There was so much gold. Pure gold.
‘Wecome!’ The important Chinese man said with a great big smile. His officials stood by as he clasped Coach Guo on the shoulder, exchanging a formal greeting in Mandarin. We all proceeded into the palatial room embellished with jewels and the finest carving work, taking our seats at the round table already set with tea cups, crockery and chop sticks. I exchanged a wild look to Dad; he wasn’t joking when he said this was the finest Chinese restaurant in all of China.
Everything came at once: the entertainer clapping his exotic instrument, the serving maids wrapped in silk, the food which may as well have been platters of edible fortune. I had to pinch my arm to remind myself that it wasn’t a dream. I glanced over to the other table where Coach Guo sat, deep in conversation with the important man who greeted us, flanked by his accomplices. “He is the Mayor of Tianjin,” Jun told me, leaning in to my side. I could hardly believe it. Coach Guo knew the Mayor of Tianjin?! It’s only the 4th largest city in China… I had to shake myself out of a daze. Sure, he was a brilliant Coach, and he was damn good at teaching us Kung Fu at Maungaphau Primary School down in New Zealand. But to be friends with a man in China’s highest league of importance … Royalty..
We had suspected that Coach was someone special the second day we arrived in China. All we did was stop by a street market that sprawled through alley ways and thin roads somewhere in Tianjin’s smoggy city-scape. Small tables were filled to the edges with tiny Buddhas, dragon statues and other ornaments that were spread across crimson red tablecloths that gently flapped in the wind.
“2 yuan!” Dad would try to barter, occasionally winning his travellers bet and walking away with some nifty treasure. Coach was with us as we headed back to the bus, and he advised dad against a certain item - it looked like the real deal, but this was Coach’s hometown. If anybody knew what was legitimate around here, it was him. The man behind the table studied Coach closely, and then suddenly bolted upright from his chair, a shocked look gripping his aged face. We carried on our way, but the man hurried past his table and onto the walkway with a scrap of paper and a pen, pushing it in-front of Coach. Dad and I looked at each other, both perplexed. It seemed that Coach Guo was a celebrity around these parts.
It was no wonder that we were treated to the best that Tianjin had to offer. I wish we had known how influential our coach was before hand, otherwise we might have showed more respect to the concert we were taken to on our first night in China. Apparently it costed 1 million dollars to produce; dancing dragons, booming orchestration, a dazzling theatre performance… and we were asleep half of time, our heavy eyelids the result of the long flight from New Zealand. Who could blame us? We were damn tired!
Tianjin was an extraordinary experience, to put it lightly. I had to swaddle myself in multiple layers to guard against the biting cold, especially during the opening ceremony of the event we had travelled all this way to attend. It was hosted in the magnificent plaza of the Jingwumen Chinese Martial Arts Park, on the outskirts of Tianjin.
Our jaws dropped at the displays as we were guided to our seats. To one side of us were the other contingents from around the world, to the other sat the the dignitaries and officials of the Chinwoo organisation. A massive statue of a Kung fu warrior stood in the centre of the great plaza, hand on a sword as if braced and ready to become alive and protect the people against an army of titans. Kung Fu allies from around the world had come to gather around the statue that morning, forming a sea of colour with all their different coloured silks and costumes. Troupes of Wu Shu disciples stood like iron soldiers, wielding banners of blue, yellow and white that flapped courageously in the brutal wind. It was the 100th year anniversary of the Chin Woo organisation. I couldn’t help but be astonished by the weight of what I was attending, barely noticing the chill of the North China gale against my clumped clothing.
I was suddenly gripped by a strong sense of admiration. Kung fu… Such an ancient practice. And here I am, a young little New Zealander… The plaza was alive with dragons and drummers, lions and weapon-bearers, martial artists of the highest league - it was a sight I could hardly believe. Not far from where we sat, a team of Kung Fu warriors marched into the square and performed an act in front of everybody. They were the elite who trained at this temple, and they moved with impeccable strength, battling the wind as if it was nothing. I shuddered in the icy breeze when I realised that those guys were my competitors in the coming competition. They were the fearsome Tianjin warriors. Oh how I wished it was just some fancy martial arts show, and not the prologue to a highly revered Kung Fu competition in China.
The very next day, we were in Shanghai. It was where the competition was being held. Our hotel was situated in one of the city's central districts. Thankfully, it had a park just over the road. Me and dad went to explore it, crossing the busy road with much trouble. “Look at that. Buses have right of way over cyclists!” Dad exclaimed, shocked at how the traffic worked despite its chaos. We ventured into the park, skirting along the sides of ponds and fountains, passing groups of elderly folk practicing Tai Chi, men playing instruments, others sweeping fallen leaves .
On the fringe of the park, we came to the stairs of what seemed to be a giant central city stadium. We scaled them, and discovered a secret little shop that seemed too good to be true. It was a Kung fu shop, like a den in the shell of the stadium. We went in, and ended up purchasing a whole range of items, more unique than anything we could find in New Zealand. They even did custom Kung Fu silks. I took to the opportunity, ordering a sleek blue silk with a golden dragon on the shoulder. They said they would have it ready in two days.
When we returned to the hotel, I didn’t expect to see the whole team from New Zealand huddled in the hallway outside of Coach’s room. It was the competition briefing; we were just in time. My friends and fellow competitors gave me a funny look. Coach was beaming. “Josh,” he announced. “You are first to compete.” I quivered where I stood, unbelieving. “First?!” Hearing this news put a bullet in my stomach.
I rolled up into a ball in the hotel bed that night, clouded in disbelief. The competition was still a day away, but it didn’t seem to calm me even on that night. I desperately sought the refuge of sleep.
The next day was spent training in the park with Siu Yuat and Jun. Siu Yuat made us do the forms back to back, ensuring we would stand a chance against those Tianjin warriors and all the other intimidating competitors. “Again!” He commanded with as much authority as Coach Guo. Alongside a quaint pond we trained; it carried our reflections and silently watched as we punched away the hours, unable to help us as our legs trembled and our sweat melted into the pavement. Siu Yuat was a hero in my eyes, and I didn’t want to let him down. “Again!”
When I slipped into the covers of my bed that night, the nerves were even too afraid to show their worth. After training with Siu Yuat, I felt more ready than ever. That night, I slept like a log. But it was when I woke, vulnerable in my morning grogginess, that the fear struck hard and fast the minute I remembered. It was the day of the competition, and I was first.
I remember the call room all the well. The Tianjin Warriors were present, as menacing as bladed dragons in the winter. They scanned me up and down as I took my place at the front of the assembling competitors; I could almost taste mock in their gaze. Why do I have to be first?! I was cursing. Out on the matted hall, dancers and maidens waved fans around to pamper the audience, catching eyes with their beautiful flowing silks. Behind me, the fleet of Wu Shu contestants stilled, readying themselves as if for battle. I was trembling in my Feiyues - I didn’t think it was possible to feel this nervous. All in a blur, the flock of performers flew from the centre of the hall, and the panel of judges seated themselves, fondling paperwork.
My name was announced for the whole auditorium. With a deep breath, I marched onto the mat.
It was over in the blink of an eye. On the side of the mat, my heart was pounding like a bass drum, and my head spinning. The judges conferred amongst each other as if it was the most important decision of their lives. I didn’t care what my grade was - I already felt victorious. To stand before the Wu Shu world stage and perform in front of the masters was one thing. But to be the first to do so in such a momentous event was an entirely different affair. I was sure my performance would be no match for the other Wu Shu Warriors who were waiting behind me, flexing their arms and cracking their knuckles - those menacing Tianjin students, and the unnerving contenders from Malaysia, Hong Kong, and Switzerland. But it didn’t matter - I had already won.
With the monumental challenge behind me, I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the Competition. Actually seeing the Tianjin Warriors and the other talented competitors perform was a unique experience - we were witnessing the best of the world. We cheered wildly when members of our troupe performed. Jun whirled on the mat with his staff, confident and fierce. Siu Yuat darted about the floor in his silk, a blue flash. Our other teammates, Jenny and Rangiatea, took to the mat fearlessly when their turn came. We each showed the other teams that New Zealand was a lionhearted player on the Wu Shu world stage. Coach Guo witnessed all, judging silently alongside the other masters and dignitaries.
The medals ceremony at the end of the competition brought its own set of surprises. I never expected to be stepping up to the podium, but sure enough I won 3rd place, and had the Bronze medal placed around me neck. Towering above me was the broadest Tianjin Warrior, and to his right was the one of the lightning-fast Malaysian challengers. I couldn’t believe that I still came ahead of the other badass contenders. Third place!! Every member of the New Zealand team received a medal. It was a victorious day all around.
That night, the greatest banquet of them all was held. An ultimate feast of Chinese cuisine, deserved by all. The Tianjin Warriors sat with us that night, smiling and congratulating us on our performances. They weren’t so fearsome after all! They had the kindest of hearts - no surprise for such dedicated disciples of Wu Shu.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Dad and I weaved our way through the labyrinthine alleys of Shanghai, searching. My feet were throbbing - we had been walking all day, exploring as many districts of Shanghai as we could. And yet, we still hadn’t found the prime attraction: The Yuyuan Gardens. We trawled the inner Shanghai passages for what seemed like eternity.
Majestic Chinese buildings were the walls of this great maze. They were wondrous to behold, even as we scurried along. Ornamentation and gold lettering winked from small roofs slanting towards us. Intricate wood-work and patterns of red velvet climbed the buildings naturally. Strings were webbed between the tall structures above, and red lanterns hung from them like baubles. I was captured by the scenes, careful not to bump into anybody as I made quick glances above. There was magic in those buildings - it seemed like every one of them, grand as the eternal sky, were palisades or palaces in their own right, concealing some mythic paradise.
After much puzzlement, we found an opening in the palisades, and entered the Yuyuan Gardens. It was just as wondrous as I had suspected. Ponds the colour of ancient green rested comfortably between mounds of rock and exquisite pavilions. Wise trees watched over the gardens, some reaching gracefully toward the ponds. Bridges connected the features, zig-zaging over the calm waters and heralding that same magical atmosphere. We made our way into the deeper gardens, crossing the bridge that stretched before us. I noticed goldfish dancing beneath, barely visible.
Cradled deep in the Yuyuan gardens, I felt the majesty of China most strongly. I felt some kind of affinity for China within me - an affinity that wasn’t birthed in that moment, but rather, an affinity I was just discovering. It burned like a silent blue flame somewhere within my heart. The culture, the architecture, the lettering I couldn’t understand, the various art forms.. I felt something so deeply wise and magical about all of it, even if the feeling was faint.. I could still hardly believe I was even standing there, in the Yuyuan gardens.. in China.. I felt blessed to have ever stumbled upon Coach Guo’s Kung Fu classes back home in New Zealand. They had taken me to China. But for what? To discover something? I wondered if there was a deeper reason for my journey to China.
A few days later, after a few more banquets and tours, we gathered all of our things. Gifts and medals, knick knacks and treasures, friends and memories. And then, we left. It was time to go home. Back in New Zealand, tears sprung from my eyes. I could barely handle the fact. The unavoidable fact. I was no longer in China.
And yet, the silent blue flame still burned.
Comments
Post a Comment