Last year, I wrestled with the idea of visiting Japan again. Since 1977, I have visited the country more than 10 times, usually to train in karate and occasionally to compete.

I had loved my time there, but my last visit was in 2007, and I wondered if this was enough. Perhaps it was time to visit new places and have new experiences. In the 1980s, I considered moving to Japan to train and make my living teaching English.

However, I decided at that time that it was time to return to Canada to pursue my career seriously. Staying close to family and friends was also important to me.

I’ve often wondered what my life would have been like had I opted to live in Japan. So, to return to the country once more seemed like a good idea. It was less about trying to live in the past and more about immersing myself deeper in a culture that I admired.

To prepare for my May 2025 trip, I started a self-study course in Japanese to get to the point where I could have real conversations with Japanese people I met. I also wanted to pay respect to my Japanese karate teachers and friends of old by trying to become more fluent in their language.

After eight months of daily study, I could picture myself having easy conversations with the Japanese I would meet on my visit. To check my progress, I decided to start watching some Japanese-language movies and TV shows at home.

I was humbled to discover that I could barely understand what was being said. I’d pick up the occasional word or phrase, but the rest eluded my comprehension. I realized that I would have to be satisfied with obtaining a nursery school level of Japanese comprehension, able to read the hiragana and katakana syllabaries haltingly, and only a handful of the complex kanji needed to fully understand the written language.

While fluency evaded me, I hoped I could get by.

Retracing My Steps in Kumamoto

I arrived at Kumamoto Airport on Saturday evening, May 11, 2021, and was met by Sakamoto-Sensei, who dropped me off at my hotel. My next day was free, so I decided to retrace the steps of my youth, literally.

When my friend Eric Peters and I lived at the Chito-Ryu Hombu dojo for more than four months in 1979, we’d often walk through the backstreets to the downtown covered shopping arcades of the Kamitori and Shimotori after class, and especially on weekend nights. The city centre side streets were crowded with all manner of restaurants, bars, coffee shops, small stores, and more. We’d often return to the Chitose home late on a Friday night and face doing the morning workout through the haze that came from being overserved.

My hotel for this recent trip was located beyond the end of the Shimotori. Early Sunday morning, I walked the length of the sleeping shopping arcades until I got to the back streets and picked my way past sights I half-remembered until I finally reached Kurokami-Machi Tsuboi.

The area and its buildings had changed significantly, so it took me a while to find the turnoff from the main street to the backstreets that led me to the Chito-Ryu Hombu, but I finally found it.

I stood outside the empty dojo and remembered with gratitude the training I received from O-Sensei, his son, and Sakamoto-Sensei. And I remembered the kind hospitality of O-Sensei’s wife, who asked to be called “Mama-san,” and of his two daughters, Reiko-san and Mitsuko-san.

I walked around the block and passed the house where Inomoto-Sensei used to live, wanting to be close to his master. On the other side of the street was a small park where Eric and I practised kobudo. Beyond that, there was once the massive public pool, Chuo-puru, which announced its opening in summer with lively music and the floating penguin balloon. But it was long gone, replaced by less inviting buildings.

I remember being deeply moved by scenes of O-Sensei working out on his own in the dojo, trying in his 80s to improve his technique and to maintain his lifelong practice. While I was used to the master putting on impressive public demonstrations, he continued to spend time privately in the dojo to refine his understanding of the art.

Although I was no longer affiliated with Chito-Ryu Hombu dojo, I was still grateful for the experiences it had provided me and hoped the current students enjoyed their training there as much as I had.

Training With Sakamoto-Sensei

During my week’s stay in Kumamoto City, Sakamoto-Sensei arranged that we would practice together each weekday morning, at a dojo in the beautiful Kawashiri Budokan, in the outskirts of the city.

Our training fell into a comfortable routine. Usually, we would start working with bo (staff) or jo (staff), exploring the connections between weapons and empty-hand karate technique. Sakamoto-Sensei also liked to emphasize the links he sees between Japanese sword technique and what we do in karate.

After an hour of practicing in the heat, we would pull out two chairs, drink some water, and talk about a wide variety of subjects covering our training and life. For the last part of the practice, we would work on koryu kata, including Tenshin, Unsu, Seichin, and Hoen.

We also worked on Nage-no-kata, with its various throws. I took some of the concepts he taught — including soft blocks and the use of “sticky hands” — and made them part of the Ryusei Canada Summer Camp 2025, held in Barry’s Bay, Ontario last July.

One of the enduring impressions I have from the training is Sakamoto-Sensei’s commitment to lifelong learning in his practice. Although faced with the challenges of age, he continues to train regularly, always advancing his knowledge and expertise.

I am grateful that we were able to have this one-on-one training, continuing a relationship that began when we met in Tokyo in 1977 and trained together for the first time.

After our morning practices, Sakamoto-Sensei would take me out for lunch, where we might have udon or soba with a variety of side dishes. Then we would usually do some sightseeing, visiting places that evoked the spirit of old Japan. These included a local park and restaurant devoted to Miyamoto Musashi, Japan’s most famous samurai; and Honmyoji Temple, which has a river of stone lanterns spilling down a hillside; and Tatsuda Natural Park, the site of Taishoji Temple, the family temple of the feudal lords of Kumamoto, the Hosokawa Clan.

But my favourite place was Regnaido Cave, where Musashi spent the final years of his life. We drove to the cave past mountains terraced with groves of orange trees. While Musashi’s cave itself is impressive, what I loved most were the steep slopes leading to the cave, dotted with 500 or so statues of Buddhist rakan (arhats). Dating back to the early 18th century, some of the lichen-covered statues have aged with grace. Others are missing heads or limbs, but still exude a calm devotion.

Reconnecting with the Tamuras

One of my great pleasures in visiting Kumamoto was reconnecting with my friends Shigeo and Michiko Tamura. I first met the Tamuras in Toronto, where they lived for 11 years.

Mr. Tamura, a former educator who speaks French and English fluently, was my Japanese tutor. Although I was his worst pupil ever, he’s never given up on me. They returned to and retired in Kumamoto, and remain two of the nicest people in Japan.

I met the Tamuras for dinner on Sunday night and then returned to their home to drink scotch and reminisce, including about the time they visited my family cottage when my kids were young.

I agreed to meet them at their home for lunch later in the week, which was about two kilometres from my hotel. I walked there using Google Maps. This was challenging at first, as I tried to stare at my phone while walking down narrow streets with cars passing by closely. My iPhone Mini has a small screen, so it was difficult to make out the text. Besides, all the street names were in kanji, so I couldn’t read them easily.

I had to depend on the phone map and voice commands, which sometimes came too early or too late, so I’d miss turns or walk by them. But eventually, I arrived at the Tamuras’ house to find that a feast awaiting in their front yard.

The highlight was a local speciality, basashi or raw horse. Tamura-Sensei knew that it was a favourite of mine.

As we ate, Tamura-Sensei indicated that the house across the way was owned by none other than Charlie Nagatani. I was very surprised. In the 1970s, we would go to Good Time Charlie in downtown Kumamoto. Charlie and his band, Charlie and the Cannonballs, would play note-perfect country and western songs while we drank beer and bourbon, and ate corn niblets from mini-fry pans.

Charlie would over to our table and talk about his love of country and western music, and his frequent pilgrimages to Nashville to hang out with the likes of Marty Robbins. It hadn’t occurred to me that Charlie was still alive, in 2025, at age 88, and that his nightclub was still operating, albeit under his son.

While he was away in America when I visited this time, I was happy to learn he had realized his dream of performing at the Grand Ole Opry, and had established the large annual Country Gold festival in the Mt Aso area.

Later that evening, Tamura-Sensei and I walked to one of his favourite drinking establishments, a stand-up bar near Kumamoto Station, where I had some shochu and sake. As I was trying my limited Japanese with a waiter, I thought I was describing the many natural beauties of Canada. I believed I had said, “Takusan mizumi ga arimasu.” Or, there are many lakes.

Both Tamura-Sensei and the waiter looked at me, puzzled. Tamura-Sensei pointed out, “You told us that ‘there are many rats in Canada,’” or “Takusan nezumi ga imasu.”

My job as Destination Canada’s unofficial spokesperson ended at that moment.

Goodbye to Kumamoto City

At the end of my time in Kumamoto, Sakamoto-Sensei invited me for a meal at his home, before I travelled by train to the hot spring resort of Ibusuki, Kagoshima City, and Fukuoka for my last week.

I enjoyed a feast with Sakamoto-Sensei, his wife, Reiko, his daughter, Noriko, son-in-law Takeishi, and three grandkids. I remembered quite clearly when Noriko was a baby herself, in 1979, pushing herself around the Chito-Ryu hombu dojo floor in a wheeled baby walker.

While the decades seem to rush by, recalling this scene, I was happy to have had this moment of clear reflection, where the past and present coexisted easily.

Before returning to the hotel, driven by Takeishi, Sakamoto-Sensei presented me with a scroll of his calligraphy, which I would hang in my home dojo. Roughly translated it says: “Ryusei [or Dragon Spirit] is one sword inherited by the samurai family.”

Departing for the next stage of my trip, I was very glad to have spent some time with my Ryusei family in Japan.

Soaking in Ibusuki

After Kumamoto I travelled on my own by train to Ibusuki, a small onsen (hot spring restort) in Kagoshima Prefecture. My hotel was perched on the heights overlooking the sea. After a long soak in the outdoor hot springs, I had a magnificent multicourse meal that started with an apertif of plum wine, conger eel sushi and simmered duck breast wrapped in green onion and proceeded to a main course of Kagoshima black beef steak, and finished with rice set that included fish soup and pickles, as well as a fresh fruit and cold cream desert. And there was much more enjoyed in-between.

On my second night, I decided to leave the resort and use the guidance of Google Maps to take me to a family-run sushi restaurant a couple of kilometres away. My path took me through broad, empty farmer fields with no people in sight.

I arrived in the restaurant, with the father sushi chef, daughter waitress and mother in the kitchen surprised by the sight of the foreigner stumbling in. After reassuring them that I had enough spoken Japanese to get by, I asked the father for his recommendation and he prepared one of the best sashimi meals I’ve ever had.

I also received a glass of sake that was literally overflowing.

It should be noted that visitors are offered a special experience in the area:

“On the geothermally heated sandy coasts of Ibusuki and Yamakawa, you can experience unique and natural steam sand baths. To take a sand bath, borrow a yukata, get into a sand pit and let the attendant heap sand over you. The heated sand will warm your whole body, and its weight also aids in improving blood circulation. It has been said that the benefits of a steam sand bath are three to four times greater than that of a hot spring bath. There are facilities with steam sand baths located right by the sea, and it is relaxing listening to the sound of lapping waves.”

But I didn’t indulge myself. I hate the idea of being buried in sand, no matter how healthy it’s supposed ot be. I also have the perfectly rational fear that if I did it, it would be the day someone rode down the beach on a horse and swiped off sand bathers’ heads with a sword.

Convenient Reading

I had a chance to catch up on my reading in Ibusuki. To get into the travel mood, I brought with me translations of two Japanese murder mysteries and a popular novel, Convenience Store Woman, by Sakaya Murata.

The book tells the story of a woman who never fits in, unable to understand social norms.

She takes a low level job as a convenience store worker. The job structure and interactions with coworkers teach her to act the part of normal. After a number of years she begins to feel the pressure from friends and family to get a better job and settle down in marriage.

So she starts a sham relationship with an unemployed grifter and quits the store to look for a new job. But without the structure of the store, her life goes into a tailspin.

Kagoshima is a Blast

Next I travelled by train to Kagoshima City, which has a volcano in its bay. Sakurajima was very active during my stay, spewing smoke and ash. Since residents didn’t run in terror, I also put on a brave face and went about my touristing.

Kagoshima is where the Satsuma Clan launched its succesful invastion of Okinawa in 1609, conquering the Ryukyu Kingdom despite the short but fierce resistance of the feisty population.

It’s interesting that not only did the Satsuma Clan affect Okinawa with their conquest but in turn were influrenced in different ways by the Okinawans. Sakamoto Sensei points out that its Jigen Ryu sword school adapted the Okinawan makiwara for weapon strikes. And the Meiji Restoration Museum speculates that when meat eating was not only frowned upon but considered taboo in rest of Japan, the Satsuma picked up the habit of consuming meat in Okinawa. This helped them to grow larger than other samurai and fostered their fearsome reputation. Food for thought

Tenmonkan was one of my favourite parts of Kagoshima — a bustling district full of restaurants, bars and shopping venues. I discovered a fabulous eatery, famed for its grilled eel. One online reference described the many attractions of the Sueyoshi restaurant:

“Live eels are shipped straight from the Osumi Peninsula. Grilled eel, which uses traditional binchotan charcoal and the slightly sweeter aged glaze found only in Kagoshima, is exquisite. “

Exquisite indeed. Fortified by the meal I decided to explore the back streets of Tenmonkan, looking for some adventure.

Through the window of a small bar with no English sign, I saw the owner seated talking to a couple who looked like regulars. The three looked up as I entered and said nothing in their suprise, wondering how to deal with this uncomfortable situation.

I spoke as best I could in Japanese, putting them at ease and ordered a shot of bourbon in the American-themed whisky bar.

We had a long evening of conversation about our countries, family, work, and politics, aided occasionally by Google Translate when words failed me.

I eventually bought a round for the house, which is more generous than it sounds, because only one person besides me was drinking.

Farewell from Fukuoka

I finished my trip in Fukuoka, Kyushu’s largest city. As a meditation practiioner, I visited Shokufuji, the first Zen temple constructed in Japan. It was founded in 1195 by the priest Eisai, who introduced the Rinzai sect of Zen Buddhism from China to Japan. I took time on my visit to sit on a bench in the grounds and meditated for a while in the tranquil setting.

That evening I walked from my hotel to see what I could find for dinner. In the near distance I heard music and saw flashing lights that drew me there. It turned out to be the Burgundy Wine Festival, offering live musical performances, food stands, bench seating and lots of wine-tasting opportunities.

I stopped at one booth, and the server and I bowed in regret when I acknowledged that I couldn’t afford the $150 to $250 per glass cost.

So I went to a cheap and cheerful booth, at one 10th the cost, and enjoyed a couple of excellent glasses accompanied by a spicy personal pan pizza.

Both in Kumamoto and Fukuoka, I was able to spend time with old friends I had competed against and with in 1979 — members then of the Chito-Ryu Kumamoto A team. These included one half of the Sakaguchi kyodai (brothers), and Mr. Nagata and Mr. Hatao. While we hadn’t met for many years, it was remarkable how easily we caught up and enjoyed each other’s company.

While it was fun to go down memory lane, it was even better to discover the people and places I knew are doing well now.

Once More to Japan