Category Archives: rompus

08 Aug

PAWMA Camp: Shihan Fukuda

PAWMA board president Rosanne Boudreau greets Shihan Keiko Fukuda at Friday night’s opening class.

Late this spring, I promised my taller half that I would come with him to Pickathon, a music festival in Oregon. When I realized it was the same weekend as the Pacific Association of Women Martial Artists camp, I told him I didn’t mind not going to camp this year.

Then I found out that Shihan Keiko Fukuda was going to be there for the opening class.

When we talk living legends of women’s martial arts, Fukuda should be at the top of anyone’s list. At 99 she is the last living student of Jiguro Kano, the founder of Judo. She is the highest ranking woman in Judo: 10th dan according to the US Judo Federation, and 9th dan with the Kodokan in Japan, where the men who run things aren’t quite prepared to give a woman the highest honors, no matter how overwhelmingly she deserves them.

Fortunately my husband is a bit more sensible and modern than what I assume is a panel of old Japanese men, and I was able to convince him that this was a once in a lifetime sort of thing, worth skipping a music festival for.

Shihan Fukuda still teaches three times a week, despite being wheelchair bound, and is assisted by her black belts. The piece she chose to share with us was ju-no-kata, the “gentle form.” She demonstrated this form at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo. The form does not include actual throws, but rather the lead up to throws – tori takes uke to the point when they are just about to fall, and then sets them down gently again. It was a very slow and deliberate form.

I took a lot of rapid fire sequences of photos during camp and made some into gifs, including this one of Shihan Fukuda’s black belts demonstrating one of the almost-but-not-quite throws of ju-no-kata.

I don’t have any pictures of the camp participants practicing the form, since I was in on the class and there was another photographer taking pictures at that point, but we learned a part that involved joint locks, not throws.

After the class session, we got to watch Mrs. Judo, a brand spanking new documentary on Fukuda and her life. Here’s the trailer.

The rest of camp involved a lot more mat artists than usual, which I really liked. Last year while I was living in Alaska, I trained for several months with the Sitka Judo Club, and got my yellow belt. Here’s another giffed set of pictures from one of the classes taught by Sensei Denise Gonzales.

Stay tuned, because I have several hundred decent photos from camp, and dozens of really great ones, and I’ll share some here in the next week or three. If you were at camp, I will be putting all the good photos up online somewhere else and you will get an email from the organization with a link. If you’re a lapsed member, send in your dues so you can be on the email list to get that link! And if you’re a maybe kinda thinking about it prospective member of the Pacific Association of Women Martial Artists, I strongly encourage you to sign up, because camp is wonderful for three days, and it is also a door into a beautiful community of strong, inspiring, women.

It doesn’t matter if you started training last week – do you catch the white belt in the above gif? That woman has been training for about a month. You have no excuse. Join PAWMA and come play with us next year!

03 Aug

Martial and photographic arts

I have been training in martial arts – specifically, kajukenbo – for nearly five years now, and for the last several years I’ve been taking photos during belt tests at my school, Seven Star Women’s Kung Fu. It has become a big part of my participation in the school, a reason for me not to skip out on anyone’s test, and a great way to develop my action photography eye. This year I was asked to act as an official photographer during the Pacific Association of Women Martial Artists‘ annual training camp. I accepted, of course! I feel it is a huge honor, and I’m very excited.

Camp is this weekend, so today I have been packing, and adding camera gear to the usual pile of athletic gear I take. I’ve also been looking through test photos. We had a black belt test last week, and I still had 2000 unsorted photos from a green belt test which happened just before my husband and I took off for our European bike tour this spring. Since the number of photos I take during camp will probably approach (or exceed!) 10K, it’s time to set aside my novel in progress and get through some of these pictures!

My process for sorting through the hundreds of photos that come out of a test is pretty simple. I take out all the blurry ones, and most photos were you can’t see a face. I also get rid of stupid faces. Occasionally my husband tags along as a second shooter and takes pictures of me, and then I remember exactly why I have this policy. I’m looking at a picture right now wherein my eyes are half closed and my mouth is hanging open. The knot of my belt has worked its way up under my sweatshirt, giving me an unkempt and possibly cancerous look. It’s not a Kodak moment. No one needs to see this photo of me, and no one needs to see the thousands of equally dopey looks I’ve managed to capture. My kwoon-mates have developed a certain trust that my photos will show their best side, and it’s a trust I value. I do occasionally snicker a little to myself, but I mark two thirds of the pictures as “rejected” for fuzziness, facelessness, or dopiness, and then I delete them.

Now I’ve whittled things down to the photos in which everyone looks sharp and badass, or at least competent. Unfortunately, as I’ve become a better photographer, I end up with more and more competent photos, and I’m not going to share 700 photos, so I look through the remainder again. This time I’m looking for the photos that make me go ‘wow!’ The ones where the subject appears to be holding a pose, except they are in the middle of a form. The street fighting shots where you can see that someone is about to lose an eye. The pretty pretty kicks caught in midair, showcasing the flexibility of the hips. The moment after the fist has hit, when the face deforms a little and the pony tail flies up.

This finally brings the number of photos I’m working with under a hundred, and these ones I spend some time developing. I crop out the fluorescent lights, bring the focus of the frame in on the subject, adjust the temperature and colors so they are consistent across the full set of photos. I add tags so that if Jane Smith ever asks me for all the pictures of her doing street fighting, I can find them. I upload a selection to the school’s Facebook page, and a larger set to the photography website my husband maintains.

I started taking photos at the tests nearly three years ago.  Now they’re in the school’s brochures, on the website, and even went into another project I did to redesign the logo. The first pictures I took don’t look so great now, considering what I’ve learned since, but it has been a fun journey, and a good counterpart to my training. It gives me an opportunity to look at my kwoon-mates, and our art, from a different angle, through a different lens. I’m looking forward to seeing PAWMA camp through that lens this year.

28 Jul

Avoiding freebies in Barcelona

“Custom House” by flickr user Davido

During our one day in Barcelona, we started with an early morning walk to Las Ramblas, the main drag and tourist trap. Seeking a city map, we approached a tourist information booth.

The booth was surrounded by barkers for a tour bus, who mobbed us, and anyone else passing by.

We studiously ignored them. Having lived and traveled in Asia, where people on the streets are extremely interested in catching your attention to sell you something, anyone who starts following us on the street saying “Hello!? Hello!? English? How are you?” just gets tuned out. I mean, we walk past those people as if they are invisible. Whatever they’re selling, there is about 0.01% chance we want it.

No one in China ever seemed bothered when you ignored them, or answered with the standard “bu yao” (don’t want)[1], but these Barcelona pushers seemed genuinely offended by us.

When we made it past them to the actual booth, the woman there explained that she could sell us a city map for 1 euro. Lame, we thought. Everywhere else they give you maps for free.  But, she continued, pointing to the tour pushers who we’d snubbed, they will give you a map for free.

Ah, well, then. Guess we should have listened to them this time around.

Of course, we still didn’t want to engage with the barkers. So, to save face, we asked where we could acquire a regional map, which we needed for route planning anyway. A bookstore.

The moral of the story? Well, there’s a couple conclusions to draw. First, that the taller half and I are stubborn and have a lot of (perhaps occasionally misguided) pride about traveling independently without falling into tourist traps. Second, Barcelona is no Beijing. And finally, what the heck, 1 euro for a map?

(We got along fine with a smart phone and the system maps in the metro.)

[1] Funny story from someone’s China memoir, although I’m sorry to say I can’t remember which one. After passing the same street sellers for weeks, and every day telling them “bu yao!” this particular expat had been learning some Mandarin. One day as she went by, she expanded her statement on noninterest to “don’t want yesterday, don’t want today, don’t want tomorrow!” And they smiled and laughed at her. And probably continued to pitch to her the next day and every day until she left the area.

18 Jul

Other blogging projects

As a communications professional, I try to keep my hand into a variety of social media platforms. I have recently poked into Pinterest, and found a lot of pictures, but I’ve also been following things on Tumblr for a couple years. I get a big kick out of the various Jane Austen related tumblrs, and some of the fuckyeah/fyeah/fy[meme] tumblrs.

One of my own tumblrs, which I’ve been running since I went to Sitka last spring, is Sea to Shining Tree, focusing on the Tongass and Southeast Alaska. Through that endeavor, I realized recently that there was a gaping hole in the fyeah memes that I could fill.

It is with great pleasure that I announce the launch of fyeah XTRA TUFFS, a place to express a passion for Alaska fashion, to celebrate the boot known as “Southeast sneakers,” or “Sitka slippers,” or any number of other monikers that reflect its amazing ubiquity in Southeast and other regions of Alaska. You can wear them fishing, as many people do, but they are also common streetwear for many places. With warm socks, you can wear them in the snow. With attached cleats, you can wear them on ice. You can wear them hiking or biking, or drinking or dancing. People wear them while they’re getting married.

When you think Texas, you probably think of cowboy hats. When you think of Alaska, you should think of xtra tufs. If you’re a tumblr, follow and signal boost, please!

03 Jul

Packing list critique

Back when we were packing for the trip, I made a post about everything I was taking with me. Now, for the edification of future bike tourists, I thought I’d go back and revisit the list.

  •  Ortlieb Backroller Classic Panniers – count me on the list of people who love their Ortliebs. Kept things dry in the rain, and at campgrounds I put our food in one and had no fears of small wildlife helping themselves during the night. The taller half got the backpack attachment for one of his bags, but I prefer to use the long strap and carry it over my shoulder. The backpack attachment is permanently fixed to your pannier once you add it, and needs to be rolled up and fiddled with any time you adjust your bag.
  • Orange REI stuff travel pack  – After the first two or three weeks, we almost exclusively carried stuff in this littlepack rather than pannier+backpack straps when walking around without bikes. It can hold raingear for two, lunch, and a camera, or quite a bit of groceries. Definitely glad to have this along
  • Upper body clothing – Having a button up shirt ended up being really good because I could quickly take it on or off, or leave it unbuttoned for temperature regulation. The taller half had arm warmers, but I tried to avoid single purpose clothing. The rest of the layers I wore at various times, but probably got the least use out of  the black long sleeve, because it was harder to take on and off quickly around a helmet. I did also find myself wishing for a tshirt length bike jersey instead of sleeveless, for sun protection.
  • Merrell Women’s Bare Access Arc shoes – Weighing less than 10 oz. for the pair, these were super lightweight and squishable into a pannier. I also found them comfortable for the walking we did, although the soles were thin enough that really lumpy cobblestones were worth avoiding.
  • Shimano mountain biking style bike shoes – Part of the stitching came undone, but since my shoes all scuff in the same spot, I think it has more to do with my style of walking than the quality of the shoe.
  • Novara Express 2.0 bike jacket in beautiful purple, black rain pants – We were lucky enough with the weather that I only wore the rain pants a handful of times, but I was glad to have them when I wanted them. The taller half didn’t bring rain pants, and was comfortable enough in leggings. If it had been any warmer in the rain, though, the steam inside would have defeated the purpose for me. The jacket worked great, and made a good warmth layer in the evenings or in the wind on descents. The visibility of the color I think was also a plys.
  • Lower body clothing – The gel pad on the liner shorts covers a smaller area than some of the padded shorts I left at home, but having the versatility was key. I was able to easily swap around between longer and shorter length of shorts and capris. However, I found that I wore the cotton pair of shorts more than the quick-dry synthetic ones, which I might leave out if we ever did a trip like this again.
  • Merrell Alexandra dress, which is so comfy that I sleep it in all the time, and black leggings to wear under it or on cold cycling days
  • 3x non-cotton quick drying undies, 2x Moving Comfort sports bras, 
  • 4x cycle socks – the two pairs of thinner smartwool cycle socks, which I bought new before the trip, quickly developed holes in the toes. A slightly thicker pair, looser around the toe box, from a no name brand which I’ve had since 2006 has no toe holes. Thinner socks seemed like they’d be better in the heat, but the smartwool ones were not a long term solution. Boo.
  • Bike helmet
  • 1x batik sarong for use as scarf, towel, skirt, etc and 1x purple tiedye bandana
  • Mess of toiletries/first aid, incl. one wee loofah, one bottle Dr. Bronner’s soap, one large bottle sunscreen, bandaids, neosporin, painkillers, hand sanitizer, tiger balm, chapstick, handwarmers
  • Small camera w/ case & battery charger – since the taller half took all the pictures, I took barely a dozen and could have left this at home.
  • Little blue flashlight – ditched before departure in favor of bikelight
  • Kindle, small notebook, pencil – I got a lot of use of all of these, although we had to acquire a pencil sharpener. The taller half had a tablet, and nearly every hotel and campground we stayed had wifi (everywhere in France and Spain, although Italy was more of a tossup), so I could check out ebooks from the library at home and update the Kindle. I kept a written journal of our travels.
  • Lady kit – ladies, you know what you need!
  • Shea butter and tea tree/vitamin E creme for prevention and treatment of saddle sores – I went on a fruitless search for Hoo Ha Ride Glide in the days before we left, couldn’t find it, and read on the Team Estrogen forums about the wonders of shea butter. I got 2 oz. of shea butter from Whole Foods, and transferred it from a fancy glass jar to a sturdier plastic jar. It was applied to saddle sore prone spots, used as chapstick and as skin moisturizer, fulfilling my desire for multipurpose items, and working fairly well on all accounts.
  • REI Halo 40 degree down bag and Women’s Prolite Thermarest – After the first week or two, it was warm enough that this bag was overkill. I have slept cold so many times in the mountains, though, that I found it really luxurious to sleep with a bag unzipped. The taller half had a much thinner summer weight bag and was occasionally cold; because I was extra toasty I was able to keep my bag unzipped and wrap part of it over him, giving back some of the body heat I have leached from him over the years. I returned a 1 inch Thermarest for a 1.5 inch pad before we left, and I have no regrets. Really, sleeping comfy in the tent for several weeks was key to a successful trip.
  • 3L platypus bladder – We were rarely without a place to fill up on water when we needed it, and the bladder was superfluous. On a ride through less populated areas, though, it would have been handy.
  • Sunglasses – Totally left my sunglasses in America when we left (on a rainy day) and had to get a new pair in Rome, because sunglasses are crucial.
  • Leatherman, multi-tool, bike lights, spare tubes, patch kit, chain lube – Somehow we were lucky enough to never have any flats, but we regularly checked bolts for tightness and oiled chains a few times. Even though we didn’t use most of the repair gear we brought, I wouldn’t leave it behind.
  • You can never have too many zip ties – Actually, yes, you can. I was absolutely convinced of the utility of these, but I only used a few to attach a papier mache rose to my bike after a holiday fair in Spain. I imagine most people could put two in their kit and be happy, instead of the twenty I had.
  • Bungee cargo net – The taller half got this and although I wasn’t impressed at first, I now find it one of the most awesome things ever. It held the tent to the back of my bike, and I could easily take off a layer and stick it under the net without having to mess with a pannier. When we had damp laundry, I put it in a mesh bag under the net to air out during the day. It was incredibly useful.
  • Cook set – We brought along the cook pot, teeny gas stove, iodine pills and whatnot that we take camping. We never used them once. Okay, we ate with our sporks all the time, because we consumed vast quantities of yogurt, but the pot? the stove? Shoulda left them at home, and never bothered buying fuel which we donated to the apartment where we stayed the last few nights through Air BnB.
  • Quick dry pack towel from REI –  Although small and yes, quick drying, I think I’d leave these at home next time. We got the smallest size, and constantly wished they were bigger and more absorbent. I started using my cotton handkerchief towards the end of the trip after showers, and liked it better. It absorbed more, wrung out as well, and was not unravelling at the edges.

Your mileage may vary, of course, depending on your trip duration, time of year, and location, but hopefully this is useful for those planning their own tours!

28 Jun

Laundry on the road

Laundry drying in Italy

One of the issues that comes up when you have only three sets of clothes and you are sweating in them most every day is laundry. Not washing your clothes really isn’t an option – you’re just asking for saddle sores, among other reasons.

Since we were camping or staying in hotels, there weren’t a lot of easily accessibly washing machines on our route. Actually, some of the campgrounds had washing machines, but we balked at the idea of paying 3 euros just to wash a load of laundry. Good grief, we don’t have that much! And I’m the one who decided to drive to the laundromat (and do other errands once a week) when the laundry in our last apartment went from $1.50 to $2.00 for either washer or dryer.

The first option was to rinse things out in the shower while you wash yourself. We brought a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s, and figured it would be good for washing pretty much everything. I knew about the shower technique because I read Andrew X. Pham’s description of just that in Catfish and Mandala. In campgrounds, then, we washed our innermost layers with ourselves in the shower, then hung them to dry overnight on trees or bikes. That worked okay, as long as it didn’t rain during the night.

Inevitably, though, after a few days it seemed like pretty much everything was dirty. Then we would stop at a hotel, and do a larger operation.

First, put all the laundry in the bath tub, fill with hot water and soap, and let it sit for a bit. Then, the agitation cycle, aka stomping and trying not to slip and fall down.

Human powered laundry agitation

After two rinses, the next step is to wring everything out, and try to get out as much water as possible so there is a hope of it all drying out before the next morning. After wringing and re-wringing, we would roll things up in a towel, and stomp on it a bit, to absorb water from the laundry into the towel. We created a fairly humid atmosphere in some places.

Even with the limited amount of clothing we had with us, this became quite a chore. Mostly the wringing. Stomping in a tub full of wet clothes is kind of fun. But you wring things out, and then you twist them up again and pull and turn and there’s always more water, but you start to feel something giving. Am I destroying the elastic? Pulling out seams? But if I don’t wring it out vigorously, will I be facing wet shorts in the morning?

The taller half got a blister from vigorous laundry-wringing. We gained a new respect for washerwomen of old. We also decided, by the time we left Spain, that the 3 euro price we’d seen for use of a washing machine in the first campground? Not so exorbitant as it had seemed at the time.

Throughout France we visited self-service laundries, where we found prices ranging from 3 to 5 euros for 5 kg capacity washer, and another 4 euros or so for a dryer. There were often machines that took 1 euro or so to dispense a cupful of powdered soap. In Italy, the self-service laundry was rarer, but still available.

These little laundries were not too much like American laundromats. Most only had a few machines, 3 to 5 on average. And they are of various sizes, 5 kilos, 7 kilos, 10 kilos, maybe as large as 14 kilos. The price for using the machine is graded accordingly. There is not a slot on the machines to put in your coins, though. There is a central paybox, where you put in your coins and then push the number of the machine you want to start up. Every time I triple checked the number, frightened that I would waste 4 euros by pressing the wrong button.

Then, I would wait for 40 minutes while the washer went through its cycle, writing in my journal or my novel (oh yes, I’m working on a novel, but no, it’s not about bike touring in Europe), and people watching on the sly. In Narbonne, France, I had a chat with a (probably) German young man about how the machines worked. I also had a non-conversation with an old lady who asked me questions in French that I couldn’t understand. In Cavaillon, France, I listed to the squishy foam rubber sounds of talk between a Portugese woman and her mother while they waited for their clothes to dry. In La Spezia, Italy, I had a half-conversation with a group of four tourists who were trying to figure out the system of the paybox. After they began talking amongst themselves, I realized they were Spanish, and we probably could have communicated better in that language than my pieced together Italian. I’m sure there were locals using the laundries as well, but they are certainly a boon to the traveler.

Now that we’re back in the States, we have a washer-dryer unit in our apartment, and it’s pretty amazing. I never have to look for change, or worry about wandering away while the load is running. And I can read all the instructions.