Blossoms and Beer

“Today,” says our Shihan with the blue eyes, “we have a new arrival. A guest from Germany. T-san. His mother is German, and his father Japanese. His father has a Zen temple near Munich. He will be here for a couple months to study and train with us. Translate. Ask questions. Welcome him.”
So, of course, after training I am sought out by and welcome the young Herrn T, named in Japanese after the Eastern sun, and in German after a certain Wagner hero with the same initial. What a truly cultural cross.
Our initial introduction is brief. As usual, I have something to hurry to after training. Work on a Friday, rare weekend excesses on Monday night. But we talk again. And train. And drink. And ask questions. And translate. And I humbly partake in bits of his wandering life on what can be counted as yet another rare weekend excess, letting myself get swept away and off the daily path of bread and butter, or rather, the more troublesome path of rice and miso soup, and into whatever next adventure awaits us by the roadside. Like pink blossoms taken by the wind. Dancing. Beautiful.
Kung fu training in Osaka Castle Park. A spontaneous tour through the Kyobashi shōtengai, shopping sreet, and strange little alleyways where people queue for fresh tuna. Red light establishments cast a soft glow on neighbouring ramen and sushi shops. The tour is kindly guided by N-Sensei. We pick up six-packs of beer and some appropriately salty snacks for a spontaneous cherry blossom viewing party on the way back to Umeda. We cannot resist the sweet baking smell of oban-yaki, warm, filled cakes, either. Six with white, four with red anko, sweet bean paste, land in a paper bag, and we make our way to Sakuranomya, a famous cherry blossom spot.
We lose B-san, however, or rather, he loses himself, this time not in a fight with the subway minotaur, but in the big maze that is Osaka outside the train lines, and respecting the impossibility of finding Sakuranomya from wherever he is lost, we cut our hanami short to meet in Sone, and continue the drinking and merry making, eating and fighting in my humble Leopalace flat.
Sensei and our new kung-fu addition M-san leave, and the three of us brave each other and the beer, contemplating different missions that could be started from the balcony, talking, drinking, talking. At some point we have to go for more beer at the combini round the corner. And some whiskey, while we’re at it. It is a night of flowing sake. The cherry blossoms conjure up nights like this by the dozen. Well, one dozen or only slightly more. People leave the office. The pachinko parlours. The hostess and ramen bars. The kaiten sushi restaurants. People get drunk. Are happy. The world remembers that this is where the sun rises, and its soul gets absorbed in a passing dream of beauty too beautiful to be passed. Then, after the blossoms have wreaked this brief spell of magic, they sail down in gradual bouts of pink, gentle rain. Hanafubuki. And people sober up with sore heads. And return to the office, the pachinko parlours, the kaiten sushi restaurants, the hostess and ramen bars.
But tonight, we are in the middle of the cherry blossom dream. It is everywhere, even where you can’t see the blossoms. Beer keeps flowing until sleep calls. In the morning, from the loft, my room is a battlefield on which the dust has not quite settled yet. But waking up, gradually, we start stirring, moving, fighting again, tidying up. We count 23 empty cans of beer and clear the battlefield to embark on a new adventure.
Namely Its-san who is waiting for me by the bento-shop next to my beautiful highway motel home in her Mercedes. This afternoon I will provide some interesting foreign company to her daughter R-chan. B-san cycles away towards the highway horizon, and Herr T is swept up into the car with us by another bout of spontaneity. So we spend some pleasant hours at Its-san and R-chan’s, slurping banana milk shake, studying kanji, speaking English, and Japanese, and German, making plans for the next occasion we might all enjoy together.
Its-san’s and Herr T’s birthdays are next week. Friday and Saturday will be birthdays. Sunday will be my day off, the perfect day on which all three happy occasions can be combined into a barbecue party outside this very house. Agreed.
And finally, in the evening, we all meet at the temple dojo once again, drawing the circle, dancing the dance, living the dream. Training aikido.