culture :: Surfing in Japan :: Not Funny's

by Todd Orelli

Here in Japan you’re often hard pressed to find a t-shirt that displays Japanese writing or one that even references a particular Japanese city or place. Visitors expect to come here and find really cool kanji gear to bring home and show off their worldly ways. Surprisingly, it’s easier to find University of Missouri sweatshirts and Martha’s Vineyard t-shirts than one that says Hiroshima or Osaka, in Japanese or not. And it’s far easier to find a shirt that says “Possessing the green color is our shared wish”or“Expose Yourself”.

So, I was pretty psyched when I discovered the Funny’s Surf Team, Hyuga, Japan t-shirt. I live in Hyuga, I surf, and when I come back to New York I want to advertise it to the world. I asked about the Funny’s Team and it turns out that they are a close knit bunch of locals-only types. It seemed that the only shirt that I’d found that embodies everything I hoped for in a Japanese t-shirt was out of my grasp. Not only that, but the closed market for Funny’s shirts has reminded me that I’ll never be considered a real local surfer in Hyuga. When it comes to surfing, this sort of exclusion exists almost everywhere, but being one of only a handful of foreigners in the area I often expect to be the exception to the rule and walk right into celebrity status like I do at the bank. This might sound stupid, but Japan is full of hierarchy and exclusionary practices that we foreigners are often not expected to know about. We’re expected to be ignorant.

And ignorant of many things I am. Like, why do Japanese surfers avoid walking across asphalt on their way to the surf as if it were molten, anime lava? Why is it rude to blow your nose but okay to hock massive loogies? Why can’t tans become popular with Japanese women? Why do Japanese surfers pay $20 for “jellyfish repellant” that doesn’t work? And why does surfing equipment cost so much money in Japan?

As far as US $1,200 surfboards go, I’ve concluded that Japanese surfers are willing to pay three times as much as everyone else in the world so surf shops would be foolish to charge any other price. It must have something to do with the teamwork aspect of Japanese society that I can’t get seem to understand.

But it is that sense of teamwork that has really led to the popularity of surf shops here. Surfing is a team sport, and as surfing becomes Japan’s new golf, the surf shop has emerged as the new country club for many Japanese youth. If you consider that Japanese emphasize the importance of the group over the individual, it is no accident that surf shop affiliation has the importance that it does. Belonging to a surf shop gives a Japanese surfer a name to associate with and a team to belong to. Without it you are ronin. Perhaps this is why so many shops can get away with their exorbitant prices? The shop doesn’t exist to make lots of money; the customers are paying for the clubhouse.

Indeed, it is through Dear Surf, the shop that I frequent, that I have been able to make friends, break through the local ranks and find a privileged place in the lineup. It is through the shop that I have become friends with some of the members of the Funny’s Team. And it is through the shop that I have become close friends with Kouji, Funny’s founder and the artist and creative mastermind behind the t-shirt that I covet.

One day I was talking with Kouji and I let on that I really wanted a Funny’s shirt. But even befriending the creator of Funny’s wasn’t enough. It would not go over well with the rest of the team, he said. I understood and expected this. It’d be like Danny Zuko and Kinikie seeing the Rydell High Japanese exchange student walk by in a T-bird leather jacket. It just wouldn’t be cool.

Hanging out at Dear Surf, going to the parties, and surfing the same beach nearly every day has earned me a place in the local hierarchy. Since there are different shops and different circles I don’t get a green light from everyone. One time I interfered (allegedly) with a local Japanese pro from another shop. And in a very public, and immature, way he reprimanded me in curt, demanding Japanese. And in a very American way I thought about disregarding the whole group harmony thing with a satisfying individualistic fist to his mouth, local pro or not. Back at Dear Surf, it was explained to me that the victim of my harmless interference is a pro-surfer and he needs more waves than me because he needs to feed his family through surfing. Therefore, he has more authority and I have to submit, eastern logic I am forced to accept.

Dealing with the intricacies of surfing in Japan, however, is really a gift of sorts. Japanese society is very complex, but as a foreigner I am usually on the outside and I just don’t notice the complexities. Surfing in Hyuga may be the only place where I have truly been brought into the fold in a sense. It seems that it would take decades to ever be considered a real local in Hyuga, but that’s okay because that’s reality and it’s comforting. It’s nice to be loved, but in this country it’s sometimes nice just to be treated like everyone else. Whatever the case, I may never reach Funny’s status, but there are always other t-shirts.

2004 1-42 Online