Sights and Sounds of Tai ji

After two weeks of study (thirty hours per week), I have learned the base eighteen movements of Chen-style tai ji. N.B. I am far from mastering these movements.

I am still amazed at how exhausting the subtle movements of shifting one's hips and rotating ones arms can be. The martial art form does not require any particular level of athleticism, but daily practice definitely guarantees some weight-loss (through sweat) and increased upper leg strength. Each movement requires only a slight knee-bend, but each movement requires firm rooting in the ground. Surprisingly, this rooting derives in comfortably sitting into one's hips and letting the hips begin each movement. At first, pronating and suppinating through hip movements seems counter-intuitive; eventually, one learns how to bend their elbows using their hips. At least, one supposedly learns this. As one of my fellow students pointed-out (in one of the more appropriate but obscure references I have ever heard), learning tai ji makes one feel like their doing the awkward jolts and jitters from Jamie Lee Curtis's strip tease in True Lies (see below for more details).

Waterbending (see below for details)

That's a video of my master （师傅, shifu) singing my favorite Chinese country song; the lyrics are something to the effect of: "Singing a song,/ I am on this side,/ the river is on that side..." It is a particularly popular song in Yangshuo, where there is an overdone light show involving hundreds of actors on boats and featuring the song as part of a love story between a village girl and a fisherman.

That video is of me doing the base eighteen movements with my master. I am sure you will see as many flaws in my form and postures as I do. Here is a clip of Jamie Lee's dance (the clip is only relevant to the point between 3:08 and 3:17, outside of that I cannot "speak" to the remainder of the clip): compare as you see fit. And after that, some vintage waterbending from one of my favorite TV shows ever.

The Price of Serenity

I have already provided evidence that Yangshuo is beautiful through my testimonies and my photography. And I have alluded to the quietness of the countryside, the slowed pace of practicing tai ji five-hours-a-day, and the pensive silence of staying in a village outside the city limits. Obviously, I am thoroughly enjoying my time in Guangxi's gem.

Serendipitously lotus blossom season

But, I am a cynical traveler (as referenced in my last post and my general tone throughout my posts). So here are a few opinions, observations, and reflections that could either be read as informed criticism of Yangshuo or as a whiny lack of appreciation.

"Real"...Generally speaking.

There are several excerpts from Lonely Planet's guide to China that reference "the real China." For instance, there is a quote in the section on Yangshuo that mentions how the mountain-town-cum-tourist-mecca is a far-stretch from "the real China." Being a cynical traveler, I heeded these words and mentally prepared for lots of schmaltzy tourist swag and fake touts; but being a cynical traveler, I also am skeptical of what Lonely Planet means by "the real China." (For more on cynicism, I recommend viewing 06/09/2011's episode of South Park: "Your Getting Old.")

One of my fellow tai ji students named Simon is seriously considering staying in China for a long period of time now that his holiday has been such a personal success. He recently passed his TEFL exam and is job hunting in Yangshuo. He also asked me whether I though that Yangshuo was an example of "the real China."

Real Chinese cow cooling off

Yin and Yang(shuo)

View from my second story porch swing

After a brief lay-over in Hong Kong (with the purpose of procuring a tourist visa for the summer), I took a sleeper bus to Yángshuò(阳朔). Known for it's karst mountains, 阳朔 is as beautiful and invigorating as stories make-it-out to be. The tropical spring weather of South China is on the brink of bursting into unbearable summer heat, but I still get afternoon rains that cool the air and make for peaceful sunsets over either of the two rivers that come through the county. While 阳朔 town has become quite the tourists' mecca over the past few years (and thus has plenty of bars, cafes, and restaurants to cater to Westerners), I am stationed in a valley about four kilometers from the town. I am studying tai ji at Long Tou Shan ("Dragon's Head Mountain") School in a small village. It is generally very quiet with minimal traffic, the occassional tourist cyclist, and a lot of frogs croaking at dusk.