Nature and Small Children, Good Sources of Amazement

Howdy y'all. How are things these days? How's life?

Kanazawa has fallen into a familiar pattern of grey rainy days that clear up into patches of thick, dark clouds with a clear blue sky or setting sun sitting behind to outline them. Naturally, carrying an umbrella has become a thing. And putting on waterproof boots. And tossing on a couple extra layers to guard against the wind when it blows. And rockin' a beanie - the long stretch of mid-fall to spring where Graham wears the same damned beanie every day has begun, and it is glorious.

However, outside of a few changes to wardrobe and accessories (can you call an umbrella an accessory?), life chugs on in the same happy fashion it has been. It's almost strange. Things should't be going this well. The air holds this tension, as if the whole world is holding its breath waiting for the bubble to pop. I mean, shit, how long can someone hold their breath for? Maybe I'm just not used to lulls this long. Where's a big ol' needle when ya need it?

There are moments, though, where I forget about it. Take, for example, this past weekend where I was able to experience two awesome and completely unrelated things: the colors of the changing season, and a dance battle.

Saturday, the 10th, I ventured off to Kurobe, a place about two hours away by bus from Kanazawa.

A friend of mine, Willy, has some buddies in the Indonesian community in Kanazawa, and as such, was invited to come with them and see the season's colors in Kurobe. In addition, though, he was told he could invite whomever he wanted - voila! I, Silvia, and Veronica found ourselves stuck in the middle of a big group of Indonesian families all going to see the trees and mountains in Kurobe.

And shit. I mean, shit. When I first heard about this excursion I was interested yet not ecstatic. It seemed like a cool chance to visit some other places in Japan and it was relatively hassel free since all I had to do was pony up the bus/train fare. I'm down for that.

But I was shocked. I find myself impressed with nature every now and then, but those moments usually last the span of a couple thoughts or breaths, and then I move on. This trip, however, was an entire fucking day of appreciation.

And this wasn't the kind of half-assed appreciation you find yourself doling out when you go to the museum and see an exhibit you know nothing about. You know the feeling, don't you? You stop at each painting or sculpture, and because you've heard that the average time spent looking at each work is a scant ~10-15 seconds, you force yourself to try and "appreciate" the painting in an effort to really find the value in it, standing there for 20 or more seconds and really digesting the colors, brush strokes, shapes, shadows, lines, etc. And yet, that extra 5 or so seconds doesn't enlighten you. You don't feel absorbed into the work, enthralled with what it says. All it amounts to is something you stared at for another 5 seconds.

Well yeah, fuck that shit. This day was spent devouring the landscape, and not because I felt obligated to, but because it just felt right: "This is some pretty heavy stuff. Me gusta."

Just take a second to enjoy, ok?

(Oh, and to give you an idea of the actual picture taking process, I was on a train which wound through the mountains, passing in and out of tunnels. This made taking pictures somewhat tricky as I had to fight for window space, time it right between passing rails and pillars, as well as standing straight so the pictures came out somewhat not-lopsided. If you add all of these hindrances together, in conjunction with my pisspoor skill as a photographer, you can understand why I am amazed with how these photos came out. I mean, that's the only reason I'm showing these. I think they're purtty and I like them. In all honesty, my pictures do no justice to what I saw, but at least it gives you an idea.)

And yeah, in addition to whole being amazed by nature and shit, I met a few cool cats along the way. Everyone on the trip was really welcoming and it was a good time. A darn good time. Cap the day off with a nice sleepy bus ride back, wine and pasta with Anthony, Silvia, Veronica, and Saori while watching The Princess Bride, and you got yourself a memory to hold on to for a while.

The very next day I spent being amazed by man, not nature. Okay, I apologize for that segue. Shit. That's pretty bad.

Regardless, Sunday I spent the day at a dance battle, spectating, taking pictures and vids, and generally being wowed by what I was watching. The group I'm in, 8-Street, had a few members taking part, and a lot more in the audience rooting them on. The event was held at a smell venue on the fourth floor of a random building - this hole in the wall club. The dance floor was thronged with spectators who would back up to the edges and sit down on the floor, eating up the bouts before them, cheering for friends, and clapping when something ridiculous happened. Which happened a lot.

The event itself was broken up into 3on3 freestyle, Pop, Locking, and Waack. If you're not sure what these mean I advise you go peep some educational clips on youtube and learn yourself something about a little something something. This shit's ridiculous. And everyone at the event was pretty good (or at least by my standards, which may not mean much, to be honest; I'm still at the bottom of the hill and can't see how high up it is or understand how hard it is to get there). Yet, besides the overall skill of the people there, the biggest surprise was the number of kids who entered the battle. And these weren't kids who showed up to get some experience and practice battling in front of a crowd. No. Not even a little bit. These were dancers who were monsters in their own right and came to win. A few made it to the semis in their respective genres (Locking, 3on3), and one even won (Locking).

It's incredibly interesting to look at the differences between kids performing and adults performing under the same genre. The differences in body and mentality definitely showed, with the kids hitting hard and fast movements that they only pulled off because they had that much less to swing around, and the adults showing practice in technique and finesse, with a lot of finer movements and fundamentals nailed down really well. Shit was cray cray.

And all amazing. Going to one of these events is the perfect kick-in-the-ass, motivation building kind of thing. I feel it may be the same in most competitions, regardless of what the activity is. You come and enjoy yourself and see how much wider the pond really is, and how much deeper it really goes. What you thought to be a shallow puddle before actually extends meters below the surface, and if you take the time and energy to dive down there you may find yourself in an underwater cave and shit. Pretty awesome, right? (Not sure where that analogy went. Just deal with it)

But yeah. Here's to another week of life.