My first trip to Japan had been brewing since I first met Grandmaster Tanemura Soke years earlier. In May 1998, that dream became reality as I boarded a flight from London Heathrow to Tokyo Narita.
After what felt like an endless journey, I landed exhausted. Excitement and nervous anticipation had kept me awake the whole flight, but there was no time to rest. I had to find my contact, Mr. James Wright Shihan, who was arranging my passage to the apartment where I would spend the next six weeks.
Having never met Wright Shihan, I worried we might miss each other in the crowded terminal. But as I wandered the lobby, I felt the stare of a fellow foreigner—he had found me.
We immediately plunged into the transport network: first the Tokyo Underground, then a train, and finally a bus, all while I dragged an oversized suitcase and an awkward backpack. Reaching physical exhaustion, I began to doubt whether I had the stamina left to train in the Dojo.
Eventually, the bus dropped us off. After a short walk and a steep flight of stairs, we reached the apartment. My instructions were simple: rest tomorrow, then join the morning class. I was too jet-lagged to ask how to get to the Dojo. Relief took over, and I sank into a deep sleep on the futon.
The next morning, I woke to voices and a loud clanging outside. After wrestling with the balcony door and mosquito netting, I stepped into the daylight. To my right were two other martial artists hanging out their training gi: Brian from America and Gordon from Canada.
The clanging turned out to be the manual twin-tub washer on the balcony. It hit me then: I hadn't even thought about how to do my laundry. What else had I forgotten to prepare for?
"We’re heading to the store—want to join?" they called out.
It was already afternoon and I was hungry, so I tagged along on the 500-meter walk to the local convenience shop (I hadn't been issued my bicycle yet). I grabbed a few snacks that looked edible, struggling with the Japanese packaging. We planned to visit the larger, more distant supermarket the next day, so I only bought enough to get through the night.
That evening, we gathered in Brian’s apartment, drinking green tea and chewing what was likely squid jerky. We talked about training routines, class structures, and what brought each of us to the Genbukan Honbu. I went to sleep that night relieved, knowing I wasn't facing the journey alone.
