Swim like a mammal, waddle like a reptile

{29.08.2009 – Picture now added]

It was the fifth day of my free-diving course, and my final dive. I knew I was about 20 metres down, unthinkable only a few days earlier. I tried manfully not to panic. As I tried to push a metre or two deeper, the upside-down goggled face of my effortlessly cool instructor Eusebio eased into view…

He looked at me with penetratingly confidence-boosting eyes and a broad grin, and made the thumbs-up (or down, depending on your point of view) sign. “Further… I know you can go further…” he wordlessly communicated to me. But I’d had enough – I glided as slowly as I could up the rope to the surface sand emerged gasping for breath.

“How-did-I-do?” I blurted out breathlessly.

“22 metres, my freeend. Excellent dive…” Eusebio told me in his wonderful Spanish accent.

“I could have gone further… I could have gone further…”

Tales of Oxygen and the Brain

It’s a well known fact that free-divers nearly always think they could have gone further after they’ve set a new Personal Best. It is one of many slightly weird things about this emerging sport.

Some brief explanation for the uninitiated – free-diving has a number of different variations, but in essence they all come down to one thing – diving as deep under water as you can on a single breath of air. There’s something very attractive about the simplicity of it all. But like other extreme sports, the sport comes into its own when you comprehend that limits are as much mental (and in some ways imaginary) as physical. For that reason, instructors have to tread a fine line between inspiring courage in their students and scaring them witless. You can indeed go further than you think you can. In fact, much further.

There is certainly danger – in the 1950s when Jacques Mayol (made famous by the film “The Big Blue”) started diving, the theory was that the body would collapse below 30 metres. Mayol smashed that theory, and nowadays the top divers frequently get down below 100 metres. Medical research has uncovered that something called the Mammalian Dive Reflex exists in humans, and free-divers themselves are discovering new ways of breathing and relaxing to help them go longer and deeper underwater.

But on Day One of the training at the small Apnea Total school, all this was yet to be discovered. So when John, our Basque instructor, told us that we had to think of blackouts as our friends, I was a little freaked out to say the least.

John explained the principle further. “Ees a natural reaction by your body – the system shut down for a while when things get a leetle bit difficult, heh?” He sensed a little edginess in the five of us sitting in the beach-side classroom. “Ees OK, I never know someone blackout on beginners course…” Well, it’s one way of looking at it, I told myself in a wobbly internal voice.

Two hours later I found myself clasping a buoy off the back of a boat, with a weighted rope hanging 20 metres down into the Gulf of Thailand. I’ve never really felt comfortable in the sea, and as my instructor Rodrigo looked at me with his deep eyes, it occurred to me that this was therefore perhaps one of the stupider things I’ve decided to do.

The waves lapped over me; Rodrigo purred in my ear. “You are beerry relaxed Andy, beerry relaxed. You look beeeerry relaxed. Ees beerry beautiful, excellent breathing, Andy…” I felt anything but relaxed – but there’s a game of positive thinking to be played here, and the instructors were experts at playing it. At times it was almost hypnotic.

A final deep breath, and I was under, pulling myself down on the weighted rope into the beautifully clear water. On the first couple of days, I don’t mind admitting that unexpurgated panic set in at an early stage; I struggled to get down below 5 metres, while my compadres on the course reached depths approaching the bottom of the rope. It was all deeply depressing.

So by the second afternoon I was frustrated beyond belief. Rodrigo fixed me with his penetrating stare. “What’s een your mind, Andy? This game is all in your mind…”

And something clicked. It really was in my mind. Suddenly I was at 14 metres and feeling, well, at least OK. And more than that, I was conquering my mental demons – and developing my breathing. It all felt so connected – to the yoga, the tai chi, the kung fu – and so far away from my days struggling to breathe at my desk in London.

I knew that I had to move on to the three-day Advanced course.

Advanced Apnea for dummies

Apnea, meaning suspension of external breathing, is at the heart of free-diving – the diving is really just the culmination of what’s called the “breathe-up” which can easily take five to ten times as long at the dive itself. So the advanced teaching focuses far more on breathing.

Without getting too technical, you have to learn to live with diaphragmatic contractions in order to stay at depth. Initially frightening, the best free-divers see these as “internal breathing” – and to be welcomed.

Despite the rather frightening sight of one of the course attendees blacking out during a training breathe-up (low blood pressure), things progressed remarkably quickly. By the end of the first day I was holding my breath face down in the water (called “static Apnea”) for what felt like an age – 2 minutes 50 seconds. (By the way, usual warning – don’t try this at home, kids – needs supervision…)

Over the next two days we practised new forms of “breathe-ups”, learnt to kick the Mammalian dive Reflex quickly into action, studied all kinds of exercises to increase lung capacity, and tried new ways to equalise at depth.

But above all, we kept on diving. We did NPSA dives, Exhale dives, free immersion dives, you name it. As with any sport, it’s the only way to progress. And that final dive, to 22 metres, made it all worthwhile – mostly thanks to stunning instruction from Rodrigo, John and Eusebio.

From here, the only way is up. Or down. Depending on how you look at it. Highly, highly recommended.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

A thirty hour train journey through the troubled wilds of Southern Thailand, and I reached my current location – the little-known Ma’Daerah Turtle Sanctuary on the East coast of peninsular Malaysia.

I’m the only volunteer here, which is a treat. I released my first hatchling on the beach last night. It’s a great experience to watch this tiny reptile – no longer than the size of my pinkie – make its way down to the sea for the first time. In 30 years, it will grow to be a metre or more long. And if it’s a male (you can’t tell until they’re older), it won’t ever come back to land. Tonight I hope to watch a female actually lay its eggs.

I’ll be a nocturnal beast for the next fortnight – the work is all in the hours of darkness. Which is rather apt, given that it is Ramadan, and finding food during the day is a little tricky.

Toodle-pip!

[Unfortunately pictures aren’t working on blogger today. They will follow].

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15 minutes of fame on Chinese TV

Finally, a picture of my appearance on CCTV (Chinese  TV) below. There’s apparently a DVD somewhere too. I was there courtesy of Dominic Johnson-Hill, owner of the achingly cool Plastered T-shirts brand in Beijing, seated beside me. I would love to say I was star of the show, but actually I was just a mannequin, modelling one of his t-shirts. The programme was part of the launch of a major Government innovation initiative. (Here’s what I wrote earlier on it).

I arrived yesterday in Northern Malaysia for my date with the breeding turtles – fresh from learning to free-dive in Koh Tao, Thailand. Update on the latter to follow early next week.

Toodle-pip!

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Will the real China please stand up?

Q: How many Xinhua News Agency reporters does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Three – one to publicly denounce everyone who saw the light bulb go out, one to delete any information pointing to the fact that the light bulb went out, and one to issue a statement saying the light bulb was never there in the first place.

Despite protestations from the Chinese that they are opening up their media, I don’t doubt that there is still a grain of truth in the joke above, which I got from Hong Kong’s HK Magazine after the trouble in Xinjiang. (Here’s a fantastic FT article about the Chinese policing of the Internet if you’re interested.)

Outside the cyberworld too, China wasn’t the easiest place to travel in. In particular, entering via Tibet and then Xinjiang gave a very particular viewpoint on the project for a new China. The rationale for the Han Chinese presence in both places is as much economic as political – waterheads in Tibet, and mineral resources in Xinjiang – and it’s true that in return there has been at least some economic benefit for the people. But the treatment of the local population by the authorities that I saw in both places (outright physical violence in Tibet, a threatening wariness in Xinjiang while I was there) stuck in the gullet.

But these things aren’t simple – as one provocative article pointed out in the self-same HK magazine, everything is relative – even if you look at China as an occupying imperial power in these territories, their record is probably a lot more palatable than that of the British in India, the French in Indochina, or the Belgians in Africa.

Ultimately of course, all this occurs in an environment where, as the joke suggests, the whole concept of truth takes on a very different meaning. Closing down Blogger earlier this year was a retrograde step (am I really that dangerous?), and ludicrously easy to get round. I just sent my posts via email to a friend in London and he posted them from there. How long China can on the one hand continue with its attempts at control of the media while on the other opening up to the world is an increasingly moot point.

Despite all that, China grew on me. It is a fascinating (if slightly puzzling) place, and I was privileged to see it in 2009 – a number of ordinary people told me that they felt the pace of change had substantially quickened this year. And how’s this for a stunning statistic – China holds roughly the same number of people as the whole of the Americas (North and South). Yet North and South America have over 50 national governments and 4 major languages; China has errr…. one of each.

So what is the real China?

“China-lite”?

I spent my last full day in China in a place called Dali, the town below the Kung Fu monastery. My guidebook dubbed it “China-lite” which is a pretty fair analysis – many travellers love it for it’s easy going feel, but in reality it’s more sanitised than a bottle of Extra-strong Dettol.

However, as I sat having a last coffee, I realised that this town is as good a lensas any through which to view China’s past, present, and future.

The tourists are coming…

In Dali, I befriended a taxi-driver called Michael (Chinese name Lee Ming). Business is booming for Michael with plenty of pick-ups from the airport 35 km away, a rail station 10 kilometres away, and expressway roads cutting a swathe through the countryside to take Chinese and Western tourists up the side of the beautiful Er Hai lake..

His eyes widened as I asked him about the pace of change – it’s all very different from 10 years ago when he first came to Dali – the railway wasn’t built, the airport wasn’t even under consideration, and the roads outside the city were dirt tracks. Horse-drawn carts were common in the town. In 2000 there were 6 hotels – named Hotel Number 1, Hotel Number 2, etc; now there are hundreds of hostels, guesthouses, even boutique hotels catering for an increasingly well-heeled Chinese crowd.

Internal tourism is the big boom business in China – the emerging middle class taking advantage of a massive transport infrastructure push to experience places in this vast country that until recently were hardly even accessible. Backpacking among Chinese youth is taking off too.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, however, as I asked him what would happen in the next 10 years. “We have problems, many problems. I have moved out of town. Pollution very bad for my daughter. And is very crowded. Many many tourists…”

The new accessibility is also accompanied by what is perhaps the most bizarre aspect of China – the wholesale re-creation of the country’s past after years of neglect. All over the country, Pagodas, Temples and other tourist sites are being restored, rebuilt (in some cases even built from scratch). And in nearly every case, they are smothered by concrete walkways, huge (currently empty) parking lots, and awful shopping malls complete with pushy touts.

I found this sad, but in reality I don’t matter (and anyway, how different is it really from Aviemore…). For the Chinese tourists, being able to experience their history afresh is reward enough. That’s the market that counts – and the infrastructure is being built at a dizzying pace. As long as the economy is stable, the internal tourism market will be a major feature of how this country appears to Western eyes in 10 years time.

Look at me, I’m ethnic

In Dali it’s not unusual to see women, dressed in pristine outfits of the local Bai ethnic community, guiding middle-aged Western couples through the streets. But there’s a problem with this picture. Most of them aren’t Bai at all – they’re mainstream Han Chinese dressed up to look like Bai people.

(In a wonderful twist of irony, if you hang around long enough in Dali you will meet real Bai women in genuine, and less pristine, local dress – they’re the ones whispering “Ganja? You want weed?” to every passing traveller in an effort to earn a crust).

Ethnicity is a fascinating issue in China. In 1989, after spending 40 years assiduously erasing the hard drive of the nation, the government realised that some form of recognition of the ethnic diversity inherent in a nation of this size was necessary – in fact, essential. As a result, there is now a kind of forced “celebration” of ethnic people in the provinces, which leads to bizarre contrasts like the one above.

One researcher that I met pointed out that the result of all this top-down Ethnic pushing and pulling is that the people just go with the flow…in a display of “economic subjectivity”, most Chinese residents in Yunnan for instance will happily switch between Bai and Han ethnic identities dependent on what brings most economic benefit. Hmmmm… we’re all globalised now….

There is, however, one big elephant in the room. One of the surprises of my journey though China was the prevalence of Islam – there are 200 million Muslims living here. Where religion gets involved, ethnicity becomes a less malleable issue, as recent events in Xinjiang show. The attempts to be more open in reporting those disturbances show that, when it comes to religious ethnicity, the authorities realise they will have to tread a fine line between managing diversity and promoting homogeneity. A big issue.

Cultural baggage? What cultural baggage?

In Shanghai, I asked a businessman I had been introduced to the archetypal impossible question – how do I get to know China better? The answer was one that I‘d hear versions of before – “If you want to really know the Chinese character, you must understand three concepts well – Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Then learn China’s 20th century history and you’ll understand where we are today.” I spent a good few weeks thinking this was the final word.

But while Lao Tzu, Buddha and Confucius do provide some context (and are certainly still important for an ageing population), I’m not so sure that the youth of China give a toss about the old boys; and they‘re fast catching on to the idea of Mao as a pop-cultural icon rather than an inspiring sage.

Computer games, booze and other intoxicants, and (above all) money seem pretty important too. I wrote about the computer-game addiction before – and the sight of a group of Chinese teenagers carrying one of their slobbering-drunk friends along the street in Dali may still be rare up there in Yunnan province, but it’s increasingly common in the cities. More Confuse-us than Confucius. China-lite? Hmmmm…

So I wonder if, more than anything else, it might actually be the lack of cultural baggage that will mark China out in the 21st century. After a 200 year blip, during which the world could easily categorise China (first as a colonial outpost, then as a communist ogre), the Middle Kingdom is back, and this time it’s engaging with the world. Money can be made by anyone, sanitised urban environments can be created, the past can be re-presented at will. (It’s kind of like someone saying “Categorise that!”)

In the tradition of all interesting change in the world, it is, of course, one massive economic and political experiment – probably the biggest in history. One things for sure – in Chinese terms (think centuries, not decades), the ball will keep rolling one way or another, even if things crash in the short term as this article suggests.

It’s my blog and I’ll pontificate if I want to

Right, so that’s that off my chest. The wonderful thing about a blog is that you can write what you want (although I realise that the above is probably stretching a point, and may well fail the “entertain-me” test). I suspect, however, that no-one has got this far, so it won’t matter much anyway.

I am currently recovering in Laos before heading to a beach in Thailand for a few days, and then off to Malaysia for a date with some Turtles that need help breeding.

Toodle-pip!

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