Tsumami, tsumami, came washing over me

Or, "What's made Milwaukee famous (Has made a loser hanami)"

I'm hungover. This morning I felt so sluggish that blogging was beyond me; all I could do was not-so-furtively read William Gibson novels on the Archos and knock back Pocari Sweat in a bid to rebalance my trashed electrolytes. Now that I've had a big bowl of gyuudon for lunch, and a can of 'Advance' coffee, I'm feeling a bit more human.

The reason for this boozy malaise is that yesterday was my first experience of hanami (flower viewing). It seemed the party had been scheduled somewhat prematurely, as the cherry trees weren't showing off the goods yet; the pink petals were still concealed inside tight little buds on their branches. So, our get-together lacked its ostensible raison d'etre, but that didn't seem to bother the dozen Japanese people in my party.

It seems that hanami is about two things: food and drink. Every guest contributed some of each, meaning that we had a picnic with an impressively diverse selection of tsumami (snacks to accompany drinking). While I could have just picked up a sashimi platter from a supermarket, I decided that I would raise my game and cook something. So, I brought along a tupperware container of battered haggis balls with whisky and mustard dip, which I had got up especially early that morning to make. Though the haggis was tinned and thus of questionable quality (it was made from pig organs, for a start), they turned out alright and seemed to go down well. In the booze department I went with Chimay from the previous day's Yamaya run, as well as some less exotic Kirin. (Japanese lagers are all much of a muchness, but I think Kirin has emerged as my favourite.) I also took a hipflask of Bowmore, which proved very popular - the Japanese have a real reverence for Scotch whisky. I got the hipflask in my most recent shipment from home, and it's fast becoming my personal gimmick of choice.

We assembled in the park around Yamagata City's destroyed castle at 11am, and wasted no time in initiating the 'Kampai!' to start the eating and drinking. The person who had invited me is both an accomplished cook and a committed Anglophile, so he had brought along a couple of homemade Cornish pasties, upon which he eagerly awaited my native's judgement (filling very good, pastry a little too dry). Some of the more challenging tsumami on offer included Chinese-style pig ears and trotters, horse tongue and cheek, and some pungent heavily fermented fish. People were impressed that I could stomach the fish, though it's not something I would rush to do again - they were very nearly as bad as natto. When you think about it, 'fermented' is really just a euphemism for 'rotten'.

Over the course of the day I drank: beer of various types, champagne, red wine, sake, Chinese plum sherry, whisky, and 53% bourbon that some joker had brought along in a ominous unmarked bottle. Naturally, everyone was mashed within a couple of hours, i.e. by lunchtime. It's good to know that while public drinking is illegal in an ever-increasing number of jurisdictions of the civil-liberty-hating UK, getting wasted in parks is a cornerstone of Japanese culture.

There was some sort of event going on in some nearby tents, so we kept seeing dainty women in kimono and men dressed as samurai wandering past. Koto music from their speakers formed the soundtrack to our afternoon. At one point, a few of us went over to investigate, and ended up in a tea ceremony, albeit a very softcore one: no kneeling, and we were in and out in less than five minutes.

Other than that, we just sat, ate, drank and chatted. The day had a similar feel to a Scottish summer barbeque, in that it was overcast, chilly and threatening to rain. Only when the sun made a brief appearance in the afternoon could we take off our jackets. One person demonstrated the amazing Japanese talent for sleeping anywhere, by facing out of the circle, slumping forward on her knees, covering herself with a jacket, and nodding off for about an hour in the middle of an increasingly rowdy picnic.

When the sun went down at around 6pm, the inevitable call of 'nijikai' (second party) went up, and we relocated to the French restaurant owned by the sleepy woman. The wine came out, and people were now so drunk that a game of strip janken (scissors-paper-stone) was initiated, but thankfully quickly aborted. Around 9pm, i.e. after ten hours of drinking, I decided it was about time I got myself on a train home.

So here I am, tired and dehydrated in an unironed shirt. Next weekend will be more of the same, as most of the gaijin community of Yamagata are coming to my hood for hanami. Hopefully there will be some flowers to view by then.