If this Saturday was the closest that I would come to being a travel blog writer, then I can consider myself lucky indeed. This past weekend I traveled to Baltimore to attend a seminar taught by one of the black belts at our school, and then found myself waiting in a large and hungry line of people buzzing with excitement to eat delicious food.
I was about to have a personal dining experience with the chef/co-owner of a famous taqueria. I squeezed in between my Portuguese teammate with a vicious ankle lock technique and my Jamaican teammate who guilted me into doing no-gi and watched as Carlos squeezed a teensy lime wedge over a fried tortilla chip smothered with ceviche and red sauce. I hadn’t noticed his tattoos when we were training earlier at his school (a non-profit where kids train for free and the adults pay), when he had calmly escaped all of my attacks on the mat and then complimented me on my calm jiu jitsu.
“This is my wife’s favorite,” he said, while bestowing the mountainous chip over to my Portuguese teammate, who received it like a religious blessing. Later on, while my Jamaican buddy ribbed me about being weak (because I didn’t lift), Carlos leaned, and with 100% sincerity, suggested CorePower yoga, because it helped him get stronger. I nodded, in agreement, so as to not attract unwanted attention to the fact that I had already wolfed down my first taco in two bites.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I have witnessed this weekend, a new perspective on jiu jitsu and the meaningful experiences that it could create for me, so long as I remained open to the opportunities. For a long time, jiu jitsu was a lot about just training, training, and training — and for what purpose? Perhaps I started because I could not be without martial arts in my life, and perhaps I stayed for so many years because I wanted to earn my purple belt, to prove to others I was good enough, and to earn prizes like I was conditioned to do. Perhaps I went outside of my comfortable routines only so I could boast that I did so accordingly.
But perhaps there is another world to jiu jitsu that I haven’t really been open to, because I haven’t allowed it inside of me until now. Perhaps one of the best parts of doing this martial art is the new people that you meet on the way, some of them may remain as only acquaintances with passing fond anecdotes — and some of them become what you hope are life-long friends.
Jiu jitsu brought me heartache but I never considered for once that it could bring me joy, too, in the midst of that struggle. Joy from stories of how Carlos was adamant about the tres leches cake being upright (“the lady served them on a train like that”); how the tattoo on his left arm matched the logo of our beers (“I used to wake up and see that island every morning”); and the immigration officer in Miami who recognized that he did jiu jitsu (“he looked at my ears, and he knew!”). All this time I have been so focused on writing my own story, that I didn’t even bother to listen and learn the stories of those practicing the same art that I loved, too.
If a famous writer talks about sucking the marrow out of life, the equivalent of mine this Saturday is licking a plate clean where a flan once stood moments before, even as my teammates teased me mercilessly.
The sauce was sweet, with a hint of bitterness. And I loved it.