I’ve written about travel and the martial arts several times over the years. Some of the essays were diaries of trips to Asia or stories about living life as a martial arts expatriate. Others were about the nature of travel itself and how it can inspire or disillusion a person. Recently, I reread those columns to prepare for this special issue on travel. In spite of being about very different things, they had one underlying theme: how unexpected travel can be.
Sometimes the unexpected is simply the overwhelming newness of a place. No matter how much you learn about a country before you visit, directly experiencing it is a shock to the senses. For example, you can read about road congestion or the local cuisine in the Philippines, but being in the middle of a traffic jam in Cebu or eating food that is as sour as habaneros are hot is entirely different.
Being surrounded by new languages is even more jarring. You can research the local language before going to the central Philippines. You’ll learn a little about the Spanish-influenced Cebuano dialect and the fact that many Filipinos can speak English well.
But it won’t prepare you for the ease with which everyone switches back and forth between Cebuano and English, often many times within one conversation. Hearing the mixture is surreal—so much sounds familiar, but you can’t understand it.
The practice of the martial arts in new places can be overwhelming, as well. Sticking with the example of the Philippines, actually crossing sticks with someone there can be more intense than you might think.
You may practice stick fighting at home, maybe even the same style as your new Filipino training partner, but chances are he started pretty young and is now comfortable with a much higher level of speed and power. That means what should be a comfortable, familiar set of interlocking drills feels more like a struggle to survive.
Sometimes the Unexpected
Sometimes the unexpected moments are just the happy accidents of everyday life. For a couple of years, I lived in Finland, where winter lasts five months and the sun rises around 9 a.m. and sets around 3:30 p.m. every day. That’s a lot of night, and it can mess with your head. But it also means that if you walk out your door to do some daily chores, you might see the northern lights overhead, huge curtains of green and red light bending and curling in a clear Arctic sky.
Speaking of Finland, it’s worth considering countries that are off the beaten path for your martial arts travels. Nations around the world have stories of combat and courage that don’t make it into the history books. The area in which I lived in Finland is called Pohjanmaa.
In the 20th century, it was where the Finns stopped the advancing Russian army in World War II, something they devote as much time to documenting as we Americans do our wartime victories. But 200 years ago, Pohjanmaa was home to a breed of knife-fighting tough guys called häjyt. They were more like cowboys than samurai, though, and their knife skills never congealed into a martial art.
But to this day, knives and häjyt are part of the region’s identity to the extent that making old-fashioned puukko knives with sheaths meant to be slung from the hip is still a thriving regional industry.
Even in Places
Even in places that are on the beaten path for martial artists, you can be surprised. Large distances and cultural differences ensure that we, as foreigners, don’t see Asian culture any more clearly than Asians see our culture. Before you visit a country like China, Korea or Japan, you see your own expectations reflected back at you in the media and in your martial arts practice. Once you make the pilgrimage to your art’s homeland, a lot will catch you off-guard.
When I first came to Japan, I was surprised by two things: how little the average Japanese person knows (or cares) about the martial arts and how much he or she equates them with strength.
Of course, everyone knows what karate, judo, kendo and kyudo are, but if you say you practice something like iaido or jodo, the first response will likely be, “What’s that?” If you practice something like judo or karate, people will usually reply with, “Oh, you must be very strong!”
For those of you raised on the notion that the arts are mainly about technique, the attitude that karate and judo in Japan are sports for muscular tough guys is hard to wrap your head around.
Probably the Best Thing About Martial Arts Travel
Probably the best thing about the unexpectedness of travel is that it forces you to learn and understand more. You confront a new language, and you have to learn some to get by.
You practice a martial art in the context of its culture, and things that were mysterious or strange in the art suddenly make sense. You learn a little about other people’s struggles against invaders and oppressors, and you conclude that what we regard as American courage is the same quality all people share when war forces them to show it.
All it takes to get this and more is to make some plans and buy a plane ticket. Whatever surprises you run into, chances are you’ll be better for it.
