Inept Aikido, final farewells, booze and religion

With little of real note taking place during my so called 'working hours' over the past few days, besides almost drowning in my own sweat during the 10 minute bike ride there from my apartment, only to find myself sitting my desk, studying kanji characters until I get bored and spend the next hour or so engrossed in reading 'Memoirs of a Geisha', I shall relate the events of Wednesday evening.

First off was my weekly (after my impending visit to the UK, twice weekly, honest) lesson in Aikido at this little dojo on the outskirts of Wakayama Shi - or rather my embarrassing attempts to fall down gracefully while utterly failing to grasp the basic principles of body movement necessary to make any meaningful progress in learning a complex and demanding physical sport, at this little dojo on the outskirts of Wakayama Shi.

My trainer/interpreter on these occasions is one Iwai Sensei, my supervisor at one of the special needs schools I visit during termtime - unfailingly patient with me, he's the one who encouraged me to give it a go and stick at it - and having on this particular occasion also helped me place an order for a rather expensive uniform, I now at least have an additional financial incentive to stick it out. 'Stick' being the operative word, 'cause after the hour long session (including a potentially tendon-mangling warm up portion at the start involving extraordinary acts of physical contortionism performed by the dojo's head honcho, Shirakami Sensei, which us poor saps are expected to emulate without ending up in a wheelchair) the degree to which my clothes stick to me is really quite remarkable.

Sorry to be labouring the point somewhat, but believe me, I for one did not appreciate the amount of sweat fluid it's possible for the human body to unleash during prolonged physical activity carried out in a small, non air-conditioned building on a Wednesday evening during the height of the Japanese summertime. On to something less icky methinks...

Yes, anyway, after this I ventured into nearby Iwade Town to join seven or eight others in bidding a fond farewell to ALT Rachel Warrilow (pictured above) who flew out yesterday. The send off came in the form of much drinking and typically chaotic after hours karaoke. Rachel, if you're reading this (and I'll have emailed you the link, so there's no excuse), we're really gonna miss you and those inimitable phrases of yours. Hope your return journey was bien, and that the flight crew weren't too dry as a nun's. Here's to you and your impending adventures around the world.

And finally, to make up for my recent tardiness in updating this thing (and because hey, it's not like I've waffled on long enough or anything) the first in a regular feature...

Peculiar Sights and Experiences in Japan #1: The boozy man of the cloth
If you and a friend are riding back on a train following a pleasant visit to a Japanese onsen (that's 'hot public baths') and are accosted by visibly pissed gap-toothed man in his 60s whose first words to both of you are "You - handsome boys. Are you mormons?" should you:

a) attempt to ignore him and hope that he goes away?
b) make a big show of moving further down the carriage in a gesture of defiance?
c) smile politely and find yourself inexorably drawn into conversation with said gentleman?

It's clear that I've been here too long when I plumped for c. Turns out this particular septuganarian skebe san was a lapsed, quasi-alcoholic Christian preacher, who'd spent a good deal of time in the American mid-west, hence his good English and initial theological enquiry of us. This did not, however, prevent him from enthusiastically eulogising the almost mystical properties of Japanese sake ("My friend - he very bad. But he make me drink a lot. Which is good. Sake good. Sake good, yes? You like Japanese sake?") and coming out with highly inappropiate lewd comments regarding the unfortunate 13-year-old schoolgirl sitting opposite. "She is very attractive, yes? Yes? Japanese women, very good looking, heh heh!" quoth he, while the schoolgirl shot us nervous glances.

Following the smug departure of my friend Sean 15 minutes before my stop, leaving me with him, I attempted to divert his attention from her by getting him to talk about his concept of religion. Though he did not appear to have renounced his faith, he was by some measure no longer actively involved in the church in a professional capacity. I shudder to think why, frankly, and tried to diplomatically explain my position as a hardcore atheist. He didn't appear to mind, and mercifully didn't try to convert me, but as I left soon after (thankfully some way before his stop) it did get me thinking a bit on Japan's attitude to alcohol and religion. Far from being mutually exclusive, from my observations (which are sketchy at best) sake appears to have a considerable role to play in the shinto/buddhist religion which is dominant round these parts - not for them a ritualised sip of communion wine and a good deal of hand-wringing over how bad booze is for the soul, but often rather a round or two of drinks while sitting in a shinto shrine, at least according to one of my teachers at school.

One can only wonder how on Earth this man (who I'm sure would have been a perfectly nice guy had he been far more sober or I far more inebriated) must have got on in puritanical Utah. I shall return to this whole Japan = Fantastic Drinking Country theme extensively over the coming months, no doubt, but as blog entries go, this one's already far too long. We do have lives to lead, after all...