Before coming to Japan I was never really interested in photography, but after seeing the beautiful surroundings Iida had to offer, I felt it essential to capture these images on film. Subsequently, I have explored the whole of Iida, looking for scenic shots that would dazzle family and friends back in England. When I found out that Iida’s City Council was running a photography competition, I immediately sent them a couple of my best photos.
One photo was taken during a fireworks display. The image was of a bunch of maniacs leaping about like goons whilst being engulfed by flames.
The other photo was taken during the tea ceremony I went to, which took place next to a gigantic tree. I photographed a girl staring up at the tree in wonder.
I was delighted to hear from Shigeho over the phone that they had both won a prize in the competition.
"Wow!" I said. "Where'd they come?"
"The fireworks one won," she said excitedly.
"Won won? It won....twice?" I tentatively asked.
"No," she said irritably. "The fireworks photo won the top prize. And the tree photo came 7th."
“Wa-hey!” I said, needlessly.
I was up bright and early the day the awards were taking place. I drank a strong cup of coffee to wake me up and went through rigorous morning exercises in preparation for the awards. I brushed my teeth three times and practised giving an award winning smile. I also practised my hand-shaking technique in front of the mirror and even went through a brief but thoughtful acceptance speech in English. I aborted this plan when I realized that most of the Japanese audience wouldn't have a clue what I was yakking on about.
As I opened the door to leave, the phone rang. It was Shigeho.
"Just to remind you," she said. "Please wear smart clothes."
She hung up.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I surmised that my ripped jeans and Never Mind the Bollocks t-shirt weren't appropriate for an awards ceremony, so I exchanged the t-shirt for a shirt and the ripped jeans for smart trousers.
I arrived at the city council on time and met the Asanos outside the building. They led me into a medium sized room which was filled with rows of chairs occupied by about 25 people talking amongst themselves. It may not have been the Oscars, but I felt on top of the world. I breezed in, hoping my striding walk signified to the seated people that they were witnessing a winner in their presence. This illusion was eradicated when I buckled clumsily over a covert chair that snuck out from beneath the drinks table. I gave a feeble wave to the people who witnessed this stumble with a stifled laugh.
I took my seat at the back of the room and waited for the proceedings to start. I was nudged in the back by Shigeho who told me to take a seat at the front. I walked to the front and floundered as I didn't know my designated chair. An elderly man with a shock of white hair looked at me furiously and forcefully jerked his head to the chair next to him. I took the hint and sat next to him.
Proceedings kicked off when a small, rotund woman, who was the chief-judge, gave a short speech and pointed to the various competition photos laid out around the room. When finished, she picked up a large certificate and read out information from it. The people in the room started to clap. So I did, too. The woman was looking at me, so I looked at her with a smile on my face and continued to clap like a trained seal. I turned to the white haired old man next to me, who forcefully jerked his head towards the woman. I smiled at him and continued to clap before realizing I was the only one in the room doing so. The woman at the front took matters in her own hands and walked over to me and dragged me by the hands, like a petulant child, to the front of the room. It dawned on me that I had missed my cue to accept the certificate by almost two minutes. I held my hands up in apology and bashfully smiled to the small audience. The judge then gave me the certificate and started speaking to me in Japanese. I didn't have a clue what she was saying but that didn't stop me from appearing to understand every word she said. When she looked happy, I looked happy. When she looked inquisitive, I looked inquisitive. When she laughed, I laughed. It was a simple but effective formula. Finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived: The grand-prize.
I envisioned lots of money and maybe even a speed boat thrown in. I was, therefore, mildly disappointed to discover that the prize was a framed drawing of an aged old tree. Instead of throwing the painting on the floor like a spoilt brat, I looked dizzy with excitement as I exaggeratedly studied the painting in front of the audience. I held the picture up for the audience to see and they all nodded their approval. I took one final look at the drawing before bowing in thanks. I walked back to my chair with a sinking sigh. The elderly man next to me tapped me on the shoulder as I vacantly stared at the painting, and gave another forceful jerk of the head towards the front of the room. I followed his jerk and observed that the woman was beckoning me to return to the front. I jumped out of my seat and dashed to where she was standing. I wondered if there were more prizes to come.
She said a few more sentences and delved into a bag lying on a table next to her. She took out a wooden pen. She bowed as she gave it to me. The audience clapped and I felt it fitting to hold the pen aloft like Excalibur as they did so. I checked the feel of the pen by writing my name on a scrap of paper nearby. It didn't work.
When the clapping stopped, I lingered for a moment, hoping the judge would delve into her bag of goodies and whip out a bundle of cash. Instead, she stared at me with a grin. I fidgeted on the spot, and came to realize that this was going to be it in terms of prizes: A dodgy painting and a defunct pen. I knew I had to sit back down when I looked at the elderly man, who jerked his head towards my vacant seat.
I bowed to the judge and sat back down with a huff. I turned to the elderly man, who was jerking his head to no-one in particular, and said, "You wanna buy this pen?"
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