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La historia que les voy a contar me ocurrió en un veloz atardecer okinawense, yendo
hacia el SoHonbu a entrenar y, si tuviera que justificarla, diría que "el exceso de
imaginación" a veces puede jugarnos en contra.
Las clases en el Jundokan SoHonbu no guardan una estructura tal y cual la entendemos
en la Asociación (AKKKA)... El Dojo Central está abierto desde las 14:00 hasta las
22:00 según reza el cartel dela puerta, pero a mi me citaron a las 17:00 y anoche
entrenamos hasta las 21:00 y ya eramos los últimos...
Tal como hice ayer, salí del hotel temprano a las 16:40, con tiempo más que suficiente,
estoy a 200 metros.
Era mi segundo día en la isla y ya había notado que mucha gente andaba con su
paraguas durante los sorpresivos chaparrones. Pero terminaba el aguacero y, como por
arte de magia, ya nadie los tenía.
No tardé mucho en descubrir paragueros metálicos afuera, en las puertas de los
negocios, y esto me llevó a pensar: -Qué fantástico concepto!!!, para que cargar con un
ridículo paraguas si podes dejarlo en cualquier paraguero, y más adelante tomar otro, de
algún otro paraguero; cuando la lluvia reinicie su proceso malicioso de querer
empaparte, tendrás alguno cerca!. La idea era brillante: "el paraguas comunitario", un
cántico al desapego a las cosas materiales y sobre todo sumamente incómodas, tanto
como un paraguas cuando, ...NO llueve.
Hora de entrenar. Salgo del hotel y diluviaba. Debió ocurrir en el trayecto entre que
miré por la ventana y ni una gota, hasta que bajé del ascensor y te mojabas de solo
verlas caer. Dos cuadras bajo ese "mar dado vueltas" me dejaría impresentable frente a
sensei Tetsunosuke Yasuda, 10º Dan, 87 años, una pieza histórica del Jundokan.
Y recordé... los paraguas comunistas... excelente!!!
Tome uno cualquiera del paraguero de un comercio pequeño. No me iba poner a elegir.
Tamaño medio, de plastico transparente con unas pequeñas flores rojas dibujadas aquí y
allá. Lo abrí y caminé despacio, como triunfante frente a un clima que, solo por joder,
espera a que uno salga. Me fascinaba la idea de completar el ritual, dejarlo frente a otro
negocio al final del chubasco y cerrar el círculo.
Apenas 30 metros había caminado con mi escudo contra el agua, cuando no pude dejar
de escuchar detrás mio a una señora, entrada en años, bajita, con un sombrero playero,
de ala corta, que parecía reprender duramente a un joven local de aspecto "yuppie" que
muy pacientemente la escuchaba.
Creí impertinente mirar y me aleje un par de pasos siguiendo mi camino, pero los gritos
se hicieron más fuertes aún y de reojo me pareció como que el joven intentaba pedirme
"auxilio".
Me volví como para ver si esta vez aparecian los subtítulos debajo, y no, no hubo caso,
no subtítulos; el más puro japonés, absolutamente críptico para mi. Sin embargo... ahora
ambos miraban hacia donde yo estaba, lo cual me incomodó un poco pues, la señora
seguía dando su sermón, dedo en alto, mientras el joven de traje oscuro arremangado,
remera blanca y zapatos italianos de brillante charol negro, me hizo un gesto con sus
ojos cansinos, cejas de abnegada tolerancia y su mano sutilmente abierta invitándome a
participar de la reprimenda.
No necesite moverme. La lluvia se había detenido y el sujeto recorrió los pocos pasos
que nos separaban y en perfecto inglés me dijo con cierta "cómplice cortesía": -Ese es el
paraguas de mi abuela. ¿Sería usted tan amable de devolvérselo?
La sensación comenzó llegando como desde la panza, irradiándose al resto del cuerpo
en un rubor sudoroso y llegó a mi cabeza erizando de vergüenza cada uno de los pocos
pelos que van quedando en ella. Mis ojos se abrieron cual tartas de tofu al tiempo que
mi boca intentaba sin éxito, balbucear algo con sentido en algún idioma terrestre... Mire
el paraguas como si existiera posibilidad de error y sin tardar más tiempo se lo entregué
con una profunda reverencia.
Él notó mi avergonzado ceremonial y quizo tranquilizarme ofreciéndome el típico
-Don't worry, no problem.
Inglés
The island of Okinawa has many natural beauties. And many other minor discomforts.
The rainy season, between May and July, for example, has a hint of summer "porteño":
heat and humidity lead gray overcast sky and slippery asphalt, but unlike Baires, on the
beautiful island, nobody seems to notice.
When it rains, rain drops and fat, and it rains again like it never before had rained. It's a
cycle that tests the patience itself "Shiza" traditional ceramic figures, two lions get it
away evil spirits of Okinawan house. Evil spirits perhaps ... the rain, no.
The heat during the whole atmospheric, full spring island, makes a few minutes after
strong rain, everything will be dry. No standing water or evidence to suggest the next
downpour, but the permanence of a shy sky, gray, without Sun
Men and women "uchinanchi" outside this climate whim, walk the streets without
paying much attention to the huge raindrops. Even (and I have seen with my own
skeptics eyes) them ... seem to stay dry.
The story that I to tell you was in a fast Okinawan sunset, heading SoHonbu train and, if
I had to justify it, I'd say "too much imagination" can sometimes play us against.
As I did yesterday, I left the hotel early at 16:40, with plenty of time, I'm at 200 meters.
It was my second day on the island and had noticed that many people walking with their
umbrellas during downpours surprise. But the rain ended and, as if by magic art, nobody
had them.
It did not take long to discover metal umbrella stands outside the doors of the business,
and this led me to think: 'What a fantastic concept!, To carry an umbrella if ridiculous
can leave at any umbrella stand, and later take another , some other umbrella stand,
when malicious rain restart its process of wanting to soak, have one nearby!. The idea
was brilliant: "Community umbrella," a song to detachment to material things and
above all extremely uncomfortable, much like an umbrella when it NOT rains.
Time to train. I leave the hotel and pouring. Must have occurred on the road between I
looked out the window and not a drop, until I got off the elevator and you only see them
fall you wet. Two blocks under the "sea laps" I would unpresentable face to
Tetsunosuke Yasuda sensei, 10th Dan, 87 age old, a historical piece of Jundokan.
And I remembered ... "Communist umbrellas" ... excellent!
Take any one of the small trade umbrella stand. It would make me choose. Average
size, clear plastic with small red flowers drawn here and there. I opened it and walked
slowly, as triumphant against a climate that, just fuck, wait until you leave. I loved the
idea of completing the ritual, leaving over another business at the end of the shower and
close the circle.
Just 30 meters had walked with my shield against water, when I could not stop listening
to a lady behind me, in years, short, with a beach hat short wing, seemed harshly
reprimanding a local youth looking " yuppie "who very patiently listened. I thought
impertinent look and walked away a few steps along my path, but the shouts grew
louder still and looked askance at me like he was trying to ask me "help".
I turned to see if this time appeared the subtitles below, and no, there was no case, no
subtitles, the purest Japanese, quite cryptic to me. However ... Now both looked toward
me, which bothered me a bit then, Mrs. was giving his sermon, finger raised, as the
young man rolled up dark suit, white shirt and shiny Italian shoes black patent leather,
waved me weary eyes, eyebrows tolerance and selfless open his hand subtly inviting me
to participate in the reprimand.
No need to move. The rain had stopped and the subject walked the few steps that
separated us and told me in perfect English with some "courtesy accomplice":-That's the
umbrella of my grandmother. Would you be kind to return her?
The feeling started coming as from the belly, radiating to the body in a sweaty flush
came into my head bristling with shame every few hairs that are left in it. My eyes
widened which tofu cakes my mouth while trying unsuccessfully mumble something
meaningful in any Earth language ... Watch the umbrella as if there no possibility of
error and take longer handed it with a bow.
He noticed my embarrassment and wanted to reassure ceremonial offering the typical:
-Don't worry, no problem.
The old woman had come down to us, was the umbrella from his grandson, carefully
revised it, secured it with the classic strip and gave me a "umbrella hit" in the arm while
spilling his final monologue, easy interpretation. He winked at me with a reassuring
gesture, let the Old woman's reliance on his arm and walked away slowly.
The rain had stopped. Just heat and humidity Okinawan, and I, in the middle of the
sidewalk, still unable to justify.
The unlikely pair almost reached the stairs Asato Station. The lady left the umbrella
resting on a vase on the sidewalk, completely carefree and both disappeared upon
entering the apartment building.
Look around, take a deep breath, lower your head and walk to the dojo.
The rain returned timidly. And I ... I had learned that the umbrella of Okinawa are not
communists.