Grasshopper

I attended orientation at the dojo today, my last day before Senshusei training begins.  Among other things, we were taught how to perform our cleaning responsibilities and how to address our superiors in the dojo.  After orientation, Bryn and I prayed at a shrine that is dedicated to a martial arts deity, and consulted briefly with the priest who resides there.  Then we returned home, where we had our heads shaved by Henrik the Wise.  At last the moment of truth has arrived.


Master:  Never assume that because a man has no eyes, he cannot see.  Close your eyes.  What do you hear?
Boy:  I hear the water.  I hear the birds.
Master:  Do you hear your own heartbeat?
Boy:  No.
Master:  Do you hear the grasshopper which is at your feet?
Boy:  Old man, how is it that you hear these things?
Master:  Young man, how is it that you do not?

Training Continues...

I have been going to the dojo every day since I got here in an effort to prepare myself for what lies ahead.  I have attended classes lead by numerous senseis, but the ones who I know by name are:

Yasuhisa Shioda (Kancho)

Susumu Chino

Takehiko Sonoda

Masahiko Noriki

Koishi Ogochi



Each of these men is extraordinary, and brings something special to the table.  They all have the same fundamental basis, but each has adapted the techniques to suit his own particular body type.  All have been welcoming and patient with the lumbering gaijin who has invaded their sanctuary.  In one instance I brilliantly knocked down an entire rack of wooden tantos (daggers) in the middle of class, but was not admonished for it.  Not knowing what to do, I carefully replaced them all and then bowed to them from a kneeling position as though they were endowed with a living spirit.  Sonoda Sensei seemed slightly amused by my earnestly pathetic gesture.

First English Pupil

I am extremely fortunate to have made the acquaintance of one Mayang (a.k.a Mari), a gregarious Filipino woman who runs a sushi bar across the street from where I live.  She exudes a kind of mama-san spirit, and welcomes each guest into her restaurant with endlessly cheerful enthusiasm.  She is extremely active in efforts both to support the Filipino community and to promote the interests of post-tsunami Japan.


On my second visit to Mari's restaurant (Yanagawa) she essentially began to wrangle customers for my burgeoning English tutoring concern.  She introduced me to a middle-aged businessman, Yutaka-san, with whom I got to chatting with my horrible Japanese.  I actually felt a bit ill-equipped to handle the situation, as I had not yet obtained my meshi (business cards), but with Mari's consistent prodding, I ended up scrawling down my email address on a piece of paper.  At this point the posse arrived (flatmates Bryn and Henrik along with two other Filipino women, Glen and Ai-chan), and I invited Yutaka-san to come to our table and begin practicing some English.  I think it went very well, and I followed up the next day with an email.  Sure enough I got a response and we have an appointment scheduled for the 3rd of June.  Of course, by that time I will have a shaved head and will probably be unable to move, but I think I will be able to speak, and that's all that will be required.  The best part is that Mari has offered to let me use the back area of her restaurant as a classroom.  What a gem I've found in her!

That's a picture of Bryn, Mari, and me.  And here's a picture of my other flatmate, Henrik the Great:

My Address

Here is the address of the guest house where I am staying:




Shinjuku Guest House

169-0051(postal code)

Tokyo,Shinjuku,Nishi-waseda,1-16-8
Japan

This is not the same address as the guest house I originally was going to stay at.  This is a different place owned by the same company.

Enter Chino Sensei

Today I had my first class with Chino Sensei, one of the top instructors currently at Yoshinkan Honbu Dojo.  Here's a video I found of him on youtube:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3E_2lGmyPE


His presence was extremely impressive, and it was quite something to watch him in action.  I can't stress enough the difference of actually seeing these people practicing in real life.  It's always very inspiring to see the beautiful technique that can be achieved with enough years of dedicated practice. 


The order of the day for this class was what I'm going to call katate ryote mochi sokumen iriminage (I think that's right.)  It's a techniqe that I've never done, but it's similar enough to one of the techniques I tested for recently that I was not completely in the dark.  Bryn and I were the only non black belts in the class, but we were there to get a feel for Chino's teaching style and to "break the ice" with him, so to speak.  He will be one of the teachers that we will be dealing with a lot when the course begins, and I look forward to learning from him very much.


Prior to this class we also attended a beginner level class which was taught by another jovial fellow who's name I didn't get, but who also had excellent technique.  In that class we worked on the six kihon dosa, or basic movements, and then went on to shomenuchi ikajo, one of the fundamental operations in Aikido.  I must say that the overwhelming response to our presence in the dojo has been extremely welcoming.

Waseda University Martial Arts

The guest house where I am staying is located just a stone's throw from Waseda University, one of the most prestigious private universities in Japan.  Bryn and I were poking around on campus yesterday looking for a place where we could get business cards done when we heard an absolute cacophony of male and female voices shrieking and stomping around.  It sounded like a bar full of drunken, rowdy Ohio State Buckeye fans watching the last five minutes of a close game against Michigan.  After concluding our inquiry regarding the business cards (we want to get work as English tutors) Bryn had to go, but I was simply unable to resist investigating the cause of this relentless racket. 


I cautiously made my way into one of the buildings and then proceeded up a flight of stairs toward the sound.  I removed my shoes and very gradually peered into the door of an enormous gymnasium  which was filled with about 40 men and women practicing Kendo.

The first thing I noticed even before I entered the practice hall was the smell.  I was immediately transported back in time to the age of about 10, at which point I announced to my parents that I wanted to play ice hockey.  Ice hockey pads and Kendo pads are very similar, and the smell of wear and sweat is exactly the same. 


I was quickly approached by a young man and graciously redirected (I had inadvertantly entered from the side where head teachers stand.)  The beauty of being an obvious gaijin is that you can get away with all kinds of gaffes like that because you are simply treated as a societal anomaly.  Their reaction to my finding my way into the wrong side of the dojo was similar to what the reaction might be to a bird alighting on the rim of a basketball hoop during an NBA game.  You don't feel hostility toward it, it just needs to be gently waved away.  The other thing is that people don't know who you are, so to be safe they assume that you might be a person of some importance; after being shown the correct entrance I was brought a chair so that I might observe more comfortably.


Now, I have seen pictures and videos of Kendo before, but the experience of seeing it live and only a few feet away from the practitioners is a different story.  The ferocity of these attacks is really startling.  And these were very strong, athletic people who scream at the top of their lungs when they pounce.  It was clear that the power of these attacks was devastating.  It's an amazing thing because you can begin to imagine what it would be like for samurai on the battlefield using real swords.  With a fine katana these guys could cut right down the top of a helmet and through the crown of an opponent's skull. 


After watching about 30 minutes of Kendo I proceeded to dojo #2, where they were doing judo. 

Again, a very eye-opening experience to see it in real life.  These guys were built like mules with enormous, dense upper bodies and very slender hips.  They were mashing each other into the mat with great force, and these guys did a lot of hollering too, but their style was different.  Whereas the Kendo people would let out a death screech as they lunged at an opponent, the people in the Judo area would just bellow out nonsense sounds at random times.  Even people not physically engaged in the training, including one woman who was attending to injuries on the sidelines, would do their share of yelling.  I was utterly baffled at this yelling because it did not seem to convey any meaning or be connected with any particular event.  I finally asked this young (but huge) fellow from Singapore who spoke English.  He said that they do this to keep the spirit up, and to help realease the emotions associated with this difficult practice.  I realized that there are emotions involved in Kendo and Judo that result from the competitive nature of these sports that we do not have as much in Aikido.

My Humble Accomodations

Here is my bunk in the hostel.  Hey, it beats the hell out of living in a submarine for 11 months.

My Birthday

Yesterday was my birthday, (we're a day ahead over here) and it was a good one.  I attended two classes which were both excellent.  For the second class, I was hiding safely in the smaller beginner's training area, when suddenly Yasuhisa Shioda, the current Kancho (HNIC of Yoshinkan Aikido) strolled into the room.  Subconsciously I heard the terrifying declarative horns signifying the entrance of Darth Vader in Star Wars as I watched his black hakama skirts sailing along the mat.  The impression that I have gathered about Shioda at this point is that he would love nothing more than to break the arm of some foolish gaijin (foreigner) for not properly towing the line.  I confess it truly is the intimidation factor of such a character which I feel will serve to motivate me in the coming months to achieve excellent results.


My interpretation of what was going on when Shioda entered was that he felt the beginner's area was too crowded, and he was looking for students advanced enough to transfer over to the other class.  I decided to bite the bullet and more or less volunteer to go over there, (it was sort of a sheepish and confused sort of volunteering) where I was partnered with a humorless female black belt of about 40 and asked to perform an advanced technique (Ushiro ryote sankajo).  I did not know how to do the technique properly, and my partner was clearly frustrated by the incompetence of this lumbering, filthy gaijin with whom she had been unfortunate enough to be stuck.  Time and again I would turn the wrong way or grab her arm in the wrong place, and she would be forced to whisper, "no, no, like THIS".  Perhaps back home I would have picked up the technique more quickly, but I was a bit wrapped up in Shioda's alarming presence.  He gave me a couple of expert pointers on how I should move, although in the second instance I'm not sure I grasped what he was illustrating, and so I became even more freaked out psychologically because I did not want it to seem that I was ignoring his comment.


After this technique, I was delighted to see that he had chosen for the class to review the finer points of hijishime, the demonstration of which provides a wonderful way to "accidentally" break someone's elbow if they ignore your comments, or are big and clumsy and don't know what they're doing.  Luckily, I survived hijishime training and the rest of the class unscathed.


In the evening I went out with my new friend Bryn, who introduce me to some lovely people whom he has met in Tokyo.  (He's been here for two months, arriving prior to the announcement that the Senshusei class would be postponed due to the tsunami.)  I ate the best sushi I've ever tasted, and then this one fellow we were with produced a sanshin and began to sing traditional songs of Okinawa.  I also had a lovely present to open that my girlfriend Mindy packed away in my suitcase.  Not a bad day!

Warm Welcome to the Dojo

I confess I was quite nervous about entering the Yoshinkan Honbu Dojo for the first time, although getting the skinny from Bryn ahead of time and walking in with him made it a lot easier.  I was greeted very graciously by Yanagihara Sensei, who will be a sewanin, or sort of a junior drill instructor, for the Senshusei this year.  I believe he is an American of Japanese descent; at any rate, his English is perfect.


After having read so much about the various characters associated with Yoshinkan Aikido, it really was awe inspiring to view a dogi worn by Shioda Gozo Kancho (displayed in a glass case,) along with many photographs of himself and also his son, the current Kancho Shioda Yasuhisa, with various dignitaries.  I was further astonished to learn that I will be training alongside Shioda Yasuhisa's son, who will also be a Senshusei this year.

After filling out the necessary paperwork, I joined my first regular class at Honbu before the Senshusei training begins on June 1.  Yanagihara Sensei (who I think is about 25) led this class, and I was immediately struck by the perfection of his posture.  Everyone was extremely kind toward me, and more than one fellow student took the opportunity to converse with me in English.  The class was for beginners, and it was a very nice way to gently ease myself into the process.  I could not be more pleased with the way things have proceeded thus far.

East Meets West

I arrived yesterday at Tokyo Narita Airport and made my way without too much trouble to the Tenten Guesthouse, where I am currently staying.  I have already made a new friend at the hostel, Bryn, who is from a "wee fishing village" in Scotland.  By a strange coincidence, Bryn is the only other foreigner in Tokyo who intends to participate in the 2011 Yoshinkan Aikido Senshusei course.  Apparently, the stars are aligning. 

I am about to head out with my new friend for my first visit to the dojo.