Sumo, Hot pot, and bullet trains: Our Last Day in Tokyo

After an incredible dinner the night before (featuring the most buttery, melt-in-your-mouth Kobe beef imaginable), we woke up, packed our bags, and prepared to bid farewell to Tokyo. The day’s itinerary was simple: eat lunch, watch sumo wrestling, and ride the bullet train to Kyoto. 

First stop: a very out-of-the-way restaurant that promised not just food, but sumo wrestling entertainment. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint. The restaurant’s owner and the wrestlers were absolutely hysterical, like, they could quit sumo and start a comedy tour. It was the cheesiest of the cheesy. We watched famous wrestling bouts on a giant screen, learning about sumo’s long history and bizarrely strict traditions.

Fun sumo facts I will now share because I am clearly an expert (thanks ChatGPT):

• Sumo is over 1,500 years old and was originally a ritual for the Shinto gods. Yes, this means sumo wrestlers are basically divine athletes. 

• Wrestlers live in sumo stables (heya), where they train, eat, and exist in a world where hierarchy rules everything—including who gets to shower first, who cooks, serves, and cleans. 

• The topknot hairstyle (chonmage) is not just for aesthetics; it was originally designed as head protection during falls. Basically, sumo wrestlers were the original trendsetters for extreme sports safety.

• There are a lot of illegal moves, including eye-gouging, hair-pulling, and striking with a closed fist—though these were hilariously demonstrated for us with exaggerated flair.

After the comedy portion of the show, the wrestlers put on an exhibition match, showcasing their brute strength, surprising agility, and impressive ability to keep a straight face while wearing only a mawashi (sumo belt). Then came the fateful moment: “Does anyone want to wrestle a sumo?” I looked around. The other tourists suddenly became very interested in their bowls of chanko nabe (sumo hot pot). I, however, was feeling bold and goofy (might have been the beer).  And, let’s be honest, at my size, I was probably their best shot at even pretending to be a challenge. The wrestlers grinned as they handed me a fake sumo suit (because obviously, in a real mawashi I would have been too intimidating..😜). The air grew thick with anticipation. The crowd gasped. Somewhere, dramatic music played in my head. 

The sumo wrestler stomped his foot and clapped his hands. I stomped my foot and clapped my hands, though mine was less ‘intimidating warrior’ and more ‘dad stretching before shoveling snow.’

The match began.

I charged, channeling all 10 minutes of sumo training we received during lunch.  My sumo opponent stood firm. It was like running into a boulder that had personal opinions about my life choices. He barely moved, but I gave it everything I had. 

Then, miraculously, he started moving. Was I actually pushing him? Could I possibly be a natural sumo talent?

The crowd erupted. The ground trembled. The restaurant staff cheered. And then… VICTORY!! I had done it! I had won! That’s right. Victory was mine! Was it gifted to me? Almost certainly. But I will take it. After my hard-fought sumo glory, we took photos with the wrestlers, who immediately spotted Joni and insisted she be part of the pictures. Japanese people love babies, and Joni, being the petite, adorable sumo-in-training that she is, was an instant celebrity. 

With hearts full and stomachs packed with sumo-sized portions, we made our way to the Shinkansen (bullet train) and waved goodbye to Tokyo. Kyoto, here we come!