makes no sense, because it seems to me that summers in Japan have benefits that no other seasons do.

During Japanese summers, beer is always more delicious. I hate to sound like a poorly written advert, but there’s nothing like coming home at the end of the day, covered in sweat, washing your face with cold water, opening the fridge and pouring a cold glass of Asahi. That first mouthful makes the whole day worth it. It’s even better when served with hiyayakko, with the back door open to let in the humid air and the sounds of insects.

Then there’s the atmosphere itself. Stepping out of your house in the morning, to find the sun shining and the air already sticky with moisture, is the only proper start to the day. The other nice thing being of course, is that if you work in an office you’re likely to benefit from cool biz: no ties, no jackets, just a shirt and trousers. Somehow seeing the office chief sat fanning himself with his top shirt button open makes the working environment more relaxed. It’s like the whole office is breathing a sigh of relief.

Speaking of clothing, being a non-single man I, of course, have never noticed this, but friends have mentioned about how nice it is that Japanese women wear shorter skirts and shorts in the summer. I’ve also heard that the sight of Japanese women wearing summer kimonos and eating chocolate dipped bananas is a favourite amongst many men here.

Then there’s sightseeing. I love walking in the woods or around temples and shrines, and this experience only gets better in the middle of the day when the temperatures are at their hottest. I’m at my happiest walking along the philosopher’s walk in Kyoto, with a packed lunch, a bottle of cold sports drink and no one else around. Halfway along I’ll sit down in a shady area, with the cicadas so loud in my ears that it's almost painful, pull out a book and eat. Sweat pours down my body, and my hands are so damp that the book gets wet and sticks to them, but none of this matters. Following this up with ice cream from a vending machine is just an added bonus.

Summer is also when the gods are at their closest in Japan. I’m not religious, and normally reject the idea of anything that vaguely resembles a god, but when you’re halfway up a mountain at Fushimi Inari shrine, surrounded by hundreds of red torii gates, exhausted and semi-dehydrated, with the smell of moss and rotting leaves in the air, you know the gods are lurking nearby, and suddenly the world seems like a much more mysterious place. It’s like going back in time 1000 years.

Music is always better too. Whether it’s listening to a jazz artist like John Coltrane or a modern artist like YUI, everything just makes more sense. Even moreso if I have a glass of cold beer in my hand at the time. Also, some styles of music are only good in the summer, Japanese reggae being one of those. Japanese reggae is best listened to at an evening summer festival, while avoiding the throngs of kimono-clad twenty-somethings and letting the smells of suspicious looking fried food vendors make your stomach growl. At times like this, a cup of melon flavoured shaved ice is always the safest option.

Going to the movies is more satisfying on a hot summer’s day, and because it’s the middle of the school holidays it’s when all the best movies come out. Walking out of the heat into a cool, dark, theatre and smelling warm popcorn always makes me feel excited. I go to the movies more often in Japan in the summer than at any other time – one summer I even saw the same movie 3 times in 2 weeks.

That’s not to say that I hate the other seasons – warm sake and hotpot in winter, mushrooms and seasonal vegetables in autumn, those clear, light blue skies in spring – but summer is definitely the best. Even in Australia I felt the same way, after all, I’d rather be baked than frozen. The only country whose summer I don’t like is England’s, which always ends up making a pretty halfhearted attempt at a season. If you’re going to do a season, I figure, you may as well do it properly.