Part I - The Arrival.
The air in the hall, began to be electric. Our eyes are fixed on the sliding door entrance, waiting for the arrival of Kancho Tanaka, who is revealed smiling and ready to take us to the place where they teach on. The steps towards the station of Kyoto are elastic and silent, and the few words of Tanaka Kancho are intercepted and translated by Lorenzo, our intermediary with the sounds, signs and dreams of this world so away.
The train journey seems endless, and as we move away from Kyoto on contact with reality seems to have changed, the exterior is dimly lit, written in English fading, the entries in Romaji are kept to a minimum, you Parlotti in a low voice, aside from a few smiles to the superimposed voltage for the event you are going to do. At the station
Shinseikai members welcome us with their cars and smiles wide as Japanese melons. It does not seem to be away, but at home!
The streets are dark, not illuminated, and Kyoto seems to be distant as Arcturus, exchange a few words in the car, always with Lorenzo in the shoes of Google Translate, until arrival at a structure illuminata.
Si esce dalla notte per entrare nella scuola, nell'evento, nell'emozione.
Parte II - I bambini Shinseikai.
Ci è concesso l'onore di seguire attivamente il turno dei bambini, con il riscaldamento, i Kihon, ed il Kumite. I miei occhi si velano e rimangono umidi nel vedere questi esserini, vestiti con il Karategi, che ci guardano sorpresi e divertiti mentre ripassiamo le basi insieme a loro. In loro vedo le facce dei miei figli e mi commuovo, e spero che non si veda: chissà cosa fanno Melissa e Mirco, e Alex e Lara. Ogni tanto incrocio lo sguardo con qualcuno di loro. I più coraggiosi tengono lo sguardo e sorridono, e il cuore mi si scioglie, e non posso fare a meno di riflettere about how two cultures are different and how the feelings can make us very similar.
comes a time in the Kumite. We understand that children will face, we have wide on the mat, and a command Iwasaki Sensei taking the children to meet us, often competing with those who arrive first to address the Gaijin guy. Someone smiling, someone has a wry look, someone is pouting: all are fighting like lions, and someone is so small that I can not help but encourage (Ganbatte!) while pulling Tsuki Geri and with a frequency and power impressive for their age. The lesson of Japanese cute kids coming to an end with the merger, stretching and final salute, which gives me a feeling to be told when space and time will be propitious.
Part III - The evidence.
Evidence of Philip part plan, but it becomes at once the pace and power of a tough exam, and special. The basics (Kihon the ) techniques to Pao (the hitters) succeed one another in an impressive manner, leaving very little room for distractions or dangerous lapses in concentration. All the attention of the courts, and in particular the Fourth Dan Shinseikai court, turned to Philip. I try to look at and interpret the movements and facial expressions of the examiner, with poor results. The Ice Age is flawless, but I can see many nodding his head - from top to bottom - in sign language that the common good even in Japan, fortunately, is tantamount to approval. After the equivalent of two lessons Shinseikai (and those attending the Dojo knows what is the effort required) is the turn of the Sabaki , lateral displacements used for defense and attack. Philip chooses her partner (coincidentally, the Sensei Iwasaki), and illustrates the Ice Age several techniques that mutes all students, not just them. The Ice Age
nods this time clear, and I only guessed. The review seems endless, and the best is yet to come. It's the turn of
Kata (forms), beautiful movements, hypnotic, death. The Dojo is quiet, filled with the sounds of the shapes and sounds of the karategi, sometimes soft, sometimes tense. The Kata give way to test the thirty Kumite , thirty uninterrupted fighting, thirty obstacles that last a minute and a half while running - believe me - they are much, much longer.
The fighting one another and the time begins to lengthen, and never seems to end. Many of the opponents are knocked out, get up, even with difficulty, and continue to fight: they can not shortcut, no quick way, there is only hard work, sweat, courage, and above all the right spirit.
As all students, as well as opponents, beginning with eyes (we Italians also with the voice) to encourage Philip to face opponents who do not retreat, do not pull back, fight like a Samurai can do. "GANBATTE, PHILIP" scream, do not give up, the road is still long. The Ice Age
writes on the board signs from Mars, and I've lost count, I can not turn his eyes from the tatami, as mesmerized. Latest
Kumite are made with black belts, the evidence - from hard - almost impossible.
What brings us to overcome our limitations? The right spirit. The memory of loved ones. The memory of those who no longer exists. Courage. The help of all students in the Dojo. The strength to fight for those who can not. The image dei propri cari. La determinazione.
Il trentesimo squillo del timer ci trova in lacrime, le nostre e quelle del nostro Sensei. Non ho più paura di commuovermi. Non ho più paura.
Il Dojo diventa lacrime, applausi, urla. Il Dojo diventa festa.
Parte IV - La festa.
Il Dojo si è trasformato. Da concentrazione, ad azione, a festa. I volti sono sorridenti, Filippo è un Terzo Dan. Mi si avvicinano tutti salutando, mi parlano in Giapponese, io non capisco ma sorrido - sinceramente - e ringrazio. È tempo delle foto di rito. Mi viene concesso l'onore di intrufolarmi nelle fotografie scattate da fotocamere e migliaia di cellulari bianchi rosa grigi neri perla fucsia gialli , tutti uguali, che lampeggiano allegramente come fossero fuochi d'artificio, che cercano di immortalare il momento, come se serbarlo fuori dal cuore fosse importante. E forse lo è davvero. Quante volte potrò essere qui ancora? Quali sogni possono avverarsi? Mentre velocemente ci cambiamo e ci riaccompagnano alla stazione, mi chiedo se un giorno potrò ritornare. Alle volte la fortuna capita una sola volta nella vita. A me è capitata quattro volte, e forse capiterà ancora. La fortuna, alle volte, trova alcuni ostacoli, duri come le pietre che Filippo ha spezzato nel Dojo di Kyoto. E spezzarle sempre dobbiamo, quelle pietre.
L'immagine che mi congeda dal Dojo di Kyoto è quella del saluto del maestro Iwasaki. Riesco solo ad inchinarmi and to say "Sensei ...". He smiles and bows (in front of me, white belt, newcomer) below me.
Gabba.
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