Sounds of Japanese Summer

Today, Tokyo hit a very hot 26 degrees celsius. I attempted in the early afternoon hours to sit on the balcony, under what I thought was a 'warm' sun, to grade the remaining papers. However, once I stepped out onto the balcony, the sun was a little bit more than warm; rather, it was scorching. In that instant I felt the Japanese summer sneaking up. And tonight, what confirmed its imminent arrival was the pitched, constant buzzing of the semi: cicadas.

I couldn't really believe my ears when I first realized that it was, indeed, the resonating buzz of the cicada. After all, it is just becoming May. Amongst friends who actually know what a cicada is, and have not grown up in Japan, these bugs are "annoying as hell" in their loud, almost obnoxious droning that doesn't seem to stop, and also for their gross abundance. However, here in Japan cicadas are, if not well-respected, at least well-perceived and accepted as a crucial part of Japanese summer culture. They stand at par with glass bells (fu-rin) that tinkle to the wind; with fireworks (hanabi); with summer kimonos (yukata); with bright-red goldfish and watermelon; and crowded summer festivals (natsu-matsuri) with their street food vendors. In fact, in the art of haiku poetry, the cicada is an officially designated summer 'season-word'.

Anyone who is aware of what a cicada sounds like and finds it to be annoying would be quick to question why the Japanese adore this summer icon. I don't really know, but I could take a guess. Cicadas live most of their life underground, and it takes an average of 5 to 7 years for a cicada to fully mature. Once matured (some cicadas shed their skins four times before climbing up to the surface), cicadas come up from the ground, and find themselves a tree to latch on to. They shed their final skin after they are amply above ground. After 5 years of developing you'd think they would be there for the entire summer; well, their constant buzzing doesn't cease until the end of September, right? Contrary to what one may think, these bugs only live outside for about a week. So, perhaps it is the energy with which the cicada cries (to find a mate) and the spirit with which it attempts to make the most of its short life, that the Japanese are drawn to.

The sound of cicadas made me realize how quickly the year has gone by; it seems like only days ago when I had arrived in Tokyo, and turned my ears to this sound I had not heard in 4 years. Fall has gone, winter flew by, spring was brief, and now, summer is coming. The year is really ending.