University of Life – Frustrations and an Early Farewell from China

Reading time: 9 minutes.

The previous part described the training and living conditions of early July 2024. What I couldn’t have imagined at the time was how it would feel if those conditions would continue at full force in both temperature and humidity. This resulted from about mid-July in a situation where there were no more moments within each 24-hour cycle where the body could cool down to dry skin. During and after training I was soaking wet and it took at least half an hour before the excessive sweating stopped. Cold showers were wonderful afterwards but did not help against the sweating and I slept on large towels draped over the bedsheet.

The inability to cool down and the body’s continuous attempts to do so cost more and more energy. My training sessions suffered significantly and by the end of the month I could barely complete one and a half of the five training hours a day. The concept of ‘exhaustion’ was suddenly very vivid and in addition a kind of rash in the form of small, red spots started to appear on my chest, stomach and back. Due to the continuous sweating and chafing against wet clothing it seemed as if hair follicles were becoming inflamed, and the only remedy for this was a cool environment that would temporarily stop the sweating process. After consultation with the master I was allowed to use the air conditioning in my room to a limited extent. I didn’t fully adhere to this restriction and two days later the rash had disappeared.

However, the general rule remained that air conditioning was not to be used, only electronic fans. These did absolutely nothing against my incessant state of external humidity and as soon as I started moving around my clothes were soaked within two minutes. A simple walk to the village became kind of a survival trip. In addition, the long-term weather forecasts gave no prospect of lower temperatures or declining humidity. Add to that the fact that writing articles under these conditions also suffered due to a rapidly decreasing energy level plus signs of moisture damage to the laptop and it becomes clear that the motivation to complete the year was waning.

That ultimately meant that the conviction of having to train in China for at least a year was let go. However, it wasn’t a lovingly letting go, because in addition to exhaustion there were also the frustrations as I described in the previous part: no climate controlled training facilities, ‘silly’ air conditioning policy, hardly being able to train normally, rashes on the skin that raised the conviction that the students’ health was not taken seriously - to name but a few.

Now frustrations arise from expectations. Expectations arise from being bound to attachment for pleasant things and aversion against painful things. So now questions start to arise like: Did I miss an opportunity for a unique learning experience? Did I give in to my frustrations by leaving a difficult situation? And thereby once again confirm the righteousness of my ego?

Be that as it may, looking back it can be said that aversion to the situation that had arisen was the main motive for my early departure. This becomes clear when we examine my behaviour on Tuesday, July 30th. One day earlier the master had been informed about the desired early departure, and on the 30th the laptop was turned on with the aim of travelling to Chiang Mai, Thailand a week later. This involved: arranging a plane ticket, accommodation, and checking if visa needed to be arranged. Yet once frustration has settled itself comfortably on our internal couch, peace and quiet and a calm evaluation of a situation quickly leave the house.

Doing things online that we don't do every day becomes significantly more difficult when we are already frustrated.

That trend had already started a few days earlier when all available VPN servers were blocked again and frustration towards the Chinese internet policy had once more taken hold of me. In order to still secure a connection to the entire internet, I bought €20 worth of data that I could use via my Dutch SIMcard. The first Chinese network had already blocked the data flow via the SIM half a year earlier, but a second network still provided the service. At least, that was the case a few months ago and I had assumed without checking that this was still the case. Try to imagine the frustration when that second provider had also blocked the data flow via SIM and no other networks were available. Twenty euros flushed down the toilet. Steam came out of my ears and the swollen arteries on my forehead and neck were throbbing menacingly quickly.

From that frustration the decision was made to leave China earlier than planned, and with that same frustration still in my being I began looking for things like plane tickets, visa and accommodation. A better recipe for Failure with a capital F cannot be imagined. Because what is failure? That is of course nothing else but actions which do not produce the result that is expected of them. And those expectations arise, as we have read before, from our attachment to desirable situations and aversion to undesirable ones. Aversion was explicitly against the situation that had arisen in the school and the desire was then that tickets, accommodation and visa would be arranged quickly and without any setbacks. In other words: find a visa, apply for it if necessary and pay; find a ticket, book and pay for it; find accommodation, book and pay for it. A child can do the laundry.[1]

In practice, things went a little differently. To start with, I am an inexperienced traveller. That is not a problem in itself, but it becomes one when frustration – an intense emotional state – is the dominant and leading factor in my thinking and behaviour. In this case, that translated into wanting to find the relevant visa information too quickly. The information that I found indicated that people with a Dutch passport have a 30-day visa-free entry to Thailand (which can then be extended by 30 days). To stay longer, an electronic visa for 60 days would have to be applied for (with the same option to extend by 30 days). In response to my wish to stay in Chiang Mai for three months, I started working on the visa application. That went fine, up to the point of payment; my credit card was not accepted and I had no access to the other payment options. Crap! So then I decided to arrange ticket and accommodation first. After all, I was in a hurry.

The higher the frustration level, the more things go ‘wrong’.

Via Skyscanner I found out that the most desirable route was from Weihai to Seoul and then directly to Chiang Mai with Jeju air. The Jeju air website was quickly found, the desired ticket too, but again the process failed with the payment. Because despite my credit card seemingly being accepted, it turned out at the very last step (even after having approved the payment via the app on my phone) that the payment was refused. A quick check showed that indeed no amount had been debited from the balance, but during that check I did see a debited amount from a few days earlier that I did not immediately recognize. That triggered fear that the account had been hacked, just like my WISE account had been hacked a few months ago (which caused me to see in real time that amounts were mysteriously debited from the account - a truly magical experience). The next action was therefore to find out whether there had been an illegal debit.

The only way to do that was to call the credit card provider – in the Netherlands! Even more frustration, because the long distance calling rates are still not cheap. But hey, I wanted to know what was going on, so for heaven's sake I did. Fortunately, the conversation went quite smoothly and it seemed very likely that there was no illegal payment. In my search for an explanation, however, I had not made any progress. Moreover, several hours had passed in the meantime and nothing had been arranged of what I wanted to arrange. I was already hot because of the temperature, but now my blood was really starting to boil.

Okay, let's just put that ‘unknown’ amount aside for the moment - also because I didn't want to have to block the credit card before having made the necessary payments for the trip. So let’s first arrange accommodation. Fortunately, that went quite quickly via booking.com and suddenly a light emerged followed by the thought: ‘Let's see if trip.com offers my desired flight.’ Miraculously, that was the case, so the flight could also be booked fairly quickly. Admittedly a bit more expensive than via the airline itself, but those twenty euros were more than worth the temporary peace of mind.

Finally, the visa. In the end, I asked the master to pay the amount online and I gave him the amount in cash (about €30). In doing so, I had assumed without checking that such an electronic visa application would be processed within a few working days, because that had also been the case for Vietnam (processed within three working days for a fellow student). People who travel often or have recently been to Thailand must be laughing out loud now, especially considering that I started to get a bit nervous when there was still no news the day before my departure (‘already’ four working days after the application). Further online research revealed a processing period of between three and ten working days! Needless to say, certain self-blaming buttons were pushed hard again. On the day of travel, I therefore went to the airport with somewhat clenched buttocks, which, as the experienced traveller already knows, was ultimately unnecessary.

In the meantime I had found out what the ‘unknown’ amount had been spent on, and it had indeed been I who had carried out the transaction. Frustration and the inability to calmly evaluate at the situation had therefore cost €13,- for the telephone conversation with the Netherlands, not to mention the costs of energy leakage.

During check-in at the airport in Weihai (China) I was told that I would be allowed to stay in Thailand for 60 days. I did not understand this at all because there was still no response to my visa application. I therefore assumed that the application had been approved but that there had been a delay in the notification towards me. That feeling was reinforced by the stamp in my passport which indeed granted a stay of 60 days in Thailand. Two days later that same feeling was crushed when a good friend and experienced traveller told me about the 60-day visa-free entry into Thailand. In other words, I didn’t need to apply for the electronic visa at all. Hooray, thirty euros donated to the large, round file cabinet.

Now, it is a generally accepted statement that money is ‘thrown away’ when no observable product or service has been obtained. Nothing could be further from the truth in my opinion if we consider the ‘lost’ amounts as described above as tuition. Just like we invest money in courses and education, every minute of our lives can be considered a continuous education and we can only learn by making mistakes.

It became clear to me that towards the end of my stay in China too many buttons were pushed, which made my thinking and behaviour unmanageable. My organism was taken over by my inner children who acted out of fear and all said in unison: “We have to get out of here!” My actions became tense and obsessive to meet that desire and there was no question of sitting down quietly to give the emotional whirlwind time and space to rage. As a result, all sorts of things went ‘wrong’, as evidenced by the fact that I acted based on assumptions instead of first calmly investigating ambiguities. As a result, the organisation process ultimately cost more time, money and energy than if I had acted from a calm mind and body.

Exactly that has been a valuable lesson. The worst time to start doing things and taking action is after our buttons have been pushed. The intense emotional state then keeps us trapped in a tunnel with only one possible outcome, and all our thinking and acting will be obsessively and convulsively focused on that outcome, because our inner child has developed that outcome as a protection mechanism against the situation that the emotional button represents.

Yet after rain the sun always shines again.

Now, a reflection like this is no guarantee that it will never happen again. Seeing it is just a first step in the healing process. Realization comes more quickly when buttons are pushed and that offers opportunities to work with it and practice, for example by trying to do nothing for a while after buttons are pushed. That is easier when a small button is pushed and becomes more difficult when the buttons are larger and the emotional reactions more intense. And sometimes it doesn't work at all, as was the case with me last week. However, the fact that I can now look back on it with humour and share it with you in this way, does indicate that steps are being taken in the healing process. Hopefully this article will serve as both entertainment and inspiration.

The next part in this series will be about saying goodbye to the Kung Fu school and the beautiful environment where I was able to train and live for 11 months. For now,

Jolly greetings,
Erik Stout

[1] ‘A child can do the laundry’ is a literal translation of a Dutch proverb which means ‘easy does it.’

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