Musings of a Drunken Monk

Last weekend I went on a short trip with Pete and Roy up to the freezing country in the north known as 岩手 (Iwate). It was cold, kind of like home. In this cold, a tiny town has a festival every year involving dozens of near-naked men running through the streets having enormous bucketfuls of water dumped on them. It doesn't look fun, though you can smell the 酒 (sake) on them from meters away.

Here are the results of the journey.