[banditshaw]

Very inspiring. Reading your story motivated me tonight to cherish the time you get to train with your brothers and appreciate the time you spend with a great Sifu.
I don't take any of this for granted.

''.....doing the exercises without discussions, practising hard, was the universal language of respect that had opened the doors....''

Very well said. Couldn't agree more.

Can't wait to hear more of your story.

Oh yeah..... Welcome to the forum.

[mike_l]

Great story. You write very well and I look forward to reading the rest of it!

[abiraghi]

The next morning I didn't have any problems in waking up, taking a shower, crossing the early morning curry smell of Chung King Mansion's hall, walking North on the Nathan Road to 729, I was too excited, because I was a member of Hon Chung Gymnasium. I was aware of the fact that, in spite of my log karate career, any Chinese kid at his second day of martial arts could do much better than me, this was logic. Chinese people has the kung fu moves molded directly into their DNA, there's no way for us Western people to reach their perfection (I will say more about this subject later), but this awareness didn't put up my enthusiasm. While the days went on, I started training with less effort and better results, I could work more and more, feeling that my body reacted to the different weather in a positive way, adapting itself to the new situation. I sweat a lot, drank a lot of tea and water, totally renewing the fluids of my body every few days (the secret for a quick and easy adaptation to new places).
There were some shortcomings of course: I soon realized that one pair of trousers weren't enough if I wanted to train more than one time per day, because after every set I was wet as after swimming in a pool, so I went back to the store and bought two more pairs and two belts. The owner greeted me screaming "Chan Hon Chung!" and granted the same discount I had the first time.
In a few days I had defined a rhythm in may day. Wake up at 6, run (yes, at the time I was an half marathon runner, so it was easy for me to switch from walking to running), train from 6:30 to 8:30 or 9:00, then go to the tea house with Cheung Yee Keung and other students for a dim-sum. Ela and Marco joined us there, so we could spend the rest of the morning together visiting Hong Kong.
After lunch I went back to the Chung King mansion and take a nap, because I had started training in the night. After the first day I realized that Cheung Yee Keung trained after dinner. He came back at 10:15 PM from the jeans store in Mong Kok road where he worked, had a light dinner (usually some food bought on the street, in Hong Kong most of the meals were consumed at the restaurants, the rest are street food), do some work like cleaning his room, washing the clothes, etcetera, then train. It was a great chance for me to have him at my disposal, nobody else was training so late, so I hanged in the gymn doing over and over what I had learned in the morning until he came down in his kung fu trousers for his training set. With his help, I took what I had learned in the morning with master Chan and analyze it, movement after movement. He never taught me any new move, such was his respect for the master, but he explained every single details of what I knew. He didn't speak English, I didn't spoke Chinese, but he knew perfectly how to be understood.
After completing Mui Fah Kuen, Master Chan had put a Lau Gar Kwan in my hands. I had never touched a weapon before and that long, elastic wooden pole felt strange, totally different from anything else I had in my hands. Years later I understood that my Sifu decided to teach me a weapon because he wanted to test me with something challenging. Bare hands forms were kind of easy after so many years of karate, I had a good awareness of my hands and foot, I could kick and punch, I also had studied Bruce Lee movements. But the long stick of the noble Lau Family was another story.
In those nights with a-Keung I repeated the movements millions of times, searching that perfect, elastic bounce of the tip after hitting, when it produces a vibration that must not bee too wide, not too narrow, not too slow and not too fast. Circle and hit. circle and hit, circle and hit..., until the awareness of holding the weapon correctly came, all of a sudden. My si-hing noticed it after a fraction of a second, "Ou-Ye!" he said, "very good!" And the same "ou-ye" came from Sifu the next morning, making me happy as a child with a new toy. Master Chan knew I was training in the night, and wanted to demonstrate his appreciation for the great effort I was producing teaching me more kung fu, the bare hands form of the noble Lau Family, Lau Gar Kuen. I would have brought back to Milano three forms, learned in only 34 days, starting from nearly zero. It was an outstanding result I would have been proud forever.

[abiraghi]

Day after day my relationship with the people of the Hon Chung gymnasium evolved and got better and better. As I already said, my attitude and my respect for the master, the style and the Chinese culture were highly appreciated. Introduced as a "karate expert interested in seeing some Chinese kung fu" I had been accepted with a reserve. Must be said that in the late '70's the revenge against the still recent Japanese oppression yet had to be metabolized and Japan was still a country looked at with a suspicion by the Chinese people. In the movies Bruce Lee alone defeated the Japanese karate school in Fist Of Fury and jump kicked a signal saying "no chinese and dogs allowed" on the gate of a park.
I had the opportunity to discuss the subject with some of the si-hing that spoke English, Chan Kwoon Kwok, Yeong Yang, Lau Kam Fu. Yes, they helped me with the training clothes, yes they invited me to the dim-sum, but I realised that in spite of that I had been "under observation" for days. My constant curiosity toward Chinese culture mixed with my restless trainings eventually were the reasons of my complete acceptance by the other students. I wanted to learn Chinese kung fu, but I also wanted o learn the history of the environment where it ha been developed through the centuries. I wanted to know why peopled bowed to Kwan Gong every morning and offered him food and incense, the origin of the moves, the meaning of the Gong Yao poem, the story of Lam si-gong and the myth of Wong Fei Hung. I wanted to learn how to eat the food, the culture of the chopsticks, the Chinese tea. Etcetera, etcetera.
32 days later my first Hong Kong stay of my life was long and short at the same time. Long because of the quantity of exercise and style that I learned, I was quite fit at the time, but when I came back I realised I had lost nearly 8 kilograms. Short because it was so intense and fascinating that when the plane back home took off, I felt like I had landed in Hong Kong two days before, and I began missing it and the beautiful people I had met.
I got to Kai Tak - the old Hong Kong airport, where planes landed on the water and took off between the buildings - not on a taxi, but on the front seat of Lee Yun Fook - Mr. Lion's truck, with the back loaded with the students. It was a sad and happy moment at the same time.
When I reached Italy, I was kind of changed. Gone were most of the illusions of being strong and invincible coming from the color of a belt. Gone was the illusion of knowing the far East because I knew some "katas" and some Japanese words. Gone was the idea of knowing everything of the martial arts because I knew all the Shotokan forms. I came back with the awareness of knowing nothing, together with the awareness of having a great opportunity of learning something that was hidden to the majority of Western people.
I kept on practicing every day, trying to cope with the unavailability of a real Lau Gar Kwan (I hadn't been allowed to bring it on the plane and I didn't have the money to send one from Hong Kong, at the time it costed a fortune), but I found some decent pieces of wood. I made some tools I could train my strikes on, not a real wooden dummy, but something that worked. And put back together the group of friends who learned from Benjamin with me, so I could pass the what I had learned.
A few days after coming back I sent a letter to master Chan, thanking him for the welcome and for accepting me as a student. I had the great honor to receive an answer from him, who thanked me for the present I gave him while leaving. The letter ended with a few words that I will never forget: "if you want to come back next year, you will be welcome to stay in the gymn".
So I started counting the days to the next summer...

[PM]

[abiraghi]

During 1977 winter and 1978 spring I put together all the money I could, because I wanted to stay as long as possible. I bought te usual flight Thai International, via Roma, Bahrein, Deli and Bangkok, where I had a 10 hours wait for an Air Singapore connection to Hong Kong. I left Milano around the 20th of July, so I had nearly 40 days to spend there. At the time Thai International had a great service and nice planes, pretty hostesses and wide seats. To add pleasure, when I reached my place I found a pretty girl from Austria in the next seat. The conversation she started helped making the flight was pleasant, we spoke all the time and made fun about the food. I hate the food on the planes, so I always reserve a vegetarian meal hoping to have something fresher than the standard stuff, she had done the same thing, but asking Indu stuff.
When the plane was approaching Bangkok she told me she had a huge luggage and asked if I could help her. I had to spend 10 hours in Bangkok and I had to immigrate in Thailand because the maximum allowed time in the transit area was 3 hours, so after landing I proceeded with her to the luggage claim area and helped collecting her luggage. She gave me a large case and a small bag, then took the rest and proceed to the customs check area, kind of rushing. I was slower because I had her huge trolley case, so when I reached the line two or three persons were between us. She didn't turn to see if I was there, kept staring in front of her and watching beyond the restricted area as trying to find somebody.
It was a weird behaviour and I started feeling that something was wrong. When the last passenger in line before me I reached the "no trepassing" signal I raised my eyes and saw that the girl had already passed the check and was talking animately with a guy, pointing at me.
Then I saw a signal above my head: "People carrying drugs can be condemned to death penalty" and I realised that I had been a stupid. But it was too late, because it was my turn to be checked and I could do nothing but proceed to the policeman.
I was freeze, I started sweating, but tried to rest calm. The policeman stared at me for a second that lasted a millenium, then moved his hand, meaning to walk through. It was done, I was safe in Bankok.
As soon as I was 10 meters from the control area, the girl and the guy reached me, grabbed the bags from my hands, then turn and rush away without saying a single word. What I had introduced in Thailand I will never know, but I am sure that I had escaped one of the greatest risks of my life.
It was early in the morning and my plane to Hong Kong was scheduled at 7 pm, so I got a taxi and reached downtown and spent a few hours there walking around. I couldn't stop thinking back what I escaped and couldn't stop telling myself how stupid I had been.
The three hours flight to Hong Kong was empty, so I could lie on a row of four seats and take some sleep.
This time the immigration was much different. At the passport check, when asked why I was in Hong Kong, I replied "to learn Chinese boxing". The serious Chinese policeman asked me where I was going to stay and when I said "729, Nathan Road, at Hon Chung Gymnasium" he stopped checking the passport, put the "Passed" stamp and smiled saying "the best! have a nice stay!". But that was just the first surprise.
After collecting the luggage I heard the speakers calling my name, "mr. Alberto Biraghi, please proceed to the customs office". Surprised, I reached the place and found a policeman who took hold of my luggage and made me understand I had to follow him, heading to a "no trepassing" door. We crossed some "restricted area, no passengers allowed" corridors, cross more "no trepassing" doors and emerged at the meeting poit where I saw a group of my people with a huge signal saying "Welcome Chung Yee (the Chinese name I had been given)". The policeman proceeded to the group approaching master Chan, who was standing in the middle of his students, then bowed, told him something, shake his hand, then turned towards me saying "enjoy your stay" and left. Eventually I learned that Naster Chan was a man widely popular for his social activities, not just in the martial arts community.
One more surprise: while grabbing my luggage, Seto Wing told me "I can carry this" Hey, but Wing doesn't speak English! Smiling, he told me that last year he felt frustrated because we cannot communicate, so in winter he had attended an English course at the British Council. It was the start of a great friendship and Wing became one of my best friends. In spite of the distance, our friendship survives, we kept in touch through the years and I followed with pride his brilliant career, his marriage and the birth of his sons.
We got out of Kai Tak followed by the eyes of the Chinese people, I felt so proud I was nearly embarrassed, then Sifu drove me to the Gymn on his old Mercedes Benz (which had turned from white to brown during the winter, Wing told me later that sifu Chan loved that car and liked changing it's color from time to time). After an happy dinner, where many students reached us, I was shown a nearly invisible wooden door on the right wall of the main room, between two classic wooden armchairs, right behind the collection of old pictures of Chan Hong Chun, Lam Sai Wing and his early students. Through a narrow wooden ladder, the door gave access to a small area right above the main room, with two small rooms and a mini-bathroom with just a sink. One room was occupied by an English fellow who everybody called "Colin". He was spending a long period in Hong Kong (he appears in the BBC documentary), looking forward to teach Hung style after going back home. The other room was ready for me. It was hot like a sauna, right under the roof as it was, and full of old stuff. Books, paper boxes, documents everywhere, even an old and safety box decorated with a tiger and a dragon. A narrow window on Nathan Road brought in an awful noise 24 hours a day. An old air conditioner sounded like a propeller airplane, but was precious, because it was the only way of stopping the red cockroaches (an Hong Kong plague at the time, a real problem for the town) trying invade the place. Since I wasn't allowed to keep it turned on all day long, but only when I was there, I had to keep my stuff sealed in large plastic garbage bags, hanging from providential steel hooks on the ceiling, if I didn't want to find it covered with insects. I learned to doublecheck the bed before entering it if I wanted to be sure of being alone. It was weird, it was different, but it was so fascinating that none of the logistic shortcomings appeared to me as a real problem. At 2 AM, full of "cha siu fan" and Tsing Tao bier, I crushed on the bed and slept 12 hours on a row and that was the only time in 40 days I woke up after 6 AM. When I woke up I felt new, I had overcome the emotions and was ready to start. I put on my kung fu trousers, the old boots and got down for the first session of training. Enjoying the heat, the smells, the Chinese kids filling the place, I started with the old exercises: arm spinning, low kicks, "ta kuen", then the forms. Kong Pui Wai was teaching to the kids after 6 PM, so I greeted him and had him fix some movements that I had slightly changed during winter. As usual, since a-Wai was the best fighter of the gymn and I turned to semi-contact after quitting Shotokan, we ended with some free sparring. It was like fighting a six arms and eight legs beast, but I still remember the great pleasure of those sessions.

[Asmo]

Great continuation!
_________________
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
Don't mind me, whatever I think I know today might be entirely different tomorrow!

[mike_l]

Enjoying this story very much!

[abiraghi]

My second year at Hon Chung Gymnasium was totally different from the first one. I was alone and I lived in a 100% Chinese world, with all the excitement and the logistic problems. I immediately realized that I had to be part of the day-by-day life of the small community I was part of, as everybody else there, an universe of people living, working and interacting.
The entrance on Nathan Road, 729, had some space on both sides of the door, occupied by a tiny shop packed between the wall and the folded gate, selling ties, lighters, wallets, keyrings and other assorted stuff. The owner was an expert of the White Crane style and his teenager son and daughter were hanging around the gymn during their summer holidays.
Right inside, on the right there was a door on the travel agency managed by one of Sifu's sons, Edward. He wasn't really involved in the gymn life, but the young, tall and pretty secretary was a pleasure to look at when passing in front of thethe door. Eventually we became friends.
The main room was the center of the Hon Chung Gymn universe, with chairs for patients waiting for their turn to be visited, a folding mah-jong table also used as a lunch table and - on the right end wall - a low and wide piece of furniture covered with pieces of fabrics. It was the center of another activity living there, a tailor company run by three or four guys. One of them was also the "chef" for the common lunch (the food wasn't really a gourmet experience, so I always made fun with Seto Wing about the fact that he had been promoted "chef" because he was too bad as a tailor).
The room was dominated by the Guan Gung image, protecting the entrance, surrounded by the usual worship gadgets, candles, incense holders and stuff, floor gods etcetera. Cheung Yee Keung was taking care of cleaning and feeding all the gods with incense, wine and fruit. The right wall was crammed with old black and white pictures with Sifu, his masters, his kung fu budies, etcetera.
On the left side of the picture of General Guan a glass door gave entrance to sifu's office-ambulatory, a room packed with stuff and impregnated with the smell of the two main medicines: the massage "wine" and the "medicine" (a mud made with herbs and other powders) that he heated and applied after treating the part. Note: the recipes of both medicines were secret, Chan sifu bought the various ingredients in different stores, changing every time and only two persons knew the formula: Cheung Yee Keung and Hui Wing. I don't know if he passed the recipe to his son Edward, who started a Chinese medical business when Sifu's mind started to be weak and he had to retire.
The left wall was crammed with more pictures, the meeting of Master Chan with Queen Elizabeth was in the center. The TV set was turned on constantly, as everywhere in Hong Kong.
Outside the office, on the right side of General Guan's picture was the passage to the gymn. The place was huge for Hong Kong standards, but kind of small for the long weapons, so those had to be practiced moving back and forth not to destroy the furniture. A small table held the tea set, constantly refilled and used by the whole community during the day. On the opposite wall was the weapon holder, on the right the punching bag, the wooden board and dummy, a mirror, drums, practise lions, steel wrist rings and other assorted stuff. On the left corner a wall gave a direct access to Sifu's office.
The nasty parts of the room were the travel agency aircond exhaust that pumped hot air and the small door giving access to the so-called bathrooms, a small room divided in two, equipped with a floor toilet and a cold shower that were the only facilities I had access to for the whole period. In spite of Cheung Yee Keung's efforts and constant cleanings (with my temporary help) the facilities were often dirty and always nasty smelling since some of the tailors, Chinese refugees, had been using only natural facilities (I mean: trees and bushes) for most of their life and treated the place the same way. Argh!
In spite of the cockroaches and the curry smell, the cheap room at Chung King Mansion I had lived in the previous year at least gave me some moments of privacy to relax that weren't available in the gymn. My room was so small, hot and dusty I just used it for sleeping after getting so tired I could forget the rest. Getting rid of the jet lag became a problem, I didn't sleep well and my pressure in the early morning was so low that I constantly saw flashing balls as soon as I started warming up. For the first week or two I was so weak in the morning that I couldn't learn much, I just repeated what I knew, slowly, concentrating on the movements, drinking liters of tea and sweating it immediately, waiting to see Sifu poking from the dorr and correcting my movements. The good part was the dim-sum with Cheung Yee keung and other students after the first session, around 8.30 and 9, because the food and the good Po-Lei tea helped me to get some energies. After breakfast I always took a lonk walk that helped starting the metabolic machine, so I could go back to the gymn for a second session of training, usually an hour and a half between 11 and 12.30, when people started preparing for lunch and I had to stop.
After lunch, I usually walked to a small park nearby with a book, often felling asleep on the grass, in spite of the constant Hong Kong noise. Then one more hour of two of soft training and a visit to the restaurant with a-Keung during his afternoon pause, usually joined by Seto Wing, a-Wai, Hui Wing and other students. The best training time (beside the late night sessions with Cheung Yee Keung alone) was the late afternoon. when I felt much better (it was my biologic working time), when Sifu used to spend some time with us students after his last visit, so I tried to gat as much as I could from him.
Chan Hon Chung had a unique way of teaching in those years. He pretended to speak English (he didn't, just knew a few words), but after a few days I could understand most of what he meant. In case of "understanding emergencies" I asked some of the young kids, most of whose studied English at school, to translate (but I understood Sifu didn't like it, because he didn't want to talk with them about advanced stuff, so eventually I tried to ask Seto Wing or Raymond Lau. Fortunately, most of teaching didn't need words. Until 1984 Chan Hon Chung was strong and had a clear mind, so he could demonstrate every movement. He showed me the set, then did it again so I could imitate. Then I did it again with him watching and again while he was holding my hands, so the only movement I could do was the correct one. That was really peculiar, his "ki" was such that I felt like trying to move something held by a steel rail, no way to take a different direction. It was a weird and unique sensation, and I felt proud, becaus that way of teaching saved me plenty of time of trials and errors. That year I had been given a tough program by Master Chan: I had to learn Gung Gee Fuk Fu Kuen, Fu Hok Seung Yin Kuen, the monkey stick and the curved sword. He wanted me to bring back home four full sets because - he said - "if you are the representative in Italy of Hon Chung Gymn students you must know the basic sets and show a decent technique".
Again, it was a great honor and a frightening task at the same time. I had 40 days to learn the core of Hung style, I couldn't waste a single minute. Fortunatelly, I had a great help from Cheung Yee Keung, who worked with me every night, after the 10.15 PM dinner (he worked at the jeans store until 10 PM), on the stuff I was supposed to remember from the morning. We went on the movements again and again, so I could memorize them, then we concentrated on the details.
So many years later, I still cannot understand what convinced those people, so bound to the traditions, to activate a quick learning process that was totally uncommon. Chinese kids took a year to complete Gung Gee Fuk Foo, I completed it in ten days. Yes, I practised so much I had to eat every three hours not to collapse, had to drink liters of tea non to suffer form dehydratation, ad to rest every single free minute to be ready for the next set. But still, nobody I herad of learned so much in such a short time. Anyway, even if I didn't understand why, I was proud of it and did my best to deserve what I was being given. It was a treasure of Chinese culture and tradition, the real essence of the art of the greatest masters of China. So I started working dreaming that master Wong and master Lam themselves were watching my efforts. That image eventually helped me overcoming the jet lag problems and the sleep problems. The tiny and dusty room wasn't a problem anymore, because while waiting on the bed to fall asleep, I concentrated on the stuff I had learned that day so that hot, dust and cockroaches disappeared.

[PM]

as always, i enjoy to read your story a lot, thank you!
_________________
Pavel Macek

Lam Ga Hung Kyun 林家洪拳

www.lghk.org

[abiraghi]

After two weeks I started finding a rhythm, my metabolisms got accustomed to the local time and the Chinese food. Drinking plenty of tea and assorted liquids helped, so I started feeling good also in the morning, although I still had two main problems.
The first one was the eyes. At the time I wore contact lenses. being an astigmatic, I had to use the hard ones, very uncomfortable and irritating, that reacted with the heavy Hong Kong pollution and caused a bad conjunctivitis. My eyes got more and more red, I could barely open the eyes, so Cheung Yee Keung brought me to a Chinese doctor (of course suggested by master Chan) who visited people in the back of a traditional Chinese pharmacy. The old and skinny doctor, dressed in a traditional black suit, who felt my wrists for nearly half an hour, then took a writing brush and dropped a long list of Chinese characters. We brought it to the counter and the employee poured all the ingredients in a bag, mixing vegetables, roots and ... ugh! ... insects. When we got home my si-hing Hui Wing boiled the stuff, producing a black and dense liquid, not really good smelling, that I had to drink. It wasn't pleasant, it tasted worse than it smelled, but in 24 hours my eyes got better and in 48 hours the conjunctivitis was gone.
The second problem was the food. The standard meal prepared by the "fellow-so-bad-in-tailoring-that-had-been-promoted-chef" consisted in a medium size rise cooker plus three dishes: a simple vegetable, a second vegetable with tau-fu and a third dish of meat or fish or eggs. An average of six people were joining the table, so the total available food wasn't very much (besides being not very good and sometimes bad). Of course I had other meals besides lunch and dinner (brakfast, sometimes a late morning dim sum, another snack in the afternoon) but the load of training and the heat were such that I was loosing weight too fast and was constantly hungry and felt often weak. Besides, in spite of the fact that I really loved Chinese food, I was not accustomed to such a different diet and felt the necessity of some Western stuff. In 1978 Hong Kong had just a few Western restaurants, all of them far too expensive for my wallet. Fortunately, just a few days after my arrival I had seen the advertisement of a recently opened MacDonald's on Hong Kong side. It was one of the first ones in Far East, so I started visiting it a couple of times per week for an injection of western calories. It was a long way, I had to walk from Mong Kok to Tsim Sa Tsui, take the Star Ferry (enjoying the nice mango ice cream that they sold in the walkway to the boat), then taking another tram to Victoria, but the reward was a large hamburger, french fries and at least two large Cokes that gave me enough caffeine to endure the next 3 or 4 days.
Training was more and more excellent. I learned from Sifu in the early morning, repeated thousands of times each movement in the late morning and in the afternoon (plus sparring with my dear si-hing Kong Pui Way when Sifu wasn't seeing), then refine with a-Keung after dinner. Chan Sifu's lessons were a precious gem and I understood that having such a teacher was a great honor for a western guy, but the moment I enjoyed most was the night.
In those years Cheung Yee Keung was at the top of his condition. After years of hard training he had started investigating the most intimate secrets of the arts, reading ancient books of medicine, getting every detail he could from Sifu's experience and culture. A-Keung could explain the meaning of the slightest movement, the inner secrets of the forms and the ultimate details to execute it perfectly. He was gentle and tough at the same time, but even when he wasn't satisfied and made me do again and again the same two movements, I understood the incommensurable value of what he was giving me and the fortune I have had meeting him.
In those nights I realised the deep difference between an illuminated "sifu" and a great "si-hing", the first one being a busy father who was present from time to time, the second one an older brother, wise and always ready to help. And a real brother Cheung Yee Keung was, and still is, so many years later.
The memories of those nights are many, but one of the dearest is the time we spent on the Ten Tigers, while I was learning Fu Hok Seung Yin Kuen. That set of movements is one of the treasures of the Huns Style and my si-hing wanted me to understand their deepest value. From the fingers of the feet to the focus of the eyes, we analyzed and repeated every single detail of those mighty tigers of the Hung style, trying to reconnect with the souls of the brave warriors that brought them in the real battles of the past. Still, more that 30 years later, every time that I play the Ten Tigers in Fu Hok or Sap Yin, I feel my brother Cheung Yee Keung on my side, his small body hard as steel and flexible as rubber, his perfect execution. Those are moments I will bring in my heart forever.

[Frank Bolte]

great read as usually,thanks for taking the time and share this experience with us!

[abiraghi]

Then, my second stay in Hong Kong ended. Leaving Hong Kong after 40 days brought sadness and relief at the same time. Those had been the the both the most exciting and the toughest days of my life, in terms of physical and psychological stress. I had been working so hard that I had lost 7 kilograms, in spite of the heavy mass of muscles I had built. My people at home found me pale, skinny and tired looking, in spite of the fact that I had never felt that good before. I had changed the way I moved, the way I looked around, the way I dealt with other people. After such a great effort, the normal everyday difficulties and obstacles appeared nothing to worry about. Standard stuff.
On the other hand, I enjoyed meet again the Italian food, my beloved mozzarella, prosciutto crudo, pasta and steaks, stuff I never had for 40 days.
But week after week, I felt that something was missing, I realized China had entered my soul, I missed the smell of the gymn, my Sifu, my friends, the great feeling of being free to concentrate on training, having nothing else to worry about, the food, even my dusty room. The real life was much different, work, bills to pay, ringing telephone, taxes to worry about. A Western environment is not the best for growing an Eastern art.
In spite of that, I tried my best not to loose what I had conquered. I didn't have the possibility to train 6 hours per day, but I woke up early every morning and practised my forms. I also arranged a surface shipment of weapons with an international carrier who declared them as "traditional agricolture and performing tools", which is only a partial lie, but I in a couple of months I had a complete weapons set with two wooden sticks (monkey and Lau), two swords (straight and curved), the butterfly knife, a chain plus some wooden training swords. I had added some stuff not available in Italy at the time, spare boots and trousers, two sets of Bruce Lee style sparring gloves (free fingers!) and other assorted gadgets.
At the time I was a half marathon runner, so I started going to a park where I could stop after some kilometers, practise the forms and run again for some more kilometers. It was not perfect, could have been quite good if not for a major problem: I was alone. Nobody could train with me, and I had to be the teacher of myself.
The first year I came back with relative easy stuff (Mui Fah Kuen, Lau gar Kuen and Lau Gar Kwan), but this year the load of new things to remember was much heavier. Plus, training the weapons had to be done at home (no way to carry them out at the time), where the room was too small for a relaxed practise. But I kept on working, in spite of the difficulties, trying to stick to my mental images of Cheung Yee Keung, helped by a good selection of slides I took of my si-hings while demonstrating the different forms. Then something happened. The martial environment I had been involved in the last years (people who started from Karate Shotokan, then moved to softer styles - mine was Sankukai of master Nanbu, eventually to the recently imported semi-contact) started to call me, asking questions about my experience in China. Far from being offended by my defection, they kept on inviting me to show what I had learned, in public demonstration during lessons or tournaments. It was fun, it was exciting, even if from time to time I had to make clear that I was not "sifu Biraghi", as the speakers occasionally introduced me, but a guy who had just started a long walk on the Hung style path. At the time a guy rotating a sword or a flexible Lau Gar Kwan was uncommon, the public always appreciated my demonstrations and the requests of teaching - many! - started to come in. Kung Fu was unknown and fascinating at the time, people just knew it from some movies and wanted to know more (I must say that a lot of cheaters, so-so karate practitioners, took advantage of the lack of information and cheated strange movements pretending to teach Kung Fu, asking money teaching to naive people).
Well. I had considered the option of "passing on" ("teaching" was too much a word for me) what I was learning to a selected group of friends, I discussed it with my si-hings in Hong Kong, some of whom were positive about it. But in spite of the fact that I have had developed a significant teaching experience in Karate Shotokan, I didn't feel to teach Chinese kung fu and still don't feel, even though in the following years I learned the complete style of Chan Hon Chung school of Hung Kuen plus a good quantity of secret and/or esoteric information.
I will discuss the reasons in the next chapter of this story.

[Asmo]

[Franc]

Your flow very well and your experiences inform and inspire. Thank you

Franc
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Franc