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FUJI FASHION OF THE DAY: RAINCOATS
I hoped the forecast of 100% rain would be wrong. It’s not. It’s 100% raining. My new tent neighbors from England are frantically trying to tie-down their tent and keep things dry, though they both look like wet stray cats in a storm; eyeliner running down cheeks, hair matted, shivery lips of worry, etc. Apparently she lost her wallet and passport yesterday, god forbid in one of the countless mud pits. But, thankfully if it is found, the honesty and integrity of Fuji Rockers, and Japanese in general ought to bring it to lost and found for her to gratefully find later. (She did actually!)
Anyway, my pants and socks from Thursday’s torrential downpour are still soggy, though they’ve been hanging up to “dry” in my tent for 2 days now. “Dry” is a bit of a joke out here this year, a long-lost love, a foggy memory of the good ol’ days when sun shined gloriously, brightly, high in the blue skies over Naeba. Maybe Sunday’s forecast of “partly” cloudy will be “partly” right. I think I’m developing gills. Already I have a dorsal fin-sized spider bite on my ankle.
Nonetheless, I cherished the body heat generated at Manu Chao’s special guest appearance at the Crystal Palace last night. This morning I am still riding that anarcho-chaotic mosh pit of love madness, making all the damp, dripping, mud cakes worth it, and granting the remaining two days an optimistic outlook, albeit in less than ideal conditions. I’m still waiting for 5000 person mud fight at White Stage, by the way…
Say, Incubus, think you can make that happen tonight?
