China is a land that is obsessed with rules. Perhaps it stems from its communist roots. Perhaps rule-making is just something to occupy its overactive bureaucracy.
When I moved to China, I thought I’d be adopting some bizarre culturally-appropriate sport – dragon-boat racing perhaps. As it happens, AFL is alive and well in the distant corners of our region.
So there we were: late afternoon, sitting at a desolate checkpoint somewhere in the far-flung Chinese province of Xinjiang. A few stray dogs and some confused Chinese policemen kept us company. How did we get into this mess? And where was that damn lake?