The people of Hirosaki possess this truly foolish willpower and do not know how to bow to strongmen despite being defeated over and over. A defense of conceited aloofness tends to transform into a joke to the rest of the world.
Thanks to my three years there, I am struck by nostalgia and zealously watch gidayu. I express my romantic nature below. The following passages are from an old novel of mine but, I confess with a wry smile, they are only quirky fabrications.
I have fond memories of drinking wine in a coffee shop. One time, I brazenly went to eat at a restaurant with a geisha. My younger self did not consider that to be particularly bad. I always believed behaving like a stylish yakuza was a lofty hobby. By going to eat two or three times at the quiet, old restaurant in the castle town, my instinct for style made heads snap up. Then I found my purpose. I wanted to dress in the clothes of the fireman seen in the play The Quarrels of Megumi, sit cross-legged in a tatami room overlooking the inner garden of the restaurant, and say things like, "My, my, you are too pretty today." Still enthused, I started to prepare my outfit.
I shoved my hands in the big pocket of my dark blue workman's apron. An old-fashioned wallet was inside. When I walk with my arms folded in my kimono, I looked like a full-fledged yakuza. I also bought an obi sash. This sash made from Hakata cloth squeaked when tightened. I ordered an unlined kimono made of tozan cloth from the kimono shop. Unfortunately, these clothes were indecipherable. Was I a fireman? A professional gambler? A shop boy? They lacked a unifying theme. However, if my clothes gave the impression of a man who frequented the theater, I was satisfied. Summer began and I wore hemp sandals on my bare feet.
That was good, but a strange thought flashed through my mind. It was long underwear. I considered wearing long, formfitting, dark blue work pants like the fireman in the play. I was called, "Clown," and I rolled up the hem of my kimono ready to fight. At that time, the dark blue work pants looked so much better, like they pierced my eyes. Short underpants were forbidden. I tried to buy the work pants and ran around from one end of the castle town to the other but found none.
I'd breathlessly explain, "You know, what plasterers wear. Do you have those tight, dark blue work pants?" I asked at dry goods shops and tabi sock shops, but the shop workers smiled and shook their heads no. It was already hot, and sweat poured out of me as I ran around on my quest. Finally, the proprietor of one shop said, "We don't carry them, but there's a specialty shop for firefighters in the alley around the corner. Go ask there. They may have them." Of course. Firefighting never crossed my mind.
A shop for firefighters made sense, and I sped to that shop in the alley. Large and small firefighting pumps were lined up in the shop. Clothes were displayed, too. I felt helpless, but my courage was inspired. I asked if they had work pants, the prompt response was yes. They were dark blue, cotton work pants, but thick, red stripes ran down both sides of the pants to indicate a fireman. I didn't have the courage to walk around in them and, sadly, had to abandon the work pants.
Even at the home of stupidity, there is little of this level of stupidity. As I copied this passage, I sunk into a little melancholy. The red-light district where the restaurant I dined with the geisha stood was probably Enoki Alley. This event happened nearly twenty years ago and has faded from memory. I do remember Enoki Alley at the foot of Omiyasaka Hill. The area I walked around drenched in sweat to buy dark blue work pants was the most lively shopping district of the castle town and called Dote-machi. In comparison, the red-light district in Aomori is called Hama-machi. That name is missing a personality. The shopping district in Aomori corresponding to Dote-machi in Hirosaki is Oo-machi. I feel the same about that name. Next, I will list the names of towns in Hirosaki beside those in Aomori. The differences in the personalities of these two small cities become stark. The names of towns in Hirosaki are Hon-cho, Zaifu-cho, Dote-machi, Sumiyoshi-cho, Okeya-machi, Douya-machi, Chabatake-cho, Daikan-cho, Kaya-cho, Hyakkoku-machi, Kamisayashi-machi, Shimosayashi-machi, Teppou-machi, Wakadou-cho, Kobito-cho, Takajou-machi, Gojitsukoku-machi, and Konya-machi [Capital Town, Government Town, Embankment Town, Good Living Town, Cooper Town, Coppersmith Town, Tea Field Town, Locally Administrated Town, Silvergrass Town, One Hundred Stones Town, Upper Sword Sheather Town, Lower Sword Sheather Town, Gun Town, Foot Soldier Town, Dwarf Town, Falconer Town, Fifty Stones Town, and Dyer Town]. In contrast, the names of the towns in Aomori are Hama-machi, Shin Hama-machi, Oo-machi, Kome-machi, Shin-machi, Yanagi-machi, Tera-machi, Tsutsumi-machi, Shio-machi, Shijimi-machi, Shin Shijimi-machi, Ura-machi, Namiuchi, and Sakae-machi [Beach Town, New Beach Town, Big Town, Rice Town, New Town, Willow Town, Shrine Town, Embankment Town, Salt Town, Clam Town, New Clam Town, Inlet Town, Shoreline Town, and Prosperous Town].
However, I never thought of Hirosaki City as the superior town and Aomori City as the inferior town. Old-fashioned names like Takajou-machi and Konya-machi are not unique to Hirosaki but towns bearing those kinds of names are found in castle towns throughout Japan. Of course, Mount Iwaki in Hirosaki is more beautiful than the Hakkoda Mountains in Aomori. But the master novelist from Tsugaru, Kasai Zenzou, gave this lesson to this junior author from his native land, "Don't be conceited. Mount Iwaki looks magnificent because no high mountains surround it. Go to other countries and look
