The Ramen Man

(Yo La Tengo - I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One)

Karate practice was really good today. The senseis moved the time up so it's at 6pm now instead of 7:30, which is nice because, if things keep going like they did today, it means I can make it through the intense, all-body workout on the energy from lunch, rather than have to squeeze in dinner to make sure I survive. Plus, now I have more of a night left after practice ends in place of an hour and a half period of anticipation (I hate that kind of stuff. 'Cept maybe with cross country. I kind of love-hated that period right before a race). So, this is good.

Practice went really well. Another black belt guy was there (he comes sometimes) and we did blocking and attacking excercises on each other. I bent my thumb kind of out of shape though, I guess because I wasn't making tight enough a fist, and when he blocked it - ow. But I feel like I'm making a lot of progress, which is really encouraging. One of the senseis, this friendly, cheerful, older man, asked me at the end, "Is that fun??" and I unequivocably, unhesitatingly, and completely genuinely responded with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

There's also this point, I realized, in every workout, which today in my head I called the center-point. You gauge when you're at the center-point, or around the middle of the lesson, because you're tired as hell, your body feels light, though not completely or evenly, and at the same time heavy, you feel like you're going to fall over, your vision is blurry around the edges from the sweat dripping from your eyelids, and you're putting every single bit of energy into keeping up with the sensei as he leads you through round after round of punches and kicks across the dojo floor. That's the part when I'm really in it. That's when I feel like I'm in the mode. And then, the rest flows naturally.

Today, with my new extra hour, I rode my bike down to the nearby ramen shop, which I patronize every now and then. I was craving some warm ramen after that intense workout. So, I went on in. The place was empty. I ordered my meal, wrote a little bit, and waited in silence. Whenever, I go here, I usually don't talk with the owner-cook, and there's almost always another 50-60-year old man at the counter, too, in laid back conversation with him. I was pretty tired, so I just let things sink by into silence and move along lightly from there. Once served, I lustfully devoured my dinner, also in silence. After a bit of mutual t.v. watching, a clip came on about a plane running out of air on its way from Rio de Janeiro to France and both the shop owner and I found ourselves pretty fixed to the story. The whole time, I was trying to figure out what had happened and if anyone had died, and once the story ended I roused myself to ask the owner, "死亡者は？" ("Did anybody die?"). He answered by explaining that the newscasters were saying the plane just disappeared off the map and they think it crashed in the water because no one can find it. Wow.

That's when I realized. This man is not a person to talk to without significant mental preparation. His local accent was so thick in nearly every way I could fathom in the instant I took it all in - vocabulary, pronunciation, the whole deal. That plus, as I soon found out, he loved talking. But, I just went along with it, "Uh huh, yeah, ohh maan. Yeap. Really??" I suddenly had the impression that my life was a video game and talking to this man was a high level challenge, one which you do not take on until you have earned some serious experience points. But I kept talking to him and actually understood more and more as the conversation went on. Then a little bit less. But then, a little bit more and hey I basically got what we were talking about.

The Ramen Man talked about how GM was " もうあかん" ("done with") (news about GM's further plunge had followed the story on the Air France flight...). He said how Japan's banks were in a bunch of trouble now, too, and how there was this expression a few years ago that went, "When the U.S. sneezes, Japan catches a cold," but then went on to say that not only that, but now when the U.S. gets the new type of flu, Japan gets that too! Haha. He was a pretty funny guy, the Ramen Man. He spoke about how twenty years ago, he would put out ads for part-time jobs for his shop, but no one would respond because they didn't need the work, or if people did respond it was all old people (Upon saying this, he does this awesome "old people" impression basically consisting of hunching over and making a face. We seriously laughed at that one for a good while. It was a good, genuine, full laugh. Keep in mind this guy's probably in his 60s, haha.). Now, the Ramen Man explained, people come looking for jobs, but he can't hire them anymore. Before, he was called a "金の卵" ("golden egg") by whatever workplace he joined because he had graduated from high school. Back then, it didn't matter if you were smart or stupid, though, he said, as long as you worked hard and said, "はい、はい" ("Yes, yes") you could expect to receive a good salary. Now, if you don't have a certain degree of ability or talent...

Things were very different 20 years ago when he first opened his shop.

But he's still doing it. He's been running his place for the past twenty years and he saw the country's collapse into economic recession. And he's joking about the whole thing to a foreign teacher who lives in his town.

The Ramen Man never used the typical, "Oh, you're so good at Japanese," upon hearing me order a meal, to start a conversation. Nor did he say this when I asked him if anyone had died on that seemingly horrible airplane tragedy. He didn't even pause for a second at me suddenly addressing him in Japanese after having eaten at his restaurant silently so many times before. He just started talking to me. Because that's what I had wanted to do when I started the conversation. And that's what he had wanted to do when he responded to my question. We were just there to make that connection with each other.

And when I told him thank you for the meal and got up to pay, he asked me if I lived close and I told him yes, I had moved from the nearby city and lived in a nearby neighborhood. Oh. That was 700 yen, right? Yeah. Here you go, then, thank you! Thank you! And a "また来ますー" ("I'll come again.") as I walked out the door and past the curtains.