Sumo Sugoi

(Sugoi is the Japanese word for "Wow!" I will conquer this language, one semi-useful word every few weeks!)

Sumo is probably one of the first things that comes to mind for a Westerner thinking about Japan, but all I really knew about it was that the men were really large, and that Freakonomics had a chapter about sumo match-fixing. So when we had the chance to attend a honbasho, or major sumo tournament, right here in Fukuoka, we went to become culturally enlightened. I didn't expect that I would really like it -but I actually had a great time. Sumo is a lot of fun!

First, some background. In sumo, wrestlers move up in rank based on their performance in major tournaments, of which their are six per year. Three happen in Tokyo, one in Osaka, one in Nagoya, and one here in Fukuoka. The ultimate goal of every sumo wrestler, or rikishi, is to be granted the title of yokozuna ("horizontal rope," from the rank belt a yokozuna can wear), and the minimum requirement is generally to win two of these tournaments in a row.

Some things about yokozuna I did not know:

-there can be an unlimited number at any given time (right now there is just one, the Mongolian Hakuho) and there can even be no yokozuna at all
- there have been four foreign yokozuna: two Americans (Akebono, from Hawaii, and Makuuchi, from American Samoa), and two Mongolians, Asashoryu and Hakuho.
- yokozuna is a title for life, and cannot be lost. The yokozuna is expected to retire when he can no longer compete at a top level.
- yokozuna do not have to be that huge: the man we saw, Hakuho, is 6'4 and 340, which means you have at least four guys his size or bigger on a D-1 offensive line. Akebono, however, wrestled at 6'8 and 517. Good NIGHT, that's a large man. And there are no weight classes, so any rikishi might find himself faced with a man that size at any point.

We sat in the nosebleed section, which nevertheless costs over $30 a ticket. And, ironically for a sport involving men the size of Akebono, the chairs are so tiny that Justin and I could not fit side-by-side without one of us sitting forward or putting an arm around the other.

These flat seating areas are much more comfortable, but at the starting price of 9,200 yen, or over a hundred bucks at these exchange rates, I will go with the tiny chairs. The fact that so many are empty doesn't really mean much: a tournament begins fairly early in the day (maybe 9 or so; I don't remember) and goes until 6 PM. So these fans might have been and gone by the time we got there around 4:30.

This picture shows the wrestling area:

The sandy-colored area, made of clay, is called the dohyo. There is a raised ring on the clay, which represents the "in" area. A rikishi wrestler has to either shove the other guy out of the ring or cause any part of his opponent's body other than the feet to touch the ground.

Above the dohyo is a roof to represent a Shinto shrine (the sumo salt-throwing that happens before matches is a Shinto purification ritual). The tassels represent the four seasons, and the dohjo is oriented east-west, with those serving as the sumo equivalents of "the blue corner" (i.e. "Wrestling as the east yokozuna - Hakuho!")

And the equivalent of the ring girls: sponsor banner boys.

And now what you've been waiting for... actual wrestling!

Matches don't have to start right away. The wrestlers line up on and try to intimidate each other, and then break apart and walk around for a bit. There used to be no time limit on how long they could go before starting the match, but now they have a three-minute play clock. This can seem a bit dull, but you have to think of it the way you think of the time in football before the ball is snapped: it's time for strategy, time for giving signals to your opponent and trying to out-think the signals he's giving you back, and time to build dramatic tension for the audience. And since I'm constantly annoyed by people who say football is boring because of the time when "nothing happens," just because they can't perceive the things that are happening, I am trying to reserve judgment on sumo pauses until I can learn to appreciate them.

Matches, like downs, go quickly:





Now, how cool is that?

The last match of the day was between the yokozuna Hakuho and the ozeki, or second-rank, rikishi Kaio (the wrestling names, by the way, are noms de sumo, and not the real birth names of the rikishi). My shoddy Japanese was just good enough for me to catch the word Fukuoka and deduce from the cheering that Kaio is a local boy - which Wikipedia confirms. He's apparently had a rough few last tournaments, and has been an ozeki longer than all but one other wrestler without retiring or being promoted to yokozuna. He was tied with Hakuho at 11-1 (a tournament is fifteen matches) on the day we were there, so that was a big-deal fight. The crowd was firmly on his side - as a sentimental favorite, hometown boy, and possibly also because he's the only Japanese ozeki at the moment so he might represent the only national hope for a Japanese yokozuna. (the other three are Mongolian, Bulgarian, and Estonian - the Estonian, Baruto, was also very popular at this honbasho.) Much clapping and cheers of "Ganbatte (Let's go!) Kaio!" ensued. Unfortunately for Kaio, he lost a hard-fought match, which lasted a surprisingly long time.

According to Wikipedia, Hakuho ultimately won the tournament with a record of 14-1, his fifth honbasho tournament victory in a row, and Kaio finished at 12-3.

I had a great time despite the tiny chairs. I hope there's more sumo in my future!

Thanksgiving Dinner

To help us homesick expats celebrate the holiday in style, the FIS school culture committee organized a special Thanksgiving dinner at the Hilton. Nana and I weren't really sure what we'd be eating, but we had our hopes up for some traditional Thanksgiving fare.

And we weren't disappointed! We had a private room at the Hilton buffet stocked with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, pumpkin soup, and cranberry sauce.

The only thing missing was a good old-fashioned pumpkin pie: we had to settle for an odd pumpkin tart and some pumpkin pudding.

In addition to our private buffet, we also had free range over the main buffet, which included mostly Japanese or pan-Asian dishes, as well as enormous piles of crab legs.

It took a little bit of work to get that melted butter (in Japan, they serve crab legs with ponzu sauce), but according to Nana the result was well worth it. I, in the meantime, spent most of my stomach capacity on the old-fashioned Thanksgiving fare, which was delicious (but, it must be said, not quite like Grandma used to make), and on red meat, which can be hard to come by in this town.

Edited to add: Go team Crab!

Happy Thanksgiving from the Senseitions!

Celebrated Thanksgiving in style tonight: at best of the local Indian restaurants, with a handful of co-workers. (Alas, my crummy cell-phone photo didn't work out.) Then on Saturday we have a Thanksgiving dinner at the Hilton. Still not sure what's on the menu, though I will say I would kill for some turkey and some pumpkin pie right about now.

Anyway, if we can't be home for Thanksgiving, I guess this is the next best thing. It's certainly hard to be away from home again for what might just be my favorite holiday . . . but our FIS buddies do help make this place feel a little more like home!

All our love to you readers out there--here's hoping you have a great holiday.

Fall Foliage and a Giant Buddha

Thanks to yet another mid-week Japanese holiday, Nana and I just dozed our way through a much-needed four-day weekend. But we didn't spend the whole weekend catching up on work and sleep: instead, on Sunday morning, we joined a few co-workers for a half-day trip to Kidonanzoinmae, a little hamlet up in the hills famous for its huge reclining Buddha.

The Buddha was surrounded by little statues, each with a different posture and facial expression . . .

. . . as well as what appear to be urns, each marked with a day of the year.

I wish I could tell you more about the ritual significance of these things, but most of the tourist information at Nanzoin was in Japanese. Though running the temple's website through Google Translate does reveal at least a little bit about the site: the statue was built in honor of some sacred relics the temple received as gifts from Buddhist communities in Nepal and Burma.

Luckily, although there was little English to be found, the gentlemen below were well versed in the universal language of expats abroad, aka Repeated Emphatic Gesturing, and were able to explain to us (and co-worker/neighbor Dayle) how to say a Buddhist prayer.

Nana lights a votive candle.

Nana sticks some incense (joss sticks) in a vessel full of sand.

Apparently, the key ingredients in Buddhist prayers are candle-wax burns and second-hand incense smoke.

The Buddha wasn't the town's only attraction, though: it's just part of a complex of temples and shrines strewn across a mountainside--and connected by a network of trails and caves. There wasn't really any signage in English, so I can't really do anything but let the pictures speak for themselves. Enjoy!

 This tunnel was full of incense smoke from a small shrine cut into the wall.

 Most of the hillside was covered with sugi, or Japanese cedar, the national tree of Japan.

The Japanese really have a thing for turtles. You can find a turtle pond in almost any Japanese temple.

 We weren't sure if this guy was real at first. He was really still, and his legs were sticking our at such an unnatural angle. (Yes, the big one is fake.)

 Fall colors on the hillside.

 Looks like they dress some of their statues up for the winter.

 Part of the temple complex was a kind of elaborate garden built on the hillside, with streams and waterfalls and bridges. It was almost like a temple playground--very beautiful, and lots of fun to explore.

This is what a Japanese-style temple looks like when it's new. Eventually, that fresh wood will weather to a grayish brown.

 This guy seems to be on fire for some reason.

Many of the little statues had these donation buckets in front of them. Anyone have any idea what they're for?

 More statues bundled up for the winter.

 This little shrine was tucked away in a little grotto at the top of the complex. That's a waterfall in the background, and there's a very small cave to the left you can walk through, with a chain to help you climb out the top.

 A shot of the shrine complex.

 On our way out, Nana rubs Buddha's belly for good luck. You can see he's worn a little thin there.

 One of the entrances to the temple/shrine complex. That's a gingko tree--I love the brilliant shade of yellow they turn in the fall.

Crisis in Korea

Don't know what kind of airtime this is getting in the American media, but the top story on BBC News Asia is about an artillery battle along the hotly contest Western sea border between North and South Korea. Apparently, North Korean artillery opened fire on military and civilian targets on Yeonpyeong Island.

Scary. This is certainly the worst it's been since we've been in Asia. As Nana says, in light of the recent Cheonan incident, in which North Korea got away scot-free with an unprovoked attack on a South Korean military ship, it seems like the North has decided it can kill South Koreans with impunity. This is kind of how it was in as late as the 1980s, when frequent North Korean terrorist attacks claimed dozens to hundreds of South Korean lives every year.

But who knows if the South and its allies will take action. With North Korean artillery trained on Seoul and South Korean and American aircraft trained on Pyeongyang, the two sides are locked in a kind of non-nuclear mutually assured destruction. A Mexican standoff, if you will.

For the sake of all our friends in Korea, though, let's hope this one gets resolved as quickly and peacefully as possible.

Justin and Nana Eat Weird Stuff for Your Entertainment: Fried, Sugar-Coated Sweet Potato

The place we bought these was basically a shack with a deep fryer next to a tiny little train station up in the hills.

They also sold fried chicken and fried . . . I don't know? Fish cakes? But we opted for these huge chunks of sweet potato.

Verdict? Awesome! (They also get the co-worker/neighbor Dayle seal of approval.)

More on our excursion to the nearby temple/shrine complex later.

A Tour of the Fukuoka City Library

I love libraries, a fact which may already be known to people who have read our old blogs. I was therefore totally willing to tag along to the Fukuoka City Public Library with our school's teacher supporter Kumi in exchange for her help in registering for a card. This is my first library card for a library not predominantly in English, which is fun, and led to some comical moments when they tried to figure out how to fit my massive 23-letter English first, middle, and last name plus the Japanese katakana transliteration into spaces meant for a name like "山口圭子."

Our school is just a few minutes by bike from the main branch, the exterior of which is pictured at the link above. It's quite large, and has a very good selection, although sadly I have yet to see a Library Cat. There is plenty of work space which I think Justin and I may use as it gets colder so we can do our grading somewhere besides the apartment.

Here's a peek at the gloriously English-subtitled floor map:

...and my section of interest, "International Materials"

If I were a film director, I'd be required to give you an "establishing shot" so you could figure out what this third floor looks like. So here it is, and please remember I had to do this in the middle of a library with my finger mushed down over the speaker on my camera that makes that digital shutter sound effect. The things I do for you...

The international section is sorted, as best I can determine, by region of publication, which does have the interesting effect of separating English-language UK books from English-language US or Australian books. America and Canada can be found together here:

The selection really isn't bad at all, considering this is a small city and English-speakers aren't necessarily the dominant foreign minority (that's probably Koreans; the Korean section is very large). You can see several good "literary" fiction options in the picture above, such as Orhan Pamuk's My Name is Red. I, however, am more interested in shelves like these, containing the entire Charlaine Harris Sookie Stackhouse series:

It is to my sorrow that I have to report a dearth of my beloved romance novels. Now, generally, I can spot these babies just by packaging from a long way away, so the books pictured below really got my hopes up. Alas, upon closer inspection: Russian, and perhaps not even romances. If I had to, though, I'd lay money that these are the Russian translations of somebody like Danielle Steele (who is not, believe it or not, actually a romance novelist - but that's an issue for another day). Leslie, any help?

Beyond the International Materials section was a wall display of books related to Fukuoka's sister cities, including Auckland, New Zealand, Bordeaux, France, Guangzhou, China, and Busan, South Korea. On the American side, we somehow ended up with both Oakland and Atlanta. I genuinely don't know what to make of that, but I think it might be an insult.

The library has an excellent selection of nonfiction in English, so a few days later I took my seniors over to do research for their history projects. They, of course, are multilingual. While walking with the Japanese kids through that section, I found the following English books translated into Japanese:

My mother loves the Miss Read books. At one point during my childhood we asked her what they were about, and what happened in them, and she said something to the effect of "Nothing. These are nice, gentle books where nothing ever happens." So congratulations, Mom: apparently the Japanese also like books where nothing happens - enough to translate and stock at least seven.

Final surreptitious shot: library checkout procedure:
Me being me, I lost track of the due dates and returned my first books about five days late. I was sweating when I went to return them, knowing I'd be confronted with universal librarian disapproval and incomprehensible explanations of late-fine procedures. I also don't really know my numbers yet, so I just took a large handful of coins (Japan's largest coin is worth about $5) and planned to hand them to her and trust her not to hose me on the change. This is the same strategy I use with the people who sell us baked goods at lunch.

After I returned the books, though, the librarian nodded at me and smiled for me to go. Puzzled, I held out some money and said, "Late? Fines?" in an appalling dumb American move which makes you wince while you do it but nevertheless is the only thing you can think of. She shook her head and waved at me. So either all new library users get a freebie, or she thought the language barrier would be more trouble than my fine was worth, and decided to give a dumb whitey a break. Hooray for incompetence!