Last Sunday, I went to Okazaki's first-ever go festival, held at Ai Plaza Okazaki, a fine hall near Minami Kouen that I never even knew existed. I didn't really know what to expect, but I was able to attend free of charge, thanks to an acquaintance somehow involved in the organization of the event.
I was told to arrive at Okazaki Station to catch a bus at eight o'clock. I wanted look pretty good, so I wore my new vest and shoes and, if I may so say, looked pretty spiffy. I hurried to the station on my bike, but arrived at 8:02 only to see a bus driving off. "Nooooo!" I thought, but there was a second bus right behind it that stayed behind. I jogged over (not realizing that a classmate saw me from her bus) and boarded the bus. It was empty except for the driver, who sat in his seat up front. I decided to use the opportunity to get my Japanese juices flowing and sat near the front and started up a bit of a conversation with him. It was nice but I'm a poor conversationalist with people that I don't know and share no known interests and such with, so there were some gaps. Later, the driver left the bus and another gentleman boarded and sat in the seat across from mine and started chatting with me. He was sort of mumbly and, thus, rather difficult to understand, though.
So anyway, the bus departs and, within ten minutes, we pull in front of the plaza. I was expecting to see a couple of schoolmates that usually frequent the go classes on Friday, but they apparently didn't show, so I was on my own for the entire day. I was pretty disappointed about it for a while. I was hoping to go with my rival, Lee, but he had just returned from climbing Mount Fuji the previous day and was too wiped. I don't know—when I do things like this alone, you really appreciate how nice it is to be able to do it with someone.
Fortunately, while standing around, wondering just what I should do, my acquaintance appeared and got me in for free. I took a seat in the auditorium (almost no one but older guys) for the opening ceremony, which, oddly enough, began with a taiko demonstration on the stage. After this, a few greetings and then the introductions of the pro players that were visiting: Naoki Hane, Kaori Aoba, Yuki Shigeno, Kim Hyun Jung (she was Korean?!), and Yukari Yumezawa of
Hikaru no Go fame.
After this, the introductions ended and those present for one of the three classes being offered headed out, leaving the rest of us to watch two matches between two pairs of elementary school students. At first I wasn't interested, but once I found out that they were
dan-level (meaning that they could crush me with almost no effort) and that Hane and Aoba would be doing a joint commentary throughout the game, I decided it would be better for me to stay. (There was a chance to take a picture with Umezara and I thought about skipping out to catch that, but I decided to just watch the game and get what I could of the commentary. The picture would have been a nice memento, though. But little did I know that another memento would come my way.) The first match was good but I decided not to watch the second match and to get out and explore the hall a bit.
After some wandering, I ended up observing some games in the highest-level class, A class. I hadn't realized that this was possible, so I figured it'd be pretty interesting. It was something. As soon as I walked in, there was a quite a powerful atmosphere. I've seen scenes like that in
Hikaru no Go, but it was my first time seeing a room full of people playing go and a crowd standing over them staring at them play. The games were pretty high-level, as expected. I noted the use of timers in these games. I've never played with a clock before, personally, and seeing one used (outside of anime) was a first. Surprisingly, there were a couple of kids in there too: one in his upper teens, and another boy around 12 or so. One thing that I like about go (though it's not an exclusive quality) is that someone's age has almost no bearing their strength. You've got elementary school kids and you've got old guys who are equally scary.
After the round of A class matches that I was watching ended, I headed outside and visited a room littered with various go-related books. I glanced over a few, then sat to get off my feet (my new shoes are pretty nice, but they aren't the most comfortable) and read some
Hikaru no Go (in Japanese, baby!).
Once I was done, I left the library-like room and peeked in a room filled with children. There, Umezawa was teaching the basics of the game. I think that one thing about her success with
Hikaru no Go that might be a double-edged sword is that she's the one that is probably made to work the most with kids wherever she goes. I hope she likes 'em.
As I watched, a lady came up to me and asked if I spoke Japanese.
ある程度。 She explained that I watching the children's room (duh) and that I could play freely right down the hall. She escorted me down to a large room where I could finally play if I wanted to. I was mulling this over (I was feeling kind of shy about it, actually) when I noticed a huge glut of folks congregated around something in the front of the room. "Okay, I'll bite," I thought and walked up to investigate. There, Kaori Aoba was playing four games at once with visitors. Again, I've seen this sort of thing in
Hikaru no Go, but it's something to see in real life. She bounced from table to table glancing at these very complex positions and making quick plays. But that's not the impressive part. According to
Hikaru no Go (which apparently has a pretty realistic representation of how the professional go world works), pros will sometimes try to win training games like this by exactly one point, or at least by a very small margin, so that they don't crush their amateur opponents too much and to give themselves a greater challenge. I'm sure positive that that's what she was doing, but she lost one or two games and I suspect that the losses were related to this.
After the four-games-at-once event wrapped up, I bought some bottled tea. This was when something weird happened. A Japanese guy came up to me and asked if I speak English. I hesitantly replied yes. He then beckoned me over to a table across the room. (He said something, but I don't recall what except that it was a request for me to do something.) I figured that there was a foreigner there that they wanted me to explain the basics of go. At least, that was the impression that I got. But there sat a man—Japanese or Brazilian or both or other, I don't know—who told me, in very broken English, that his stomach and his head hurt. Oooookay. He said that he took medicine but that it didn't help. "What do you expect
me to do?" is what I thought, but "How long have they been hurting?" is what I said.
"Three years," he said.
What the f
reakin' h
eck?
I told him that she should possibly go to a hospital and that there wasn't anything that I could really do to help. He thanked me for my kindness and I departed. It was pretty weird. He seemed a bit slow, actually, so I ... shoot, I don't know.
Anyway, after that, I headed back to A class again to see what was happening, then I returned to the large auditorium for the closing ceremony. Man, those six or so hours flew by. And I hadn't played a single match.
I sat near the back, since they were still in the middle of a some other presentation involving a man playing a violin. (Uh-huh ...) Once that ended, the gentleman sitting in front of me turned and started chatting with me suddenly in Japanese, which was pretty cool. We chatted for a while actually and it was my great Japanese success of the day (heh), as it went remarkably smoothly. We later switched to English and he revealed that he used to teach English years ago. He was kind.
Then, just before the closing ceremony started, some folks came around and handed everyone slips of paper with numerals written on them for a raffle that they apparently planned to hold. Soon thereafter, the ceremony began and they handed out various prizes to the best performers in the various classes. They started the raffle and a number of folks from the audience of about 200 folks or so went one-by-one to collect their gifts. "Boy," I thought, "it'd be something if I was called and had to walk all the way down there in front of everybody."
After a couple of minutes, my number, 228, was called.
Before going, I verified with the gentleman in front of me that I had understood the number correctly and then began the long walk to the front, laughing to myself along the way. The announcer was Yuki Shigeno and when she saw me coming, she asked me through the microphone where I was from. "
Amerika desu!" I called out to her. She then said something else and I got my present, held it up to the audience in a sort of half-wave sort of gesture, then returned to my seat. In the envelope I received was a notebook for recording interesting characteristics of the matches that I play. Not sure if I'll use it or not, but it makes a great souvenir.
With that, the day ended and I headed outside. Just then, most of the pros exited and headed toward their nearby taxi. I nodded and smiled to them and then hopped on the bus back to Okazaki Station, where my bike was.
So all in the all, a rousing success I think. It's pretty cool that it was the first such event that they've ever had. I'm a part of history over here, baby! It was nice to be in an atmosphere where everyone had an interest in Go, to watch high-level games in person, and to see the pros at work. It was fun.
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