Obanazawa vs. Mississippi

When the daytime heat and humidity in July and August become a daily topic of conversation, people occasionally ask me what summer is like where I come from. Since I spent my youngest years in Mississippi, I usually reply that a common phrase applied: “It’s a hundred degrees in the shade.” Of course that’s a hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

What this means is that, even in the shade, it is 38 degrees Celsius, and in the direct sunshine it is several degrees hotter, because of the direct sunlight. Add to that the same kind of humidity that Japan suffers from.

So, what do you do? You find a shady spot and enjoy a watermelon—one of the great gifts of nature.

My memories of Mississippi’s summer heat include riding along a two-lane road in the countryside looking for a farmer’s pickup truck loaded with light green watermelons. They were all the same price, so we always chose the biggest.

We would take it home, sit on our house steps with a friend or two, each with a long slice of melon. Eating was a great way to beat the heat, and it always involved a competition: to see who could spit melon seeds the furthest. The winner of the day enjoyed bragging rights.

I have given up the seed-spitting part, but not the eating part. And Japan’s best watermelons may come from Obanazawa. They are almost perfectly round, with stripped patterns, and absolutely delicious.

And there is no better place to buy them than a farmer’s shed in Obanazawa. Straight from the field and very reasonably priced.

(266 words)