Armed with a GPS in the car, we set out right after class on Thursday night. We were doing pretty well and making good time driving through the night. Eventually we began taking turns taking cat naps as the other drove. The route we were taking had quite a few tolls on it so whomever was driving would pay the toll. This worked out fine until I left my wallet in my lap and when it was time to switch due to fatigue my wallet fell out of the van on the side of the road. We did not discover this until an hour later. We back tracked and as Bill drove I scanned the side of the road in hopes of finding my wallet. We were in upstate New York and I would not be able to pass across the border to Canada without ID. Miraculously I found the wallet, thus using up the majority of the good karma I have accumulated in my lifetime.
We continued onward, getting slowed down be a few detours due to road work. This took us through some mountains and an area referred to as "Little Russia". The sun had risen by that time making it easier to scan the surrounding hillside for Cossacks as we feared the detours were a cunning ploy to lure us into an ambush.
We finally made it to the border, and were greeted at the border station.
"What is your business here in Canada?"
"We're here to fight Canadians."
"Want some?"
Subsequently we had a nice discussion with an armed border agent wearing full body armor who wanted to know about us, our families, when our ancestors came to America, where our ancestors were from and other fun trivia. They take guarding Canada pretty darn serious up there. Rumor has it there was a maple syrup smuggling operation afoot.
Onwards through the barren wasteland that was the Great, not-so-white North, we delighted that the speed limit was 100. I was pleased thinking this country seems alright. Unfortunately it was 100 kph so my glee was short lived.
We arrived in Montreal crossing a bridge which I had seen in nearly every movie and television show I've ever seen filmed in Montreal. We quickly discovered a valuable lesson that everyone should heed if they ever think of visiting that city: the drivers are utterly insane. Sure, you hear that about places, but this was beyond anything I've ever encountered. How we made it to the dojo in one piece was amazing to me.
The temperature was frigid, and we were very glad to be out of the car and indoors. The dojo was on the second story over a bar. It was a large space with offices on one end and restrooms and locker rooms on the other. We arrived right at the end of the morning workout and just in time for lunch. Watanabe took us to his favorite Lithuanian restaurant. The food was very good.
That night we worked out with the class. It was very enjoyable, until one of the exercises involved me taking twenty-five punches to the stomach from Watanabe's student Asa. The combination of the punches and the Lithuanian food earlier sent me the rest room for about twenty minutes. Upon recovering, I only needed to mention where we ate lunch and there was some good-natured laughs. Training continued.
Afterward, we all went down to the bar. They refused to let my glass go empty. It was a lot of fun and our hosts were very hospitable. After a few drinks we went over to a Vietnamese restaurant for a late dinner. On the way I noticed that every dojo I saw in the city was over a bar. Watanabe Sensei explained, "The bars don't complain about the noise." The food and conversation at the restaurant were excellent.
We slept on the floor of the training room that night and woke up with just enough time to have a quick breakfast at the café down the block before the tournament. Thankfully the waitress spoke English because the menu was entirely in French.
The tournament began. The kata portion was much like the kata competitions in tournaments I've participated in before. Bill and I both did well. The kumite was much different from that I've previously experienced. Contact was a bit heavier. It was not a game of tag like open tournaments. I was against their reigning champ, Derrick, in the opening round and did not score at all against him. Bill had a much better showing against his opponent, but he did not advance either.
After the tournament, as with the class the night before, we went down to the bar for drinks. From there we were taken to a restaurant in Chinatown. At one point Bill and i were in the back of a car with Watanabe between us as our driver was completing for a lane with two other cars through the middle of the city at about 60 mph. This may have been business as usual, but Bill and i were looking at each other convinced that we were about to die in Canada and never see our wives again. The tournmanet was no where near as scary as the traffic.
Dinner was very good and we traded stories with our new friends. We left for hom after dinner promising to convey well wishes from Montreal to my father and Lenny Sensei.
Since then, the dojo there has burnt down. We plan on making a return trip once it reopens.
-Sensei Marty
No comments:
Post a Comment