Drinking tea and having lunch with the devils

October 27, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China.

On our day off on Sunday, Michael, Hanwei, Rutger and me went downtown and bought ourselves some dinner at "Barbarian heaven". When we came back to school in the evening, one of the kids approached us saying something in Chinese to Michael and Hanwei, which resulted in a long and serious discussion. I wondered what it was about, and when I asked Michael he explained me that one of the Chinese kids that has been hanging out with us (the foreigners) had been bullied because of it. They called him a traitor to China, because he was hanging out with the "devils". Michael seemded very pissed about this; not because we were called "devils", but because it was sad that a boy would be bullied just because he was hanging out with foreigners. Gladly, though, the boy didn't seem to care and kept on hanging out with us anyway.

Shortly after that, the Master came to our room and invited us to come to his room and have some tea. I felt very honored, and modestly entered his room. He explained us how expensive Chinese tea can be, but because many people give it to him as a gift he has a huge collection of tea. I told him I knew all too well about tea being expensive in China.
After cooking some hot water, the master first poured half of the tea on the table for some reason. When I asked Michael, he told me that it was part of the ritual when drinking tea in China. When the Master poured some tea into our cups, we had to touch the table twice with two fingers, which is a way to show respect and gratefulness. The Master told us about how he hated it that Shaolin Kungfu has become so commercial the last few decades, and said that he felt it was his task to keep the real traditional Shaolin Kungfu unharmed. Therefore, he has been writing a book about true Shaolin Kungfu. He said that he also wanted to give more foreigners a chance to learn real Shaolin Kungfu in the future, and was therefore planning to create an international school.

On Monday morning, the hard training started again. In between trainings, I had a few sparring sessions with Michael. Apart from Shaolin Kungfu, he has been boxing back in England as well, and therefore his punches to the face were really fast. I also had the chance to spar with the coach who has been teaching me the last two weeks. He is a very quick and skilled fighter. Thanks to all these sparring sessions, I am slowly getting used to giving and taking punches to the face.

On Wednesday evening, we went to the Master's room to tell him that Rutger would leave the next day. The Master invited the four of us to have lunch with him next day before Rutger would leave. In his room, the Master showed us some of his moves. He has an incredible speed. I doubt that I have ever seen anyone that fast. I had to punch him once to the face, and before I knew it he had blocked my punch and gave me three or four back.

When I heard the alarm clock next morning, I really didn't feel like waking up to train. I was just so tired. The other guys in my room seemed to feel the same way, since no one even tried to move. Ah, let's just forget about it today and keep on sleeping, I thought, but when I closed my eyes, I started to feel so bad about myself that I couldn't sleep anymore. I didn't want to go and have lunch with the Master without even training. I jumped out of  my bed, and left the room right away. Michael and Rutger also followed me, but Hanwei kept on sleeping happily in his warm bed.

On our way to lunch in the Master's car, everyone was sarcastically talking about Hanwei being such a serious Kungfu practicioner, but Hanwei didn't seem to care and just kept on laughing together with us. The dinner was great and I ate so much that my belly was about to explode, which made me worried about having to train again in a few hours. I didn't even want to think about it!

The flying Dutchman and the towering Frenchman

October 25, 2011. Written in Dengfeng

On Thursday afternoon, a foreigner came to watch our training. I had been told that he was supposed to enter the school that day, but after training he had already left, and when I asked the Master he told me that the foreigner would come back the next day. Michael was still in Beijing, which made me and Hanwei the only foreign students still at the school (Hanwei not even completely counting as a foreigner.)

During the next early morning training, the foreigner did not show up, which was not really a surprise, since training starts at 5:30 and ends at 6:40. After having had breakfast and rested for some time, the Master made me kick a tree from 8:00 until 10:00. In the meantime, the foreigner arrived and I saw him being guided by one of the students that speak a little (very little) English. When he passed by near me and my tree, I told him that I would be right with him.

When my training was finally finished, on my way back to the room, I bumped into the foreigner again and introduced myself. He turned out to be a Dutch guy as well, aged only 1 year older than me and called Rutger. We were both surprised by this coincidence, especially because I had heard that he was introduced by an American lady. Together we had some lunch, and talked about each other's travelling stories. He was travelling through China with another Dutch friend (who apparently did not feel so much for a week of hard Kungfu training), and had now entered the school for one week out of pure interest. He was not really a Martial Artist, but just a young sports-lover interested in Chinese culture.

He joined me and my Sanda class that afternoon. It was quite different to have another foreigner in the class, especially someone from the same country. He had never punched before and therefore hurt his arm while hitting the mitts, which resulted in his not being able to do any push-ups and punches with his right arm for the next few days.

The next Saturday, we woke up together to go to early morning training, leaving Hanwei in his bed. This day, the Master had not woken up for early morning practice (something that had never happened before) and we left without him. Without the Master's presence though, many of the students were not as serious as usual, which resulted in a mild early morning training.

During the morning training starting from 8:00 until 10:00, my Sanda class kicked some more mitts, and I felt my peak of tiredness coming. Good thing that Saturday was only a half-day, as Michael had told me.

Just when I came back from morning training terribly exhausted, the Master knocked on our door. Oh no! Please tell me it's not the tree again!
He told us to come with him, and lead us into his room. Inside, there were four or five foreigners, one being a huge black guy. The translator in the room told me that he was a French professional NBA player called Mickael Pietrus. He had come here to have a look at the training, and asked me what I had come to do here. The school organised a special show for him and his crew. Me, Hanwei, Rutger and some other students from the school also came to watch this show. Just like the day that the American camera team came, the performance was a lot different from normal practice, but definitely the perfect way to show off. Mickael was really impressed, and said that he wanted to practice too. We talked some more, and I took a picture together with the giant.

After the giant had left, we went back to our room to have some rest. Saturday was supposed to be a half day, so we were now free until Monday morning. The exhausted Rutger fell down on his bed and was sleeping before we knew it. Me and Hanwei were enjoying a few games, until suddenly the school bell rang.
"Isn't the training done for today?" I asked Hanwei.
"Yes, it is," he said, but I knew only too well that for him training never starts.
Shortly after that, I started to hear the students running outside. Somehow, training had started again. I woke up Rutger to tell him this, but he was too tired to go on. He had just arrived the day before, so all this training coming at him at once just was a bit too much.
I left off to Sanda class, and had my afternoon practice from 2:00 to 5:30. As always, my lazy partner didn't want to train, and made me do all sorts of crazy things while he was just resting himself. But somehow, I didn't feel so tired. At some point, when you go beyond your peak, you just forget about everything, and go on and on.

Late that evening, Michael came back from Beijing. Now, for the first time, our room was completely full, and with the 4 of us, I knew that in the next few days we would become a great team.

The master's teaching

October 21, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China

While I was practicing blocking high kicks with my Sanda class, all of a sudden the master appeared in front of us and started to teach. Different from the Sanda coach (who is basically just enjoying his high position and makes use of it by hitting the students), I felt a strong eagerness in teaching and a serious devotion to martial arts. Most of the students here are sent by their parents, and actually don't enjoy being here (I remember Michael telling me that some even try to sneak out), which made me feel sorry for the master teaching with so much devotion. Of course the students know that they will get hit if they don't practice seriously so they do pretend, but there is no enthusiasm in their movements (of course, with a few exceptions). That being said, the master just kept teaching while smiling, until everyone (including me) was so tired that they couldn't go on.

After training, on my way back from dinner at the canteen, I bumped into the master. He gave me a can of Red Bull and asked me if my muscle pain was not too bad.

That day, Michael and Hanwei had gone downtown and skipped training (Michael to buy a ticket to go to Beijing, Hanwei without a reason) and I was alone in the room. I put on the PS2 and played some games until they came back.

The next day, Michael would leave for Beijing (coming back on Saturday) so he decided to rest and stay in bed while I left for morning training. Again, Hanwei also stayed in bed, but without a good reason.

During daytime, the master came to look after our Sanda class again, and started teaching blocking techniques again. And just like the day before, after training and dinner I would bump into him, and this time he gave me some mandarins. Back in the room, I found Hanwei playing games again. He ate half of my mandarins. Michael had left for Beijing, so now it was just the 2 of us. Together, we played some games and had a lot of fun. Until we heard the master scream "Hanwei!!" from outside, that was. Hanwei went outside, and I was left alone in the room. I expected a shocked Hanwei to come back, but after about 10 minutes he came back with a smile on his face and said something like "Sorry! Let's continue our game!"

Jumping and sparring

October 20, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China

Tuesday afternoon, my Sanda team was joining the acrobatics class. Normally, I would have hated that because I cannot do anything acrobatic at all, but at that point, anything sounded better than another session with the sandbags. Together with all the acrobatics monk-like kids with their heads shaved, us, the punk-like Sanda team, made all sorts of crazy tornado jumps and somersaults. Everyone but me, that is...
I was not even able to land on my legs doing a normal somersault, but everyone was polite and no one laughed at me. That being said, some of the guys (especially the coaches) had an amazing flexibility and jumping skills allowing them to easily perform 3 somersaults in a row. It was really impressive to see. While practicing Karate in Japan, I was always somewhat (while knowing my weak points) confident about my skills, but here everything I do seems to be nothing compared to what they can do.

After having had a 15 minute break and going back, the Sanda team left the acrobatics class. Everyone was now wearing gloves and kneepads. Yes, finally it was time for some sparring! My body was already full of muscle pain and I was not able to use my body as fast and accurately as I wanted to, but I still tried my best. I sparred the 17-year old guy that has been my partner for the last few days. He had far more speed than me, and also had more strength. His high kicks were so fast that I was almost too late to block them, but everytime his shins hit my arm he would show me a painful face. I remembered Michael telling me that they don't train their shins and arm-bones here. That might be their only weakness, I thought. I was far less skillful than him, but at least I have hardened my bones by kicking and punching heavy bags and iron pipes. While starting to get some confidence, though, the guy punched me full in the face 3 or 4 times. So this was what it was like to get punched in the face. I tried to kick him back to the face, but he took my leg and tried to throw me down. I grabbed his T-shirt to prevent myself from falling, which resulted in some clinch fighting.
After something like 30 seconds, the guy said he was tired and didn't want to go on. The coach gave him a hit with his stick, but he didn't stand up until a few minutes had passed. When he finally stood up, he had enough again after 10 seconds. Things kept going on like that for a while until he tried to give me a low kick which I blocked with my shin. He said that he had hurt his leg and was not able to go on.

Having lost my opponent, I watched the other guys sparring. Their punches and kicks looked very wild and uncontrolled, but speedy and powerful at the same time. They hit each other in the face with full power. When sparring in Karate, you normally don't use so much strength in order to improve your skills, but here they seemed to not care about that. Whenever there was something about the sparring that the coach didn't like, he would stare at the students with his scary eyes, and hit them with the stick so that they would try better next time.

My first experience of sparring in Sanda made me feel the big difference between styles. People often like to wonder which style is the strongest, but I realised that that is not what is important. Without knowing each other's style, things can go wrong and accidents might occur.

Me and my lazy sparring partner.

Whacking in front of the Americans.

October 19, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China.

Monday was my first full weekday to spend at the Shaolin Kungfu school. At 5:20, Hanwei's alarm clock rang like nuts. For a moment, I thought a huge bomb had exploded. Michael and I got out of our beds right away, and left Hanwei still snoring peacefully in his bed. It was still dark outside, but the whole school was already lining up at the center square. We started running on a path that should lead us to the top of a mountain. But, while other groups went to the top of the mountain, my group (the Sanda group) didn't, and started all sorts of exercises halfway, like sprinting, jumping and kicking. By the way, it is interesting that only the Sanda group somehow do not shave their heads and some of them even have long hair. It is almost as if they are the only ones who are free in choosing their own hairstyle.

After an hour and a half of training, we came back to the school and had some breakfast. The master of the school approached me, and Michael translated. The master told me that I could ask whatever I wanted if I had a question. I told him that I had problems with a certain side-kick they do here, and while hearing Hanwei's snoring in the background, the master explained me about this kick.

During the afternoon practice, I noticed that the master and Michael were not there. Apart from that, except for the Sanda team, most of the students were wearing their traditional wear, whereas normally they are just wearing T-shirts.
I was doing some mittwork with my Sanda class, and like before, there seemed to be no end to it. After about one hour, the master and Michael came back with the school van, and an American camera team inside. Michael told me later that they were making a documentary on Shaolin Kungfu. When one of the Americans asked Michael about "that foreigner over there", he told them that I was a Kyokushin fighter who had lived 8 years in Japan.
"So many good stories here!" the American said.

In front of the American, the students started to show all sorts of traditional forms, acrobatics and fights. It was obvious that they were doing this especially for the Americans, because it was very different from their normal practice.
The Sanda team was now going to punch some sandbags, but before doing so, we first had to hang them on some bars, which was not as easy as it sounds. The bags fell off the bar quite easily, and we had to stop punching often, but maybe we were better off that way since the training was exausting. Whereas in Japan (and in most parts of the world for as far as I hear) we do rounds, here they just keep on whacking and whacking. There are no rounds or whatsoever, and you just have to keep punching the bag for hours and hours. Everyone took off their T-shirts, and while receiving hits from the teachers stick, we kept on punching.

After the training was finally done I had my dinner, but again I had difficulty holding my chopsticks. The master and Michael had left somewhere with the Americans, so me and Hanwei had to spend the night just with the two of us. When Michael is there to translate, it is great fun to be with Hanwei, but now we felt the hugeness of the language barrier between us. When Michael came back at around 9, we both felt a huge relief. That Michael must really be a treasure to this school. He can translate and help all the foreigners who come here feel to comfortable because he is so helpful in everything. He is going to leave for Beijing for a couple of days, and it is going to be a challenge for me to get along on my own in the meantime!

Shaolin Monks playing video games and a place called heaven

October 18, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China

On Saturday morning, my first so called "early morning practice" at the Shaolin school was supposed to start at 5:30. I heard the mobile phone of Michael (an Englishman fluent in Chinese staying in the same room) ringing once, but neither did he wake up, nor the Korean kid Hanwei. I closed my eyes again to get some more sleep. Michael told me that Hanwei's alarm clock would be so loud that you can't miss it, so I decided to just wait for that.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was not dark anymore. I was shocked by this fact, and got out of my bed right away. Michael and Hanwei were still sleeping. When I looked at the clock, I noticed that it was almost 8. I woke up Michael to tell him that we had overslept.
"There was no training this morning," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"I went out to check, but it was way too windy man. It was like a tornado! They told me to go back inside. Nothing's ever happened like this before."
I was not sure whether to believe him, because I remember seeing him close his eyes again after putting off his phone, and besides, I remember having heard some of the kids laughing outside in the early morning. But then again, it was still pretty windy outside even now.
I guess I will never know...

After having done some training, we got off for the rest of the day. Not because of the wind, but because it was Saturday. The kids were running around happily enjoying their playtime.

Together with Michael and Hanwei, I went downtown to have some fastfood. Michael said he has to go and eat outside every weekend, or else he can't survive here. On our way back, we bought ourselves some PS2 games, which are like 10 Yuan (1 euro or 100 yen) each. Back at the school, we put on the PS2, and played games until late in the night. So this is what Shaolin monks do in their free time, huh?

On Sunday, there was no training either, so we could sleep as much as we wanted. After having woken up at about 10, some of the Chinese kids came to our room to play some games on Hanwei's PS2. In return, they brought us some milk. As Michael explained to me, they are kids that come from good families from another province, but many of the local kids here are not so good and tend to steal stuff from others. One of the good kids had received some cookies from his mother, but it was all gone before he knew it.

In the afternoon, we went downtown again. There was this place that Michael and Hanwei liked to call "heaven".
"Trust me, you will have the best pork and lamb meat in your life," they told me.
The food that arrived was pretty barbarian. Huge lumps of pork were served, and Michael and Hanwei chewed them making loud noises, and kept sucking on them until there was no meat left. "Barbarian heaven" it was indeed.

On our way back, we met an Iranian man who has his 2 kids in the Kungfu school. He was together with the kids. They were very beautiful kids (especially the girl looked destined to become an incredibly attractive girl in the future), but they looked so incredibly sad. I am not going into details, but as Michael has explained to me, they have had a pretty hard life.
The Iranian family gave us a ride back on their motor with a container-like thing attached to it.
"Here's the foreigner parade ladies and gentlemen!" Michael said, and he was right.
Iranians, an Englishman, a Korean and a Dutchmen with a Japanese heart.
Time to get back to school!

De eerste dag op de Shaolin-Kungfu school.

 October 17, 2011. Written in Dengfeng, China.

Na de herberg verlaten te hebben, liep ik met mijn zware rugzak righting de Kungfu school waar ik de komende paar weken zou verblijven. Coco van de herberg had me het advies gegeven om de taxi te nemen, maar ik zei dat ik wel van een goede wandeling hield. Coco bleek echter niet de enige te zijn die het beter vond dat ik naar de school gereden werd; voortdurend kwamen er namelijk taxi's, bussen en zelfs gewone auto's voor mijn neus stoppen om wat aan mij te verdienen. Door al dit soort ervaringen wist ik al hoe je in het Chinees "Ik hoef niets van je" moet zeggen. Dat deed ik ook toen ik weer getoeter hoorde van een auto dichtbij. De man in de auto zei nog wat tegen me, maar zonder te kijken maakte ik een "wegwezen" handgebaar naar hem. De man zei echter nog een keer iets tegen mij. Dit klonk echter niet zo vervelend als het klinkt bij de meesten van die mannen. Ik keek nu om naar de auto, en zag dat het de meester van mijn Kungfu school was! Geschrokken boog ik meteen, bood mijn excuses aan tegen de meester, en stapte in zijn auto.

Het was dus niet het beste begin dat je je kunt voorstellen. Het kwam allemaal echter snel in orde, omdat de Engelsman Michael (die vloeiend Chinees spreekt) na aankomst het allemaal aan de meester uitlegde. We hadden nog een kleine 2 uur voor de les moest beginnen.
Michael en Hanwei (een Koreaan) hielpen mij de juiste maat vinden van het Kungfu uniform, dat slechts 6 euro kostte. Schoenen bleken ze echter niet in mijn maat te hebben, en die zou ik de volgende dag in de stad moeten kopen.
Ik bleek in dezelfde kamer te slapen als Michael en Hanwei. Ze verzorgden in de kamer een klein hondje dat ze op de straat gevonden hadden. De kleine kinderen op de school schijnen het hondje echter te pesten en te schoppen, waardoor hij een mank rechterpootje heeft. Hij heeft trouwens ook een onderbeet, iets wat ik nog nooit bij dieren gezien heb.

"You are a terrible excuse for a dog!" zei Michael steeds tegen hem, en dat is nu net wat hem zo leuk maakt.

Mijn eerste training begon om 2 uur. Ik zit in een Sanda klas voor gevorderden (Michael heeft ervoor gezorgd dat ik daar mee kan doen) en ben er verreweg de oudste. Sanda is een soort Kickboksen, maar dan met Kungfu als basis. Het begon met een lichte warming-up, en daarna moesten we slaan en schoppen tegen de stootkussens. Hier bleek echter geen eind aan te komen. Ik ben het met Karate natuurlijk gewend om tegen stootkussens te slaan, maar niet zo lang. Het ging maar door! Bovendien sla je met Sanda tegen het hoofd, en doordat de stoten iets anders zijn dan die van Karate, voelde ik dat ik net iets andere spieren gebruikte dan normaal, want voor een enorme spierpijn zorgt. De coach van 21 (die op mij na de oudste is) gaf soms het goede voorbeeld, en elke keer weer was ik onder de indruk van zijn enorme lenigheid en snelheid. Echt hoe je het je voorstelt van een Kungfu expert.
Om half 6 mochten we eindelijk ophouden met de stootkussens, en was mijn eerste training klaar.
Ik ging naar Michael die nog bezig was met zijn acrobatiek klas. Al die jongens deden de gekste sprongen en maakten achteroversalto's na tegen een boom op gerend te hebben. Ik was blij dat ik voor Sanda gekozen had, want daar had ik absoluut niet aan mee kunnen doen.

We mochten nu eten in de cantine (alhoewel de meeste leerlingen hun eigen bakjes hebben waarmee ze eten halen en dan weer meenemen naar hun kamers). Ik had een vreselijke honger, maar had moeite met het eten omdat ik door de spierpijn mijn stokjes niet goed meer vast kon houden. Het eten is simpel en niet bepaald van hoog niveau, maar in ieder geval mag je zoveel eten als je wilt.

Na gegeten te hebben ging ik met Michael en Hanwei terug naar de kamer. We speelden daar wat spelletjes op de Playstation 2 van Hanwei. Hanwei is een erg vriendelijke jongen en lacht altijd vrolijk. Hij blijkt alleen niet erg van vechtsport te houden, en blijft vaak de hele dag lekker in zijn bed liggen. Als hij een Chinees geweest was, hadden ze hem helemaal in elkaar geslagen, vertelde Michael. Maar omdat hij een Koreaan is, doet niemand streng tegen hem en maakt het niemand uit wat hij doet. Hij is gewoon het type dat lekker op de kamer wat strips leest en een spelletje speelt. Op zich niets mee mis.

Om half 10 ging het licht uit. De volgende dag moesten we om 10 voor half 6 op te staan. Door de druk die ik daartegen voelde kon ik echter niet slapen. Ik meen me zelfs te herinneren het 2 uur te zien worden. Dat wordt nog eens wat morgen!