Just now I looked out my window to see a car hooning off with a police car in tow. That's the second time I've seen this here, although the first time it was a motorbike. In tonight's episode, the police car seemed to give up and slow down as it went away from my place... not much chance chasing a turbo-powered car in a Toyota Echo. Yes, the police cars here tend to lack street-cred. Although I did see a glossy mook (a deluxe magazine - halfway to being a book, hence the term, mook... a bit catchier than a bagazine) on special police vehicles and they featured some high-powered sportscars along with some armoured tanks (I'm yet to see any riots here). But yeah, your average garden-variety police car here is pretty impotent. But enough about the cars, more to the point... where's the respect?

At the risk of sounding like a royal old fart, what's happened to the youth of today? That's often a stupid comment that forgets all the antics that every generation gets up to, but I guess here in super-wa's-ville Japan (wa is the harmony that society here attains to - toe the line, you know... know your place, don't make waves in the social pond etc.), anti-social behaviour tends to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. I can't imagine guys openly defying the law here like that, say 20 years ago... but then again, I wasn't here, was I? Society here seems very compartmentalised - as my friend Mark puts it, ethics or notions of morality are situational - if it's in the right context, it's acceptable, if not, it ain't. If you wear a suit and tie you have a right to be drunk on the train. If you're in soiled track pants and sneakers, nah-uh. If you go with your boyfriend/girlfiend to a love hotel, that's noone's business (except, of course, the love hotel's), just don't bring shame on your families by being seen. Appearances are everything.

Maybe it's like wearing your swimmers into a shop in Australia. If you're by the beach noone thinks twice, but if not, you're an exhibitionist, or just a bit fruity. That kind of principle is at work here, but in many more spheres, I reckon. One sphere that's hard to apply strictures to is the moving variety - i.e. the car. Because you are mobile and most likely away from those who know you, there is a lack of accountability and, therefore, perceived social obligation. Perhaps the car is seen as a vehicle to escape social pressure. "This is my space, my bubble - I'm gonna do whatever the heck I like in it" (regardless of where that heavy, fast-moving, metal bubble is hurtling). That's my theory. There is more of an etiquette here to driving (e.g. people nearly always dip their headlights when stopped at traffic lights as a courtesy to others i.e. not blinding oncoming drivers), but on the flipside there seems to be more extreme expressions of non-conformity. In Kyoto once I saw a heroic chap plough his way through a major intersection, pedestrians, red lights and all, by revving his engine at everyone and just doing as he pleased, going on his merry way. I was stunned. Then there was the bosozoku guy I saw in Umeda (Osaka) on his motorbike. He was slowly crawling along the street, sitting bolt-upright, proudly looking everyone squarely in the eye as he revved the soot out of his engine in machine-gun bursts of horrible sound. It didn't even sound impressive as an engine, but he was obviously a committed biker, devoted to the noise-making cause. And this guy was on his own - no mates to impress, just the public. And, I should add, he was no pimple-faced adolescent - more like late 20s, early 30's I'd say. Interesting pasttime. Do people here really feel that overlooked? "Love me. Hate me. Just... notice me."

A lot of young guys' cars here seem to be tuned for maximum noise. Again, you see some very umimpressive engines hooked up to ridiculous exhaust systems that create this weak sounding, but high-decibel pollution. Knowing how un-soundproofed Japanese dwellings are and how-over-worked a lot of their inhabitants are, driving around like that in the dead of night just seems a low act. But, far from claiming to be pure as the driven snow, I must admit I sometimes fantasise about getting one of those large BB guns and shooting at offenders from my back window. I guess I have issues of my own.

Well, to cap this weird, long-winded and fairly pointless offering, I should in fairness relay another episode. One night I heard this raucous sound coming my way. It sounded as though someone was riding a large jack-hammer as a pogo-stick at reasonable speed down the slope that curves around the back of my place to the level-crossing out the front. I was like "what the blazes is that!? What new breed of moron is driving what moronic vehicle past my place at 1:30am?" It sounded like a truck with no muffler, or the dak-dak of a VW on steroids - raw combustion! I opened my window and stuck my head out to see a heavily modified van - massive protrusions to the front and back, wings about 2 metres long coming off the roof with blue lights running up the sides. Stupidly flared guards, framing big tyres wrapped around deep-dish shiny silver wheels. You could believe a team of superheroes like the Power-rangers were inside, triangulating co-ordinates for their next drop-off point. I went to the front of my apartment and from my front door watched the guy creep his van over the railway tracks, straddling at an angle to avoid losing any precious duco, or worse, fibreglass from his art-truck. I watched in silent admiration at this dedicated soul. "You're my hero", I thought. What do his in-laws think? (Yes, a lot of these guys do have families. I hope I can find a girl as understanding!).

So, you see, I have some double-standards. The cars that annoy me late at night are often the type I look at in magazines. Most cars I like tend to be driven by people I dislike. Guys that are more into being seen and heard than they are into their actual cars. Or, they're so into their cars that other people are just speed-humps. But seeing one of those vans right outside my place was surreal. I was in awe. "All is forgiven," I thought as he chugged away into the night... not long after being followed stealthily by a black and white Echo - the local constabulary. Not everyone's a fan, I guess. Or then again, maybe they were.

I won't go into things too much, but suffice to say: I am up to my old tricks again. Today I lost my wallet. Not like the time just some weeks back where it bounced back straight away. No, a quality job this time. My money, discount return tickets to Osaka, my postal savings account card, credit card and alien (gaijin) card all gone. I blame Japanese writer, Haruki Murakami. This is why: I was in a bookshop that sells English books (Kinokuniya - have you been to the one in Sydney?) and I thought, darn it, I need to read more. It's not that I'm not well read, it's more like I don't, well, read! Well, to be fair on myself, magazines, online stuff, newspapers - sure, but not serious novel-type stuff. For one who writes so much (guff), it's pretty arrogant to read so little. So, I bought a book and took it with me to work this afternoon. That one piece of extra paraphenalia was enough to disorient my feeble brain and lose track of my 3rd most important possession here. (#1 is my passport, #2 is my computer). Anyway... there you go. I say being well-read is overrated... but the engrossing start of the book did contribute to my absent-mindedness. It's called Kafka on the Shore.

Kafka on the shore, wallet on the train. boohoo

Anyway... this the sort of view we saw as we took the train from Nagoya to Hida-Takayama. The train is called the Hida Wideview, and true to its name has these awesome, large, spotlessly clean windows that come down to your elbows. Perfect for taking in the sights of rivers, streams, gorges, mountains etc... as you snake your way north.

It's a really relaxing journey! I really started to feel like I was on holidays on this train. It takes about 2 hours and chugs at a steady diesel pace. We'd taken the shinkansen (bullet train) to Nagoya - I'd describe that experience as hurtling. This train ride was more like moseying. I like both. Train is definitely the way to go in Japan.

Takayama is the place you saw before on this blog under a lot of snow. So it was funny revisiting places and saying "Oh, I didn't know that was there!" about previously buried objects. There's a river and adjoining canals that run through the town. It's a slice of traditional Japan - kind of touristy, but functional and pretty authentic. The pace is definitely old Japan. My parents were a little shocked to see Kyoto was a bustling metropolis where traffic often threatens to bowl you over on the crowded streets. I was too when I first went there - Takayama is a bit like the Kyoto of your mind's eye - small scale, quiet, tranquil and not overrun with tour-buses. It doesn't have the zillions of attractions that Kyoto boasts, but I guess I'm talking ambience.

Here you can see trees still trussed up to prevent heavy accumulated snow from snapping the branches off. There was a Blue Mountains mistiness to this place.

We stayed at an excellent ryokan (traditional inn), where one of the main priorities is eating. That's totally fine by me! The meals were absolutely scrummy and as you can see, the Japanese sure know how to present their food. Mum, Dad and I were on gastronomic cloud 9.

This lovely, pint-sized lady was so nice. She had a very masculine posture and particularly matter-of-fact way of walking around the place - I can still hear her scuffs whipping along the corridor floor. She had a very friendly cigarette-culitvated huskiness in her voice and her laugh and seemed to have fun talking to people with clumsy, toddler-like linguistic skills like me. To any request she'd say "hai hai" as she walked off. I wonder how old she was - I hope I have half her fesitiness at that age... well, now, actually.

We had to get used to life on the floor. I was kind of half way there I guess - I spend a lot of time at home on the floor now. Not because I'm turning Japanese, but because I'm a slob and my sofa always has too much stuff on it for me to sit on it. But yeah... my legs still have a ways to go before I can claim that I've gone native. Oww

These guys were very intriguing to say the least. They seemed to be doing a circuit of the streets near a temple moaning/droning loudly in the light drizzling rain. We saw them in the distance go between buildings and then they came round a corner and headed straight for us, still bellowing as they walked past. A lady came out from a shop and one of them stopped. She put some money in his bowl and bowed deeply. He then seemed to pray for her as she stood bowed with her eyes closed. Their feet were shod with straw sandals. I'm not sure if they are pilgrims or monks, but I'd guess monks. I couldn't help imagining them in an old samurai movie - being ambushed but suddenly revealing swords and having a fight in the street! I've probably just said something deeply offensive to someone. They were pretty eerie, like spectres haunting the town.

I'm pretty sure these things are people's/group's names - the idea being that you stick your name on a temple and the flow of good stuff comes your way some. That's my highly technical and thoroughly unresearched theory. Anyway, the blue and yellow sticker is of a sporting club.

Apart from just being a well-preserved place, Takayama is famous for its matsuri or festivals. This museum houses some of the floats that are used each year, including this one. They are pretty impressive - very richly decorated with intricate cloths, lacquer, metalwork and woodwork. There's one in Spring and another in Autumn - times when the quiet streets become full of activity.

I'm not sure if I can say this, but it's a cool sign nonetheless. Did I leave my heart in Takayama?
Well, that little old lady has a small piece of it. Next up is Tokyo and the sights of a matsuri in Kamakura! Til then...

Sakura! Spring has finally sprung. The cherry blossoms have come and gone and the weather is warm and often glorious. I knew I was temperamental, but now I also know that I'm particularly a weather person. My spirits lifted as Winter receded to make way for Spring. I guess the next challenge will be the rainy season - about a month of rain from mid-June to mid-July. There's been a day or two of heavy rain recently, which seemed to bring out a massive chorus of frogs near my place. Well, actually they've appeared because the rice farmers have flooded the paddies in preparation for planting. The blossoms above were right near my place... the blurred path in the background is where a frog encounter cost me my umbrella. I stopped and turned back to look at an amphibious friend one night as I realised I was stepping over him and in doing so let a freak gust of wind catch under my umbrella. It was ripped inside out and twisted into something like what I was making at art college, leaving me looking at this frog in the rain, no longer filled with wonder, but with seething rage. A case of curiosity killed the kasa. I felt like God was making sport of me as the previous night I rode home in the rain on my bike and it had stopped just as I reached home. But then I figured out that I was either thinking too highly of myself or too lowly (I'm sure there are other bigger reasons for the weather!) - it made me reflect on how great the weather has been and what great places I've been able to see amongst it...

Back to Kyoto! But this time on holidays with my parents. I love this shopfront on the approach to Kiyomizu-dera - that temple you've seen in my photos before - the one you're about to see again!

Looking back down the hill from near the temple.

We were in for a nice surprise as there was a spring matsuri, or festival. A group played taiko drums on the deck overlooking the forest and distant city.

Great outfits!

A dragon appeared too. I don't know what the meaning is, but I think generally they are meant to bring prosperity and strength. Kind of strange, considering it looks like it's going to eat someone.

There were even some guys blowing on conches. They sound pretty cool - I've only ever seen people do that in movies before.

Here are my folks in a spot that you've seen before. It was nice to be there with them - I've gotten used to seeing things on my own and not really being able to share the experience except via things like this blog. I quite like going solo, but some things are better shared. It was great having Mum and Dad stay - all up it was over 2 weeks.

Well, by the time we reached Maruyama Park it was dusk, so our first really good look at a decent collection of cherry trees was abit obscured.

This tree is obviously the centre piece. You see it in posters of Kyoto etc. The "grand champion" is a similar, if not the same, type in Fukushima (http://www.sydney.au.emb-japan.go.jp/ if you want to see it). Yes, grand champion! People really go nuts over sakura - there are reports on TV of how open the buds are or whether or not the blossoms are past their prime for each region in the country. The wave starts from the south and heads north. Some people try to travel with it.

Well, from pretty pink flowers to pretty painted girls. Gosh, I'm a creep, aren't I? From the park, we proceeded to Gion - the district where the geisha are to be seen. Photos I've shown previously have been of tourists made up as maiko (apprentices). The following shots are of real geiko and maiko going to appointments amongst the exclusive tea houses of Gion. My shots didn't work - these are actually Dad's. I don't think I know anyone else who can say they've gone "cruising for chicks" with their parents. Now that is creepy.

My friend Noriko-chan tells me that the two ladies in front are geisha, and the one trailing is the maiko - you can tell by the adornments/lack thereof in the hair.

You have to be quick with your camera as they scurry along in their restrictive kimono. I felt low taking shots of these people (like, as if you'd openly snap a stranger in the street), but you are also compelled to. I don't know... I got some fairly contemptuous looks from a one or two...

Anyway... I gotta go to work! Byee

When you come to Japan you are bound to find yourself in unexpected situations. You are bound to have an abnormal experience or two ...or three ...hence the photo above. Thinking I was prepared for whatever an innocent-sounding cherry-blossom-viewing-party may present me with, I unwittingly became an ambassador of not just my country, but also of the good ol' US of A. Yah. Here's how:

My co-worker Miki-sensei graciously invited me and my parents to come to a hanami, or lunch under the sakura, the cherry blossoms. This is a tradition that Japanese people love to observe, as it heralds the beginning of Spring... the light at the end of winter's tunnel. These parties are often sake-fuelled times of merriment/passing out as my parents and I were to see for ourselves later on in Tokyo. Anyway, the event we attended was nothing so base - we were treated to a nice boxed lunch in the grounds of a beautiful garden. It was hosted by a non-profit organisation that promotes world peace.

Miki picked us up in her cool black van (equipped with camera for reversing and the usual satellite navigation that even shows where convenience stores are!) and we headed to a botanical garden on Mount Rokko.

A path of polished black pebbles led us to a building with a large tatami-matted room quickly filling with people. A small orchestra of koto or Japanese harps were set up ready for a performance. How perfect!

The first sign something was up was when I was pulled aside before I could stake my patch of tatami. As I had been introduced to an organiser, a thought like this had hatched:

"Hmmm, there's a real Australian here? He can raise the Australian flag in the ceremony for world peace!"

Would I? Uh, sure I guess so, doesn't sound too complicated. I was led around the side and queued with the other flag bearers, ready to walk out into the garden facing everyone in the room. I was then moved to the head of the queue and told I was to be first. Ah nuts, I thought... this is only going to get worse... and my intuition served me well... I was then told I was to say some things: May peace prevail on earth. May peace be in Australia. Okay Ian, don't sweat it... you can handle that.

"Oh, and can you also be America? "

"Yeah, sure... (whatever... )."

Miki could see the joy in my face and was mouthing the words "I'M SORRY!!!". Anyway, my turn came and I stood on the designated large flat stone, was handed a microphone and given a nod and an expectant smile.

"May pea.."

"No, your name. Please introduce yourself."

"Uh... my name is Ian."

"And where are you from?"

"Sydney... Shideni."

After a murmur of novelty-delight I delivered my lines, withdrew from the stone and took my place at the end of the queue to receive my Star-spangled banner. (I really hope you're not reading this, Gairden... I can almost hear you sharpening your castration kit for my return to Oz).

Anyway, Dad was right. There is no such thing as a free lunch! Nah, I shouldn't say that. After I was over the shock of social near-death I was free to enjoy a traditional tea ceremony, a beautiful obento lunch and the mesmerising sound of the koto.

But more misadventure was waiting. This was all actually on a Saturday - the last working day of my week before going on holidays with my folks. I had to get to work. We all bundled back into Miki's black shuttle only to find the battery was dead flat. I won't publish the words I was thinking but I'll just say I was a little beside myself. I was due at my first class mith my manager on duty in half an hour and I was on the wrong side of Rokko-zan, a bloomin' big mountain. Freak.

Poor Miki felt terrible, when all she had done was go to a lot of trouble for us to arrange such a rare Japan experience. Her organiser friend flew into action. The beautiful kimono, diminutive figure and gentle face were obviously hiding a truck-load of pluck. We jumped into her left-hand drive BMW and we quickly left Miki, her immobile mobile and the garden shrinking in our mirrors. She spoke enough English to ask me when my class started. When I said in 20 minutes time, I could feel her step on the accelerator. In that stupid way that you do in such circumstances I said "ah, daijoubu" (it's okay, really!), and she politely dismissed my failure to grasp reality with the slightest gesture of her hand. She was all class. When we got lost at a junction she pulled over, jumped out and flagged down the little van behind to ask its long-haired dude of a driver for directions.

We got to school 5 minutes late. I bolted up the stairs to a silently fuming manager. The student wasn't there yet. Praise the Lord! Another 5 minutes later the mother of my student came in, offering me a wallet. It was mine. I had dropped it on the footpath in my hurried goodbye and flight into the building. It's contents were intact... about $1500 dollars, ready for our trip. Yikes.

Yes, proof my parents were here! I think I'm the one that needs proof the most - bizarre to think it's already a month since they left. Next to my Mum is Miki and on the end is her friend, the lady who sped us to my work. Despite the stressful beginning and end, in between it was a fantastic experience. Miki's kindness is typical of the best of Japan's hospitality.

The tea ceremony. Apparently we were especially treated to see the tradtional leaf-tea ceremony. Nowadays, it is most common to see the making of powdered tea. When I say powdered I don't mean like instant coffee. The leaves have been powderised and hence a different process is needed to make the drink. You forget that what you are watching is the making of a drink (to the point where I was surprised when I was presented with a cup of tea!) - there are so many little points of decorum - most of which I'm sure us gaijin were oblivious too. The obvious things you observe are the hand movements, the way the utensils are held, moved around, rotated, cleaned, placed back on the tray etc... and what we saw was a less formal form! I imagine that Japanese people love to show this art to outsiders, but also love the exclusivity of it - "I'm going to show you something, but I know that no matter how much of it I explain, there's only so far you'll be able to enter into it". I don't resent that - it's part of this place's mystique. I'm still not sure what you distill all this down to - I believe it's something like taking an arbitrary moment in time and making it, well, sacred. The way that you are served is quite humbling - I'm sure in the context of a relationship where servant and servee are well-acquainted that that aspect is much more poignant.

I love this photo, and no, I'm not blowing my own trumpet - it's Dad's. It's seems straight from the pages of National Geographic.

This sakura bean-cake was served with the tea. I didn't think to photograph it before I'd shoved a slice of it into my gob. I especially liked the bamboo sliver that you eat it with.

The koto. Sorry I am such a details person, but I couldn't get an angle on the whole thing that I liked. The ivory-looking frets/bridges aren't fixed - to tune the strings, they are shifted up or down. Amazing sounds.

I thought this shot was too good to be true... but... have you noticed that there wasn't a single cherry-blossom to be seen? We were too early! But come they did - I'll show you next post.

On my way to work with Mum (and Dad behind the camera), in front of the train station. As you can see, the beginning of Spring is still pretty cool. This year it was downright cold! Check out the snow that we saw below at the end of March!

Another great shot, Dad. Crazy weather. A few weeks after this, one day it hit 29 degrees.

Well, this is your honourary (next-best-thing-to-an) American signing out.

May peace prevail on earth.

Coming back up for air, I believe this is the daily listing of the sumo bouts out the front of the venue. The Osaka Prefectural Gymnasium is in the south of the city - one of my favourite areas. Namba is an area of mixed interests... there's the new upmarket shopping development called Namba Parks, there's nearby Denden Town (Osaka's answer to Tokyo's Akihabara... electric town. You can buy all sorts of gadgets, electronic components, cameras etc at low prices.) Nipponbashi is a strip that has a magnetic pull on geeks, or otaku, as they are called here. I freely admit to having a very wide otaku stripe in me. There are all sorts of shops vending robots, figures, comic books, porn and even cafes where the waitresses dress like French maids to cater for the guys who are more in love with animated female characters than real people. Apparently this is a real problem for some otaku. I haven't reached that stage thankfully... robots and geeky vinyl toys are enough for now.

Osaka Gundams. Gundam is a phenomenon in itself. I used to make the model kits as a kid, having never seen the cartoon. My primary school friend from Hong Kong, Arnold Chan, used to have these amazing toys and pictures of robots that would make me drool. So, when I went to HK when I was 11 years old I stocked up on some robots. Japanese are ingeniuous at shortening English words - plastic models are called puramo. Potato chips are potechi. Lawson Online Shopping is Loppi! I love the way this country mangles and reinvents my native tongue - it's exciting witnessing the evolution of language. Anyway, where was I? Yeah, Gundam is a mainstay of kids and otaku throughout Asia. I saw a show about how they make the model kits. It was amazing to see this guy designing each intricate part using AutoCAD - no wonder they are so precise.

This is looking towards Dotombori, a lively strip you can see in the photo below. The area along the river here has been partially ruined, as they have covered over the river in parts and installed large perspex barriers along the pedestrian bridge in an attempt to stop crazed Hanshin Tigers fans (the local baseball heroes' disciples) from jumping in the water following significant victories. I hear many became ill from the festy water and one guy died! It's sad that they've wrecked one of Osaka's great views. So the photo above is of a nicer angle where there's still water.

There are some great places to eat around here. The vibe here is very Osaka - kind of bustly and grimey but very exciting. I've read that this area was an ispiration to the design of Bladerunner, one of my favourite movies.

Well, I've had some sad goodbyes to say recently. Some of my favourite students have gone, due to various reasons. I'm told I'm not one of them, so I hope that's true. Yes, I know you're not supposed to have favourites (I've had this discussion several times), but you naturally feel so - the important thing is treating everyone the same way, regardless of how you feel. But yeah, I really miss Kotoko (above). That's just a taste of what's to come in September I guess...


And lastly but definitely not least my good friend Justin (bottom left) has gone back home to the States. Here we are supping on the vine at his place. It sucked saying farewell to him - we had some great times talking about our experiences here. He was kind enough to give me his bicycle, which has made a big difference (i.e. improvement) to my lifestyle. I have since seen parts of the local area that I couldn't reach before and I'm actually feeling more healthy! So thank you so much if you're reading buddy! But more than that, thanks for your tops friendship. Anyway, I'm starting to write a personal email, so I'll stop here. On that note, I'm really sorry for being so attrocious at writing to so many people (especially you, Caroline! And Sam! And...). I will try to lift my game, but know that out of sight doesn't mean out of mind. I love youse all!

Here are some big men. Well, massive would be a better word. I was surprised to see that sumo wrestlers are not only big in girth but in height, too. Not all are fat, though - some are just very solidly built. There are no weight divisions so you can see opponents of very different sizes pitted against one another. The little guy always gets a good round of "Ooo"'s and "aaaahhhh"'s and applause when triumphant. The rikishi above are the second ranked division - I have a photo of the top guys, but this one is better. I thoroughly enjoyed my day at the sumo - it's fantastic entertainment! It's dynamic and violent, but without the nausea of, say, a boxing match where some hapless guy is getting his brains beaten into scrambled eggs. There is a competition here called K-1 in which pretty much anything goes except a strike to the groin. Knees to the head, kicking someone while they're down - all OK! And sometimes KO. Sorry, that was lame. Anyway - this photo is of the round of introductions that precedes the competition. Each wrestler has an apron-thing richly embroidered with their emblem and sometimes sponsor - they're very valuable, especially those with gold thread. I guess noone wants to sponsor their bums.

The amount of ritual increases the higher the ranking you go. The raising of the legs and stamping of the ground is said to drive evil from the dohyo. This ceremony is common to all the ranks I believe. This guy was particularly flexible and the crowd rewarded him for the spectacle. One guy was so fat that he could barely raise his legs at all. Another has 2 sets of breasts. I'm not meaning to poke fun, just stating facts... they were fat.

The huge thing threatening to squash everyone is basically the roof of a Shinto shrine. From each corner hangs a different coloured rope - one for each season. These are lower ranked guys - you can tell by the fact that they are sitting rather than being paraded in like show bulls as in the previous photo. You can also tell by the fact that there's hardly anyone there to watch them. As you'd expect, the day starts with low ranks and gets progressively higher - culminating in the final bout featuring the grand champion, or yokozuna. They are sitting on a mound of compacted earth, with straw rice-bags nearly-buried into it at exact points to provide the markings of the circle in which they fight. A wrestler wins by either forcing his opponent out of the circle, or making any part of the body, other than the feet, touch the ground.

The referee is pretty much in priest's garb. He wears a kimono in the style of those worn by samurai. The lower ranks have to go bare-foot, so I guess this guy is doing okay. I like the two old guys in the background - didn't I see them up in the stalls on the Muppet Show?

As the ring is raised, sometimes the winning move is quite spectacular as the loser tumbles to his defeat. Sometimes both go out headfirst as they are locked together in a judo-hold. On such occasions the four ring-side judges are summoned to adjudicate. I saw an early bout where a smaller guy manouevered behind a big guy and simply shoved him in the back at the right time, sending him flying into the premium front row seats. Lucky it was an early bout, or the lady that was later sitting there would have been hospitalised. (It does happen! I don't want to think about what would happen to me if someone dropped 150 kilos of meat on me.)

The top guys have the privilege of throwing salt into the dohyo - an act of purification. This is followed by a lot of swaggering, slapping of bellies, bending down on haunches and then getting up again to head back over to the salt. It's a whole lot of theatre really. I'm not sure who decides when it's on, but once it starts, it's pretty quick.

Here's the grand poobah himself, yokozuna Asashoryu. Before the top bouts start he comes in to the ring with a couple of attendants to do a dance. I'm not sure what the funky get-up is all about, but having seen this guy in the flesh, I wouldn't really question his fashion sense. There are bigger wrestlers, but he does have a certain presence and air about him. Despite his name, he is actually Mongolian, as are several of the high ranked rikishi. All sumo wrestlers must adopt a Japanese name - and so the bill for the day belies the fact that you are perhaps set to see some Russians, Bulgarians, Hawaiians, Koreans and Monglolians with the Japanese contenders. I like Kotoshu, a Bulgarian. I think many Japanese bemoan the fact that their traditional national sport is presently dominated by foreigners. Hence the excitement when a local boy won the last grand tournament, ending Asashoryu's run of 8. I say "boy" as I thought at first that these guys were in their late 20's and early 30's - but most are early to mid 20's. They eat fast and die young, but get a lot of money and women if they make it big. What a life!

Oh, may I digress... whilst sumo is undeniably THE Japanese sport (despite it lacking home-grown champions), baseball is the unofficial national sport. So it was a real boon when Japan won the World Baseball Classic a couple of months ago, beating America and legends Cuba. I was happy that Japan won, but I felt sorry for Cuba who has no professional players - they all work day-jobs and play baseball for the love of it ...and on a world-class level. But yatta Japan!

Here's Asashoryu in his normal nappy grabbing some salt. The nappy's a 10 metre strip of silk hopefully securely tied at the back. Grabbing the opponent's nappy is often the key to success. There is a lot of technique that goes with the sheer throwing of bulk - a lot of holds and throws as in judo are part of many bouts. Well, this guy was looking pretty haughty, but with good reason. It was day 9 of the 15 day tournament, but he went on to win with only one loss.

Getting down to business. You forget what you're looking at after a while. No, really, you do!

Wham! No, I'm not a George Michael fan - just trying to convey how explosive some fights are... and surprisingly brutal - a lot of quick shoves and thrusts to the face are common. Hence the guy facing us makes Glen Lazarus (Aussie rugby player known as the "brick with eyes") look like a pin-up model. He was already sporting an impressive scar from a day or two before.