Awa Odori

Shamisen, taiko and gongs hammer out a breathless two-beat rhythm. Women in woven hats rise onto the tips of their geta sandals and sway like willows; men crouch low and dance with boisterous abandon. For more than four hundred years, all of Tokushima has gone wild every Obon, and even spectators cannot resist spilling into the street, because, as the saying goes, if you are a fool either way, you may as well dance.