Fireworks Festival: Sensations of Summer
A Trip to Sakura & Narita City in Chiba Prefecture
Because you’ve never truly experienced a Japanese summer if you haven’t braved the 35°C/95°F heat to watch fireworks in the middle of a paddy field.
And though there are plenty of firework festivals happening in or near Tokyo from May through to the end of August, my friend and I wanted to explore somewhere new to start our summer vacation.
And the town next to the further (really far away) of the two Tokyo airports is definitely an unconventional choice, one that’ll fly under the radar for most people (pun fully intended).
The Sakura Citizens Fireworks Festival takes place in Sakura Furusato Square in — you guessed it — Sakura City in Chiba Prefecture, about 90 minutes from Tokyo and 30 minutes by train and bus from Narita City.
This festival is special for two reasons: 1) it’s tied for the largest number of fireworks with the ever-famous Sumidagawa in Asakusa, with a whopping 20,000 fireworks, and 2) this year’s festival in 2024 celebrates the 70th anniversary of the city, which translates to 70 extra firework shots into Chiba’s impossibly vast night sky.
So, off me and my friend went for an overnight trip to Chiba Prefecture whose atmosphere we could only describe as true inaka (countryside) as we chkk-chkk’ed our way across rivers and increasingly frequent clusters of hills and rice paddies.
There’s a Lot More Options for Accommodations in Narita
It didn’t take long to compile a list of accommodations between the Square and Narita-san, the Buddhist temple complex that we decided to visit on day two of our trip.
In the end, we settled for Asia Hotel Narita for its budget friendly price of 9,000 yen for a room with two single beds, a free albeit early breakfast (5–8 a.m.!), and only a ten-minute walk from Keisei-Narita Station.
We could only check in after 2 p.m., and after a rushed search on how to get to the festival grounds, we learned that the last bus from Keisei-Sakura — one of two stations close to the Square — was at 17:59.
Quickly gathering the things we needed for the next few hours, we decided to eat an early dinner close to the station so as not to miss the bus, only for us to learn our efforts were in vain…
A mix up with bus times
By the time we got out of the cafe to catch the second-to-last bus, there’s already a long line at the bus stop, with more and more people spilling out of the trains from Tokyo and shuffling down the stairs in beautiful yukata and geta sandals to join the queue.
Some, however, decided to trek to the Square after seeing how long the bus line was, and sure enough, just as we reached the front of the line, the bus doors closed on what was essentially a packed sardine can of festivalgoers.
With another 40 minutes on our hands until the next bus and no desire to walk 50 minutes with the blazing sun on our backs, we decided to wait patiently — only for a kind lady to point out the obvious notice stating there would be no more buses after 6:00 p.m.
Now, 17:59 was before 18:00 — but after watching the security staff read the notice and call the number written on it with an equally perplexed look on their faces, we decided to join the crowd in trekking to the venue whilst we still had time.
There Were a Lot of People — But Not Too Many
It truly felt like a pilgrimage.
Getting off the train at Keisei-Usui Station, which is slightly closer to the Square, we joined hundreds of others in walking alongside the train tracks.
Guided by volunteers and traffic police, it felt like we were trespassing as we cut through residential neighborhoods to reach the festival venue.
And whilst the main location was the Square, with its Dutch windmill surrounded by tulips or sunflowers that make for Insta-worthy pics at certain periods of the year, and next to Lake Inbanuma — the largest lake in Chiba — the fields on either side were still a good spot to set up camp.
This was clear from the rows of food stalls already set-up in the fields near the windmill, and since we didn’t think to book the 20,000-yen seats at the main location (composed of plastic chairs and those blue plastic sheets you can get at Daiso for 110 yen), we thought remaining in one of the fields was the safest choice, in case there’s no space at the main venue.
The actual field was huge and the roads on either side quite narrow, especially with a long queue for each stall running side-by-side, but we managed to obtain our quintessential summer festival snacks of shaved ice, French fries, fried cheese sticks, and fried karaage chicken (it’s not a festival without a worrying amount of grease) before reserving our spots on the concrete.
Important note: if you know the venue will be in a grassy area and you think you might need a picnic sheet, you need a picnic sheet.
But for the worrying amount of insect sounds buzzing from the thick weave of wild grass enclosing us on all sides, it all seemed to melt away as the first fireworks bloomed then sizzled out in the sky overhead—
There Are Many Different Kinds of Fireworks
With 20,000 fireworks in your arsenal, not all of them will be of the same size, color, and/or produce the same pattern, especially if you want to keep people’s butts on the concrete for more than an hour.
Obviously then, you’ll start with the smallest and most basic before growing to the largest and most spectacular ones for the climax.
I’m not a fireworks expert, but I’ve seen enough in Japan to know the “kiku” where several “tails” spread out radially from the center like the petals of a chrysanthemum flower and the “botan” (peony), which is similar to the kiku except that it is dots rather than trails of light that blink brightly before fading away, are the most common.
They’re still plenty beautiful, alongside other fireworks shaped like smiley faces and others which exploded into rotating balls before sputtering out (called “hachi” or “bees”).
Our favorite though — and the one that never failed at generating a collective, child-like gasp from the usually hushed crowd — were the gigantic ones which seemed to cover your entire view even from a distance.
Aptly named “kamuro” or “crown,” the highlight of the festival was surely these fireworks which first exploded in a circle like normal, only for them to flow down like shooting stars — leaving trails of light in their wake — or perhaps the drooping branches of a wisteria tree.
The sound of the fireworks being launched, of them sailing through the air and then exploding with a bang were interspersed with that of the train rumbling past some distance away from the paddy fields.
Its long body and blindingly bright windows were visible from where we were sitting, but the fireworks were coming from about the same distance, so it became difficult to differentiate which sounds came from which.
Blending into one another seamlessly, it’s ironic how the sounds of the cicadas in the fields around us sounded more mechanical than the intertwined music of those actual, manmade creations that were fireworks and the electric train.
After an hour’s worth of similar philosophical discoveries during some of the most magnificent fireworks you could hope to see in Japan, we decided to head back to our hotel before the rest of the crowd broke out of their reverie.
With a few more fireworks exploding in the endless night sky behind us and conveniently lighting the pitch-dark road ahead, we nevertheless headed back to the station at a leisurely pace — complete with satisfied hearts and, of course, stomachs.
Engaging in More Decadence After Praying to the Turtles at Shinshōji Temple
Day 2 started off with an early and healthy breakfast to make up for yesterday’s overabundance of fried food. Checking out at 10:00 a.m., we dropped off our luggage in the station coin locker before heading for Narita-san — another ten minutes away in a different direction.
Guided by banners featuring Narita City’s half-eel, half-airplane mascot (yes, you read that right), it took only a few minutes to reach the entrance to Narita Omotesando (again — yes, like the one in Shibuya), the shopping street leading towards the temple complex.
Deciding to go on our food spree after visiting the temple, we’re greeted by not one, but two ponds, each with a big, turtle-shaped rock and a group of turtles swimming around them.
The first of these rocks were dotted by sunbathing turtles. The second, which you could reach by climbing a flight of stairs, were covered in coins rather than their righteous inhabitants.
We were worried some of the baby turtles (they’re so tiny!) would somehow swallow the coins in mid-air, so we turned to the other side of the pond that had a less obviously, turtle-shaped rock to test our aim.
But there was a reason why there were much fewer coins on the rock rather than underwater: the rough, irregularly shaped rock meant our coins slid down even if we managed to aim right. And sure enough, we wasted our five-yen coins that we could’ve used to pray at the temple…
Anyhoo, we probably spent fifteen minutes wandering the temple grounds before spending the next three hours in the shōtengai.
Warabi and matcha latte, cold tempura soba, fresh shoyu senbei, dango in kinako powder and mitarashi sauce, and an alluring bellflower-shaped wagashi with white bean paste…
Obviously, our stomachs (and wallets) were suffering afterwards, but a trip is a trip, and you’ve got to have fun on a trip — with fun in this case equating to food, food, and more food.
But the climax of this day for me was challenging that impromptu arrow shooting course, costing 2,600 yen for two people.
In other words, a chance to actually try Japanese archery or kyūdō, which I’ve learned about through one of my favorite sports anime and that I became quite obsessed with to the point I wrote an article about how we can apply its lessons to everyday life.
I was about four arrows in before I landed my first hit — with the help of the very patient instructor, of course — and the excitement didn’t seem to die down until we were eating our free dango, bought using a voucher the shooting course staff gave us (most likely because we sucked).
Lack of ability aside, rubbing the resulting scuff on the side of my index finger from pulling thirty arrows made me want to watch that anime again (and to join a kyūdō club).
I kept hearing that sound of the arrow being released throughout our way home, chugging past rolling fields and sapphire waters until the familiar cityscape of unnecessarily tall skyscrapers and apartment buildings announced that we were, in fact, home.
