Iron what?

I spent a week in Dallas last month. Because I was in Dallas for more than a day, I needed something to do in the evenings while I was there. Did I mention I was in Dallas? No offense to that town, but unless you like strip malls and movie theaters, there ain't much else going on.

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So, I picked up this book that is shown above at the airport on the way out. Basically, because of all my martial arts goofiness, anything that says "Shaolin" on it will get my attention.

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This book got my attention. And kept it.

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A true story of an American fella who in '92 left the sweet confines of Princeton to essentially go to China, live with Shaolin monks, and practice martial arts with them. Everyday. He lives at their temple, he trains with them, and my god, he fights challenge matches for them. Along the way, he learns a few things about himself, smooches a few girls, and watches a man repeatedly whack his own "privates" to practice Iron Crotch kung fu. That last part was not made up.

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So, of course, it was a great read.

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Accounts of us Westerners heading off to Asia to live and train in martial arts are everywhere nowadays. I've read a lot of them, but this book was the only one that captured the experience for what it really was. I too had my own 3 year excursion in Japan doing many of the same things that the author, Matthew Polly, did. Although I was "working" when I was in Japan, and didn't live in a remote temple, my experience echoed a great deal of what was in this book.

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The echo itself was one of comedy. Too many accounts written previously try to portray a rather romantic vision of what it was like. Yes, there were temples shrouded in mist. Yes, there was something undeniably cool about training in a martial art at its birthplace. Yes, there were moments when you (at the risk of hokiness) felt at one with the universe.

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But through it all was an underlying feeling of comic ridiculuousness. This is where American Shaolin triumphs. There is a lot of humor to be found when you're a gangly foreigner who decides to move out to Asia and train in martial arts with the native folks. It's not all tough guy stuff.

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Reading through this book really made me think about all of the kooky things that I had done in Japan. I sometimes can't even believe I had the pluck to do it. This was my life before the boys were born, but I am certain that it helped shape who I am today.

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So, this is somewhat of a strange post. Part book review, part nostalgia trip. I suppose I write it because there are not a vast amount of books out there that feel so incredibly personal. Like hanging out with an old friend talking about the old times.

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It was also one of the very few times I felt compelled to write this same stuff to the author directly. To the man's credit, he puts his contact details out there for everyone to see. So, I wrote a far too lengthy email to Matthew Polly. Basically just to say thanks.

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He wrote me back, and indeed, his response felt like an old friend getting back in touch.

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It's one of those books that I will have the boys read when they're older. I'll say to them: "Boys, if you want to know what it was like for your old man to do all that kooky martial arts stuff in Asia, read this". I'll say this to them, because no book could capture the experience better.