As many of you probably know, I have been a longtime fan of a famous (in Asia, at any rate) board game simply called Go. Ever since friends Doug and Jeff introduced me to the game in high school, I have spent nine long, grueling years toiling away at studying the game and gradually working my way up from the rank of "total beginner" (30 kyu) to that of "laughably poor player" (20 kyu).

In a sense, I began my cultural studies of Japan years ago, based at first almost exclusively on the game of Go, not to mention a typical childhood fascination with 16th-century ninjas and samurais. Oops, did I say childhood? I meant college. Over time, I used my growing interest in Go to look past Japanese cultural stereotypes and come to appreciate Japan as an independent, unique nation.

Go originated in China at least 1,000 years ago, and was subsequently imported into Japan around A.D. 800. It is the oldest known board game, and it shows: the board (a simple grid of criss-crossed lines) and stones look strangely primitive, reminiscent of an ancient tactical map being analyzed in preparation for a military operation. Some historians theorize that the "game" did indeed evolve from a grid used for just such a purpose.

Despite there being a entire TV channel devoted to Go here in Japan, its popularity has not exactly soared in the United States. Which is why, when I found out Angie and I were headed to Japan this year, my heart surged with excitement and anticipation: I, Chris, was going to the land of Go! Where every household had at least one Go board, where local Go-playing clubs no doubt flourished on every streetcorner.

Only after I arrived and did some legwork did I come to understand the truth: Go is not cool in Japan. Oh sure, everyone here has heard of it. But it enjoys a similar reputation here as contract bridge does in the USA: retirees keep the sport alive. Thanks to the recent surge in popularity of a Japanese cartoon/comic book series called Hikaru no Go, some schoolchildren are also beginning to show an interest in the game.

This didn't stop me from trying, though. After asking around, one local suggested I try the 5th floor of the weirdly named Nana Beans Building downtown for some hot Go action. Sure enough, I arrived the next day to find two dozen older gentlemen crouched on the floor over their wooden Go boards. One of them noticed me and beckoned me over to sit for a game. My Japanese being too poor to form a polite refusal, I obliged and proceeded to lose every single stone on the board, a truly amazing show of amateurism on my part. Later, I inquired about these players' ranks; one bystander coolly replied, "Oh, hmmm...maybe...4-dan? 5-dan?" No wonder I lost. I had foolishly offered to play against the Eastern equivalent of a chess grandmaster.

Two days ago at the Yamagata City Cultural Festival, another local Go club made an appearance. Again, I surveyed the rows and rows of ancient-looking Go boards, while players silently mulled over their next moves. Absent from the booth display was any sign of anything remotely cool. No wildly colored posters with animated, blue-haired cartoon characters jazzing up the game. No piles of sleek, glossy brochures likening the game of Go to a quest for ultimate knowledge. No club web site. A friendly booth attendant (a retired Go champion, I later found out from my friend Google) politely handed me a Hikaru no Go poster, and then handed me yet another bitter defeat during our game.

So now it's your turn. Do your part to preserve a piece of Japanese cultural heritage, and take a few minutes to try your hand at the game of Go. Play the game that stumps even today's fastest computers and leaves chess far behind in its level of mathematical complexity. The rules are extremely simple and can be learned very quickly.

The easiest way to learn how to play is to download a free copy of IgoWin, a small program that lets you play Go on a 9 x 9 board against the computer. It also has a nice built-in Help section to bring you up to speed on the rules.