One last thing. I kick ass.
Many people would've enjoyed their last weekend in London drinking their memories with friends.
I chose the way of pain. Oh yes folks, I got my black belt.
There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of animals Chuck Norris allows
Waking up on Monday morning was more painful than usual. It took my 10 minutes to lift my hurt neck from my bed.
And then, once I rolled over the carpet, it took me 15 more minutes to lift myself up and finally release the nocturnal pressure in the toilet.
I walked by the mirror, and stopped for a second. My hips and my arms were full of bruises. And then, I had some flashbacks. I was in a pub, and I drunk a lot, after so many weeks (months maybe).
Another flashback, and there I was: fighting for 10 rounds for my black belt. In my memory, it looked like the kind of fight you experience once you reach the final level of some beat'em up videogame. Well, at least it wasn't rape.
My problem has always been the fact that I watched too many movies. And, if you grew in eighties like me, it's very probably that you can get inspired by such classic as Karate Kid , Kickboxer or Rocky . And Bruce Willis' movies, obviously. And Harrison Ford's. And Phoebe Cates .
I'm aware that tomorrow I will leave London, probably forever, but I'm sure I will write some other nostalgic article remembering all my past great experiences and how cool I was in every single situation.
My memory is very selective, and it changes what I remember in a very nice way.
But at the moment I don't really want to. Training for the black belt has given me the chance to postpone all the nostalgic thoughts about me leaving this place after so many years. Now that even this last task is done, I should soon start thinking about what will happen next.
At the moment, my elbows are just stiff to even write what's in my head.
Anyway, my last Sunday in London started in a typical way: it was June, Wimbledon was around the corner, and it was raining.
I woke up very relaxed. Unlike my first gradings, I've never been very nervous about it. Actually I don't really get nervous or angry unless I'm playing football. When I proposed to Lindsey she was surprised how cool I was. But hey, back then I thought she knew already what I was going to do, in the afternoon in Richmond Park.
Life without a bicycle sucks. I sold my old wheeled black companion to some guy for a decent sum just the day before. It took me nearly half an hour to walk the distance that separates me from the club, the Martial Fitness in Putney . In the past 4 years I've always cycled there.
I arrived quite early but the grading for less-than-black belts was started already. For some reason (holidays?) not many people were grading, maybe around 20-30. What wasn't changed was the tension, as usually you could feel it and see it in all the familiar (and some new) faces of the guys and girls around.
Most of them (almost all usually) would get the new belt at the of the day anyway, but I guess that nobody want to suck in front of their friends.
Since I've always been a kind of a show-off guy (at least in sports and when I'm really - really - drunk), performing in front of other people has never been a problem. It just gives me a nice edge. And I always look good in the video!
Anna, my new flat mate, was there, with her friend, and you all have to thank him for the pictures!
It was all ready to go.
Pain is my game
After a quick warm up with the usual songs played constantly in my head - coming straight from the Commando List that my old flat mate did it for me, with the soundtrack of the might eighties movies - I was ready to go.
I'm not the most natural gifted Kickboxer. I'm probably not really gifted in any sport: I just perform every single time as my life (and honor) depends on it, and because I genuinely enjoy pain.
With my short and big legs, kicking some invisible spot in the air at my eyes-height (well, more like neck-height) has always been a problem for me.
Sure, you can stretch. "Stretch, and you can do even do the split". Yeah right.
Somehow over the years I managed to reach a decent height with a decent balance and since Jamie (my instructor - quick like a ninja) decided that I could grade after my months of intense training, well, then it means that I'm not that crap.
After all I'm the Olafmeister.
My techniques weren't that perfect, but I was quick and balanced enough to come through with no many huge mistakes. I was very tired already, but now I had to face the last test to get that black belt: survive 10 full rounds with fresher and better kick boxers than me.
While many guys (and girls) over the years always feared that moment, sparring after tiring techniques, this was just what I wanted. Just go and show them all that hey, I can take it (and this is pretty much it).
Just a week before the grading Jamie gently asked me to abandon my suicidal stance and adopt a better hit-and-run approach to it.
It almost worked, at least for the first few rounds. My round with Jamie looks really good on the preview video watched in the pub hours later.
But I was drunk by then, so I should maybe re-watch it again.
In my drunken memories, I remember seeing a quicker version of myself, capable of ducking under blows and swiftly delivering awesome punches. Need to see it again.
After Jamie, I fought Paul, Dani and Aurjin (no idea how to spell it). All good fighters, all tough fighters. They sparred with me before so they know they could actually push me and use me as a punch (or kick ball).
I really tried to listen to Jamie's advices for a while, but then my guard dropped, my speed decreased, my kicks stopped and I became a proper punching bag. With a smiley face. Told you I enjoy this things.
My two highlights:
- Round against Aurjin, "kicks only". I managed somehow to use a beautiful (by my standards, hey) butterfly kick that hit him. And the since I trained the whole combination at the mirror, I punched him, just in the only round where punches were not allowed. Crowd went from Wow to silence. I apologized, he kicked me in the balls seconds later. Fair enough
- Round against Dani. Dani tries some front snap kick, then a side kick or so, and he breaks his toe. Yes, probably he landed bad and moved it in an unnatural way, but I'd rather say that he broke it against my hip (which is still blue)
Tired, but still smiling, the rounds stopped and I was done. Jamie said same nice words and finally I got my black belt. End of an era for me. This was the last thing I wanted to achieve in London.
I actually stayed longer, with my fiancée waiting in South Africa for my arrival, just to get that belt. No social life, not many drinks in the many goodbye parties, just training. Was it worth it? Oh hell yeah.
Now I introduce myself as "Hello, Olaf Olgiati, black fucking belt by the way" just to scare people away.
The next day, with marks all over my body, I had my first and last lesson in the class as black belt. I really need daily gratifications, uh?
The videos:
Techniques:
Rounds 1-4:
Rounds 5-7:
Rounds 8-10:
Posted by Olaf Olgiati the 25 June 2007
I walked by the mirror, and stopped for a second. My hips and my arms were full of bruises. And then, I had some flashbacks. I was in a pub, and I drunk a lot, after so many weeks (months maybe). 
I'm aware that tomorrow I will leave London, probably forever, but I'm sure I will write some other nostalgic article remembering all my past great experiences and how cool I was in every single situation. 
I woke up very relaxed. Unlike my first gradings, I've never been very nervous about it. Actually I don't really get nervous or angry unless I'm playing football. When I proposed to Lindsey she was surprised how cool I was. But hey, back then I thought she knew already what I was going to do, in the afternoon in Richmond Park.
I arrived quite early but the grading for less-than-black belts was started already. For some reason (holidays?) not many people were grading, maybe around 20-30. What wasn't changed was the tension, as usually you could feel it and see it in all the familiar (and some new) faces of the guys and girls around.
After a quick warm up with the usual songs played constantly in my head - coming straight from the Commando List that my old flat mate did it for me, with the soundtrack of the might eighties movies - I was ready to go.
I'm not the most natural gifted Kickboxer. I'm probably not really gifted in any sport: I just perform every single time as my life (and honor) depends on it, and because I genuinely enjoy pain. 
It almost worked, at least for the first few rounds. My round with Jamie looks really good on the preview video watched in the pub hours later. 
Tired, but still smiling, the rounds stopped and I was done. Jamie said same nice words and finally I got my black belt. End of an era for me. This was the last thing I wanted to achieve in London. 
