In comparing the tennis practices from my high school team to the ones in Japan, I honestly didn’t notice much difference in the tennis itself. Every practice started out the same way, with the relaxed long-range rallies sans the jogging around the courts (supposedly because the courts in Japan are shared with about 5 other groups at any given point). When all the important sempai had finally assembled, we would gather in a circle and wish each other well, then splitting off into two groups: one to return the practice shots, and another to catch the balls and return them to the baskets, where the “instructor” sempai would grab them and shoot off practice shots to the other side. Interestingly enough, Mika, our “guardian sempai” who looked over us from the first day, would always direct us as to which group to join. After a few practices, I started realizing that our group never had the opportunity to practice smashes, volleys, or line drives – that is to say, Mika had purposefully funneled us into the “lower level” group. A month or so in, she stopped directing us, a psychological graduation from our initiation into soft tennis. Practice would ensue, with the two groups switching off, culminating in 3-point sets played across two courts. “Don’t mind!”, “Nice Shot!”, and “LAAAST!” (to signify the last few shots before a switch off) resounded around the courts. Finally, two “representatives” would start sweeping the sand evenly back across the courts while the rest of the team congregated around the benches for some idle post-practice chatter. At the very end, another group circle-up and “Otsukaresamadesita!” concluded the events of the night.

With just these actions, there were a few key differences that I immediately picked up on between Japanese and American tennis practices. They were both highly ritualized – the American one was mostly a physical ritual, beginning with a jog, then a mini rally by the net, moving gradually further back to coincide with the long-range rallies beginning the Japanese practice. Japanese ritualization, however, was more of the language and social hierarchy that was implemented, such as “Yoroshikuonegaishimasu!” at the beginning of practice and per switch-off, having assigned “court sweepers”, and subordination to (through fetching balls for) the sempai who were conducting the drills. Distinguishing between the upper and underclassmen was made incredibly easy due to the standardized greetings afforded to upperclassmen compared to the casual waves to incoming underclassmen.

Another point of interest was the use of English phrases (as exampled above) throughout practice. At first, I had to really strain my ear to figure out what was being said, but once figured out the phrases became second nature. As these phrases are actually more ingrained into Japanese culture, it’s totally understandable that the group would use these set phrases, but I’m still curious to see if other sports / CIP groups tend to use English exclamations.

All in all, soft tennis will definitely mark my experience in Kyoto – the foray into Saiin, the sand in my socks, soft tennis balls hurtling at me at breakneck speed. But most of all, I’ll remember the members of Kyoto University’s Soft Tennis Circle, for all their their kindness and the wonderful memories they’ve left with me.

I originally planned on learning kyudo (Japanese archery) for my community involvement project, but ultimately decided to join Kyoto University’ ultimate frisbee club “Breeze” in hopes that this intramural sports circle would provide more opportunities for conversation with Japanese students (I definitely needed the exercise as well). Reflecting back on the semester that flashed by, this proved to be a great choice; I met wonderful people, improved my Japanese speaking, and learned more about Japanese culture. Though of course, this experience was not without its challenges.

A cultural difference I quickly realized was the attitude towards intramurals in Japanese universities. Unlike the more light-hearted and playful mood that surrounds the activities of US intramural clubs, Breeze’s practices were in comparison carefully regimented and serious. Each practice, all members performed basic training exercises then split into the men and women’s team to work on team-specific drills and exercises. With every practice matches followed a round of discussion in which the senior members taught junior members the finer points of the game. While this approach to intramural sports did not mean the team was strictly competitive, the members’ attitudes made the purpose clear that the practice was not solely to have fun. Hence, my lack of experience became the biggest obstacle that inhibited my involvement within Breeze. Even freshmen players, with already five months of practice under their belt, had developed into skilled players while I still had to learn the basics. Due to this skill gap, I was unable to participate in practice matches and at times practiced separate from the main group of members.

While I could not fully integrate myself into the activities of Breeze and its members, joining Breeze was a wonderful experience as this provided plenty of opportunities to practice my Japanese speaking skills. Breeze has over 30 members and there were always opportunities to engage in quick conversations with different members. Though, I became particularly closer with the managers for the men’s team of Breeze. My exclusion from practice matches actually contained its upside as this provided lengthy windows of time that I could fill by chatting with the team managers. These conversations undoubtedly led to the most memorable conversations during my time at Breeze. In one conversation, the manager and I discussed possible reasons why the system of day light savings was not used in Japan. Of course, as with all conversation topics that entered a realm that required terms outside the commonly used, everyday vocab, this conversation inevitably led to some use of the dictionary and hand gestures. In the end, my time in Breeze allowed me to further increase my knowledge of Japanese culture and improved my speaking skills. I even acquired another unexpected skill: remembering Japanese names (which I probably learned a bit too late).

While short, Breeze was indeed a memorable experience; the club is filled with nice, sincere people and I greatly enjoyed the conversations I shared with them. I even developed a greater interest for the game of ultimate frisbee and plan to join an ultimate frisbee club at Penn once I return to the United States.