Today being the Emperor’s birthday, we wandered down to the Imperial Palace, and joined the thronging crowds that were waiting to be admitted onto the grounds.  Normally one cannot enter these spaces, and it was sort of odd to march up the hill to the Palace, which is really just a long long building with a copper-green roof and a huge veranda, through which paper sliding doors can be seen.  It was surrounded by copses of trees and if one lived there, it would be possible to imagine you were not, in fact, in the center of an enormous city.  

We waited in the cold, and suddenly the Emperor and Empress appeared, followed by their two sons, the Crown Prince Naruhito and Prince Akishino, their sons’ wives, Crown Princess Masako and Princess Kiko, and I think Princess Mako, Prince Akishino’s elder daughter.  The men were all somber and black and grey and the women all wore shiny pastel Easter-egg colored suits with matching pillbox hats and gloves, except for Princess Masako (I think), who was wearing navy blue.  The crowd burst out loudly, shouting “Banzai!” and those who had paper flags fluttered them wildly.  It was very strange to be part of such an event.  I’ve never seen any “royals” before, nor any other heads of state.  The Emperor gave a short speech, sounding dutiful and old, something about how this year was difficult but hopefully next year will be better.  The old woman next to me wept into her handkerchief.  The crowd shouted “Banzai!” some more and the family stood for a moment, waving those oddly stilted royal waves and they filed back into the recesses of the Palace to do whatever it is they do on the other 364 days of the year.

They are not like royals in other countries, they don’t get caught prancing on beaches in scanty clothes or even shopping at high end stores.  I imagine they don’t go anywhere at all that isn’t officially sanctioned.  As they stood in their little glassed-in box to recognize the crowd, I felt they were somewhat imprisoned there, almost like little dolls.  At least at the end I could escape the crowd and have a meal in a restaurant and look at calendars in the bookstore but I wonder about the Palace and the empty darkened halls and how lonely and removed it must be to live there.  I am glad I am only ordinary and perceived as such, for it is more important to be free than remembered, I suppose.