kyudou fuku (special - the clothes make the man)

I never really believed it until today (that the clothes make the man, that is, or woman as the case may be). However, I will say this: if you plan to become involved in a group activity in Japan where there is a uniform, spring for the uniform. For those who do not know, I have been studying kyudou (Japanese archery) in Japan since I arrived. Lessons are only twice a week, and many of the other participants are Japanese men and women between 30-50 or so with a few younger and older individuals sprinkled throughout, so I hadn't given much thought to the fact that I was basically viewed as "temporary" - particularly seeing as I am. Several people had talked to me in the past, sometimes throwing in English words to make me feel more at home, or offering helpful advice for my awful archery form. For the most part, however, I bowed and nodded and silently watched or practiced while everyone else spoke to me exactly as much as necessary.

After two long months, today I finally bought a kyudou uniform. To step aside for a moment, the kyudou uniform is made up of several important layers. Where I study, this includes a white keikogi ( special shirt similar to that worn beneath a kimono), black hakama (serve as pants, though my fellow students joked that it is a horse-riding skirt - I'm talking about the middle-aged Japanese students, btw), tabi (white socks), and an obi. Some people also wear a kimono, which is more formal and more difficult in my opinion, but of course, more beautiful. I left the purchase up to my sensei, silently hoping that I would get a red or purple obi rather than the teal or brown ones I had seen (even though you see about 1 cm of obi at any time, I still like the bright colors better). Thank you sensei for somehow knowing and buying me a beautiful red one that I will cherish! For all that I make the layers sound somewhat simple, they are rather far from simple for someone used to western style clothing to actually put on. And so my experience of being a little more than "temporary" began with my sensei and one other woman ushering me into a changing room (we had a changing room!?) to help me dress myself.

I would have never expected to have so much fun. It felt very much like a strange-coming-of-age ceremony,as sensei (also a woman, btw) was laughing and unwinding the obi, while the other woman giggled and compared fabrics (everyone had to touch everyone else's hakama to reassure themselves that the newer ones were indeed a different material) and commented about colors and ties and how which and what would suit me best. With much tying, twisting, and confusion on my part, I eventually stood fully kyudou pro in my outfit. The only stand out there was my black socks, since the white ones were a size too big.

Feeling like I had just stepped a little further into the kyudou world, I returned to the building where we practice in good spirits. I turned the corner, and I swear everyone looked over at once, just briefly enough that I could almost think I had imagined it, before most of them went back to what they were doing. Several of the others came to form an appreciative ring, however, saying that I was lucky it suited me, and I was looking nihon-jin (like a Japanese person) and the ensemble was all very beautiful. I was a bit surprised. Most of these were the same people who had briefly spoken to me in the past, but I had been somewhat under the impression that they didn't pay much attention to me in general (again, not that I blamed them at all - there are much better things to be done in the world than look after me!).
I hope I looked happy, because I certainly was. I was also trying to figure out the right words to use when I was suddenly the center of attention, and settled for "I'm a bit embarrassed" which caused a string of chuckles and nods. So I went to practice. Almost immediately, someone came to correct my posture. I nodded and fixed it, deciding that a tight obi is actually somewhat difficult to wear while drawing a bow. Two minutes later, someone else came by to push my back into alignment, and soon after, another came by to show me that I was now quite straight, but in fact a bit bent backwards. Amazed, I nodded and fixed my posture again and again (I have now decided that the most difficult part of kyudou is standing...), stunned at how easy people suddenly seemed to find it to approach me, talk to me, and even touch me! I could practically feel my personal bubble shrinking (in a good way).
When I resolutely stamped my socked foot down on one of the numerous mosquitos that attempt to each me alive while I shoot, I looked up to see three of my fellow students giggling and applauding "yes, you got that one. That's how we do it here." When it came time to clean up, someone came up to as me where I was from, and another to ask me about what I was studying in university.
All I did was change my clothes.
All I did was change my clothes....

All I did....ok, I said that already. Anyway, I was surprised. I was pleased. I hope it holds true in the future, particularly since I'm taking a week long break to go to Tokyo, and one more week afterward because sensei will be out of town. I would like to talk to them all, get to know them, and improve because of their advice. Of course, I think I've also become a bit of a doll to them, not that I mind. There was quite a stir at the end of practice when I asked if I could change out. "It's a pity to take it off, don't you think? All the young girls wear it home on their bikes. Where do you live again?" I reminded them that I lived half an hour away by bike, to which sensei smiled and laughed and nodded, clearly amused that I would be unable to change my mind for at least half an hour about wearing my clothing home. When I told her I wanted to go to the bathroom, she demonstrated how I could go without taking off my hakama. Now eager to take this new challenge (I refer here to the bike riding, though I must say there was more laughter when I said I would just wait until I got home to go to the bathroom) I bid them farewell and biked home in a nice gaijin ensemble of traditional kyudou clothing, leather boots, and bike helmet. :) Japan has never seen someone quite like me, I'm sure. It;s probably a good thing.

As for the pictures, they are again of a random nature when related to the content of this blog. They are, however, interesting, so I included them for various reasons (such as having no kyudou pictures). The first few are from a machiya, which is an old style Japanese house built around the Tokugawa period (1600-1800's). I had a class in one, and it was gorgeous and smelled like tatami - I love the smell of tatami! The second set of images is from a bowling alley, for those who hadn't guessed. The main point here was that the alley itself is very reminiscent of American ones, not surprisingly, but with a few extra gadgets. For example the shoe lockers pictured above. It was from these that I got my shoe size for the too-big socks, but at any rate, you simply walk up and push the button on the proper shoe size and shoes come out the bottom. That's right folks, its a shoe vending machine. Incidentally, shoes are returned to similar slots, one for half and one for whole sizes. I thought this was ingenious. More ingenious, or maybe just downright nice, were the shoe lockers beside the shoe vending machine that allow you to store your shoes for 100 yen, but give that 100 yen back once you retrieve your shoes. Is this a sign of a culture where people leave their shoes behind? I don't know, but I like it when I get my money back.