JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi by Daniel Linden (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

him, and then at me. I shrugged. That sounded good enough and Curtis is never wrong about anything. You have to give him a little leeway though because he is not above pulling your leg.

“We’ll see them now and again as we cross through the high country,” I said. Often mountain passes have a small temple perched near the summit and at least one that I know of is built directly over the road so you are compelled to go through it on the way down. This one is lined with temple prayer wheels and they are perhaps twelve to sixteen inches tall and quite heavy. As you walk through you are compelled to get them spinning. You just are.

We sat down on a bench near the spot where we were to be picked up and returned to Thamel. I said, “Do you guys want an extra day here? We’re scheduled to leave for Jiri tomorrow morning, but we could delay for a day so you can visit the City some more. I’ve been here and I think it’s one of the most exotic places on earth, but I’d kind of like to get going. The weather is supposed to be perfect and we can always try to get back a little early, if you like.”

“I want to go back to the Khukuri House before we go, but other than that, I’m ready,” said Christian, but he shivered and I hoped he wasn’t getting a cold.

“Yeah, I’m good,” said Chris

“Me, too,” added Curtis.

“Well, let’s go back to the Khukuri House, then,” I agreed.

Chapter 11

First Light

The Lobby of the Kathmandu Guest House was quiet and dark when we entered it at five the next morning. When walking through a strange land at a strange time a person often becomes acutely aware. We were all experiencing this as we passed the locked doors and darkened windows on the way to the lobby.

This is extreme ukemi; going into the unknown. This is how it feels for a very good uke to attack a shihan he has never before seen or trained with on the mat. He has no way of knowing what is coming and can only hope that his experience and skill – or the good will of the shihan – will keep him safe from harm. To be a stranger in a strange land is the same thing. We can only hope our skills and training will suffice in the face of all we encounter and hope for the good will of the people we will meet.

Warm rain fell and turned the early morning light into a million sparkling points of brilliance. Our van was ready and we offered out gear to the driver to stow as he wished. We took our place inside and then I told the driver to stop.

“I can’t do this. I’m too big. I need more room or I’ll be very unhappy very quickly.” I turned around and looked at the rear of the small van and tried to figure out if there was a way to make more space inside the vehicle. “Look,” I said, “If we take this duffle and put it up here we can move Christian’s seat back and then I can move my seat back. Is that all right? Can we try that?”

Everyone got out and we tried to move the gear around, but the driver was very reticent to shift anything. I finally told Chris to empty the van and to find us a vehicle that we could use that would be more comfortable. At this the driver became very animated and finally got everything arranged and stowed. I had only about four more inches of legroom, but I knew that it would be enough.

“Sensei, were you really going to make us get another van?” Curtis asked from behind my right ear.

“No. That was the honesty technique.”

“Oh.” He laughed.

Kathmandu rolled by quietly and the rain became a mist that cleared as we slowly made our way out of town. Traffic was light, but becoming heavier minute by minute. By the time we reached the outskirts of town we were sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic and the sun had burned most of the moisture off the steaming ground. Chris started talking about beer and although I rarely drink anything strong while the sun shines I had to admit it sounded pretty good just then. We were facing a long day of switchbacks, steep canyon roads, dusty wind, hot asphalt, and cramped conditions.

“God! Look!” Christian’s arm shot forward and pointed across the highway.

“I don’t believe it.” Curtis said quietly, under his breath.

Across the highway, approaching, was an Indian elephant. It walked with a hugely tired gait as if it had seen all the cares of the earth in its many long days. A man was guiding the elephant with a long stick. He sat perched on its neck, a foot touching each huge, fan-like ear. Across its broad back it carried a massive burden tied in place and covered by a cargo net into which had been stuffed all manner of things which stuck out and protruded precariously and gave it the appearance of an enormous distorted turtle. We started scrambling for a camera.

“Curtis, give me my camera!” I shouted.

“Wait, I’m trying to get mine out,” he said.

“Christian, move over a bit so I can get my…”

“Don’t push so hard, I…”

“Sensei, I want a picture, please..,” cried Celine. Esra was hanging on her arm, laughing and trying to push her aside to see.

“Driver STOP!” We all shouted.

“I can’t,” he said.

I looked around and realized that there was no shoulder and no place to pull over with any hope of ever getting back into the fray. The elephant slipped past and was suddenly gone and we all looked at each other and realized that we would need to