At class on the morning of the 9th, Teacher Xu showed me an article he found in a magazine about me. It took me a moment to realize it was one done last year that had only just been published recently. Of course, it included the usual embarrassing photographs.

I was rusty after so long between practices. I practiced with a new guy who kept falling down, making me use less and less effort. I wasn’t pushing him down, however. He just kept losing his balance. I went through some sword form, and then practiced with the UPS guy. It’s hard to push him as he doesn’t seem connected and is able to effectively isolate parts of his body. Pushing with him usually comes down to a simple matter of who has the furthest reach, and it’s a tie as he’s the same height as I am.

The veranda where we practice was permeated that morning by the smell of an ointment one of the older students had bought for aching muscles. Little Qin took a look and sniffed, “You got that on the street? I wouldn’t trust it.”

And that was Saturday. I got another cold, incredibly, and didn’t go to class again until last Wednesday, the 26th. It was just after the election, but nobody was talking politics. I was very tired and out of shape, and I’m afraid I used a little too much force. But not as much as another new guy, whose opponents seemed to be flying this way and that, especially Mr. V, who tends to do that anyway. Teacher Xu told me that the young fellow was actually a competitive pushhands athlete, so his ideas were rather different than ours. He introduced me to him, said, “Why don’t you two have a go?” and left.

Well.

I did manage to avoid being tossed around like the others. I had to keep my wits about me, to be sure. I didn’t dare directly attack, but instead relied on pushing him off balance when he was applying force, which he was doing more or less constantly. For the most part it was a tie, but also a contest to see who could lose track of real pushhands the most, and I think we both did a good job in that respect. He tired me out, though, in the end. I’m not sure if either of us learned anything from the experience, but at least I got a good workout out of it.

Whoo, it’s been a long time since I practiced. I was sick before the Chinese New Year break, and then I was in Japan for a couple of weeks, and then I was sick again. But tonight I finally went back. “We thought you’d disappeared,” Teacher Xu said when he arrived. Mr. You was also there, but just said hi before he had to leave to take care of his elderly mother, which is apparently why he hasn’t been practicing much lately.

Teacher Xu and I talked politics for a while, discussing the upcoming presidential election. He, like many pan-greens, was laboring under the illusion that US green cards have to be actively renounced with paperwork, and actually thought Ma Ying-jeou still has a valid green card, at least until I informed him about the true situation. But I’m not going to talk politics.

I started pushing with Mr. Hu, which was a good way to get back into practice because he’s generally pretty easy to practice with. I’m out of shape, though, I could tell as I got tired pretty quickly. I then started pushing with Mr. Guo, whose stance and attitude seemed peculiar to me. He was doing the whole “I’ll push you here with one hand and it’s obvious I could push you over if I wanted, but I’d like to see you get out of it” thing for some reason. I think while I was away he got the idea that he was really good at tuishou or something. But his technique still consisted of quick, sharp shoves with very little subtlety.

Next Teacher Xu told us some things. “Don’t push your opponent,” he said. “Sometimes one of your hands is pushing the other; other times you’re pushing the space behind your opponent.”

“So maybe I could visualize creating a vacuum behind my opponent?” I asked.

“Uh, maybe,” he said. I tried it a couple of time with Weeble, but didn’t get anywhere. Teacher Xu tells us a lot of things I have a hard time implementing; even if I intellectually understand the idea, often I can’t get it to sink in deep enough to work. I need to practice more, I suppose.

Next up Yang Qing-feng. I was doing alright with him; one time he did a grab on my wrist. “That’s like a police move,” I said, as he is a policeman.

“No,” he said. “This is a police move,” and before I knew it I was on my knees saying, “Ow ow ow ow” as he twisted my arm and wrist. He apologized afterwards.

After Teacher Xu left (his son’s gone to perform alternative service for a year), Qing-feng tried to get Mr. Guo and Weeble to tell him if his pushing was correct. I found this most bizarre, as Qing-feng’s not only been practicing far longer than they have, but he’s much better. But I suppose it’s a good attitude to keep learning from everyone, no matter their level. Mr. Guo really got into the teacher role a bit too much, however. Not that it makes any difference to me.

And thus my slow progress continues.