The Bigger the Boy, the Harder the Fall

Six sumo wrestling tournaments are held in Japan every year and only three of those are in Tokyo. Seeing as I was in Tokyo when one of them was being held, I decided that it would be wrong of me to pass up a once in a lifetime chance to experience this quintessential Japanese tradition.

I woke up bright and early to get to Kokugikan stadium in the Ryogoku district of Tokyo. Only a certain number of general admission tickets are distributed daily during the tournaments, so it was suggested that I get there around 8. I learned that the fights began at 9, but the big guys didn't start until mid-afternoon. And by big, I don't just mean size; the highest ranking wrestlers would be entering the ring in all their glory circa 3 o'clock and this ceremony was not to be missed.

Murals depicting sumo wrestlers in traditional fashion at Kokugikan stadium.

So, after getting my ticket, I headed out to Ginza for a couple hours, playing with all the latest gadgets at the Sony building, but my excitement (and the rain) got the best of me and I was back at the sumo stadium around noon. I was needing a snack and saw that I could taste a sumo staple, chanko. Considering the typical sumo wrestler's size, I had not imagined that exercise and diet was a part of their lifestyle. But, I was wrong, and there I was in a banquet room slurping down a bowl of a delicious "sumo wrestler stew" of meats and vegetables. Just as I was about to finish, a middle aged Japanese couple sat down beside me and we immediately started chatting. We quickly became friends and they invited me to sit with them in their seats, so I would have a better view; I referred to them as my Japanese mom and dad for the rest of the day.

Chanko, a staple of the wrestlers' diets, made with meats and vegetables.

My Japanese mom and dad for the day and I enjoying our chanko in the dining hall.

I was glad to have met the sumo fans, as they used their best broken English to explain to me the history, the tradition, and the process of the ancient sport. I learned that the very origin of the Japanese race depended on the result of a sumo match, at least according to legend. It dates back 1500 years and its foundation is religious. The first matches were a form of Shinto rituals, dedicated to the gods with prayers for a bountiful harvest; sumo matches were performed together with sacred dancing and dramas within the precincts of the shrines. It later became an important part of Imperial Japan, as well as a means of military efficiency. To this day, however, it's religious associations can still be seen in particular movements of the wrestlers, as well as in the Shinto-inspired roof of the dohyo, the sumo ring.

Mom and dad pointed out every little detail of the matches as they made sure I had my mouth full of snacks and a beer in my hand. (Again, Japanese hospitality is unsurpassed.) While the matches were usually short, I found them quite entertaining. The objective of the wrestler was to push his opponent either out of the ring or knock him over so that any other part of his body was touching the ground. How he did this was his choice: by his fists, pulling hair, gouging eyes, choking, or kicking the stomach. No yellow card or fouls in this game!! There were a few times when the wrestlers flew off the ring and into the judges or VIP spectators. I might add that the bigger the boy, the harder the fall.

I had expected the matches to be quite tame and monotonous, so I was happy to find that fans usually had a favorite player and were avid to cheer him on during the fights. There were even a few times when the champion of the matches was uncertain and as the judges deliberated, the audience enthusiastically chanted the Japanese equivalent of "Rematch, rematch!" I was talked into screaming loudly for Kyokunanki, a highly ranked wrestler and family friend of the Japanese couple. Nearby spectators laughed as I screamed loudly for him, no doubt screwing up the pronunciation of his name. But, I've become used to sticking out and being laughed at over my past year and a half living in Asia, so I laughed right along with them.

The highest ranking sumo wrestlers enter the ring in their brightly colored robes.

Learning the traditional formalities and systematic ritual also added to the excitement of the matches. My friends pointed out that as the tournament progressed and the higher ranking fighters entered the ring, suddle changes were made to the apparel (or lack thereof) of the wrestlers and the gyoji, the colorful referees. Yes, even the referee plays an important role in the match, as they announce the wrestlers by singing their names and waving a traditional fan when it's time for a match to start. Higher ranked referees can wear the split toe Japanese socks and straw sandals, much like the highly ranked sumo wrestlers are the only wrestlers to have the iconic top-knot hair style.

Wrestlers going at it in the ring.

Even after the referee signals for the fight to begin, there is a period of time when the wrestlers put on their fighting faces and size each other up. They may pause to rinse their mouths out with water or repeat throwing salt onto the ring, a religious symbol of purification. There may be some more fighting or glaring and some sumo squatting and arm raising and grunting. When the cold warfare has come to a stop, the real show begins. One of the wrestlers is knocked out and a winner is declared.

I was having too much fun when my new friends told me that I could meet some of the wrestlers outside. We headed out to find them, fortunately enough, covered up in kimonos signing autographs for starry-eyed children and giddy girls. It was fun snapping a few pictures with the wrestlers and my new friends were too excited for me to meet Kyokunanki. After the wrestlers paraded out, they offered to give me a ride back to my hostel, but said that they needed to drop off a gift for Kyokunanki first.

Kyokunanki and I posing for a photo after his match.

Headed toward his house, we found him and his apprentice/assistant, just as large as he, walking on the street. They, too, were offered a ride and soon I found myself in the backseat, sandwiched between these extra large, kimono clad sumo men on either side of me. I took a glimpse at both of them and had one of those "Is this really happening?" moments as my Japanese mom turned from the passenger seat, saw what an amusing sight it must have been, and let out a long string of chuckles. I only wish I had a picture to capture that moment, as it will no doubt remain with me for a long time.

My day at the sumo stadium was no doubt an exciting one. I was able to experience the rich history and ritual of one of Japan's most treasured customs. Even more importantly, I never felt like the outsider that I was in the strange land of Japan, but rather a welcomed guest, one's own daughter for a day. I witnessed the warmth and sincerity of Japan's people and, even if only for a few hours, was a part of it's living tradition.

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Memiors of a Geisha (for a day)

Despite the nation's rapidly changing society and uber-modern facade, tradition still remains to be an important thread in the intricately weaved fabric that is Japan. It is noticed in the food, in the clothing, in the sports, and in the very movement of its people. Yet, tradition makes its strongest presence in Japan's most familiar, yet mysterious icon: the geisha.

The very image of the enigmatic oriental woman, draped in a silk kimono of rich colors, face painted white, hair adorned with ornaments, moving with consummate grace provokes a curiosity in us all. In the West, we have no equivalent to the geisha and though her image has become quite popular in movies and media, we still know very little about her and the history of her being.

Geisha, quite literally meaning "artist" has been a Japanese icon as early as 800AD. While it was accepted that men usually went to courtesans for sex, pleasure districts were established and thrived throughout Japan in the 18th century. These districts were not the grungy red light districts that are around today, but were quite glamorous and offered entertainment such as singing, dancing, and the playing of musical instruments by beautiful women. Thus, enter the first geisha, though most of them were forbidden to sell sex. It was quite common, however, that a maiko's (geisha apprentice) virginity was auctioned to the highest bidder, the maiko's sponsor. This, however, was not considered prostitution and usually resulted in large sums of money, used to promote the maiko's coming of age, or debut as a geisha. While this reportedly still happens in parts of Japan, it was technically outlawed in the 1950s. These days, the sex lives of geishas are their own personal business.

During WWII, the art of geisha ceased to exist, as most of the women had to go to work in factories. Teahouses and geisha houses, all run by women, were forced to shut down. As American GIs began to inhabit Japan, prostitutes began dressing as "geisha girls" to lure the soldiers, thus tainting the name of geisha, even to this day. When the geisha houses were allowed to reopen, most women were hesitant to return to the practice. Those who did, however, decided that keeping with traditional standards was they key to the survival of the art, though they did create more rights for the geisha.

Even today, most girls enter a geisha house to be a maiko when they are teenagers. They are supplied room and board and training under a contract. A maiko's training is quite expensive and she usually remains in debt to her keeper; until this debt is repaid, she cannot move out and live independently. She starts her training by observing geisha and then learns the formal arts and social and entertainment skills, like conversation, required of the geisha. Modern geisha are paid the big bucks to converse at parties and social functions.

A traditional kubuki theater in the heart of Gion, Kyoto.


Combs for sale in a storefront in Gion. Prices were upwards of $1000USD.

While there aren't as many geisha and maiko in Japan today as there were pre-WWII, their presence is still strong, especially in the Western city of Kyoto. I made sure that Kyoto was on my itinerary, mostly for that reason, and I refused to stay anywhere outside of Gion, the geisha district. I was told that the best time to see them was around 6PM, as it is the time they venture off to their appointments for the evening. I walked around Gion without success, until about 9PM as I was wandering down a small street lined with a flowing stream. It was such a beautiful night and this particular street is lined with fine dining restaurants that don't look like much on the outside, but are stunning when you can steal a peek through a window.

A typical street in Gion, lined with traditional tea houses and Japanese restaurants.

As I peered over the stream and into one of these restaurants, I suddenly noticed a very familiar image. I took a closer look and couldn't help but recognize the white makeup and famous up-do. It was a geisha! Unfortunately, the zoom on my camera wasn't good enough to get a decent shot, so I kept walking down the street. I paused to check out a small temple when I heard a window open and laughter echo out onto the street. I looked up to the second floor of the building and saw a business man with two geisha chuckling on either side of him. I was in awe as I stood so close to the real thing, taking in the fact that I was in the premier geisha district of Japan.

I was unfortunately unable to see any other geisha during the remainder of my trip, but I made a point to have a more personal experience than merely passing by them on the street. That's when I headed to Aya, the place for getting a geisha makeover. Yes, I had been looking forward to this from the moment I decided I would go to Japan. I couldn't contain my excitement as I entered the 100 year old townhouse in Gion. After having a cup of tea in the waiting room, I was brought into the changing room where I doned some undergarments and tabi, traditional split-toe Japanese socks.

I headed into the makeup room where my geisha transformation began. My stylist, whose only English was read from a pre-printed script, first applied some baby oil and the iconic Neri-Oshiroi, or white powder, to my entire face and neck. Fortunately enough for me, the makeup is no longer lead or mercury based, as it once was in the olden days. The white face was creepy enough, but then she proceeded to darken my eyebrows in addition to lining my eyes with blacks and reds. She added a couple layers of red paint to my lips.

A couple Japanese girls were also getting a makeover but I looked particularly out of place and was thus stared at the most. I finally had the wig added at the end of the makeup session. It was pretty cool how they made it look so natural. They pulled a good bit of my own hair from the front of my head and overlapped it on the wig. They then sprayed it black with some temporary dye.

I was finally ready to done my kimino and was shown a wardrobe of about 15 different styles. I opted for the most oriental looking one and then had my attendant slowly but surely put everything into place. I had no idea the actual process of putting on a kimono was so complicated. There were a number of ropes and strings pulled this way and that and at least 20 pounds of fabric were tied where they needed to be. It was so, heavy, in fact, that I needed assistance to stand up after being in a kneeling position for a photo. I let my helper pick out my hair accessories then chose which style photos I wanted.

The final product, an American geisha.

Slightly scary, slightly amusing, but nevertheless a great Japanese souvenir.

I was photographed in a nicely decorated studio and positioned into place by the photographer, which no doubt saved me from feeling and looking even more awkward in picking my own poses. Honestly, I was a little sad when I had to remove the makeup and hairdye (which took FOREVER) and transformed back to my boring American self. I did feel wayyyy dorky and the experience was a bit pricey but the pictures actually came out pretty well, considering I'm a white girl and all. It was a fun and memorable couple of hours, and when I do finally have grandchildren, not only can I tell them about geisha, but I can also show them proof that I was one, if only for a day.

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