I have driven a great many rallies around the world. Every single one has organisers behind it, and their own route, their own concept, their own purpose behind it all — each with its own distinct character and charm.
This Peking to Paris Motor Challenge is organised by ERA, from England, which runs a great many long-distance rallies known as some of the hardest in the world.
Beyond simply understanding what the organisers intend, there are all sorts of walls that go beyond language — the rules of the competition, communicating with the other entrants.
Learning the differences between the world and Japan
Entering rallies around the world naturally means running into differences in culture, common sense and values. It is never a question of which is right, Japan or abroad — knowing the customs and culture of each country lets both sides understand each other better.
Of course, being fluent in the language would make crossing that gap simple, but even with the will to understand, I cannot speak English at all. Never mind English — an Italian rally is in Italian, a French rally in French. So how has a Japanese woman kept driving through all of it?
Reading the mood of the English organisers, and finding a way to communicate
Five years ago, when I first emailed asking to enter as a Japanese entrant, every single reply was a refusal. I could not clearly grasp the reason, and translating the English got me nothing that actually made sense.
So — face to face. Three years ago I went to England to argue it in person, and that is how I got my ticket into this great challenge.
But from there, England went into a full Covid lockdown in 2020 and travel was completely forbidden, so heading into this great challenge without ever having seen the organisers’ faces in person made me genuinely anxious.
Operation smile!
About seven years ago, when I first started entering rallies abroad, a senior driver I ran my first Italian rally with taught me something.
“Abroad, just smiling and being warm gets you everywhere.”
Having put that piece of advice into practice ever since, I feel now, more than ever, that it is the single most important thing. So this time too, I went to meet the organisers on operation smile.
I had booked the appointment from Japan and told them I was coming, but I was genuinely anxious — were they really welcoming this, and what did they actually think about a Japanese entrant?
But my trusty operation smile — I could barely make myself understood in words, but the feeling that I wanted to be part of this, that I wanted to enjoy this challenge, came through. They showed me round the office and told me story after story about the rallies they had run. (I understood almost none of the actual words, but that was roughly the gist — laughs.)
They even introduced me to people inside the organisation — “I’m the one who always sends you the emails,” one of them said, and suddenly there was a real connection.
It is exactly because of that connection that they looked after us so well on this warm-up Summer Trial too.
The organisers posted a video, and I was startled to find myself right there at the start. I felt the love in it — and swore to myself that next year, in this great challenge, I will drive representing Japan, with a smile.