Narcissistic Vacations by Verjon

This was uploaded as a joke-post on Facebook. Unfortunately the Selfie Culture is
now so entrenched that I think most people viewed the photos as normal holiday
snaps, while secretly feeling them a tad indulgent.
Parody, subtlety and metaphors are old turds that the social media cistern struggle
to flush down:

An exhibition of European Travel photos inspired by the new wave of ‘trash & selfie’ tourism currently plaguing Asia.
Famous icons are rendered ephemeral via the imposing juxtaposition of vainglorious humanity.

Held at the Tandas Centre on Kampong Kolam from July 14th until August 12th.
Entrance fee is one penny. All proceeds go toward convincing a European artist to paint a mural of a green man into the traffic lights at the intersection of Chulia & Beach Sts.

Here’s a sneak peak at some of the works to be displayed.

  • Grand Mosque Muscat, Oman
  • Westminster
  • Sacre Coeur in Montmartre
  • Eiffel Tower
  • Arc de Triomphe
  • Notre Dame Cathedral
  • The Pantheon
  • Strasbourg Cathedral
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8 Grand Mosque Muscat1 Westminster

2 Sacre Coeur3 Eiffel Tower

5 Notre Dame5 Notre Dame

6 Pantheon7 Strasbourg Cathedral

 

 

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George Town Toilet Paper

It’s the perfect souvenir of your holiday in George Town, Penang.

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Shithouse
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Not just greedy Developers, weak-willed Government Officials, ice-ball Tourists, Graffiti Artists or Trash Peddlers.
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Now Everyone can Shit on the Heritage.
Buy in Bulk. Direct from Singapore.
Take a huge dump on the Past.
Let’s turn every Shophouse into something Shithouse.
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Hurry, while stocks last!!
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Q & A

Watching the live panel debate, Q & A, on TV last night, I was struck by the intelligent response from the former Leader of the NSW Liberal Party, Kerry Chikarovski, to a question raised by a One Nation supporter in the audience.
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old fart
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The elderly audience Member asserted that ‘Islam’ was a big problem facing ‘Australians’.
Such an absurd statement was dutifully countered by the free thinking panel but Chikarovski’s offering shone a slightly different light on the populous phenomenon of right wing hate groups marginalising Moslems.

To paraphrase, she essentially said that if intelligent, fair-minded individuals constantly deny air time to groups like Reclaim Australia and One Nation, then we in effect, are marginalising them, which is the very thing we accuse them of doing to minority ethnic groups in Australia. We should listen to them and engage them in the conversation, no matter how absurd their claims may be. A percentage of the population do react to their own fears without the capacity to delve beyond a knee jerk response.
The audience member went on to claim that radicalised Moslems read the Quran, which is why they do what they do. Moderate Moslems don’t read the Quran so much.
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Panel member Lydia Khalil, a Defence and Counter Terrorism expert, responded by saying that in her 15 years of analysing the causes of terrorism, that it’s not really about religion.
“There are very specific and idiosyncratic reasons why individuals commit acts of violence which have nothing to do with religion. They’re marginalised. They’re on the fringes of society,” she said.
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She added that most ‘Islamic’ radicals like ISIS, don’t read the Quran. They pick up on certain statements or ideas offered by ‘Recruiters’ and then marry them with their own need to lash out at the world. To confuse these individuals with practicing Moslems is a convenient over-simplification and utterly baseless.I have to confess to feeling embarrassed for the One Nation supporter as she proudly voiced her total ignorance of Islam. It also struck me that she was approaching a complex issue with a narrow mind. She has synthesized her fear into a broad target and was prepared to demonise an entire religion. Now isn’t that pretty much what the Islamic extremists do too. So our One Nation supporter actual has similar personality traits to the radicalised youths who are drawn toward a simple solution to their own fears.
Interesting how conflict occurs more readily when the protagonists have enough in common.With that in mind, I would be far more concerned about people who share the views of a One nation supporter than I ever would be about our peaceful Moslem community.

A Unique Heritage Town

Extract from the Blog of a Gap Year Traveller:   ( Aboard Harmony of the Seas 3 ).

Friday 14th March. 2025

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Arrived at George Town’s enormous Lim Guan Eng Port. Impressed by the massive cable car, ‘the Dozen Island Project’ and the 16 lane bridge connecting Penang Island to the Mainland. The Port Towers has an amazing mural depicting the old Clan Jetties that used to occupy the Lim Wharf.

We took the short Monorail ride to the enormous Transport Hub at the junction of Victoria Street and Armenian Street Gaut. From there we were ferried by motorised Pedal Carts to the 9th Wonder of the World. My eyes filled with tears as I gazed lovingly upon the ‘Bicycle Mural’. A moment I’ll never forget. We waited patiently for an hour for the opportunity to have our photo taken next to it.

Progress has finally saved this area from stagnation and the old buildings that were once a blight on the town streetscape have now made way for attractive skyscrapers. Armenian Street now has a 33 storey Tourist Centre, a Heritage shopping Emporium and there’s the 46 storey Khoo Towers with the first 3 floors housing the most beautiful temple I’ve ever seen.

The real highlight of my visit and the main reason for wanting to stop off in Penang was the Singaporium in nearby Acheen Street. Accessible from Armenian Street via the Jagdeep Mall, the 88 storey high Singaporium houses a 1,000 square meter scale model of Old George Town ( circa 2000 ). Wow, it must have been an amazing place when people actually lived in the town.

We spent the rest of the day visiting museums ( The Upside Down Hipster Cafe & Bubble Gum Museum, The Corruption Museum, The Head Up a Dead Bear’s Bum Museum ) and escaped the heat at Carnarvon Street Water World.

All in all, a great day exploring a unique Heritage town.

A Blast from the Past

Armenian Street, George Town.

Not that long ago you could walk down this old street and feel it smiling back at you.
Sure the buildings were in various states of disrepair but they exuded a kind of harmony that comes with the unfettered passing of time. The old uncles and aunties, trishaw riders, school children, business owners, hawkers, all akin by virtue of the tacit fibres that weave together any long standing community. Now that’s all changed. The old shophouses are painted purple or bright yellow, they sell post cards, ice creams, souvenirs and host flash-packers. Almost no community left now, just generic tourist crap.

This talented Lithuanian street artist painted a mural of two children sitting astride a real bicycle melted into an old wall and, lo and behold, hordes of tourists started queueing up for the privilege of having their photo taken next to the mural. They pose with inane peace signs and gawky smiles. I guess it’s to impress their friends on social media.
All day, everyday, the tourists come to this trifling shrine of extraneous junk to photograph themselves effecting some kind of expectation of what it means to travel. Wearing tight shorts, a lacy blouse and a big floppy sunhat, another little Asian princess climbs down from her pedal cart to construct a self-obsessed pose in front of the famous icon. Ice ball in one hand, a peace sign with the other, she poses and smiles sweetly for the doting boyfriend juggling camera, cigarette and credibility.
I try not to watch but the predictability and futility of it all is compelling. Part of me views these people as unconscious and achieving nothing of any worth. On the other hand, they are smiling and having fun. My gripe is at what cost?
What has been sacrificed for these people to enjoy the kind of generic fun they could get by playing with their smart phones. The unique qualities of this beautiful old town have been unconsciously trampled to dust by the masses herding toward that ‘tourist attraction’.

I read somewhere recently about a seaside town in Portugal or Spain or somewhere on the Mediterranean where the historic old streets were being over-run by trash tourism. The locals, or at least the ones who weren’t making any money out of the tourists and just wanted a normal place to live, were getting really pissed by what was happening to their town. There was this new sculpture of a clown on a tricycle wedged into the base of an old wall. It looked like the clown was juggling the clumps of moss growing on the wall and the mindless went nuts for it. They’d jostle to get near it for a look. Whole bus loads would come from all over to see the stupid clown. The old buildings and markets and local artisans didn’t matter anymore. All the tourists wanted was to photograph the clown.
If you wanted to raise your status on social media, just post a photo of yourself making a peace sign next to the clown and you were the shit and a bit.

Perched on a hill overlooking the town stands an old fort with grand ramparts, stone merlons protecting the inner courtyard and a number of old canons. The fort was used in medieval times to protect the town from invaders trespassing from land or sea. It was now mostly abandoned and its history all but forgotten as all the tourists were otherwise occupied taking photos of themselves next to the clown sculpture. Rumour had it that, unlike in Penang with Seri Rambai at Fort Cornwallis, one of the canons was still in working order.

Some of the locals hatched a plot to rid their town of the awful tourist hordes . A canon had not been fired in anger from the fort since early in the 18th century but it was time for a big gun to once more protect the town.
In the early hours of a Sunday morning, with all the town tucked up in their beds, a band of partisans broke into the fort, stole the working canon and wheeled it down the steep path and into town. They set it up facing the clown, loaded a large canon ball, checked that there was definitely no one within target range and then blasted the bastard into oblivion.
The immense boom resounded through every boutique hotel, hostel and chalet in town. The streets quickly filled with confused locals and tourists alike but there was no sign of the culprits. All that was left of the iconic symbol was a huge hole in the old wall and a big pair of copper clown feet.

You would think that would put a halt to the tourist frenzy. The late clown was the new ‘heritage’ and without it, what was this town now worth?
Unfortunately, what the band of mercenaries had not counted on was the resilience of the tourist invaders.
Once word got out that a canon had blasted the shit out of the town’s icon, every man and his dog wanted to come there to have their photo taken making peace signs next to the giant hole in the wall.
More hotels & cafes sprung up nearby – The Hole in the Wall, The Missing Clown, Canon Blast Coffee.
The whole thing just got uglier, proving that violence never solves anything.

The Invention of Tai Chi

Browsing through the 4th term newsletter of a local silk & choreography tai chi school, my eye was drawn to an article outlining the origins of tai chi.
The author proffered that tai chi was ‘invented’ by Chen Wang Ting about 350 years ago.

Such a revelation pricked my inclination for mischief and I imagined Chen Wang Tang toiling away in his back shed.
Mrs. Chen yelling from the kitchen, ” Dinner’s almost ready dear”.
” Be there in 10 minutes my little Lotus Bud”
” What are you doing in there? All that hammering and sawing,” she added.
” I’m inventing tai chi my little Plum Blossom, it’s almost finished, ” Chen replied.

20 minutes later.

Mrs. Chen stomps down the garden path and knocks impatiently on the workshop door, ” Chen, get your sorry ass out of there and drag it to the table now. Your noodles are getting cold. ”
” This is really important work my love. One day my invention will even be used by Jake Mace. ”
” You haven’t been talking to that crack-pot from the hills again. What’s his name … ?”
” Zhang, Zhang Sanfeng,” Chen chimed in. ” He’s not a crack-pot, hes a monk. ”
” He fills your head with silly ideas. Snakes, birds and wizardry. I bet he’s behind this new invention. Wasn’t it him who inspired you to stick needles in your face? I hope you are going to patent this invention. You know what the Chinese are like, they’ll copy it and before you know it, you’ll be able to buy it everywhere on-line”.

2 months later.

Announcer: ” Welcome to the annual All-China Inventor of the Year awards. 1670 has been a particularly strong year for Inventions and here are the nominations.
Zhao Yun Xi from Anhui Province for his teeth cleaning device dubbed the Bristle Toothbrush.
Jiao Yu from Zhejiang Province for his Exploding Canon Balls.
Yue Jiao Long from Fujian for the tasty creation he’s named Ketchup.
Chen Wang Ting from Henan Province for his strange confluence of martial art and meditation, Taijiquan.

And the winner is – Chen Wang Ting for Taijiquan.
Unfortunately Chen was unable to attend tonight’s event but accepting on his behalf is Mr. Yang Lu Chan.”

Merry Xmas to all brothers and sisters of the faith and a huge thank you to Sifu for ‘re-inventing’ tai chi so profoundly in most of our lives.

The TRUE story of KOMTAR

During the latter part of the 20th century, a large commuter rocket from the planet Tau Ceti E* was blown light years off course by a massive cosmic storm. Lost in space, it eventually plummeted through the Earth’s atmosphere and crash-landed in the centre of George Town, Malaysia.
The rocket’s unexpected arrival obliterated several blocks of old Chinese Shophouses while simultaneously deleting a surprised group of onlookers from the Hokkien gene pool. A huge firestorm then shattered any hope of a relaunch and left the alien occupants stranded here on planet Earth.

Komtar02

The good folk of Tau Ceti E* had been part of a mass exodus from their planet which had been completely taken over by tourists from all corners of the Galaxy.
Their once beautiful planet had been rendered almost uninhabitable by the invasion of mural-hunting, selfie-taking Foreigners.
They had decided to abandon their world in search of a new planet in which to establish a community untainted by the hideous ravages of tourism only to now find themselves stranded on a planet inhabited by strange ape-like creatures called humans.
A delegation from the Malaysian Immigration and Customs Control came aboard to negotiate terms of settlement and after much discussion the aliens, despite dire warnings of the inevitable catastrophic outcome, agreed to teach the local people everything they knew about how to make money from Tourism and Corruption in exchange for being granted MM2H.

Unfortunately, within one month, most of the aliens either succumbed to pollutants in the atmosphere or starved due to lack of nutrition in the food.
Despite their sad demise the Alien legacy lives on. In less than a month they were able to show the Earthlings how to set up awful trash shops and tasteless retail outlets throughout the rocket complex and laid a blueprint for dozens of novelty museums that would one day keep future generations of shallow souls suitably distracted from the bureaucratic mismanagement happening 20 floors above them.

And that girls and boys, is the true story of how the big ugly blot on the landscape known as Komtar, came into being.

Pork & Beef

It’s been a sad week for children of all ages with news of the passing of the 3 Little Pigs in Penang last Monday.
After long careers as storybook characters, all 3 had decided to join the MM2H program and retire in Malaysia.
Last year they purchased a Chinese Shop House in George Town’s Heritage Zone and set about restoring it.

According to a police report, their deaths are considered suspicious. A Mr. B B Wolf is now in custody and helping police with their inquiries. Eye witnesses say that the alleged killer was seen huffing an puffing outside the 3 Little Pigs residence on Kimberley St. only hours before news of their demise was announced. Cause of death is as yet unknown but a demolished shop house is possibly involved.

Their funeral was held on Beach Street today and attended by more than 1,000 mourners.
Pork Belly will be served at half price in most Chinese restaurants this week as a mark of respect.

3 Little Pigs Funeral

Funeral of the 3 Little Pigs in Penang

Matsuzaka Beef

I’m rapidly gaining a more realistic cognisance of my creative writing skills with my only gig thus far this year being to write copy for a Matsuzaka Beef Company in Mie Prefecture, Japan.
The criteria was to keep it simple – ‘none of our clients can read English’.
I guess I’m the perfect man for the job. A vegetarian writing about meat for people who can’t speak English. Thanks to Jordan for supplying the leanest cut – Best Karate Chops.

I had considered tossing them a proven catch – It’s the Beef that Matsuzaka reject that makes Matsuzaka the Best. Then I imagined reading about a massive International law suit with John West suing Matsuzaka Beef for 3 Billion Dollars while Veronica and I go into hiding somewhere in South America to avoid the Yakuza.

Did you know that 1 kg of Matsuzaka beef costs around US500?  I’m waiting for my cheque.

John Hanna & Veronica Greer

At a cafe in Penang – 2 old people using their smart phones – The Nokia 1280

The Masses

The more technologically advanced humankind becomes, the more despairing are our attempts to reconcile good sense.
A tiny proportion of the population are smart enough to invent cool new stuff and the other 99%, who have only recently evolved from jellyfish, get to play with it. We then falsely assume that everyone is getting smarter.

What the vast majority of people eat, play with, listen to and buy, is sub-standard. Human beings are essentially gullible apes and perfect fodder for those looking to exploit that vulnerability.
In general, what the masses want is the well packaged, inferior version of what ever is available. The pscycology of human desire revolves around the seed of expectation planted by those looking to profit from feeding that assumed need. The genuine product, service or performance is typically overlooked by the majority because the energy that goes into its creation is an honest attempt at quality and not just the glitzy packaging. The punter has to be interested, proactive and more than a touch cynical if they are to find anything of worth.
A classic example of this phenomena is TV advertising.
Two of the areas of sales that I have background knowledge of, the Pool & Spa Industry and the Health Food Industry, both advertise regularly on television.
Without fail, those who have a large, credible presence on TV have an inferior product or service. The better the product the more you will need to delve a little deeper to find it. If it’s in your face yelling ‘ buy me ‘ , then chances are it should be avoided. Except of course for the masses who will demand it – they saw it on TV, so it must be good.

Nowadays the Food Industry rivals the Tobacco Industry for its unscrupulous production and promotion of consumables that are mostly tantamount to poison. It’s a crime against humanity that Governments appear powerless to control.
The multi-billion dollar food industry is controlled by cartels who exploit our contrived addiction to sugar and salt. The masses are food junkies barely aware that their health is being compromised by these trusted brand Companies. Watching morbidly obese people pushing their shopping trolleys laden with biscuits, soft drink, chocolates, chips, frozen dinners and packaged food around a supermarket is actually heart breaking. Seeing a long line of cars queuing at a fast food outlet is just madness. We really have lost our way. Food should equal nutrition but we now eat to feed an addiction to poison. The food industry has led us down this dark path and anyone who sparks any kind of protest is howled down as a nutter. If you want to eat the kind of food that nature intended for human apes, then we need to separate ourselves from the masses.

The Music Industry promotes mediocrity. That’s what people want. Pretty people who don’t have much musical talent. An actor can become a pop star. The world’s best composers, singers, guitarists, pianists etc, are not in the Top 40 Charts. It’s only the discerning listener or genre-based fan who is able to uncover real musical talent. The masses are fed formulaic twaddle.

In Asia, if you set up a shop selling colourful, plastic objects that have no apparent use beyond catching your attention, then the shallow masses will ensure that you make a healthy profit.

A tai chi master with a huge on-line presence has tapped into the masses’ interest in healthy pursuits. Essentially it’s about filling that niche demand for self improvement without effort. With just 10 minutes exercise a day you can achieve supreme health with the ‘magic’ of tai chi. Of course it’s rubbish but people are tripping over themselves to sign up. Meanwhile a tai chi instructor promoting the real art and all the effort required to achieve genuine reward is teaching half a dozen committed souls in a back street studio. It’s a metaphor for why we should delve beyond what is popular if we are serious about adding quality to our lives.

In conclusion, we shouldn’t be so gratuitous as to not pay heed to circumstance. Any attempt to avoid popular choice by being disingenuous with regard to seeking quality will result in us becoming different, like everybody else. However, unless you are content with playing the victim; the mindless, gullible fool who feeds voraciously on spin, then be skeptical of everything with a big marketing budget.
The masses accept what it appears to be not what it really is.

Next time you want to complain about the Government, remember, it was the masses who voted them in.
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Tai Cheah

Free tai chi class at the Cheah Kongsi with a Master from China. 7.30 – 9.30 pm. tonight.

After almost 20 years in Malaysia we still can’t break the habit of getting to events on time.

We walked through the Kongsi gates and onto the MSG-soaked fluorescent lawn at precisely 7.29 pm.
“Perhaps this is the wrong place,” Veronica suggested. Noting that there was no one around.

It was then that I realised our mistake. Doh, we’re on time. Stupid. Penang people are always at least 30 minutes late for everything.

Several years ago we raced down to Bayan Lepus to attend a wedding starting at 7.00 pm sharp. It started at 10. Everyone else arrived between 9.50 and 10.00 pm. Depending on the nature of the event, there is an unwritten understanding among Penangites as to how late they need to be.

In the courtyard in front of the temple, a lone security guard confirmed that indeed, this was where the tai chi was to take place. He then got up and started mimicking some tai chi postures with hilariously exaggerated movements.

Free Tai Chi Cheah Kongsi

At around 8 pm the local folk started appearing out of the cracks in the cities’ walls.

At the risk of sounding a touch conceited, the ensuing histrionics were stunningly predictable.

The Chinese adopt their roles in these tai chi theatre pieces to the point where you’re convinced that it’s all some rehearsed parody.

I’ve been to hundreds of these tai chi classes over the years. Run by the Chinese, for the Chinese, in China and Malaysia. The same characters appear in every class like it was some Chinese Opera with the King, Queen, Warrior, Villain, Hero, Peasants etc.

First to appear is The Uncle. The thin man of 70 with wispy white hair, a white t-shirt tucked into silky blue track suit pants, gym shoes and possibly a limp that he’s carried for 50 years after writing off his first Boon Siew. He’s quiet, respectful and usually totally ignored. He seems to accept this isolation as though it’s forged through request.

The next to appear are The 3 Maidens. They are nice, they smile, they wear white t-shirts with yellow embossing and they are volunteers for a Buddhist charity like Tai Tzu or Save the Japanese from Themselves or whatever. They are sweet and they usually bring cakes for everyone else. Their tai chi is always very ‘Yin’, very soft and to the alpha males who are yet to appear on stage, they are at the bottom of the tai chi peaking order. In my opinion, they are closer to the top by a process of attrition.

Next to come are The Newbie Enthusiasts. The middle-aged, educated males who have invested an interest in tai chi as a possible antidote to mid-life crisis. Unlike the solo uncle, they are happy to talk to anyone and smart enough to express a degree of emotion completely foreign to most Chinese, humility. They do however possess the common Chinese trait of listening without hearing. The combination of their recent discovery of tai chi and their genetic pre-disposition to the art, totally over-rides any knowledge or skill a Westerner may have accrued during 3 decades of regular training. Tai chi development is an inch wide and a mile deep. They only know about the inch and yet they start telling me about the mile.

Now comes the first of The Alpha Males. He’s a silverback in dark silks with thick thighs and a thick head. When he struts across the lawn he imagines that all eyes are upon him and everyone is excited by his presence. To the contrary, the Chinese aren’t stupid, they all think he’s a dick-head too.

The group grows quickly until there are around 40 people. They gradually take up their positions on the large concrete quadrangle in front of the main temple. The Master arrives. He looks unremarkable with a noticeable expansion of the lower dantien. I suspect that Malaysian street food agrees with him.

The Master begins by wasting at least 5 minutes getting everyone to line up in rows. This happens in every Chinese tai chi class. They are obsessed with this regimentation and the students always behave like it’s the most difficult task of the night. The feng shui is finally acceptable and we begin with a salute. The big gorilla, who has positioned himself at the back, to no doubt keep an eye on everyone, suddenly yells out – ‘Show respect to the Master’. I glance over and see smoke starting to billow out of Veronica’s ears.

We do warm ups. It’s external posturing with no internal nurturing. They grind their knees with gusto. Veronica and I watch on. The knee is a hinge joint not a ball and socket joint. I blindly followed my early teachers doing these masochistic loosening exercises for years and finished up with ‘swimming knees’. The kuas are overlooked and the structure encouraged to collapse at the knees.

Then it’s time to stretch and bounce ( ouch ). They can all stretch low, irrespective of how awful their tai chi is. Years of defecating over holes in the ground has ensured that the pelvis is open and their feet are left flapping outward like a clown.

I’m starting to plan our exit strategy but decide to scan the cast of characters again to see how many more of the usual suspects are present.

Miss Torpedo is here. She’s always at this type of class. Tall and skinny, she stands up the front and has more angles than a Mathematics text book. She can reach up higher than everyone else and go lower than everyone else. She moves faster and harder. She has 6 elbows and her pony tail flashes when she punches the air with all her little might. The qi is caught somewhere between her ego and annealed shoulders. There is nothing about her that has even an inkling of what tai chi is about but in her mind she is a star.

If this was a Chess Board and I was a Knight, then I could take The Disco Man with my next move. He’s in front to the right and is an unmistakable presence. What he sees others do and how he interprets what he sees are two entirely different concepts. The Disco Man is able to abuse motion in ways that most other people couldn’t even begin to exaggerate. Legs and arms defy every physical law as he all but dismantles himself in the search for grace.

The Athlete is here too. Young, fit, handsome, strong, he can ‘really’ do tai chi. He’s the golden boy. He doesn’t need to say anything, just smile and accept all the admiring glances.

The Snake is always present. He’s late fifties, a little over-weight but he can move around close to the ground. That’s his thing, slithering through a form. I love to keep an eye on him for those little moments when he over does it and falls over, hoping no-one will notice.

Wu Shu Boy never fails to attend any class where a genuine Master is present. He does Kung Fu and now he’s mastering Tai Chi. He will always want to lead students in their training when the Master has gone back to China.

The Master, who seems content to let senior students do most of the work, finally comes forward to demonstrate the Form. He’s the real deal. A powerful unit with genuine fajing. His tailbone doesn’t tuck well, which is either a long held bad habit or the unbending shape of his back but either way, he appears to have compensated well for any structural fault there. He’s impressive albeit a touch lazy. I can tell that he rarely practices these days. As is so often the case with well regarded teachers, they tend to oversee rather than be directly involved. It’s been an ordinary night but the opportunity to watch a real Master perform made the outing worthwhile.

As a teaching project I really failed to see the point. Any new students to tai chi appear to have only learned to contort their bodies into unhelpful positions. It’s external nonsense. Chen Style is not something that can be taught satisfactorily to students who lack foundation.

We left and I’m sure that most present would agree that we played the role of token Westerners to perfection. Two white people who had no understanding at all about the Chinese art of Tai Chi.