But no matter. The staff is rad. Master has a collection of them: slim bamboo sticks of varied lengths, between five and seven feet long. It’s the same weapon that the purple [thanks Chad!] ninja turtle uses. For my first lesson, I learn how to twirl it in front of me like a propeller. I’m a little clumsy at first—can’t say I’ve ever had occasion to twirl a bow staff before this week—and I drop it on my bare toes once. Boy that smarts. I see why it’s considered a weapon. Lesson two follows shortly, when Master refuses to let me pick up the staff.

“Alli,” he says, stepping between my outstretched fingers and the bamboo, “no hand.”
“No?”
“No. You are ninja…and, foot.”
“You have to pick it up with your toes,” Ellen says, filling in the language gaps from several feet away. She has progressed to twirling one-handed on either side of her body. I am jealous.

“Show me,” I say to Master.
“Watch.” In a move reminiscent of soccer, he rolls the staff forward and over onto the top of his right foot and catches it there, forming an L with his shin and foot. Then, like lightning, he kicks and somehow, the staff is now in his hand. As far as I’m concerned, something magical just occurred.
“You try.”
"Um…”
My first attempt lacks a certain something that I’ll call grace, and the staff rolls off the top of my foot before I even think to turn my toes up to catch it. My second try, I catch it, but am stumped. How do I get it to go up?
“Now, kick!” Master encourages.
“Kick how?”
“Up.”

Right. I study the staff, and my right foot, like I’ve never seen either article before. I need to use my foot like a simple machine. There seems to be some sort of fulcrum involved. I cautiously lift my heel off the ground, and the staff catches on the floor and makes a halfhearted attempt to arch up towards me before clattering to the floor again. The upwards motion of the staff startles me so much I yelp and jump backwards as Master laughs. He rarely tries to hide his amusement during class anymore. Ninja indeed.

But I think I understand what needs to happen now. You have to catch the staff about nine inches from its edge, and then the rapid upwards movement of the kick combines with the weight of the stick pivot it upwards from the floor, like a rainbow, towards your waiting hands.

In an ideal world, that’s what would have happened on my next shot. Instead, I was so focused on making my foot do its job that when the lucky rainbow action did occur, I hit myself in the side of the face. I’m glad I wasn’t wearing my glasses, and that I’m not good enough with the weapon yet to inflict any actual damage.

When I get home, my messenger is flashing neon orange at me, and I see that I’ve missed a shout out from my buddy Curt, back home. Sorry, I was at ninja class, I type. You still there?
-I love you because that’s true, he writes. How was class?
I tell him about the staffs, and picking them up with my toes. I achieved about a seventy percent pick-up success rate by the end of class.
-Shut up, he says. -People don’t really use bow staffs.
Straight up, I DO, I say.
-What, like you kick it up to your hands and then swipe it at someone’s FACE?
Yeah. And then I yell AI! And punch them. Theoretically.
-Oh my god. You are mind-blowing.
Thanks.
-It seriously makes my day better knowing that you exist.

I appreciate his incredulity. I think it’s a pretty cool skill too, and I certainly hope that knowing my way around a bow staff translates somehow into my American future. But here I am, having landed in Asia, and I don’t know where this path is leading me, but I’m aware that the only way to find out is to keep following it. Still, there are certainly days when I wake up and think, there are people out there trying to cure cancer and bring peace to the Middle East. And what I am doing? I am getting graded on how quietly I can somersault and my ability to pick up sticks with my feet. But today, I’m thankful to Curt for reminding me that what I’m doing here, as often as it seems like I'm lost, is a really interesting life experience. I’m halfway across the world, and that’s an awesome thing—even if I don’t know why yet.

written by  alli_ockinga on June 11, 2009 from Inch'on, South Korea
from the travel blog: I go Korea!
Send a Compliment

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Awesome, Alli--I love the storytelling here and your self-deprecating humor. Nothing is wasted, not even Ninja training (not even close).

written by  Jeff Jones on June 21, 2009

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Alli - I love hearing about your adventures! Your writing is genuinely FUN and it sounds like you're experiencing remarkable things. Look forward to reading more.

(PS - Technical note: Donatello was purple)

:-)

written by  chaddeal on June 28, 2009

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AH! You're right! Fixing it right now.

You still heading out my way?

written by  alli_ockinga on June 28, 2009

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Good Lord, the fact that you can balance TMNT (yeah, there's an acronym for that) with musings on what-the-heck-are-you-supposed-to-be-doing-with-your-life time (see: being in your 20s) has me astounded.

Sorry I missed your call today! We were eating sushi and our waiter/bartender sucked. Bill at The Garden has spoiled me and now I want special treatment from everyone, and when I demanded it from the bartender at a gay bar the other night he got flirty and sassy, which was not what I wanted (well it's sort of what I wanted, but he took it too far--I just want strong drinks, man, not naked time).

xoxo

written by  Ryan on June 28, 2009

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