Category Archives: Stories

TBT: Battling Sharks in Chatham

Summer 2012:  In a summer that saw the vicious return of great white sharks to Cape Cod, it seemed inevitable that an avid swimmer like this author himself would soon encounter the great beast.  And so to he would fall the onus of saving civilization itself.

Proudly presenting the tale of the mighty encounter, written in its original form (with the help of Brad Hoffman and Alex Blumberg), in all caps to emphasize its truthiness:

I WAS BUSY MOVING BOULDERS, LAYING THE LAND, WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SPEARFISHING. I SAW A FAMILY OF SEAL PUPS PLAYING JOYOUSLY IN THE SHALLOWS, OH, THEY WERE MAGICAL.

THEN ABROAD IN THE DISTANCE I SAW A TERRIBLE SIGHT, THE LONG FIN OF A MASSIVE GREAT WHITE SHARK. INSTANTLY I STABBED THE SPEARGUN THROUGH MY HAND, A SMALL SACRIFICE TO DRAW THE BEAST TO THE SCENT OF MY WARM BLOOD.

I SWAM FORTH, STOPPING ONLY WHEN I STOOD BEFORE THE GREAT PREDATORY FISH. AND ALMOST GRACEFULLY, WE BEGAN TO CIRCLE ONE ANOTHER, KNOWING WE WERE DRAWING A RING ONLY ONE OF US WOULD ESCAPE.

sharksA NATURAL AGGRESSOR HE LUNGED, AND I SWUNG AT HIS NOSE, THE BEAST’S GREAT WEAKNESS. HE RECOILED AND INSTANTLY PREPARED FOR ANOTHER CHARGE. AS HE SHOT TOWARDS ME I HELD MY BREATH AND DROPPED BENEATH THE STOMACH OF THE MONSTER, A REVERSE OF THE SPRAWL MY TRAINING HAD PREPARED ME FOR. INSTANTLY I FIRED THE SPEARGUN INTO HIS GUT, BUT RETREAT I DID NOT.

GRABBING THE SPEAR, I THOUGHT ONLY OF A MORE INNOCENT KIND AS I WITHDREW THE METAL SHAFT AND REINSERTED IT, AGAIN AND AGAIN, WITH ALL THE FORCE MY BREATHLESS LUNGS COULD MUSTER. FAITH FOR MY VICTORY WAS ALL I COULD AFFORD AS THE SALTY SEA TURNED TO A BLOODY RED. FINALLY I EMERGED FOR SWEET BREATH… BUT IT COULD NOT BE AS SWEET AS THE SIGHT OF THE SEAL PUPS, JOYOUSLY EMBRACING OUR VICTORY, AS THE MARAUDING MONSTER FLOATED DEAD AND DEFEATED OUT TO SEA. AND AS THE PUPS CIRCLED ME WITH A SONG OF THEIR OWN, MUSIC OF A MORE HUMAN NATURE REACHED MY EARS; CHURCH BELLS WERE RINGING UP AND DOWN THE COAST OF CAPE COD, A LIBERATED PEOPLE CELEBRATING THEIR FINAL VICTORY OVER A TERRIBLE FOE.

With help from Brad Hoffman and Alex Blumberg

Thrilling Memories During A Near-Death Experience

It seemed I was in terrible danger.

Whatever happens, I thought, as Death trotted towards me, I won’t regret trying.

Such is the attitude of any kind of exercise.  On some t-shirt I once read “‘Boy, I really regret that workout,’ SAID NO ONE EVER.”  To me, physical recreation has a purifying effect on the soul.

And as I faced mortal peril deep in the mountains outside Kyoto, I experienced a moment of clarity, remembering the very physically active day I had so far experienced.

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Introducing TBT Posts: The Nasifs Go To Normandy

#TBT: As a lazy, unorganized perfectionist, it has been difficult for me to make posting to this blog a regular event. Therefore I’ve decided to fluff up my blog with Throwback Thursday posts, featuring stories or editorials I’ve written in the past.  If they are edited, it will be minimal.

In belated honor of Bastille Day, I am proud to present (a very slightly modified version of) the essay I submitted in response to the question, “Why do you want to study abroad in France?”

May 2011:

When I was told to write “a short history of your life and why you wish to study abroad,” my first instinct was to write a long-winded account of my strengths and weaknesses, tragedies and triumphs.  I could absolutely characterize that in a way that would convince my readers of my desire to go abroad. But as an avid writer, I despise convention. I don’t think that would do it justice.

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A Night with Yuu in Osaka

Streets in Osaka.

Streets in Osaka.

Japanese friends are hard to make.  Since coming to this transilient country I have befriended quite a few Americans and some British and Irish people. That’s mostly it.   In such a dense and developed nation, far fewer speak English than possibly anywhere I’ve ever been.

The culture is also hard to penetrate: most Japanese are shy, indirect, and not very socially brave. Americans are therefore seen as intimidatingly cool. Moreover, Japan suppresses individualism and glorifies conformity.  They even have a saying to this effect: The nail that sticks up gets hammered down.

Then there are those great exceptions on which ride the waves of history.

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You Won’t Find That Here

Today is May 7th, two months to the day since my arrival in Japan. I knew I’d leave behind major comforts in America, yet I wasn’t ready for the blow I received the very first night.

It was March 7th.  After an exhausting journey, our trainer Kyle took my co-trainee and me to a grocery store in Osaka, Japan. Looking around at all the food, thinking of the reasonably comfortable hotel room waiting for me, I felt safe at last.  Proceeding to the open refrigerator, I grabbed the first plastic container of a beige substance I saw. “Great,” I said. “Hummus. Looks like I have breakfast for tomorrow.”

“Hummus?” repeated Kyle. “Yeah, you won’t find hummus here.”

Horrified, I dropped the sweetened soy-paste.

Won’t find hummus?

I thought this was a metropolitan country. There’s an Italian restaurant on every street here, and there’s not a corner in Italy – or any Mediterranean country for that matter – without a kebab stand selling hummus for an extra euro.

“Japan is different,” explained Kyle.  Mercilessly I might add.

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