gasshuku (1)

gasshuku 合宿
Sept. 2008

Gasshuku is a Japanese word referring to a group of people stepping outside of normal lives and routines and going on a sort of retreat together. There are lots of happy group activities, practice, and, in the case of adults, much drinking. Having practiced Japanese martial arts here in Japan for about 13 years, I have had a good share of gasshuku experiences.
At the moment, I am taking a high-speed shinkansen train out of the endless sprawl that is Tokyo, headed into the semi-countryside for a 3-day gasshuku with xx University Kung Fu (sic) Club. I usually travel to gasshuku by bus - with the group of course – but I don’t know how well I fit into this group.
Almost all these kids are literally half my age. It would be easier if I were from the university, but I am not. I began joining their monthly special trainings (one-day or half-day affairs) a few years back. Then last year I was invited to join their gasshuku and it was fantastic. I look forward to another excellent experience.

My first gasshuku in Japan was kendo- and iaido-related. A group of us foreigners from my then-dojo took a trip into the countryside for a weekend with another kendo group. Ogino Sensei and his students welcomed us warmly and it was made better by the presence of many lively children.
On the last day, we all ate nagashi-somen outdoors. This is a traditional summer favorite in which a long slide made of split bamboo runs down a slope. Ice and water flow down from the top in order to bring cool and delicious noodles to those waiting below. We lined both sides of the trough and used chopsticks to quickly grab mouthfuls of noodles as they streamed down.
Inevitably, germs are spread with all the chopsticks going in and out of the oncoming noodles. And people at the bottom of the slope, like me, are left with the few strands of noodles which remain after everyone else has dipped in. But these are healthy young kendo kids and are not easily brought down by a few mere germs.
Not so the adults, it seems. A day or two later, my throat was painfully swollen and I could barely open my mouth or swallow. For three days, I ate nothing but watery rice gruel. おたふくかぜ. Yes, it seems that the mumps I had never had in my youth had finally caught up with me.
Even so, that remains one of my favorites gasshukus ever, and I look forward to another chance to study with Ogino Sensei someday. (Curiously, he is also a friend of with my iaido teacher. Last year, they were chatting and looking over pictures from Ogino Sensei’s mountain dojo when Kogawa Sensei spied my picture and just about spat his dentures out in surprise. “How the hell do you know that guy?”)

Then there is karate. Kenkojuku Shotokan (Okano-Ha) has an annual summer gasshuku which is completely oriented toward the 200 or so kids who jam onto one bus too few for a weekend of practice which culminates in a rank exam. I was lucky enough to join several times and one memory stands out in particular.
Adult black belts are strongly encouraged to attend but their role is primarily to teach and watch over the children (and to handle the massive job of orchestrating meals for these 200+ kids). We adults had one special practice each day and could of course practice on our own, but the real instruction was focused on the kids.
During the rank exam on the third day of the 1997 gasshuku, Okano Sensei waved me over and took me outside. I wondered what massive breach of protocol I had committed and was about to get busted for. Nothing of the sort. He had suddenly remembered that he had asked me the night before what kata I would like to work on the next day. So we went bit by bit through kankuu sho, which is rarely taught in the dojo. We drilled it carefully about seven times, going slowly and making sure I understood. He seldom taught kata like this, and it was the first time I had been taken so thoroughly through a kata in Japan, so that brief time outside the main gym remains special to me, one of my best Kenkojuku memories.

Then there is naginata (think of a long wooden handle with a curved blade on the end, something like a glaive in appearance). I used to spend much time practicing naginata and built a strong foundation. I attended numerous weekend seminars on top of 3 times a week practice and eventually passed the test to become a naginata referee, something only a handful of foreigners have done. Alas, my training time for naginata has diminished rapidly, though many good memories (and that foundation, I believe) remain.
One such memory takes us to Japan’s northernmost island, Hokkaido. Winters are snowy and cold, damn cold. And our gasshuku was in the heart of the snow and cold.
Naginata is one of the least popular budo or martial arts in Japan in terms of numbers. Also, it has been relegated in the public awareness as a woman’s martial art.
More on the history of that elsewhen. Though outside Japan more men than women practice naginata, men are still the overwhelming minority within the already small naginata world in Japan (less than 5% of the total). The naginata federation is making efforts to promote the presence and participation of men in naginata. One part of that effort is the annual men’s naginata gasshuku, which is held in a different part of Japan each year, in a move toward accessibility.
For whatever reason, someone decided to have one year’s gasshuku in Hokkaido in mid-winter. The snow was deep – streets were lined on each side with walls of snow more than three meters tall after the snowplows went through. And the cold was cold. Then another someone had the idea of taking our group picture outdoors in our uniforms.
The naginata uniform is not designed for cool climates. The legs are covered by a hakama, a sort of pleated skirt-like thing which is split into two legs and is usually made of a fairly heavy material. But the tops…thin white cotton, short sleeves…and the wind was blowing. And the cameraman was taking his time. I think I suggested going topless to show what we were really made of, but nobody warmed to the idea. Anyway, the mandatory group pictures were taken and we hustled back inside the unheated school gymnasium which suddenly seemed so much warmer.

Back in Nebraska, we trained hard in the university dojo. And we made several trips each year to Denver, where a senior teacher in karate, kendo, and iaido taught. We joined their special trainings and took rank exams there. We might skip some Friday classes, make the 7-8 hour drive and arrive just in time for Friday night training.
We felt the effect of the high altitude right away but energy remained high on the first day. Saturday was devoted to several sessions, sometimes in the mountains. The pain and fatigue of the second day was lessened over eats and drinks, but the third day was just plain hard. And time seemed to move so much more slowly. Somewhere in the afternoon it ended and we piled back into our cars for the long drive back to school. Each of these trips left us utterly exhausted as well as filled with new excitement and energy.
So tonight I have returned to the big city from my second gasshuku with this university group. Again, it was an excellent experience and very different in feeling or flavor from my gasshuku involving Japanese martial arts. I was not pushed to the point of utter exhaustion – nor did I need to be. We all left feeling that we had been pushed, challenged, and filled with new energy. So now it is back to everyday life and everyday training.
NOTE - The 5 characters in the picture refer to five virtues upheld by swordspeople. Our gasshuku was held in the kendojo and ping pong room of a community gymnasium, and the characters were brushed by a junior high school kendo student.The Japanese reading is jin-gi-rei-chi-shin. Anyone know if this same set of 5 virtues is commonly referred to among Chinese martials artists?