The Competition

Time Magazine recently published an article called Up in the Air featuring two Russian teen prodigies smashing juggling records, and paving the way to making juggling a competitive sport rather than clownish entertainment. See their U-tube video here.

Their coach Garfield has formed a federation designed to promote juggling at a competitive level. I wonder if his eyes are also on Beijing and where joggling fits into his scheme. The competition is looking just a little bit more professional than I had anticipated.

Balancing the Brain and Smashing World Records

I’ve reverted to juggling indoor, out of the unbearable heat and pollution of Hong Kong in August. I do occasionally joggle around the room, but have taken to sitting in front of the fan yoga style practicing variations on the cascade, and working particular hard on a left hand clockwise half shower designed to bend my rightist brain left (China is still a communist country) and make-ambidextrous my technique. Whilst ambidextrousness is not necessary for increasing my speed on the track, it is useful for moving onto four and five ball joggling.  I figure the more specialized one gets, the easier it will be to smash world records.

Petitioning Hu

Did a 100meter joggle in 24 seconds this morning, knocking 4 seconds off from yesterday’s time–4 seconds closer to  Beijing you might say.

Really it is just 700 and something days to the Olympics now; I must start petitioning Hu Jintao for joggling representation. Not sure what the process might be. I am wondering if anyone has any suggestions. Ms. Mitchell from Connecting Cultures www.concul.net, a cross cultural consultancy in Beijing suggests taking the joggle to Tiananmen Square where the boulevards are broad and petitions are traditionally made.

28 Seconds

Yesterday I timed my hundred metre joggle.

I went from 40 seconds to 28.

I now have a benchmark.

Washboard Abs

I am practicing joggling palm down catching the rice-socks like flies. This seems to exercise my stomach muscles as they power the unusual bottom-spin rice-sock fling required for the juggle. My beer belly is slowly receding. Maybe this is from the constant bending over to pick up the rice-socks that I drop. Whatever the reason, I can see the first signs of a six pack emerging. Surely this makes joggling a little bit sexy.

Into the Light

Joggled my way out of a red wine hangover yesterday after a fantastic roast lamb dinner at my friend Helena’s house, remembering my failed attempt to promote joggling to her friends. Rolled eyes are a better reaction than feigned interest, though no reaction is worse, when you are marketing a movement. Really I can’t blame people for a lack of enthusiasm, for it is not like I wasn’t dismissive of all things sport in the past as well, but now that I have seen the light, how do I open people’s eyes?
I feel like a missionary or a born again Christian. I need converts now.

Not Joggling on Snakes

This morning I went for a joggle on Taihang Mountain. At least I tried, but a green tree snake crossed the path, and halted my progress. As I was waiting for it to move on, I met Hing Din, a Xiamenese living in Northpoint, on his regular morning hike. He told me not to worry about the snake, and asked me where I was from.

Well that was it for joggling. We chatted about hiking in Australia, my recent trip to Xiamen, the tasty little sandworm jellies which are a specialty of his home town, Dongsik, how he came to Hong Kong on a boat in the deep of night from Macao settling where all Fujianese of Hong Kong settle, North Point. As gripped as I was with his story, so too were the ricesocks in my hands, not whirling, or cascading, but motionless; ignored as I talked to Hing Din

It was a fortuitous meeting. I have been writing about Fujian and Fujian food this last week, and was able to quiz him on the cuisine scene in Hong Kong. “Chunyong Street at the North Point markets is about it,” he said.  He confirmed what the Hong Kong tourist board had told me i.e. that there are bugger all Fujianese restaurants in Hong Kong, but recommended I check out the small hawker stalls in North Point anyway.

Then as we were descending alongside a watercourse we saw another snake, sun baking on a rock. Two in one day!

So what has all this got to do with joggling? Not that much except that joggling can be dangerous if you don’t use the ‘eyes on the track, not on the ricesocks’ technique mentioned in a Eyes off the Rice-Socks and onto Beijing. You might in fact tread on a snake. Furthermore joggling, even when you’re not actually joggling gets you out meeting interesting people, who might just tell you something useful.

Calling Jogglers of Lusofonia

Three days ago, dressed in their new Gaffa tape outfits I took the rice socks over to Macao to check it out as a joggling destination. Exactly two years before the Olympic games, on the (7-15 October 2006), Macao will be hosting the 1^stJogos Lusofonia, which is something like the commonwealth games but for places linked by a Portuguese speaking heritage. Surprisingly, joggling was not listed as an official sport. Recognition takes time, I guess, but hopefully by my doing a bit of joggling along the newly  reclaimed waterfrontat Fisherman’s Wharf, I may have raised a bit of awareness for the sport, and hopefully planted the idea in a few observant menbers of lusofonic country’s minds.Nonetheless, Macao is actually a good destination for joggling because of the waterfront prominades,which have their  own name over here–prayas. There are three main prayas on the three islands (Macao, Taipa and Coloane) that make up Macao, all free of cars as promenades are, and mostly free of people because the tourists are all too busy sinking their cash into the casinos, which in all of China is only legal in Macao. It is like Los Vegas on the sea..

Joggling is also a good exercise to burn the fat from all the rich European food that’s on offer from the islands previous caretakers – the Portuguese. Think butter rich egg tarts, liqueur soaked flambés, acorn fed pork, cod lasagna with  roasted  ceam potato-bake, Portuguese steak and egg, sangria by the jug, chocolate milkshakes, gelatos, African chicken, crab curries and wine, wine, wine.I stayed with my friend Stacey at the Emperor Hotel, which had real Queen’s Guards, a Cinderella style coach, and more than a hundred real gold ingots, set amidst diamonds inside glass bricks, as a paving for the lobby floor. There were real live, bottle-blonde Russian dolls, wielding polish cloths ready to shine little emperor’s shoes.  I considered giving the rice-socks a polish, but the gaffa tape was still shiny, so I saved my 20 Patacas for another glass of Sangria instead.

Gaffa Face Lift

Gave the ricesocks a face lift with a bit of Gaffa tape. Actually the socks have gone altogether– the new tacky to ouch and slightly crumpled surface of gaffa tape is a far superior grip. The rice still remains though (good for emergencies), wrapped inside an inner glad wrap membrane.

Eyes off the Rice-Socks and onto Beijing

I’ve taken to carrying a single rice sock everywhere I now go which I toss about trying not to look at it.  This is to develop my peripheral vision so that I can keep my eyes on the track ahead, and to use my minds eye to predict where the rice socks will land. I negotiated the streets of crowded causeway bay yesterday afternoon with a single rice sock, then moved onto the mountain path on the hills behind Taihang to practice the same technique with two rice-socks, and this morning at the track I made 50 meters without looking at the three cascading rice socks – well peripherally only. My eyes are now on the big picture, the finishing line, or shall we say Beijing. Only 730 days now till the opening ceremony.