Asia Specific: September 2006

Jeet Kun Whoa!

Well lovely ladies and genteel gentlemen, our brains, built as they are can only house so much knowledge. You can only remember so many conical equations and Simpson's trivia before it all starts to become one massive algebraic Springfield.
On the 26th i leave via overnight train for the capital, and soon to be olympic (believe me, you can't not know this, 2008 is emblazoned everywhere, seriously: auto upholstry) city known as Beijing.
Here's some thoughts on Chinese Gong Fu:
1. Its rad.
2. Its super difficult.
3. If you wanna be sweet you gotta train for, like, ever.
4. If you train for, like, ever, you are gonna be really sweet.

For example, Sifu Wang, (thats pronounced Shu-fu) my Master at Chan Wu:

Yes, the end of that is sticking in his neck. He broke a thick chopstick on his neck for us, and i mean, this thing was thick. Next time you eat Asian with chopsticks, stick one of those things into that little place where your collarbone meets at the base of your neck. Then break it. He was all "this no problem." I was all "yeah." That guy with the bricks is gonna stack them on his back and then they're gonna break 'em with a big stick.

But that's not to say that i haven't learned some sweet stuff. Cause i came out knowing a bunch of different forms,

Tai Chi:

and how to work the "Guen" (staff):

and the "Dao" (broadsword):

And i got in raw shape and ate vegitarian and woke up at 5 every morning. Plus, i get to legitimately wear that outfit, which at least means i won't get Dick Cheney'd whilst im traipsin' through the woods.

Next Post Beijing. Much love to all y'all who read this.

This Ain't Corny

I just gotta say, living in the city (enough for or just enuff) its so easy just to run down to the supermarket (or the bodega if you are livin in that just enuff!) and get your dinner fixins'. But all that food's gotta come from somewhere, and next time you gnaw on that cob o' corn, think about where it might have sprung up from! Native Americans had whole creation myths based around it, , we just slab it up with a pad of butter and douse it in a little salt!
Anyways, all these thoughts came as i spent a day haulin' corn husks over to the edge of the cliff and tossing em over. Round here, the combine that harvests and husks acres for the American subsidized farmer isnt in sight, and all that's done by hand. So they need all the hands they can get, even itenerant Kung Fu students can learn "Shaolin Husking Fist" or whatever. There's a lot of labor before we can grab that toothpick!
Jah Bless, Be Thankful!

Professional?

Nope. But seriously, you take a camera up into the hills, snap one photo of a kid, and the next thing you know their parents are all "lemme get some of those!" Then when you try to explain in a foreign language that you don't speak that, well, this is basically a toy camera that shoots a big format of film that they definitly don't develop in Dengfeng...

So i returned later with the digital, and one kid becomes an army of Kung Fu soldiers...

Dungeons and other Commercial Centers

So i was battling this dragon, right? (as you do, this is China, and man, he was fierce. I mean, this wasn't your run of the mill fire breathing komodo lizard, but some serious, straight off the hoard of gold up under the mountain, only one scale missing, fire breathing, fair maiden ravishing, Dungeon master's mind melting beast. Kinda like dude to the left here, but minus the water and the mouth tentacles.
I mean, i dont know that much about dragons, definitly not as much as these folks: http://www.draconian.com/body/body.htm

But i do know that when fair maiden's get threatened by 'em, itenerant Kung Fu students better step up and take care of bidness. So when i stumbled upon this dragon doing dragon ish and harrassing the fine women folk of DungFeng, my split second kung fu skill srung straight into action, and i busted him upside the head with a few of those secrets you only learn from Kung Fu masters. He got a couple of licks in, i mean, its a dragon we're talking about here, but in the end i put him down with some old school Ralph Macchio spinning drum action and jump kick or two. He had been holding one of these fair ladies in his scaly grip, and, unfortunately, had ripped the seam of her Gucci gown, which was a little too reavealing for modesty. Me being the right southern gentleman that i am, offered immediately to get her fixed up with the nearest tailor. Since i don't speak Chinese so well yet though, i had her direct me, "where does one acquire the appropriate clothing for one of your stature?" i asked.
"Oh, that's easy," she said. "take me to the mall."

All Dogs go to heaven

At least if your belief system leans towards one of the ones where when you die, you either go up and max out on fluffy clouds or down and burn in incidiary pits, eventually you might question whether animals are party to the agreement for the dispensation of souls towards the "up" escalator or the "down."

One of the first questions i was posed upon being picked up by the Chan Wu gang, was
"Do you like dogs?" Of course, Man's Best Friend and all that. Chan Wu has four. Two of the fluffy white variety, and two of the big barky variety. The big ones are harnessed to their brick houses by chains, and their time consists of finding things to bark at, eating, and pooping.

At first glance your compassion meter starts going off, thinking, "poor poochies, all tied up."
Then you listen to the barking for a while and start contemplating putting some of these well honed sword swanging techniques to use in choppin' heads.

At Master Wang's house, they had a baby pooch that was always running around, inside the house and out. Being a little pooch, it was always jumping up and down and snapping at folks, particularly students who liked to play with dogs. Enter Leo, German, 16.

He got bit by this here little poochie, not too bad but it drew blood. Which was really no problem, until the little pooch keeled over from rabies the next week. And the neighbors dog. And the neighbor's neighbors dog. Rightly fearing fatal viral infections, he made quick tracks with his father back to his native Germany.

Our other foreign student, slightly more prone to worrying about diseases and malaises than the next guy (he doensnt have the DSM-IV next to the bed or nothing, but still) got to thinking about his own contact with that little pooch, and decided that he too, needed to get home, cause he shure wasnt getting shots in China, good gracious no.

That leaves yours truly as the sole foreign student at Chan Wu Academy, at least for the next three weeks before i start making moves towards the western world where, through the process of domestic vaccination, we have mostly eradicated such viral problems.

Anyways, China ain't no joke.

But i do get almost exclusive access to Shaolin Master Xi Peng Wang, where he'll teach me how to break out of the handcuffs at quarantine.

You don't want drama

you don't want none!

How to Get to Chan Wu

I reckon folks are curious as to where this writer currently resides..sure "China" gives an idea, but im not living in the shadow of the great wall, or battling Xi'an's concrete warriors out here.

So, in attempts to clear up, here's a look at the transportation necessary to get to my neightborhood...

First, one would have to get to Mainland China. (Visas are your own affair, American foreign policy being what it is...(nuff said)) The its a train to Zhengzhou (jeng-joe). From there, an air-conditioned bus playing the latest in either Kung-Fu or Anti-japanese imperialist film in the VCD format...

Arrival in Dengfeng (Dung Fung), my stomping grounds. Here it gets interesting. You catch this bus:

pay this woman 2.5 yuan:

If you are standing, you duck when we pass the police, cause they got rules about safety you know, and folks just can't be crowding the buses...

The you get out at Da Jin Dian, the trafffic circle,