Men are such whimps

It's true (and I've known this for many a year).  When Men are injured or sick it's as if no-one else in the entire world is suffering quite so much.  It's never a 'cold' but it's a rare, incurable form of pleurisy.  Not a slight muscle sprain but a complete and degenerative form of muscle-wastage.

I've a neck/mid-shoulder injury, had it for 10 days and am now climbing the walls.  Bad new is we fly over to Perth on Thursday to train with Oda and Nagayama Sensei. 

That and the Aussie Dollar is in nose dive against the Yen..  Katana now at $9,343.35 as of today.

Bugger.


 

Did Samurai of old have to sell their mothers for a decent sword?

Umm.  Currency exchange rates are not moving favourably.  My new katana is waiting for an export permit to be issued by the Japanese Government department responsible for regulating the movement of swords out of the country.  When they’re ready, I have to transfer the equivalent of 705,000 Yen to the Japanese swordmaker.  Currently, that’s over $8,800 – up from the original value of $7,950 in August.

Add 10% Ozzie import GST onto the total and my exquisite sword starts knocking on the door of $10,000.

Yes, I want my katana (and in fact need one if I ever have to try for 4^th Dan at which time use of a live blade becomes obligatory during gradings) but it’s moving in the direction of the price of a new small car or a second-hand tractor.  This presents an interesting dilemma on the relative dangers here.  What would you rather face?  A Hyundai Getz hurtling toward you at ramming speed; a reversing 55HP tractor with whirling 6’6” slasher blades or me with my new sword?  It’s a no-contest question.  Face me, as I’ll be too shit scared of unsheathing my katana in case I damage it.

Decisions, decisions.

The “little organisation” that pays me has left me dangling on the horns of a small dilemma.  My direct manager wants to extend my “sentence” here from the rest of this year until November of 2012.  Yippidido....  There is no chance of remission as the job he wants me to perform is an absolute bastard and will suck me dry of life force (done it for 6 months before - I know).  Countering this doom is a possibility of working directly for my manager's manager. That person’s suggested there may be a chance of a permanent position reporting to him, on a parallel level to my manager’s, but in a different Business Area.  OK, there would be a definite downward hike in salary from being a greedy consultant but the benefits of paid leave might tip the balance sufficient to almost make it worth considering.  What am I going to do?    

Well, I know exactly what I’d like to do.  Use the prospect of the latter to remove the threat of the former and, when my current contract expires, return to our farm.  That’s a bit cryptic but it boils down to my manager having to find someone else on the off-chance I’d be successful in snagging the senior job.  Not being the sharpest tool in the shed it hasn’t occurred to me what I’d do if I were successful in applying for the permanent job.

If there was any doubt about what I’d like to do (apart from paying off the $8,000 katana I’ve just bought) is summed up by some internet browsing at lunchtime.  I’ve been looking at farm toys, bulldozers, skid-steers and tipper trucks.  Oh, I’ve also bought an acre's worth of seeds to plant and am working out how to increase next year's garlic crop.

Says it all, really.

Affirmations of Life

Much water has flowed under the bridge in the last 8 weeks: far too much to relate so I’m only going to give flavours rather than accounts.

Holidays are such exciting periods, full of promise and anticipation.  We had many things lined up.  Catching up with my kids and meeting up with my family to scatter my Father’s ashes; the British kendo Association’s Iaido and Jodo Seminar (and grading); catching up with Irish Rose and meeting her other half for the first time in Dublin; the UK riots (for Riots read excuses-to-loot); and Japan (which deserves a huge chapter in its own right).   I don’t think it can be claimed this holiday was dull.

Before starting, all I’m going to say about the ‘countdown timer’ attached to this blog is that it expired on the 2^nd August.  My Iaido Nidan grading came and went without too much botheration and I was fortunate enough to pass.  I’ve a feeling the high ranking grading panel took pity on me travelling all the way from Oz and overlooked some unforced errors and the peculiar Australian manner in which I performed.  Two other Nidan candidates and myself were up as the last people to grade that day and I’ve a nagging suspicion that if my two fellow candidates had travelled as far as Klara and I they would have passed as well.  But they didn’t and consequently Oshita Masakazu Sensei and the rest of the panel didn’t smile upon them.  Highlight of the grading?  Actually, it wasn’t the passing but what pleased me far more was not being overawed by the panel despite being slap-bang in the centre- right in front of the Kyoto 8^th Dan Taikai winner (Oshita Sensei). 

Japan was glorious and friendly beyond belief.  There were unexpected kindnesses, surprises and delightful things just about everywhere we went.  Having been primed beforehand, we took Omiyage – small gifts/souvenirs – with us from the UK and Australia to give to Sensei and, well, just about anyone.  It is amazing how much the simple act of giving a token gift opens doors between people that don’t share a common language.   Even when Omiyage were not involved, complete strangers would stop and assist if they observed us staring with consternation at a map or an underground sign.   Yes, we were Gaijin.  But we made an effort and tried not to be cultural neanderthals.  Jenna and Jason (carriers of the genepool) were introduced to a phrase while with other backpackers: Gaijin Bashers.  Gaijin Bashers are those who perform cultural howlers and trample ignorantly over Japanese customs.  Thankfully, we tip-toed.

Nagayama Sensei, our Jodo Teacher in Sendai, was his usual combination of Dojo-stern and private-approachable.  He doesn’t know it (or refuses to acknowledge it in direct terms) but he’s our Sensei.  When we first met him, three years ago, it was under difficult circumstances (the story behind which is amusing – now).  It’s taken a few years of gradual ice-melt for him to accept us but now he pours more knowledge into our thick skulls than we could ever hope to assimilate.  Have you ever met someone and instinctively known that person could be lethally dangerous at a flick of a switch?  Nagayama Sensei is one of those.  He teaches his arts as if his finger is "on the switch". 

I can’t point to one particular event in Japan as being the highlight.  There were so many.  I can say climbing Mount Fuji is up there, though.   The most climbed Mountain in the World, they call it and rightly so.  All four of us set out from the 5^th Station at about 8pm on August 29^th.  J and J were in racing mode (which I think they may have slightly regretted at the top) and floored it.  We took a sedate pace.  After all, the Mountain climb begins at 2,300 meters with still another vertical mile to ascend.  Altitude sickness can commence with too rapid a climb.

The feeling of shared purpose and suffering was palpable the further up we climbed.  99.9% of the climbers were not hikers nor mountain climbers but  everyday people, mostly quite young, with a hard-wired desire to climb their National Icon.  They were fit in much the same way as every other twenty-something year old is.  But, undeniably, it is tough for even youthful Japanese.  We met an old lady who was climbing Fuji-san for the 6^th time.  I didn’t know what her reasons were but the fact she was willing to place herself in sufferings way filled me with admiration.  If it were possible, after the gruelling 14 kilometre zig-zag descent, I admired her even more and would have fallen to her feet in worship (if I had the strength left).

We will return to Japan.  Of that I have no doubt.