New Chinese Chess Set

A long, long time ago in college, I studied abroad in Hanoi, Vietnam for a summer for preparation for grad-school. I was, frankly, a pretty terrible student, skipped classes a lot and then dropped out of grad school in the US before I even took a single class.1

While there, I spent a lot of time goofing around in Hanoi, hanging out at Internet cafes, and talking with the local rickshaw drivers who played Chinese Chess during their downtime.

My Chinese Chess set, courtesy of Yellow Mountain Imports. The pieces are not quite arrange properly; I just snapped this photo for fun.

Two years of college-level Vietnamese courses meant that I could do basic communication but was certainly not fluent. Still, the drivers were happy to let me join in and play. Playing against the young American probably was something to break up the routine. Of course, I lost handily. They had been playing one another for years and were quite good, and I was getting a crash course in the game. Even though I was terrible, Chinese Chess was something I really enjoyed, and played as much as I could.

That was more than twenty years ago.

Sadly, I never played Chinese Chess since returning from Vietnam. Later, I learned to play Japanese Chess (shogi), but the two games are fairly different, each with their own virtues. I always kind of missed playing Chinese Chess, and I was happy to discover that one can buy good, quality sites online at places like Yellow Mountain Imports.

Yellow Mountain Imports includes some excellent instructions for non-native players to learn quickly. Chinese Chess, more properly called Xiang-qi (象棋)2, is another variant of Chess, in the same family as Western Chess, or Japanese Shogi. The basic premises is the same for all three: move your pieces, capture opponents pieces and defeat the opponent by trapping their king/general into an attack that they cannot escape from.

But each game has notable differences. In Shogi, you can replay pieces you capture, plus it includes multiple kinds of generals, each with unique moves. In xiangqi, the pieces have some unusual moves, but also terrain is more prominent: some pieces change their moves after cross the “river” in the middle, and some are unable to move outside their own “palace”.

Xiangqi, based on my limited experience, is a leaner, faster game than Chess or Shogi, because it has comparatively fewer pieces, and the many pieces have large movesets. Some pieces are strictly defensive too, so the actual pieces you use to attack are comparatively few. This makes for a game where every move really starts to count. So while the endgame is faster, there’s lots of “head games” about where to put your pieces, especially when you consider tricky combinations with the cannon. Using one or both cannons, you can do some complicated combinations to attack your opponent’s general. And since the general can’t move very far, you have to be extra careful where you put yours because a checkmate can happen surprisingly easy if you are careless in guessing your opponents moves.

I enjoy Chess, Xiangqi and Shogi each in their own way (honestly, I am probably best at Shogi, but even then I am a lousy player). Each one has its own vibe, but Xiangqi is especially nostalgic for me because I played it so much in Vietnam.

I taught my daughter to play a bit of Xiangqi with me, and I was surprised to see that she enjoyed it too. So I am glad to put this set to use.

Even for Westerners who can’t read Chinese characters, everything is simple enough, and visual enough that you can quickly learn the game, and begin playing.3 Like all good games, it’s simple enough to learn, but complex enough to keep you playing for a long time.

P.S. the Vietnamese name for Xiangqi is cờ tướng, or in old Hán-Nôm style: 碁將

P.P.S. More on my experiences playing Shogi.

1 Needless to say, I was immature, cocky and unprepared for life outside the US. There were many positives too, but plenty of regrets too. If I could still speak Vietnamese well, I would like to go back and visit, now older and wiser. But I doubt I will have the opportunity any more. I should post some of my old photos one of these days, though.

2 Pronounced like Shyong-chee.

3 I do find it fascinating that the Chinese characters on each side are not always the same. For example the elephant on the red side is and the green side is , or the advisor is (red) and (green). I am unclear why these are different, while other characters such as are the same.

Uposatha For Modern Times

The Buddhist religion has a very old tradition originally called Uposatha1 or Upavasatha,2 that is vaguely similar to the Jewish sabbath.

In traditional Theravada-Buddhist countries (e.g. Myanmar, Thailand, etc), monks and nuns recite the old monastic code on the full and new moons. Devout lay Buddhists will undertake the Eight Precepts (more detailed explanation here) and in essence live like a monk for a day.

In Mahayana-Buddhism much of the same traditions are observed depending on the country. In China, the tradition is called bù sà (布薩) for monastics, and liù zhāi rì (六齋日) for the lay community. The latter means “six days of fasting [or abstinence]”. These terms became fusatsu (布薩) and rokusainichi (六齋日) respectively in Japanese. I did some digging and I learned that these traditions are also upheld in Vietnamese and Korean Buddhism too. Much like the Theravada tradition, the 8th, 14th, 15th, 23rd, 29th, and 30th days of the lunar calendar are used to undertake the Eight Precepts, while monastic communities recite the monastic code.

However, I am unclear how many lay Buddhists in traditional countries actually uphold this tradition. It’s not something people really talk about it in daily conversation, and of course everyone’s situation is different.

Over the years, I have tried to observe the Uposatha tradition. I even put calendar reminders too:

A reminder on my phone. Also, trying to listen to the Hyakunin Isshu as well in my spare time to improve my listening skills when playing karuta. Photo was taken at the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival in 2024. We go every year, and take lots of photos.

My reminder is set for the 8th, 14th, 15th days, etc. for each calendar month. I just substituted the Western calendar for the lunar calendar, and for the month of February I simply moved the 29th and 30th to March 1st and 2nd. It’s not perfect, but it is predictable and easy to manage.

However, reality tends to catch up with me. My ability to undertake, let alone uphold the Eight Precepts is very inconsistent, and most of the time I am so busy as a working parent that I forget Uposatha entirely. Alternatively, I have to pare it down to something very simple that I can fit into my schedule, such reading a sutra out loud, reciting the nembutsu, etc.

But even when I fail, I think there’s still value in setting aside certain dates like this for Uposatha. You could just pick a certain day every weekend, or a certain day of the week,3 or stick with the lunar calendar. You can choose to follow the “gold standard” and undertake the Eight Precepts, or find another sustainable practice, or some combination. Planning ahead like this also helps work it into your schedule.

You can also just start small, do something sustainable, and then intensify practice after a few weeks or months (or even years). Once it becomes habit you have established a good foundation.

1 This is the Pāli language term.

2 The Sanskrit language term. If you’re looking for pronunciation help, check out my other post. Also, for reasons that are unclear, there appear to be two different Sanskrit words: Uposadha or Upavasatha. I am unclear which one is correct, but what little I could find suggests that Upavasatha is the more commonly used term. 🤷🏼‍♂️

3 I used to set aside Tuesday nights every week to “live like a monk”. Like a “half-Uposatha” or something.