China Part 2 - When Golf attacks

"... Having ate Rover, I felt ready for what the holiday would bring." It was true, but I didn't really know what to expect either. This is what I _did_ know: There were four games of golf lined up for the next four days, one of my golf partners I was yet to meet, and when that was over I'd have to find my way back to Hong Kong. All this in a country where English isn't the lingua franca, but something uttered by evil outsiders (OK, I'm being xenophobic - but the Great Wall of China was built for just that reason, to keep out the evil outsiders, and there is still some fear in China big though it may be).

So Day Three began. After about 10 hours sleep, I finally felt refreshed enough to get up and face the day. As is usual, the lack of sleep from the previous two days had left me drained. I always get this when I travel but fortunately I knew I could take this day easy. The plan was to meet Will at the airport and go to the golf resort. With that special non-motivation that only holiday-goers seem to be able to muster we roll out of bed and get ready. The view from the Window is still the contrasting shanty town against the backdrop of shiny towers and giant arches. More on this later - the dichotomy that is China still fascinates me but this isn't the right place to discuss it... The taxi we took to the airport was filthy. I was wearing my blue engrish.com T-shirt but it looked like it was a blue/brown camo shirt by the time I got out. Also, the taxi driver was a woman that insisted on taking maximum advantage of whatever slipstreams she could shoehorn her cab into. I can't imagine a Donkey cart generates enough air turbulence to have an effect on an approaching vehicle but she seemed determined to find out every time we narrowly passed one at high speed. Actually there aren't many donkey carts in Kunming. The pecking order -lowest to highest- seems to be: Pedestrians, cyclists, electric-motorcyclists (these were cool - and environmentally friendly... not that it made a difference there were so many cars), cars, buses, trucks and finally Animals. OK, not dogs etc, but horses, donkeys and anything else that someone's welfare might depend on. It shows that the Chinese value human life in a different way from western cultures. I'm not saying the value it less, just differently. For example, if someone were to be run over on a road, it is their fault for being on the road, but if someone were to run over a horse, the driver would probably have to cough up. To be fair, I respect this more than the how the home of litigious excess that is America devalues human life with its charade of revenge/justice (this is true of the UK too, and I'm not attacking Americans, just part of the culture), but its a bit unnerving, and as a foreigner you have to remember that "roads are dangerous" and listening to your stereo or reading a billboard while walking across the street is a bit of a death-wish. Indeed I almost got ran over once, not because I wasn’t paying attention but because I didn't realise that drivers WILL NOT STOP in China if you stand in front of them, and with my Rabbit in Headlights reaction it was a close thing. Luckily the traffic was heavy anyway so the car was slow and I got my act together. In this case, I wouldn't have been hurt.

At the Airport I had to pay Will so I handed over my wedge of Renminbi (it was a large wedge - the exchange rate is 14.2 vs. Sterling at time of writing). Will paid the travel Agent. I didn't even realise who the guy was until he got out of the van and disappeared into the sunset with my hard earned cash, they spoke Chinese after all. Then we were off ourselves. Introductions over and it was clear that Will is a smart and ambitious kind of guy. I won’t go into details but I could tell that a) I'd lose money to him at some point during the holiday and b) he probably grasped this as well. I wasn't bothered though because he is actually a nice guy. A consummate salesman; he had us geared up for the golf in no time. We arrived at the resort and I was pretty impressed. The view of the valley and the lake was stunning, especially at sunset. We were put up in a two bedroom villa near the top of the Valley. The course is on the Northern side and collects a lot of sunlight during the day. This meant the grass was lush, the air was fresh, and the general atmosphere was incredibly relaxing. This may have been due to the beers we necked in the club-house (I say clubhouse, it was really a hotel reception with appropriate bar/restaurant) but it felt good at the time.

Six-am is golf o'clock, or so I'm told. Aaaargh... I'm yawning just thinking about it. We started at about 7.30 after breakfast and a quick jolly to the driving range. The first hole was pretty impressive. The early morning light and the dew on the grass reminded me of Scotland. It was far to warm to be Scotland of course but the dramatic scenery tickled something at the back of my hippocampus and I could smell the peaty incense of burning turf. Looking back I think this is because the nearby villages actually do use peat fires. We were in the middle of nowhere after all.

Golf is as Golf does, to abuse a Forrest Gump truism. The scores I'm saving for a later entry but suffice it to say the course was a lot tougher than Shen Zhen. In fact, the courses got progressively tougher as the week went on so my score increased linearly with the number of balls I lost. That doesn't matter though; I had a great time and surprisingly felt no frustration. That’s not entirely true. I was annoyed that I wasn't allowed to drive my own buggy (two to a cart remember) but since my caddy found my wobbling belly a source of infinite humour I was happy that she could concentrate on the road while I concentrated on putting double figures down on my score-card. Back at the clubhouse Dave and Will discussed the inevitable gambling that had emerged. They were playing skins on the back nine and Dave lost. Not surprising, even with the handicap system we'd worked out. Will is pretty good and shoots 100 on a good day. I was invited to join in too. 50 RMB a hole, but I get an extra shot a par threes/fours, and two on par fives. Oh well, it made the game more interesting so I would join in the next day. After a surprisingly average meal (everything else in this place far outshone the standard Chinese "just make it look good at a glace" approach to architecture and service. Since I'd eaten Dog the before I could hardly complain right? Anyway the Qing Dao (Tsing Tao, pronounced Ching da-o) beer was smooth and crisp and since I was on vacation that’s what mattered.

Next stop for the evening was the massage parlour. Having only heard rumours of Beijing massage parlours, and having been offered many massages by the ever present (and usually Korean) girls that hang around Roppongi, I've always thought the whole affair seemed a little seedy out here. I was proven wrong with this place. First off you shower, then sit in the Jacuzzi for a bit, get into some loose fitting shorts and a jacket, and head up to the massage room. We went for one of the full body options: the "Aromatherapy" massage. My protestations that this was probably for women went unheeded so I sat patiently in the room waiting for my masseuse. I didn't fall asleep, of this I'm positive, but somehow this two hour marathon massage session passed by in what seemed like minutes. I'm sure if it wasn't for the concern that I might fart when she was massaging my stomach it would have went quicker too. I also ended up smelling of Lavender (surely the campest of aromas) but we were told not to shower for a few hours at least. When I hit my bed I was out like a light... but the next day I'd never felt so energised. My limbs felt supple and strong, my swing was more open and accurate and my emotions were lifted. Maybe it was just the ego boost of having an attractive woman caressing almost your whole body or maybe the forced relaxation does something more than just normal sleep. Maybe its the psychological effect of allowing yourself to be kneaded like a dough but I think massage works. Also, I'm sure smelling 'purdy flower smells' helps.

I say all that, but it sure didn't help my golf. End of day two and Will was up several holes on Dave and up a few on me, but I was up on Dave too. The cool thing about skins play is that if you blow up on one whole, you only lose _one_ point. If you blow up during stroke play, you lose a point per stroke. At 50 RMB a point that can be expensive. Never mind though, the money was a distraction, the golf was the real reason we were there. I nearly had two birdies, but settled for a couple of pars instead. My short game is definitely the better part of my game at the moment. Its not _good_ but its not as bad as my game from the tee. Ugh, that reminds me about the fourth game. That's for later though.

Day three was bad for golf too. We'd moved to a different hotel (we were only in Spring City for two days). In fact we were back in Kunming and experiencing the delights of the local cuisine once more. This time it was more 'civilised'. Our driver took us to a neat local theatre were pissed up old guys toasted each other over the strains of a surprisingly lavish celebration of the 51 Chinese ethnic groups, or Minorities as they insisted on calling them. Numerically I guess minority is correct but you miss the idea that there are 51 distinct cultures in China. I'm sure there are more than 51 anyway but some are too 'minor' to count. The food was the kind of mix you see at a dim sum restaurant, but with what seems to be a more local spin on the contents - more mushrooms, beef and chicken rather than fish. Back at the hotel we went to the night club. It was a pretty seedy affair with cheezy singers and cheezier decor (I don't use that 'z' lightly you know) but they served alcohol so we were happy. But as I kept reminding myself, Golf was the name of the Game so we hit the sack in anticipation of another day of rooting through deep rough and bemoaning water hazards.

At this point it should be mentioned that on days three and four we played stroke play. The idea being that if we focus on stroke play it would help improve our score as we would hedge against the blow ups that don't matter so much in skins. This is a simply not true. Golf has a huge psychological component. By making the stroke play important we were bound to bottle it. Much to Will's lucrative delight... Even though his game suffered the same degradation. The third game was also the most tiring; I don't know why but maybe drinking in the sleazy club had undone the efforts of the masseuse at the golf resort. I think the fact that our game was ailing tired us emotionally too. So the final night was spent eating Chinese take-out in our rooms. Char Sui pork kicks ass in China. Its OK in the UK sucks in Japan but until I ate it in China I didn't know what it was _really_ meant to taste like!

This is the last golf story, I promise! On the last day I was feeling confident. I'd come to the conclusion that the previous day was the low point. I've often found that if you do the same thing to often you get worse before you get better. Having suffered the psychological low point and fiscally damaging round during the third day I thought it was time for a turn around. These are the stories we tell ourselves to get us through the trial that is life. So in retrospect I don't know why I was surprised by my first tee shot of the day. Golfers know when they are about to fluff a shot, maybe its psychosomatic, but moments before you strike the dimpled little bastard you either know its going to soar, or its going to end up in the exact same spot, but two inches into the soil. This was one of those shots. Backswing, nice and smooth - a little fast but I would hold it together. Keep watching the ball. Downswing, take it easy, don't smash it, just hold it to... awww Fuck. The ball made a sound like tearing a sheet of paper. PFFFffffft - thud. On this particular hole, the tee overlooked a rather fetching rock outcrop. The fateful 'thud' was the sound made by my ball falling several feet short of it. No problem - "Give me the Seven" I said to the caddy. The look I got should have said it all but today was going to by _my_ day... Clunk - pook - Thud. Pook is a word I've just made up. Its sound a golf ball makes when it hits a 15ft sandstone rock. Awww sheeeyuuut. Clunk - pook - Thud. The second time it hit the rock it ended up further behind me. The third time I just moved my ball past the rock. The way I saw it, I'd just lost 200RMB. Now was the time to cut my losses. Well, that was the omen for the day. At least the club-house had a nice pizza.

I think you are probably as tired of Golf as I am. So let me just say that the last golf game was played on another stunning course. The proclivity of wealthy courses and Chinese players is astounding. Playing golf there far outshone the courses I've seen elsewhere. I think on the top ten its still mostly Scottish courses but I've never played on any of those. Just Camelon, Larbert and Grangemouth. Sure the country has a bigger population than any other, but the truth is that just makes the divide between the rich and poor that much starker.

Sigh, enough of that. I was on HOLIDAY - I don't need to be thinking about sociology (I'll save that for my next article). There were three things left to do in China. 1) Pay Will the money he'd won from me (ouch), 2) Get a painful reflexology foot massage and wolf down some bullfrog (croak) and 3) Get on a plane to Hong Kong! But that, as they say, is another story.