This event actually happened back in early July but I’m just getting around to posting the blog since it’s fairly lengthy. I’ve emailed a condensed version of the story to some people but figured I should write up a more detailed one than what was sent out via email.
There are days in Japan where I’ve had these Twilight Zone, almost “out-of-body” experiences like a weekend I had in early July.
I decided to explore more of the Shinagawa area where my apartment is. The Shinagawa Tourist Bureau website mentioned a tourism campaign called the “One Hundred Scenic Spots of Shinagawa” so I decided to see how many I could find one Saturday. A lot of the sights are old Shinto Shrines or Buddhist Temples but some were newer tourist attractions like the Shinagawa Aquarium and the Nori (Seaweed) Museum. Yes, they actually have an entire museum dedicated to seaweed; how it’s harvested and processed etc. I actually went in. How could you not? Fascinating subject, just fascina….zzzzzzzz.
So as I’m wandering around Shinagawa, I stumble across a Park, called Heiwa-no-Mori. The park had some tennis courts and a really cool obstacle course for kids. There are actually several parks in Tokyo that have obstacle courses for kids to run around and wear themselves out in. They even have water hazards, no joke. But Heiwa-no-Mori Park also had an archery range, two actually. The first one was for modern compound bow archery. Most of the people practicing were younger, high school age kids. As I walked past this one I then saw that the second range was walled off and there was a building adjacent to it. I luckily caught a glance into the building and realized that it was a Kyūdō Dojo. Kyūdō means the “Way of the Bow” and the Dojo is “The Place of the Way” or a training hall. Basically it’s a place where people come to learn the lifestyle of the bow or classical Japanese archery. It’s not considered a sport. It’s considered a way of life with physical discipline, courtesy, politeness and self-control.
As I am peering in from the outside, the Sensei or Master of the Dojo sees me and waves to me to come inside. The Sensei is a tiny, old man and I’m just towering over him. He’s talking up a storm and I can’t understand a word he’s saying but I realize he wants me to come in and watch the Kyūdō “students”. I say “students” because the youngest was around forty-five and the oldest was
probably in his seventies. I must have sat there for thirty minutes while the Sensei continued to talk to me explaining Kyūdō and the equipment. He’s using a lot of hand gestures which is why I was able to generally understand what he was saying. In between his diatribes he would correct the students posture or form and then come back to continue the one-sided conversation. After practice ended and the students put away their equipment and uniforms, they came over to introduce themselves to me. Two of them spoke enough English and explained that the Sensei was 95 years old! Ninety-five?! The guy talks and acts like he’s thirty. While they’re talking with me, the Sensei magically produces a pack of cigarettes from his uniform and proceeds to chain-smoke through the pack. He’s still going non-stop in Japanese and the students are trying to explain in English but they can’t keep up with the Sensei. The guy’s energy was unbelievable.
One of the men then explains that the Sensei wants me to come to their Kyūdō tournament on Sunday. He explains that the tournament will be held in Hiratsuka during the Tanabata Festival. Normally I would have no idea where Hiratsuka was or what a Tanabata Festival was but the concierges in my apartment print out flyers of Monthly events and one of the events they described in detail was the Tanabata Festival in Hiratsuka which happens to be the biggest one in Japan. I was debating going to the Festival just to get out of Tokyo for a change and now that I had a personal invite, I figured why not. I excused myself from the Sensei and left the Dojo. I wandered around Shinagawa for a few more hours but made it back to the apartment in time to talk with the concierges about the train to Hiratsuka. I also made sure I picked up several different gifts (omiyage) in case I ran into the Sensei again. I’m glad I did as you’ll see.
Sunday I left my apartment fairly early and caught the train to Hiratsuka. The concierge explained I should catch an Express (not Shinkansen) and I was able to make it to Hiratsuka in a little over an hour. I wandered over to the Buddhist Temple grounds where the Tournament was to be held and found the event location. It wasn’t scheduled to start until the afternoon so I had a few hours to kill at the Festival. The city center was pretty much closed down to automobile traffic so that the downtown became one big pedestrian walkway. In many ways, the festival is just one massive summer block party similar to what some cities in the U.S. host albeit this is on a much bigger scale. There are plenty of vendors selling their wares throughout the downtown. For food, I tried some okonomiyaki and takoyaki (octopus balls….poor octopus!). Just kidding, sort of. It just refers to the shape although considering whole octopus is diced up I’m sure the reproductive organs are part of the concoction (pun intended). Other food vendors were selling whole, charcoal grilled fish and there were plenty of yakisoba (fried noodles) vendors. A lot of the vendors were targeting their wares at kids which included various anime action figures and stuffed toys. However, some vendors were selling “kids” toys which consisted of lifelike M16’s, Beretta 9mm’s and various other sidearms. These “toys” had no bright orange parts on them or other distinguishing feature to let you know they weren’t real. I’ve held and fired a Beretta 9mm before and the weight of the toy was the only difference from the real deal. But it gets better. One stall I walked by had brass knuckles. Notice I didn’t write “brass” (as in simulated plastic) knuckles. They weren’t plastic. It was really brass knuckles. When I was ten growing up in Scranton and if I found a vendor willing to sell me real brass knuckles, my older brother would have been in for quite a surprise the next time he picked on me. The vendor was even selling various sizes to fit all hand types. Unbelievable.
(On a side note, I picked up a pair my size. Even though I’m now bigger than my big brother, this year’s family Thanksgiving dinner is going to be interesting. Payback’s coming, Rob!).
In the heart of the city they put up a grandstand and various dancers and musicians were performing traditional Japanese songs and dances.
I roamed through the Festival for a few more hours and then returned to the Tournament grounds. There were already quite a few people sitting down on the bleachers awaiting the tournament start. As I’m looking for a seat, I catch site of the Sensei making a beeline for me. Gee, how’d he spot me in this crowd? The Sensei takes me by the arm and starts leading me away from the tournament grounds. I’m trying to explain to him I want to find a seat but he’s not heeding anything I say. I wish someone had videotaped this tiny old guy pulling the American Godzilla through the crowd. He leads me into one of the Temple buildings where the Tournament contestants are about to have lunch. I find one of the English-speaking gentlemen from the Dojo and he explains the Sensei wants me to have lunch with him. I’m stuffed from the Festival but when a 95-year old Sensei says eat with him, you eat. After lunch I present the omiyage to the Sensei. I had brought a good bottle of California white wine and various American chocolates, candies, nuts etc that I was able to pick up in a store that specializes in American goods in Shinagawa. One Japanese custom satisfied. The Sensei then leads me back to the Tournament grounds and, of course, by this time, a lot of people have filled in the bleachers so I’m thinking I’ll have to find a spot way in the back. Nope, the Sensei leads me up to the front where he’s got a reserved bleacher in the second row. Hmm, it’s good to be the King. The Sensei then hands me his digital camera and from his gestures, I guess he wants me to take pictures of the tournament for him. Considering all the markings were in Japanese and I could barely figure out how to use the damn thing, he also got pictures of the dirt, peoples backs and some lovely shots of the trees.
The Tournament first started by having a formal procession from the building where lunch was held through the Temple grounds and into the Temple. All the contestants were dressed in traditional costumes or formal Kyūdō uniforms. After a blessing by the Buddhist priests, they marched onto the Tournament grounds and everyone took their assigned seats. This is quite an impressive and solemn affair and very colorful. I’ve included a lot of the photos in an album at the end of this blog and encourage you to view the Tanabata Festival and Tournament photos.
The tournament proceeded by having two archers from the Dojo I visited compete against two archers from another. There is a rather elaborate process by which the archers approach the shooting line and move into position. The movements are very slow, graceful and deliberate. One of the gentlemen I spoke to on Saturday was honored with having the first shot of the competition. Talk about a pressure shot with all eyes from the spectators and your 95-year old Sensei watching you. On Saturday, I didn’t see this guy hit the target once in thirty minutes. But he had his Kyūdō game face on for the Tournament. He carefully and patiently moved himself into position. You could see him intently focused on his breathing and lining up his shot. Keep in mind, with a yumi (Kyūdō bow), there are no sights on it as is the case with modern bows. The whole concept of becoming “one with the bow” is a reality. He let the arrow fly and was rewarded with a loud crack as the blunt-tipped arrow struck the thin wooden target at the end of the range. The audience broke out into loud applause and for the briefest of moments; an ever so slight look of pride was on the archers face. But within a millisecond he realized his error and all hint of pride was immediately wiped from his face and replaced with the blank solemn expression that the rest of the contestants had. The tournament proceeded with about eight archers from each Dojo. The Dojo I visited was the eventual winner but only by about two points by my count.
After the tournament the Sensei’s and contestants lined up for a group photo and I’ve included these shots in the album.
I returned the camera to the Sensei and started to make my exit but once again he led me by my sleeve to another building and a banquet hall. “Now what”, I thought? The English speakers informed me there was an after Tournament party for the contestants. They said the Sensei insisted I join him. This was a long day at this point but once again, when the Sensei invites you, you go. So there I am sitting in a post-Tournament party drinking saké with the 95-year old Sensei, he’s going through his pack of cigarettes like their Tic-Tacs, he’s talking non-stop to me and I’m just nodding my head throwing in an occasional “hai” (yes). Who knows what he was saying.
At moments like that, you just sit there and ponder the strange path that life takes us through.
Complete Twilight Zone weekend and also one that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Or until I kill enough brain cells from the alcohol abuse.
There are days in Japan where I’ve had these Twilight Zone, almost “out-of-body” experiences like a weekend I had in early July.
I decided to explore more of the Shinagawa area where my apartment is. The Shinagawa Tourist Bureau website mentioned a tourism campaign called the “One Hundred Scenic Spots of Shinagawa” so I decided to see how many I could find one Saturday. A lot of the sights are old Shinto Shrines or Buddhist Temples but some were newer tourist attractions like the Shinagawa Aquarium and the Nori (Seaweed) Museum. Yes, they actually have an entire museum dedicated to seaweed; how it’s harvested and processed etc. I actually went in. How could you not? Fascinating subject, just fascina….zzzzzzzz.
So as I’m wandering around Shinagawa, I stumble across a Park, called Heiwa-no-Mori. The park had some tennis courts and a really cool obstacle course for kids. There are actually several parks in Tokyo that have obstacle courses for kids to run around and wear themselves out in. They even have water hazards, no joke. But Heiwa-no-Mori Park also had an archery range, two actually. The first one was for modern compound bow archery. Most of the people practicing were younger, high school age kids. As I walked past this one I then saw that the second range was walled off and there was a building adjacent to it. I luckily caught a glance into the building and realized that it was a Kyūdō Dojo. Kyūdō means the “Way of the Bow” and the Dojo is “The Place of the Way” or a training hall. Basically it’s a place where people come to learn the lifestyle of the bow or classical Japanese archery. It’s not considered a sport. It’s considered a way of life with physical discipline, courtesy, politeness and self-control.
As I am peering in from the outside, the Sensei or Master of the Dojo sees me and waves to me to come inside. The Sensei is a tiny, old man and I’m just towering over him. He’s talking up a storm and I can’t understand a word he’s saying but I realize he wants me to come in and watch the Kyūdō “students”. I say “students” because the youngest was around forty-five and the oldest was
probably in his seventies. I must have sat there for thirty minutes while the Sensei continued to talk to me explaining Kyūdō and the equipment. He’s using a lot of hand gestures which is why I was able to generally understand what he was saying. In between his diatribes he would correct the students posture or form and then come back to continue the one-sided conversation. After practice ended and the students put away their equipment and uniforms, they came over to introduce themselves to me. Two of them spoke enough English and explained that the Sensei was 95 years old! Ninety-five?! The guy talks and acts like he’s thirty. While they’re talking with me, the Sensei magically produces a pack of cigarettes from his uniform and proceeds to chain-smoke through the pack. He’s still going non-stop in Japanese and the students are trying to explain in English but they can’t keep up with the Sensei. The guy’s energy was unbelievable.One of the men then explains that the Sensei wants me to come to their Kyūdō tournament on Sunday. He explains that the tournament will be held in Hiratsuka during the Tanabata Festival. Normally I would have no idea where Hiratsuka was or what a Tanabata Festival was but the concierges in my apartment print out flyers of Monthly events and one of the events they described in detail was the Tanabata Festival in Hiratsuka which happens to be the biggest one in Japan. I was debating going to the Festival just to get out of Tokyo for a change and now that I had a personal invite, I figured why not. I excused myself from the Sensei and left the Dojo. I wandered around Shinagawa for a few more hours but made it back to the apartment in time to talk with the concierges about the train to Hiratsuka. I also made sure I picked up several different gifts (omiyage) in case I ran into the Sensei again. I’m glad I did as you’ll see.
Sunday I left my apartment fairly early and caught the train to Hiratsuka. The concierge explained I should catch an Express (not Shinkansen) and I was able to make it to Hiratsuka in a little over an hour. I wandered over to the Buddhist Temple grounds where the Tournament was to be held and found the event location. It wasn’t scheduled to start until the afternoon so I had a few hours to kill at the Festival. The city center was pretty much closed down to automobile traffic so that the downtown became one big pedestrian walkway. In many ways, the festival is just one massive summer block party similar to what some cities in the U.S. host albeit this is on a much bigger scale. There are plenty of vendors selling their wares throughout the downtown. For food, I tried some okonomiyaki and takoyaki (octopus balls….poor octopus!). Just kidding, sort of. It just refers to the shape although considering whole octopus is diced up I’m sure the reproductive organs are part of the concoction (pun intended). Other food vendors were selling whole, charcoal grilled fish and there were plenty of yakisoba (fried noodles) vendors. A lot of the vendors were targeting their wares at kids which included various anime action figures and stuffed toys. However, some vendors were selling “kids” toys which consisted of lifelike M16’s, Beretta 9mm’s and various other sidearms. These “toys” had no bright orange parts on them or other distinguishing feature to let you know they weren’t real. I’ve held and fired a Beretta 9mm before and the weight of the toy was the only difference from the real deal. But it gets better. One stall I walked by had brass knuckles. Notice I didn’t write “brass” (as in simulated plastic) knuckles. They weren’t plastic. It was really brass knuckles. When I was ten growing up in Scranton and if I found a vendor willing to sell me real brass knuckles, my older brother would have been in for quite a surprise the next time he picked on me. The vendor was even selling various sizes to fit all hand types. Unbelievable.
(On a side note, I picked up a pair my size. Even though I’m now bigger than my big brother, this year’s family Thanksgiving dinner is going to be interesting. Payback’s coming, Rob!).
In the heart of the city they put up a grandstand and various dancers and musicians were performing traditional Japanese songs and dances.
I roamed through the Festival for a few more hours and then returned to the Tournament grounds. There were already quite a few people sitting down on the bleachers awaiting the tournament start. As I’m looking for a seat, I catch site of the Sensei making a beeline for me. Gee, how’d he spot me in this crowd? The Sensei takes me by the arm and starts leading me away from the tournament grounds. I’m trying to explain to him I want to find a seat but he’s not heeding anything I say. I wish someone had videotaped this tiny old guy pulling the American Godzilla through the crowd. He leads me into one of the Temple buildings where the Tournament contestants are about to have lunch. I find one of the English-speaking gentlemen from the Dojo and he explains the Sensei wants me to have lunch with him. I’m stuffed from the Festival but when a 95-year old Sensei says eat with him, you eat. After lunch I present the omiyage to the Sensei. I had brought a good bottle of California white wine and various American chocolates, candies, nuts etc that I was able to pick up in a store that specializes in American goods in Shinagawa. One Japanese custom satisfied. The Sensei then leads me back to the Tournament grounds and, of course, by this time, a lot of people have filled in the bleachers so I’m thinking I’ll have to find a spot way in the back. Nope, the Sensei leads me up to the front where he’s got a reserved bleacher in the second row. Hmm, it’s good to be the King. The Sensei then hands me his digital camera and from his gestures, I guess he wants me to take pictures of the tournament for him. Considering all the markings were in Japanese and I could barely figure out how to use the damn thing, he also got pictures of the dirt, peoples backs and some lovely shots of the trees.
The Tournament first started by having a formal procession from the building where lunch was held through the Temple grounds and into the Temple. All the contestants were dressed in traditional costumes or formal Kyūdō uniforms. After a blessing by the Buddhist priests, they marched onto the Tournament grounds and everyone took their assigned seats. This is quite an impressive and solemn affair and very colorful. I’ve included a lot of the photos in an album at the end of this blog and encourage you to view the Tanabata Festival and Tournament photos.
The tournament proceeded by having two archers from the Dojo I visited compete against two archers from another. There is a rather elaborate process by which the archers approach the shooting line and move into position. The movements are very slow, graceful and deliberate. One of the gentlemen I spoke to on Saturday was honored with having the first shot of the competition. Talk about a pressure shot with all eyes from the spectators and your 95-year old Sensei watching you. On Saturday, I didn’t see this guy hit the target once in thirty minutes. But he had his Kyūdō game face on for the Tournament. He carefully and patiently moved himself into position. You could see him intently focused on his breathing and lining up his shot. Keep in mind, with a yumi (Kyūdō bow), there are no sights on it as is the case with modern bows. The whole concept of becoming “one with the bow” is a reality. He let the arrow fly and was rewarded with a loud crack as the blunt-tipped arrow struck the thin wooden target at the end of the range. The audience broke out into loud applause and for the briefest of moments; an ever so slight look of pride was on the archers face. But within a millisecond he realized his error and all hint of pride was immediately wiped from his face and replaced with the blank solemn expression that the rest of the contestants had. The tournament proceeded with about eight archers from each Dojo. The Dojo I visited was the eventual winner but only by about two points by my count.
After the tournament the Sensei’s and contestants lined up for a group photo and I’ve included these shots in the album.
I returned the camera to the Sensei and started to make my exit but once again he led me by my sleeve to another building and a banquet hall. “Now what”, I thought? The English speakers informed me there was an after Tournament party for the contestants. They said the Sensei insisted I join him. This was a long day at this point but once again, when the Sensei invites you, you go. So there I am sitting in a post-Tournament party drinking saké with the 95-year old Sensei, he’s going through his pack of cigarettes like their Tic-Tacs, he’s talking non-stop to me and I’m just nodding my head throwing in an occasional “hai” (yes). Who knows what he was saying.
At moments like that, you just sit there and ponder the strange path that life takes us through.
Complete Twilight Zone weekend and also one that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Or until I kill enough brain cells from the alcohol abuse.
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| Hiratsuka Tanabata Festival and Kyudo Tournament |
