Mood:
energeticTopic: Asian Travels
Paat was his name, or at least what I’ve made of it. My first authentic Thai Muay Thai (MT) instructor. He had a chubby, jovial face, I almost wonder how he is capable of revealing a deadly and violent side when it matters in the ring.
He was surprised when I told him I’ve had 8 months worth of MT Training. He promptly lead me to the rear end of the large airy campus where the ‘intermediates’ train. Regardless, not long after he got me shadow boxing and a few rounds of pad work later, he started to doubt my experience in the area…
“You sure it is MY Training you have? Not Kickboxing?”
“Yes, yes. In our lessons there are many many people, instructor no time to adjust our moves.”
In the ring Paat rapidly lost his smile. Clearly I wasn’t performing up to his idea of ‘intermediate’. It wasn’t long before his patience starts to fray, when his cutesy face starts to morph into the constant grimace of a child in permanent tantrum.
“OK, 1, 2, left, right. Elbow… ELBOW! You not readee!! You must always be readee!!” He flings his fist and stamps his foot in annoyance, “Again, Elbow.. ELBOW! Forward! Harder, faster!!”
The truth is, I’m not a young, aspiring boxer who intends to one day fight in the ring. I merely want to train to be a good fighter, ready for self defence anytime but hopefully will never feel the taste of someone else’s knuckles on my teeth. With my red toe nail polish and newly coloured hair and with each reprimanding from Paat I burst into a giggle, which in turn further aggravates him and make me look more pathetic.
Paat is not without his endearing side though. During a break session he told me not to get upset with his reproaches as he doesn’t mean them personally, merely part of the Muay Thai culture. I was honestly impressed he could hold back his tongue and not scream in my face, “You retarded woman, I said the RIGHT LEG, the RIGHT BLOODY LEG, NOT THE LEFT!!”
Above all, Paat’s kick packs a serious kill in spite of his cuddly appearance. When teaching me how to kick, he would demonstrated by giving me a “mock kick”, what appears to be a gentle tap with his feet on my abdomen. Yet with each apparent gentle tap, I was stunned for a moment because it actually hurt much more than I’d expected. While it was obvious he’s held back most of his muscles, I can feel the chunk of his power withheld in that harmless tap. I cannot begin to imagine what a real kick from Paat can do to me.
The final blow, regardless, came from just before the closure of the lesson when Paat told me to knee the sandbag 50 times and kick it 100 times consecutively. I couldn’t believe my ears, “a hundred times, you say?”
“Yes,” he grinned triumphantly, “100 times”
And so he begins counting, “One, two…Eleven, twelve…Twenty…Thirty…Forty…fifty…sixty…fifty,” Wait, did he just say ‘fifty’ again? “Shit,” I thought to myself desperately, “I can’t take this anymore…” but I had no strength or breathe to protest. Fortunately, after the 2nd ‘fifty’, he jumped straight through to ‘seventy’ and continued to 100, making it 110 consecutive kicks.
“You are a strong lady,” Was I hearing things? He was complimenting me! “Most ladies can’t do 100, they…” he drops his head sideways and stuck his tongue out like a pretend dead man, “So I say, you strong lady”
And with that, we clasped our hands the Thai style, bowed, thanked each other and bade farewell.
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celebratory
happy