Katie in Chicago (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} pass_da_pierogi) wrote,@ 2009-10-28 20:12:00 |
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Morning in Tokyo
I wrote this in an e-mail home when I went to Japan for a conference for work in August.:
I got up at 5:45 this morning and went to see sumo training.
No one spoke any English at the 'training stable,' as my guidebook called it, so I had the receptionist at the hotel write me a note in Japanese explaining why I was there.
I walked. I was afraid I was lost, but I happened to see a big man in a colorful robe with his hair in a top knot walking down the street. I followed him. He went into a building with a wooden sign written in Japanese kanji that looked like any other closed shop on the street.
I followed him through the door and passed another doorway to a room about the size of my living room. The floor was bare with a big circle carved into it with a pile of sand in the center. And stretching in the corner was an honest-to-goodness, giant sumo wrestler in a loin cloth. I started to walk into the room with my note, but someone else rushed over and stopped me at the door. It was a smaller sumo wrestler. I showed him my paper, and he guided me around to the back. I had to take off my shoes and kneel on a mat on a raised platform about knee-high to the wrestlers.
There isn't much talk at sumo practice. One by one, the wrestlers would come through the door in their colorful robes. They'd strip down to their sumo outfits in the hallway, come into the room and say what seemed to be the end of the phrase 'good morning' -- instead of 'ohio gozaimasu,' they'd say something like 'g-saimas,' and anyone else in the room would reply with the same.
One wrestler kicked the sand and spread it around the ring with a broom. Someone else sprinkled it with water from a watering can. They kept gathering, and eventually a critical mass of about 15-20 people were in the room. Somebody started the organized stretching.
They'd count up to five or 10, lifting a leg in the air and smacking the lifted thigh after each count. They did this for maybe 20 minutes. They traded off who counted each time they reached the end. I'm not sure how they knew who would go next.
More people came in. After an eternity of thigh-slapping, they moved into a few other stretches. They all crouched down and bounced, counting fast ichi-ni-san-ichi-ni-san-ichi-ni-san. Then they crouched again and shifted back and forth, extending one leg and then the other. A big guy slapped a smaller guy on the top of the head and demonstrated that he should crouch down further. He bowed and said 'hai.'
I stepped outside to try to get a picture of one of the wrestlers arriving in a robe, and I found two coming in -- on bikes!
I went back in to see more stretching. The wrestlers were getting sweaty. Then, seemingly out of the blue, everyone moved to the sides, and two guys got into the ring. Without discussion, they crouched down, stood back up and got back down again. One guy touched his knuckles to the ground. As soon as the second guy's knuckles were also down, they'd leap at one another.
The matches took less than a minute each before someone was pushed out of the ring, for the most part. Then everyone would say what sounded like 'des,' and somebody would challenge the winner. They did this seamlessly, without anyone seeming to be in charge.
After a while, a really big guy started training people by having them push him out of the ring as fast as they could over and over again. He would make a great, deep 'huhhhh!' sound when they pushed into one another, but then he wouldn't push back, just backed out of the ring.
Eventually they got back to the matches. One wreslter won maybe five matches in a row. His hair came down, and he was breathing like a grizzly bear that had just sprinted three miles by his last match. Everyone smiled when he started winning again and again, but they didn't seem to congratulate him after he was finally pushed out. They just kept going, saying only 'des' and, every once and a while, a big chorus of 'looooh' when a new person came in.
A couple of other spectators showed up after about an hour, two big Japanese guys who seemed to want to give everyone pointers. One of them brought a lanky, gray poodle. He would call wrestlers over, and they would listen to him and pet his dog. I'm not sure who he was. He had on a Hawaiian shirt and big sunglasses with brownish lenses. In a movie, he would be the guy who fixed the matches.
After a while, I started to get hungry, so I bowed and took off across the city to find breakfast.
I wrote this in an e-mail home when I went to Japan for a conference for work in August.:
I got up at 5:45 this morning and went to see sumo training.
No one spoke any English at the 'training stable,' as my guidebook called it, so I had the receptionist at the hotel write me a note in Japanese explaining why I was there.
I walked. I was afraid I was lost, but I happened to see a big man in a colorful robe with his hair in a top knot walking down the street. I followed him. He went into a building with a wooden sign written in Japanese kanji that looked like any other closed shop on the street.
I followed him through the door and passed another doorway to a room about the size of my living room. The floor was bare with a big circle carved into it with a pile of sand in the center. And stretching in the corner was an honest-to-goodness, giant sumo wrestler in a loin cloth. I started to walk into the room with my note, but someone else rushed over and stopped me at the door. It was a smaller sumo wrestler. I showed him my paper, and he guided me around to the back. I had to take off my shoes and kneel on a mat on a raised platform about knee-high to the wrestlers.
There isn't much talk at sumo practice. One by one, the wrestlers would come through the door in their colorful robes. They'd strip down to their sumo outfits in the hallway, come into the room and say what seemed to be the end of the phrase 'good morning' -- instead of 'ohio gozaimasu,' they'd say something like 'g-saimas,' and anyone else in the room would reply with the same.
One wrestler kicked the sand and spread it around the ring with a broom. Someone else sprinkled it with water from a watering can. They kept gathering, and eventually a critical mass of about 15-20 people were in the room. Somebody started the organized stretching.
They'd count up to five or 10, lifting a leg in the air and smacking the lifted thigh after each count. They did this for maybe 20 minutes. They traded off who counted each time they reached the end. I'm not sure how they knew who would go next.
More people came in. After an eternity of thigh-slapping, they moved into a few other stretches. They all crouched down and bounced, counting fast ichi-ni-san-ichi-ni-san-ichi-ni-san. Then they crouched again and shifted back and forth, extending one leg and then the other. A big guy slapped a smaller guy on the top of the head and demonstrated that he should crouch down further. He bowed and said 'hai.'
I stepped outside to try to get a picture of one of the wrestlers arriving in a robe, and I found two coming in -- on bikes!
I went back in to see more stretching. The wrestlers were getting sweaty. Then, seemingly out of the blue, everyone moved to the sides, and two guys got into the ring. Without discussion, they crouched down, stood back up and got back down again. One guy touched his knuckles to the ground. As soon as the second guy's knuckles were also down, they'd leap at one another.
The matches took less than a minute each before someone was pushed out of the ring, for the most part. Then everyone would say what sounded like 'des,' and somebody would challenge the winner. They did this seamlessly, without anyone seeming to be in charge.
After a while, a really big guy started training people by having them push him out of the ring as fast as they could over and over again. He would make a great, deep 'huhhhh!' sound when they pushed into one another, but then he wouldn't push back, just backed out of the ring.
Eventually they got back to the matches. One wreslter won maybe five matches in a row. His hair came down, and he was breathing like a grizzly bear that had just sprinted three miles by his last match. Everyone smiled when he started winning again and again, but they didn't seem to congratulate him after he was finally pushed out. They just kept going, saying only 'des' and, every once and a while, a big chorus of 'looooh' when a new person came in.
A couple of other spectators showed up after about an hour, two big Japanese guys who seemed to want to give everyone pointers. One of them brought a lanky, gray poodle. He would call wrestlers over, and they would listen to him and pet his dog. I'm not sure who he was. He had on a Hawaiian shirt and big sunglasses with brownish lenses. In a movie, he would be the guy who fixed the matches.
After a while, I started to get hungry, so I bowed and took off across the city to find breakfast.
