To Do or not to Do

I must admit I never really gave much thought to the respective merits of the different types of Do-dai now available. Of course I am not referring to the hundred shades of colour or to the infinite possibilities for Mune decoration. I mean what a Do is really made of.

In my Kendo career I always took for granted the most widespread types: the Fiber Do and the Take Do. It took me to pass rokudan to finally have a Take Do made for me, but I guess I have been a little conservative in my approach.
Take Do are easy to purchase now and they retain the same beauty, even when they wear a bit. Due to the fact that they are not made of one piece, tiny cracks can appear on the INSIDE of the Do-dai: a bit of wabi-sabi aesthetic appreciation built into our traditionally-made armour. Old Take Do, even a bit battered, acquire a special beauty, just as a piece of antique would do.

Fiber Do have always been the practical, unassuming alternative - cheaper, practically immortal, lighter than the Take Do, the humble Fiber Do seemed to be the winner of the competition hands down. Now a new kid is in town and it took most kenshi by storm: the Yamato 50 Pieces Do.
Plastic still: but so cleverly shaped that it cannot be distinguished - if not touched and listened carefully to - from a traditional Take Do.
I wrote "listened to": I mean that a gentle knock on the inside can tell you the truth about it. If someone wonders whether Yamato Do, Fiber Do and Take Do sound differently when hit during a shiai, I say: hold your peace: they don`t.
I am a trained sommelier and someone asks me from time to time if I can distinguish a vintage from another in a blind tasting - believe, no one can. As Kendo referee, believe me just the same: no one will deny a good Do Ippon because of the SOUND of the Do: first of all because we have to use our eyes to evaluate a Do-uchi, but also because there is NO AUDIBLE DIFFERENCE between different types of Do when hit.
Having answered this vital question (that someone actually asked), let`s go back to the real difference: weight. Take Do are heavier - but then the choice is really up to you: it is tradition vs. innovation.
And no one, except yourself, will be able to tell which Do finally won its way to your bogu bag.

One of Four: Kyogoku

What's in a shinai? When we spend time trying one take after the other in a shop, what are we looking for? Weight and balance, surely, but our favourite shinai, the one we keep for shiai or examination, the one "that hits by itself" ...is it just a light, well balanced shinai or there's something else?

It would be pushing a bit too far, by attributing a "soul" to a shinai, as we would have done with a katana, if only were we born in feudal Japan. Nevertheless, a good measure of "nice" superstition can account for our preference for one piece of bamboo or the other. The "lucky" shinai: whoever never had one ?

In my search for the "lucky" shinai, I obviously started with the 4 Shinai Test Pack:

http://www.kendo-bogu.com/product_p/set[12-20].htm

I got 4 Ladies' 39 and the first to be tested has been the KYOGOKU. I had weighted all 4 and the Kyogoku resulted the heaviest of the lot. A 470 grams shinai, not exactly a feather.
What makes the Kyogoku special, is the Dobari balance. A grip slightly thicker (but not excessively so) and a balance discreetly moved towards the hands. Nothing extreme: a strong looking shinai, slightly thicker, but still agile.

Since I had a Ladies' keikokai in Osaka, I decided to put it in use first in an exam simulation, then in a series of mawarigeiko. I must admit I was rather unsure, at the beginning. I was in for a lomg round of fights, would it be so wise to choose a heavier shinai? Actually, I was ready to give it a try, but to switch back to an "ordinary" shinai after a while.
Surpringly, the Kyogoku gradually grew on me. First of all, the balance was really helping. The weight distribution compensates the grams in excess. Moreover, the strength of the shinai itself is in the larger diameter, which, I could not believe it, is a real bonus in debana men or suriage men techniques. I never attacked so many Men-uchi in one day: it was a joy to see how effective they turned out.

As the mawarigeiko progressed, blame it on the "lucky shinai effect", I felt much more at ease also with the thicker grip - a very refreshing and corroborating feeling.

If this was the start, with the model I considered most difficult to master, an ogre among the damsels, I wonder how "lucky" the other three, SUZAKU, SAGA and FURINKAZAN, will feel.

Stay tuned !

Gozen White and the Five Kazari Ito

People who met me in the dojo of the world know that I have a privileged relationship with white. I have been always wearing white hakama and gi and my heart still belongs to white. It took more than one affectionate remark from my teammates Mirial and Angela to convince me to use blue kendogi and hakama when I was in the Italian National Team. Now that I am free of “matching” obligations, I wear happily white, even if lately I decided to give it a go with my indigo blue gear (which is a pity to keep in a drawer). This as far as clothing is concerned.

My relationship with white bogu, instead, has been a bit more distant. Knowing the hassle of bleaching the indigo stained hakama and gi, I always steered away from white bogu. Nevertheless, white still works some fascination on me.

My sensei Horibe Akemi used to wear white bogu and clothing, when she was a young woman. She showed me several times the picture of all the white bogu that were the standard equipment of all her students in her dojo in Hong Kong – a wall covered of white and red, it made quite an impression.

The Gozen White bogu that Kyoto Budogu is now offering is fully in the line of the tradition of white bogu: nice unbleached cotton (my favourite) and bright red lacquered do (a classical combination).

I tried it on with some hesitation, but to be fair, it felt comfortable and light. The men is really well padded, easy to wear, with the diagonal stitching on the “wings”, that helps it keep a very attractive shape.

The fiber do is light and protective, it is finished in white clarino. Nodo and mune have matching decoration.

The kote are extremely well equipped for everyday practice – I doubt they could stay snow-white for long (there are ways to wash kote, too), but they are flexible in the wrist, without losing the thickness that defends against brutal kote attacks (of course, no one brutally hits kote in your dojo, it is just a hypothetical case…).

My favourite piece is the tare, with its five kazari ito. I really like the unbleached cotton with the immaculate leather finishing. It is also very lightweight, but offering a good waist support at the same time.

If you are looking for a striking white bogu, the Gozen White feels good (before any other aesthetic considerations, that are left to personal taste): light, easy to wear and that makes the day for me.

Your name in Japanese or the Story of 太陽下怠惰驢馬

Thanks to the modern computer-aided sewing machines, it has become very easy to have our name embroidered on our Gi or Hakama. It is decorative and useful (for example: it is certainly easier to retrieve our own stuff、 in case all our clothes get mixed up in a sudden tornado that invests our Dojo dressing room).

Surely the first idea is to write the name in Japanese, since we all so admire Japanese culture that we picked up a Japanese martial art and possibly cultivate some other Japanese hobby, from origami to Ikebana. We like the writing to be in Japanese because in case we meet our all-important sensei, we wish he/she could read and remember our name. We wish to be recognizable when we wear the Bogu, and it is only good manners to let other know who we are when we go for Keiko. Having our name written on our ‘Nafuda’ or our clothing has become the norm.

Then comes the moment to ask you favorite Boguya to suggest the transliteration of our name into Japanese. That is the tricky moment.

I know a very smart lady from Italy, whose name is Luna: a very beautiful name, it is the Italian word for Moon. She had the kanji 月 written on her Nafuda. I guess most Japanese speakers think her name sounds like TSUKI. Do they think it’s the ‘moon’, with all the romantic implication related to it, or does it mean ‘month’ (less romantic for sure) ? As you may see, even if it seems a very straightforward situation, the waters can become very muddy.

Whenever the name is less literal, as in the case of Koos, Matthew or Filippo, the solution is obviously to resort to the sound , not the meaning of the name. Then, to be very, very blunt, I STRONGLY advise to choose KATAKANA.

Yes, Kanji are exotic and fascinating in their flowing shape – but it has be reminded that Kanji can be ambiguous in sound (the “On” vs. “Kun” pronunciation), not helping our Sensei to fully grasp our name,  but they also carry a meaning. It could be embarrassing to have our name transliterated in three beautiful characters that could sound more or less as our name, but that also mean “Lazy Donkey in the Sun”.

Katakana, thankfully, have only sound and no hidden meaning. They are syllabic characters, just a different form of alphabet.

Katakana have their challenges, too. The Japanese pronunciation has difficulty with R’s and L’s, with B’s and V’s…and has absolute horror of consonants not immediately followed by vowels. The only way to write my friend Fleur`s name in Katakana is フレル which accounts to FURERU. A Japanese speaker would read it at such and once informed about the European pronunciation, would certainly adapt his reading. This to say that even Katakana writing is not an exact science. We have to accept a degree of approximation. Do say this to me, with all the double consonants that are often typical of Italian names.

So, next time you are in doubt about how to write your name in Japanese, to be sure, go for katakana and be certain to introduce yourself clearly and slowly to your all-important Japanese Sensei.