On Saturday, March 23rd, Shea house Japanese pod (J-pod) members and residents alike gathered in the dining room and outside on the porch for J-pod’s semester event: a summer festival. From one corner of the room one could hear the clattering of empty soda cans being knocked over by foam nerf gun bullets, the cheers of the victorious player following soon after. From the other side of the room was the clattering sound of the ring toss, and though this game got a few cheers as well, the majority of the noises were declarations of competitiveness and calls for one more try.
Sandwiched in the middle of the two activities are attendees crammed around tables, their cups filled with tea or Calpis, somen noodle cradled in their bowls, sushi carefully pinched between chopsticks and raised to their lips. When someone smiles, one can see a peek of their tongue, colored blue, purple, or pink by the shaved ice that had long since melted in their mouths.
Tucked against the wall is a table covered with strips of blue and purple paper, attendees crowding around to write down their wishes. They think long and pen out their desires deliberately as the host shares with them the myth of Tanabata, explaining how two lovers—Princess Orihime and Hikoboshi—were separated by the milky way galaxy, how their wish to meet once a year, how their wish came true on the seventh day of the seventh month. Their heads filled with stories and their papers filled with wishes, the attendees rush outside to hang their own Tanabata on the bamboo tree outside, hoping that they come true.
Next to the tree rests a small inflatable pool, around which can be heard whoops of victory when one successfully fishes out a gacha egg and requests for another round when their egg turns out to be prize-less. In the center of the porch a tablecloth is spread out with a watermelon carefully balanced in the middle. There are three watermelons for the three raffle winners, and they each spin in three circles, blindfolded with a baseball bat in their hands, before being directed as to where to swing. Once the watermelon is hit, the other attendees cheer and rush around them, quickly scooping up the sweet fruit and biting into it, their lips pulled wide in smiles and their chins sticky with juice.
Chloe Ross, class of ‘26
Shea House Japanese Floor