japanThe drums spoke again, and this time, mine was not the only head that turned back and forth in consternation. This was the sound of tribal drums, not one of the university’s many amateur rock bands. A large portion of the library blocked my view of the street below. All vestiges of sleepiness gone, I hit up the City of Dunedin website (www.cityofdunedin.com), checked out the online calendar of events and saw…whoa….
Less than five minutes later, I was standing outside across the street, in front of the Otago Museum, camera in hand, my head bobbing irresistibly to the beat of Japanese drummers.
I didn’t really need to work on that lab report, anyway. This was much more interesting. It was the opening of the Otago Museum’s latest exhibit, Kimono: A Japanese Story, celebrating Japanese history and culture. All too soon, however, the sound of the drums faded, but were almost instantly replaced by this:
Two black belts squaring off just behind where we stood. They spun, flew, and showed us the basics, from how to fall properly to how to turn an opponent’s punch against him. Almost instantly, we heard chants of “Ichi! Ni! San! Shi! Go! Roku!” and on through the basic Japanese counting system, and half the audience (including myself) turned to see this:
I have no idea what this is called, so I would appreciate any enlightenment that y’all could send my way. They were using a rod made of wooden strips, and would occasionally whack each other over the head. They yelled, leapt, and dodged, much to everyone’s delight. I found myself entirely caught up, and silently cheering them on, first one, then the other. Before I had given up on learning foreign languages, I had taken a semester of Japanese when I first started college, with the intention of studying in Japan for a year. The subsequent debacle that was JAPA 101 successfully changed my mind, though. But now, unbidden, half-forgotten phrases rose to my consciousness, and my love for all things Japan swelled. It was at this point that I noticed an elderly Japanese man standing next to me. He smiled, and for a wild instant, I was tempted to say, “Konbanwa, ojii-san,” which is just a simple greeting for elderly men. But then I realized that after asking how he was doing, and introducing myself, all I would be able to do is smile, and say, “I’m from Texas.” In English. So with an internal sigh, I turned from him after returning the smile, and vowed to learn Japanese if it was the last thing I ever did.
The day was growing late. Other matters of business drew nigh, of which I could not simply blow off. As if sensing my mood the events wound down with a demonstration of the samurai sword.
Once again, I am not sure it was the samurai sword, but the blade was curved and stuff, so please correct me if I’m wrong.
Although the thought of Japanese cultural demonstrations in New Zealand is not as strange as, say, Japanese cultural demonstrations in Ben Wheeler, Texas, it still united for me two distinct worlds which I had never thought to associate. The world is full of interactions I had never dreamed about, not for any reason except I simply hadn’t given it any thought. My worldview corrected, I grinned, and walked off into the sunset.
I must apologize to Hayley for neglecting to put a picture of her up all this time. At any rate, that’s Hayley on the left, if you couldn’t tell, looking as mischievous as ever. On the right is Dan, who shaved his head the day after I got a haircut because he just couldn’t stand how mind-bogglingly awesome I looked.
