In the typical fashion of stilted Japanese Teacher-to-Jet communication, I was sitting reading peacefully at my desk the other day when the teacher next to me, whom I don't talk to all that much, turns to me and says "when can you practice?"

"Excuse me?" I said. (I say that a lot here.)

"For the Kendo Tournament."

"Tournament?"

"Yes. Teacher's Kendo Club. Students vs. Teachers. Tournament is in a week and a half."

"Oh, right." (I have no prior knowledge of this club existing, let alone my being a member of it. Of course, I smile and give him three dates in which I can practice "Kendo.")

So there you have it. One second I'm reading Brett Easton Ellis, the next I'm a member of the Kendo club. Funny how life works.

Now, for those of you not in the know, kendo is a big time Japanese sport in which men and women outfit themselves in blue skirts and helmets and wail on each other with bamboo swords. At least, thats what it looks like they are doing when I pass kendo practice every day on my way out the door. As it turns out, there is a lot more to it. Go figure.

Anyway, today was my first practice. One of the members of the girls kendo team is set aside to teach me how not to make myself look like a complete idiot in front of the whole school next week. She is a very sweet girl, and one of the smallest, most innocent looking people you will ever meet. Naturally, she whuped my ass. She was polite about it though. You see, short of bowling and walking from the Sunshine 88 apartment complex to Toyama station hungover on the weekends I don't get much excercise, so she ran circles around me. Apparently, you cannot score a point in Kendo unless you hit your opponent on either the top of the head, the right wrist, or the abdomen. On top of that, you cannot score a point unless you scream the name of the area you want to hit, sort of like calling your pocket. So imagine, if you will, a lanky white boy running at a 5 foot 3 inch Japanese schoolgirl with a stick and yelling

HEAAAAAAAADD! AHHHHHHHH!!!!! WRIIIIIIIIIIIIIST!!!!!!!! HIYAAAAAAAA!

And then getting really winded after five minutes and asking to take a break.

Suffice to say, had those little bamboo shoots been real steel, this little girl would have split my skull, chopped off my right hand, and gutted me in three minutes.

One of the teachers turned to me and said proudly, "this girls kendo team is the best."

"Oh really?" I replied, "in the whole school?"

"No, in the whole state. Boys too."

Wonderful. This tournament should be a real show.