I suppose if you grew up with it, it wouldn’t be so odd. In some ways, I guess I’m a picky eater. Studying abroad though and seeing how other international students deal with these differences allows me to better see how I fall into line. I can now say that I’m more open than others to different foods, though I admit there is some stuff that I would rather not go near.
A few weeks ago, my group of friends and I went to Queen Mary across the street. Yeah, it’s a hospital, but compared to Bayview Restaurant in the basement of Lee Hysan Hall, the canteen of Queen Mary Hospital is absolutely gourmet. Oh, and we get discounts there because Queen Mary also happens to be the teaching hospital of the University of Hong Kong Li Ka Shing Faculty of Medicine (HKU Med School).
I’m a bit partial to the barbecue pork with rice that they have. When I go days without it, I begin missing it, and then when I order it, I realize that I don’t really care for it. I always ask for less rice (in Cantonese, of course), so instead of getting three portions of rice, I get about two (which I still don’t finish). That meal all comes out at like $16-17 HKD, which is like two bucks USD, so it’s well worth it. This meal also comes with a few stalks of Gai Lan (芥蘭/芥兰), which I used to mistaken for Bak Choy (白菜) until I was reminded that the vegetable before us is stalky, whereas Bak Choy grows in the same leafy manner as cabbage.
Now, I don’t eat Gai Lan at home, though I’ve seen it sold at the Chinese supermarkets. When I’m with my family, we tend to more often go along the lines of broccoli, Napa cabbage, and cauliflower. (Mom and Dad, if you guys are reading this I like the first two better than the third.) Here though, Gai Lan’s nickname “Chinese broccoli” becomes apparent as it’s served as the main vegetable to go with any meal that comes with a vegetable.
If you thought my mix-up was bad, my friend from northern Europe couldn’t tell what the vegetable was, so instead of assuming it was a vegetable he had never seen before, he decided that they must cook their vegetables funny here to get it to look that way and taste so different. I took it upon myself to set this logic straight and inform him clearly that this is a different vegetable.
At a different time, last week to be precise, I was having dim sum with my Cantonese classmates. In addition to this being a prime opportunity to practice our Cantonese, we also used it to try new foods. As such, we ordered chicken feet. (Unlike in the old days and at Chinatowns, most dim sum places in Hong Kong have you order food off a menu rather than pointing and choosing off of the 點心車/点心车 dim sum carts). At our table of ten, we ordered to share, splitting the bill evenly in the end.
Well, the food came and I made my stomach happy with the regulars like Haa Gau (蝦餃/虾饺) and Siu Mai (燒賣/烧卖) as well as the crowd-pleasing Cha Siu Bau (叉燒包). We went ahead and tried Taro Dumplings (芋頭角/芋头角) and Taro Cake (芋頭糕/芋头糕) , but when the Chicken Feet (鳳爪/凤爪) came out (literally Phoenix Claws), I couldn’t try it. I would have tried, but my stomach was well full, and trying new food, especially something I wasn’t sure whether or not would sit well, wasn’t a good idea. That was my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
By the others though, I was told that it’s basically just skin and fat, so I didn’t feel I was missing out on much. One of my friends at the table though was a seasoned chicken feet consumer. She could put the whole foot in her mouth and get all the edible parts off without hands, pushing the bones to one side of her mouth and when it was all said and consumed, she would spit out the foot bones onto her plate. It was impressive if not a little off-putting.
The one thing that just completely makes me feel sick is shrimp with heads and shells still on. I can de-shell them without making a fuss, but I dislike doing it while I’m eating.
I was informed though at a meal in Temple Street (廟街/庙街) near Mongkok (旺角) that they don’t de-shell because the shrimp are fresh (in addition to the fact that it’s a lot of work to peel shrimp). They quite literally pull the critters out of the tanks linking their storefronts and put them into boiling liquid. This means that they’re super fresh and that there’s no time to de-shell them.
Most people don’t eat the shell. A friend of mine who’s originally from Taishan, Guangdong, (台山, 廣東/广东) told me that you only eat the shell if it’s deep-fried. That way the shell is crunchy and enjoyable rather than fishy and unbearable. I tried it, and though it wasn’t fishy, it wasn’t exactly my cup of tea either.
At this fresh seafood restaurant, I witnessed something I doubt I’ll ever see again. He and another friend could and would put the entire cooked shrimp in their mouth and de-shell and de-head it within their mouths, spitting out the refuse politely onto their plates. It was starting to say the least, though most impressive. Never will you find me putting a shrimp head into my mouth.
The bottom line is that I don’t try everything, nor am I really expected to. I think that what’s really important is to maintain an open mind about different foods. This means that even if you don’t try it, you at least shouldn’t talk about it subjectively with objective terms. Better yet, don’t show any disgust that you may be harboring.
Balut (毛蛋 in Chinese) is a Southeast Asian delicacy that National Geographic taught me about. Over the years, I have found that many of my friends enjoy this food, and though I’ve never tried it, I maintain my doubts as to whether I’d actually like it personally.
For those who don’t know, Balut is a fertilized, partially developed duck egg. If I remember correctly, they boil the egg right before parts of the body such as the bill harden, yet it’s not like a hardboiled egg either. It’s runny, and it’s eaten fetus, yolk and all.
A friend of mine here whose parents are from Vietnam likes Balut a lot. On one episode of Fear Factor, contestants had to eat some as part of a competition and she said that she should have been there, because she totally would have won that competition.
Another friend raised ethical concerns about eating a fetus, which I thought were not necessarily irrelevant but rather illogical. I think that the only people who can argue against eating Balut are those who eat neither eggs nor meat, in which case they could say that eating such is unethical. The difference to me between eating an animal or a fetus of the same animal deals nothing with ethics. (In that sense, you can’t argue that you don’t eat human babies for that would imply that you’re a cannibal) I’ve seen how factories keep chickens cooped up in their own waste, lacking the space to turn around, and how pigs get their teeth removed from them forcefully and obviously without anesthetic when they are still young.
Though I’m not to keen on eating fetuses, I see little moral dilemma in the issue. Instead, I personally have concerns about whether I would like the texture of the item, seeing as it’s a whole undeveloped animal with extras.
Showing posts with label Lee Hysan Hall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lee Hysan Hall. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
As Stubborn as
A couple weeks ago now (sorry for the delay), I went to the second high-table dinner for Lee Hysan Hall. I didn’t really talk about the first one in a published post because, well, I didn’t have very savory opinion of it. But as a (re)cap, high-table dinners are when the entire hall (of a few hundred students) gather at Bay View Canteen downstairs (which is mediocre at best), dressed in suits and classy dresses, for what is supposed to be a classy occasion. And so sum up my thoughts on the first one—it’s not.
I figured that, okay, it wouldn’t be bad to go to the second one. They are only once a month, and with only three total, maybe it would be better to just attend and get it over with, because, you never know, right? There might be something you might miss and end up regretting not going. I’ve since this second high-table dinner retracted these feelings in their entirety.
It’s not like we’ve got much choice in attending though. Those students with legitimate reasons for being absent may report it to the building warden (who’s a teaching professor) and be excused. Those who miss without approval to do so must write a letter in an attempt to excuse themselves for their absence. Those who are chronically absent from these high-table dinners risk getting expulsion from the hall.
Some of my friends got excused ahead of time; some just skipped. I don’t think they wrote a letter of apology to anyone though, nor do I believe they were asked to, because as exchange students, we are definitely given a lot of leeway in mistakes and such. I’m guessing that if they miss the next one in the same fashion though, they may be asked to write a letter.
The routine of the event itself was the same as last time. Meet at a certain time (6:00 p.m.) at the common room but don't quite assemble until way later (6:51), at which point the elevators (two clunkers for the sixteen-story building) are completely full and you don’t get down there until 7:25 p.m., just in time to sit down for the dinner to begin at 7:30 p.m. (though neither time did it start until after 7:45).
So this time, the couple people I knew on the floor and I headed down independently of the floor. Each floor was assigned a few round tables, and each round table had specific students assigned to it. Wanting to sit with some of my friends, I ignored the table assignments with the full intention of moving if someone asked me to.
No one asked me to. This time around, actually, the table that I sat at was quite empty. This, I found out, was because much like myself, the local students all wanted to sit with (all) of each other at a few tables. They kicked out other students who weren’t their friends from their tables to make room. As such, the table I sat at became the table of rejected exchange students. This group included, among others, one floormate who relayed me her relations with the locals—and though her relationship with them didn’t get her a seat at the “friends” table, I still admire how she was able to reach out to them in a way that I failed.
I guess I should start by describing my relationship with them again. I know that I constantly keep referring to them as a group, but please know that I understand that they are individuals and that a few I’m quite friendly with.
I moved in my first day and I went up and down the halls to try to help me figure out the electrical sockets. The solution came in as simply as I’m not used to have power-cut switches out the outlets themselves (though now I think that it’s a very smart idea), but to help me come to this, I found a local in the common room who identified himself as Jason. He was friendly and helpful, and though we live on the same (male) side of the same floor, I’ve only seen him a handful of times since.
Also in the first week, I met a guy named 99 as in “nine-nine,” though if I had read his name out loud before proper introductions, I would have pronounced it as “ninety-nine.” He was really nice as well, but I’ve only seen him a few times as well. My neighbors towards the bathroom I say “hi” to every once in a while. It never goes far beyond that because whereas I tried many times to start conversation with them, they’ve never bothered to contribute anything to their conversations with me.
I’ve never been to a floor meeting, the first because I was sick, the second because I was out of town, and the third because I didn’t know. From what I’ve heard though, they’re conducted in Cantonese (though everyone should be able to competently speak English as HKU is an English-language university). So instead of switching to English when someone who doesn’t speak Cantonese attends the meeting, they instead have one student translate for them.
The last one, my exchange floormate was told that the meeting was being adjourned, but after he left, they started talking more about specific hall activities that they didn’t offer to him, just because they assumed his disinterest due to his lack of participation in the previous floor and hall events.
I understand that a big part of my not befriending them has to do something with a language barrier. I don’t speak good Cantonese and many of them are not comfortable in speaking English. The bigger obstruction though is that they treat relationships differently here. In the act of saving face, the way they go about it is to prefer not to make contact with those who they don’t know, and only after do they know someone do they open up. I wasn’t about to deal with that.
This floormate exchange student, though, did. She told me how she wanted to be involved in hall activities. She would knock on the local’s doors and get cold responses time and time again, until one day she flat out asked them why they exclude her.
Since then, they’ve invited her to all the activities. She and the locals socialize outside of the hall events as well. They get along with her so well, that the last time I talked to her, they were pondering over what Chinese name they should bestow upon her.
I admire what she’s done. Maybe I’m too stubborn to do what she did; maybe I just didn’t care to make friends with people who didn’t overtly care to make friends with me. In some ways I’ve failed, and in some ways I perceive it’s not my fault.
Back at UCSD, Eleanor Roosevelt College is the undergraduate residential college with the international focus. As such, International House, where many of the exchange students stay, is on our campus. I participate in their activities as I am encouraged to. I try dearly to make friends with them, and show them the America that I know and love—the California that I know and love.
Maybe what I expected was unreasonable. Maybe how it works here is just different. As much as I’ve gotten used to Hong Kong and made this where I feel at home overseas, this one aspect of friendship is just something I’m not sure I would ever get used to.
It’s okay though. I don’t need a Chinese name—I’ve already got one of those.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
I figured that, okay, it wouldn’t be bad to go to the second one. They are only once a month, and with only three total, maybe it would be better to just attend and get it over with, because, you never know, right? There might be something you might miss and end up regretting not going. I’ve since this second high-table dinner retracted these feelings in their entirety.
It’s not like we’ve got much choice in attending though. Those students with legitimate reasons for being absent may report it to the building warden (who’s a teaching professor) and be excused. Those who miss without approval to do so must write a letter in an attempt to excuse themselves for their absence. Those who are chronically absent from these high-table dinners risk getting expulsion from the hall.
Some of my friends got excused ahead of time; some just skipped. I don’t think they wrote a letter of apology to anyone though, nor do I believe they were asked to, because as exchange students, we are definitely given a lot of leeway in mistakes and such. I’m guessing that if they miss the next one in the same fashion though, they may be asked to write a letter.
The routine of the event itself was the same as last time. Meet at a certain time (6:00 p.m.) at the common room but don't quite assemble until way later (6:51), at which point the elevators (two clunkers for the sixteen-story building) are completely full and you don’t get down there until 7:25 p.m., just in time to sit down for the dinner to begin at 7:30 p.m. (though neither time did it start until after 7:45).
So this time, the couple people I knew on the floor and I headed down independently of the floor. Each floor was assigned a few round tables, and each round table had specific students assigned to it. Wanting to sit with some of my friends, I ignored the table assignments with the full intention of moving if someone asked me to.
No one asked me to. This time around, actually, the table that I sat at was quite empty. This, I found out, was because much like myself, the local students all wanted to sit with (all) of each other at a few tables. They kicked out other students who weren’t their friends from their tables to make room. As such, the table I sat at became the table of rejected exchange students. This group included, among others, one floormate who relayed me her relations with the locals—and though her relationship with them didn’t get her a seat at the “friends” table, I still admire how she was able to reach out to them in a way that I failed.
I guess I should start by describing my relationship with them again. I know that I constantly keep referring to them as a group, but please know that I understand that they are individuals and that a few I’m quite friendly with.
I moved in my first day and I went up and down the halls to try to help me figure out the electrical sockets. The solution came in as simply as I’m not used to have power-cut switches out the outlets themselves (though now I think that it’s a very smart idea), but to help me come to this, I found a local in the common room who identified himself as Jason. He was friendly and helpful, and though we live on the same (male) side of the same floor, I’ve only seen him a handful of times since.
Also in the first week, I met a guy named 99 as in “nine-nine,” though if I had read his name out loud before proper introductions, I would have pronounced it as “ninety-nine.” He was really nice as well, but I’ve only seen him a few times as well. My neighbors towards the bathroom I say “hi” to every once in a while. It never goes far beyond that because whereas I tried many times to start conversation with them, they’ve never bothered to contribute anything to their conversations with me.
I’ve never been to a floor meeting, the first because I was sick, the second because I was out of town, and the third because I didn’t know. From what I’ve heard though, they’re conducted in Cantonese (though everyone should be able to competently speak English as HKU is an English-language university). So instead of switching to English when someone who doesn’t speak Cantonese attends the meeting, they instead have one student translate for them.
The last one, my exchange floormate was told that the meeting was being adjourned, but after he left, they started talking more about specific hall activities that they didn’t offer to him, just because they assumed his disinterest due to his lack of participation in the previous floor and hall events.
I understand that a big part of my not befriending them has to do something with a language barrier. I don’t speak good Cantonese and many of them are not comfortable in speaking English. The bigger obstruction though is that they treat relationships differently here. In the act of saving face, the way they go about it is to prefer not to make contact with those who they don’t know, and only after do they know someone do they open up. I wasn’t about to deal with that.
This floormate exchange student, though, did. She told me how she wanted to be involved in hall activities. She would knock on the local’s doors and get cold responses time and time again, until one day she flat out asked them why they exclude her.
Since then, they’ve invited her to all the activities. She and the locals socialize outside of the hall events as well. They get along with her so well, that the last time I talked to her, they were pondering over what Chinese name they should bestow upon her.
I admire what she’s done. Maybe I’m too stubborn to do what she did; maybe I just didn’t care to make friends with people who didn’t overtly care to make friends with me. In some ways I’ve failed, and in some ways I perceive it’s not my fault.
Back at UCSD, Eleanor Roosevelt College is the undergraduate residential college with the international focus. As such, International House, where many of the exchange students stay, is on our campus. I participate in their activities as I am encouraged to. I try dearly to make friends with them, and show them the America that I know and love—the California that I know and love.
Maybe what I expected was unreasonable. Maybe how it works here is just different. As much as I’ve gotten used to Hong Kong and made this where I feel at home overseas, this one aspect of friendship is just something I’m not sure I would ever get used to.
It’s okay though. I don’t need a Chinese name—I’ve already got one of those.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
A Question of Balance
I don’t think I’ve been this busy since I pulled fifteen-hour days in high school. Last year at UCSD I had so much free time. I was able see all the latest episodes of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: Miami, CSI: New York, 30 Rock, Worst Week, and the Big Bang Theory. In addition, I watched all eight seasons of Scrubs and started from the beginning of How I Met Your Mother. This fall semester, I can’t remember when the last time I watched a television show was.
Here I’m busy, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not all about studying, I suppose. Back in high school, I did plenty of extracurricular activities, most of which not academic, most of which in the hopes of getting into a top-tier university. Now having been going to UCSD, I’ve realized that the way my life has been set out for me and the way that my cards have been dealt has been for the better.
To start, I believed and still do that the biggest part of getting a college education is the studying and the classes. After all, that’s what tuition pays for. Employers care more about your degree more than how much fun you have in the process. That’s not to say they don’t care about other things like work experience (and study abroad).
Needless to say, I am studying abroad at the moment and loving it. I still think that I’m here first and foremost to study, since, after all, if I wanted to go traveling I would take a leave of absence from school and go abroad without studying. And in this sense, there’s something to be said about travelling with obligations.
Something that few seem to talk about regarding studying abroad is the fact that while most students go traveling, they also have to make sure they’ve got their affairs in order so that they can go traveling. I myself have my work lined up for me. I know when I have to do it by so that it’ll get submitted appropriately and I realize that even though I don’t want to work, sometimes I have to.
My parents would be proud if I ever asked them their opinion.
By late September, I had only been out of Hong Kong once—to Macau for an overnight trip. My mother wanted to make sure I went traveling to as many East Asian places as possible, since, as she put it, it would be cheaper to do it from here in Hong Kong than back home in California.
So what was I doing the first month here? Unlike now, I had little work to actually do. I used both hands to count how many weeks until the end of the semester. I went around Hong Kong. Granted, I haven’t really explored New Territories much, but as for the Harbour vicinity, I know it like the back of my hand. I’ve seen most everything on the Island side and I could rattle off bus numbers to take to get to where you need to go and back.
So starting in Reading Week, I went to Beijing. I could tell that my mother wasn’t exactly thrilled that I was going back to a place I’d already been to, but I think it turned out to be a really good experience. The other weekend I went off to Taipei and as with any other city, there were things that I expected and more that I didn’t. Last weekend I went back to Shenzhen and got my hair cut (with a “Thai” massage for a very good price). This weekend I’m planning on going to Guilin and have bought sleeper train tickets already. After that I’m planning on going to Thailand; and though unscheduled, I’d like to go to Singapore and Japan before I leave.
Also in the last two weeks, I had two midterm examinations, submitted two papers, and made three presentations. Before Reading Week, I went had one as well. Still to go I have two papers (one research and one op-ed) and another presentation, not to mention six finals to deal with. And before the worrying begins, all the grades that I’ve gotten back thus far have been As (or at least A minuses). Oh and of course I’ve got this blog, which I’ve really dedicated myself to if I do say so myself, which I’ve added nearly 20,000 words to in the last two weeks in fifteen posts. (Check my total word count below.)
It’s a lot, but I’m dealing with it fine through good coordination and a decent planning. In some ways, how my travel plans in conjunction with studying necessities turned out was bad. When I barely had any work, I did local sightseeing—easy and convenient. As the semester has been progressing, my workload has been increasing, as been my traveling, and consequently my blog writing.
All I can say is it’s all part of the experience I guess.
On the other hand, a friend of mine’s roommate managed to do practically the reverse of what I did. Starting early, she went everywhere every weekend. Before class started, she started with Cambodia, Thailand, and if I remember correctly Vietnam. The first few weekends she was gone to places like Borneo, Malaysia, and Singapore. Now though, she’s staying in Hong Kong and doesn’t believe she’ll be going anywhere else (until at least after finals) now that her workload has picked up noticeably.
In some ways, her scheduling was better. She and I both managed to see much of the same stuff. She managed to fit it with her workload much better than I did. On the other hand (not that I think even half of the time that my life works out better), when I arrived in Hong Kong, I had more immediate priorities. I was in a foreign environment and I really had a need to get used to my new surroundings before I could go venturing off to other countries. In some ways, my friends and I know more about Hong Kong than my friend’s roommate does. We probably have seen more of Hong Kong as well.
So whose plan turned out to be better? I don’t know; my internal jury is still out, and I don’t think it’ll ever be back in. I guess it really doesn’t matter.
All I know is that I’m swamped. After school every day, I find myself in the medical library (it’s less crowded and closer to Lee Hysan Hall) studying and planning, writing and reading. Right now, I’m going to get back to studying.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Here I’m busy, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not all about studying, I suppose. Back in high school, I did plenty of extracurricular activities, most of which not academic, most of which in the hopes of getting into a top-tier university. Now having been going to UCSD, I’ve realized that the way my life has been set out for me and the way that my cards have been dealt has been for the better.
To start, I believed and still do that the biggest part of getting a college education is the studying and the classes. After all, that’s what tuition pays for. Employers care more about your degree more than how much fun you have in the process. That’s not to say they don’t care about other things like work experience (and study abroad).
Needless to say, I am studying abroad at the moment and loving it. I still think that I’m here first and foremost to study, since, after all, if I wanted to go traveling I would take a leave of absence from school and go abroad without studying. And in this sense, there’s something to be said about travelling with obligations.
Something that few seem to talk about regarding studying abroad is the fact that while most students go traveling, they also have to make sure they’ve got their affairs in order so that they can go traveling. I myself have my work lined up for me. I know when I have to do it by so that it’ll get submitted appropriately and I realize that even though I don’t want to work, sometimes I have to.
My parents would be proud if I ever asked them their opinion.
By late September, I had only been out of Hong Kong once—to Macau for an overnight trip. My mother wanted to make sure I went traveling to as many East Asian places as possible, since, as she put it, it would be cheaper to do it from here in Hong Kong than back home in California.
So what was I doing the first month here? Unlike now, I had little work to actually do. I used both hands to count how many weeks until the end of the semester. I went around Hong Kong. Granted, I haven’t really explored New Territories much, but as for the Harbour vicinity, I know it like the back of my hand. I’ve seen most everything on the Island side and I could rattle off bus numbers to take to get to where you need to go and back.
So starting in Reading Week, I went to Beijing. I could tell that my mother wasn’t exactly thrilled that I was going back to a place I’d already been to, but I think it turned out to be a really good experience. The other weekend I went off to Taipei and as with any other city, there were things that I expected and more that I didn’t. Last weekend I went back to Shenzhen and got my hair cut (with a “Thai” massage for a very good price). This weekend I’m planning on going to Guilin and have bought sleeper train tickets already. After that I’m planning on going to Thailand; and though unscheduled, I’d like to go to Singapore and Japan before I leave.
Also in the last two weeks, I had two midterm examinations, submitted two papers, and made three presentations. Before Reading Week, I went had one as well. Still to go I have two papers (one research and one op-ed) and another presentation, not to mention six finals to deal with. And before the worrying begins, all the grades that I’ve gotten back thus far have been As (or at least A minuses). Oh and of course I’ve got this blog, which I’ve really dedicated myself to if I do say so myself, which I’ve added nearly 20,000 words to in the last two weeks in fifteen posts. (Check my total word count below.)
It’s a lot, but I’m dealing with it fine through good coordination and a decent planning. In some ways, how my travel plans in conjunction with studying necessities turned out was bad. When I barely had any work, I did local sightseeing—easy and convenient. As the semester has been progressing, my workload has been increasing, as been my traveling, and consequently my blog writing.
All I can say is it’s all part of the experience I guess.
On the other hand, a friend of mine’s roommate managed to do practically the reverse of what I did. Starting early, she went everywhere every weekend. Before class started, she started with Cambodia, Thailand, and if I remember correctly Vietnam. The first few weekends she was gone to places like Borneo, Malaysia, and Singapore. Now though, she’s staying in Hong Kong and doesn’t believe she’ll be going anywhere else (until at least after finals) now that her workload has picked up noticeably.
In some ways, her scheduling was better. She and I both managed to see much of the same stuff. She managed to fit it with her workload much better than I did. On the other hand (not that I think even half of the time that my life works out better), when I arrived in Hong Kong, I had more immediate priorities. I was in a foreign environment and I really had a need to get used to my new surroundings before I could go venturing off to other countries. In some ways, my friends and I know more about Hong Kong than my friend’s roommate does. We probably have seen more of Hong Kong as well.
So whose plan turned out to be better? I don’t know; my internal jury is still out, and I don’t think it’ll ever be back in. I guess it really doesn’t matter.
All I know is that I’m swamped. After school every day, I find myself in the medical library (it’s less crowded and closer to Lee Hysan Hall) studying and planning, writing and reading. Right now, I’m going to get back to studying.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Bamboo Comes Down, A New View
A couple weeks ago, the bamboo scaffolding came down. The buildings at 6 Sassoon Road are now painted, and I have a view of the harbor inlet free from green netting.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Monday, September 7, 2009
City LIfe
Being here for two weeks, I have fallen into something of a routine. Living inconveniently far from campus, I find myself taking public transportation to school frequently. The buses that run by my hall are so-called minibuses (小巴) that seat sixteen, standing prohibited.
These first few weeks of class, there have been large crowds of students trying to get to campus, crowding the bus stop whenever I want to catch a bus. Besides the raw numbers trying to get on these minibuses, there seems to be no respect for who got there first, so everyone sort of piles onto the bus as the bus driver indicated how many more seats remain.
It costs either HK$4.50 of $5 to get to main campus, so since paying this twice a day adds up, the university has a shuttle service. But with a bizarre schedule and few shuttles, this resource seems more of a formality than an actual service.
Because of this, I’ve found myself taking cabs to school more often than not. At about HK$21, if you get a group of four or five together and split it, it’s roughly the same price with faster service.
If I have time, I grab a bite on campus if I didn’t already at Bay View Restaurant, a very average canteen located beneath my hall. Frequently I find coffee because my hallmates do not allow me to get to sleep as early as I would like.
Going to class, I sit more frequently towards the front of the lecture hall here than at home because the locals don’t stop chatting with each other while the professor tries to talk. (We’re still in the middle of the add/drop period, when students are choosing classes, so once this is over, not only will there be less students in attendance, but also many students simply do not show up to lecture.)
For lunch I got to one of the four eateries on campus. My favorite, the one in Swire Hall above the Global Lounge is packed. Here, instead of having tables for two and four, the tables here seat eight to twelve, which means that whereas at home you usually didn’t sit down at a table already taken, you have to here if you hope to sit.
And a note on morality and ethics, I was telling a hallmate once at a crazy McDonalds that send the fastest eater to find a table and reserve it, allow the rest of us to order, then once we get our food, allow the last person to get their food. If you don’t do that, it’s hard to get a table. My hallmate said that that wasn’t fair for some reason that I don’t remember, since it didn’t seem logical to me, but I told him that that’s what they do.
At the canteen above Swire Hall, students seemed to come in big groups. They’d claim a table with one person and all their bags and backpacks, then proceed to order. So when I picked up my food, I walked around for ten minutes trying to find seats that didn’t have bags on them. Of those, half of those were reserved (as I was told off in Cantonese).
After my classes are over, me and some of my friends (also exchange students) do something locally. There’s actually a nice mall nearby named Westwood, where we go frequently. It has a few nice restaurants, a poor selection of retail stores (but that’s not why we go there) and a Wellcome store (yes, with two Ls), which I wish the locals had told me about.
Two weeks ago, I arrived in Hong Kong without blankets of a pillow. The lack of a blanket I could deal with, as it was filthy hot and humid well into the night. The day after next, I asked a local student where I could buy a pillow. He sent me to Causeway Bay, which happens to be halfway across the island, to IKEA.
Knowing IKEA back home as a large home store, I set out, without a map or any idea where in Causeway Bay I was going. The minibus dropped us off and I wandered around for a while. After asking a few people where IKEA was and getting piecemeal answers, I decided to just go to a bedding store I saw along the bus ride. I paid HK$174 for that pillow, thinking that’s like less than $25 USD. Unfortunately for me, at the Wellcome at Westwood, a short five-minute bus ride away, they were selling nice pillows for HK$30. Oh well! It’s too late now.
As there is an undoubtable and irresolvable delay in what currently happens and what I write about in posts, I’ll say that I type this right now as I wait for a University of California Education Abroad Program “How to get approval for classes back home” seminar to start.
Also, I haven’t written about it yet, but I’ve done quite a bit of local sightseeing over the past few weeks. Just this weekend I went on two tours advertised by the school giving a good overview of the area.
Posts to come!
These first few weeks of class, there have been large crowds of students trying to get to campus, crowding the bus stop whenever I want to catch a bus. Besides the raw numbers trying to get on these minibuses, there seems to be no respect for who got there first, so everyone sort of piles onto the bus as the bus driver indicated how many more seats remain.
It costs either HK$4.50 of $5 to get to main campus, so since paying this twice a day adds up, the university has a shuttle service. But with a bizarre schedule and few shuttles, this resource seems more of a formality than an actual service.
Because of this, I’ve found myself taking cabs to school more often than not. At about HK$21, if you get a group of four or five together and split it, it’s roughly the same price with faster service.
If I have time, I grab a bite on campus if I didn’t already at Bay View Restaurant, a very average canteen located beneath my hall. Frequently I find coffee because my hallmates do not allow me to get to sleep as early as I would like.
Going to class, I sit more frequently towards the front of the lecture hall here than at home because the locals don’t stop chatting with each other while the professor tries to talk. (We’re still in the middle of the add/drop period, when students are choosing classes, so once this is over, not only will there be less students in attendance, but also many students simply do not show up to lecture.)
For lunch I got to one of the four eateries on campus. My favorite, the one in Swire Hall above the Global Lounge is packed. Here, instead of having tables for two and four, the tables here seat eight to twelve, which means that whereas at home you usually didn’t sit down at a table already taken, you have to here if you hope to sit.
And a note on morality and ethics, I was telling a hallmate once at a crazy McDonalds that send the fastest eater to find a table and reserve it, allow the rest of us to order, then once we get our food, allow the last person to get their food. If you don’t do that, it’s hard to get a table. My hallmate said that that wasn’t fair for some reason that I don’t remember, since it didn’t seem logical to me, but I told him that that’s what they do.
At the canteen above Swire Hall, students seemed to come in big groups. They’d claim a table with one person and all their bags and backpacks, then proceed to order. So when I picked up my food, I walked around for ten minutes trying to find seats that didn’t have bags on them. Of those, half of those were reserved (as I was told off in Cantonese).
After my classes are over, me and some of my friends (also exchange students) do something locally. There’s actually a nice mall nearby named Westwood, where we go frequently. It has a few nice restaurants, a poor selection of retail stores (but that’s not why we go there) and a Wellcome store (yes, with two Ls), which I wish the locals had told me about.
Two weeks ago, I arrived in Hong Kong without blankets of a pillow. The lack of a blanket I could deal with, as it was filthy hot and humid well into the night. The day after next, I asked a local student where I could buy a pillow. He sent me to Causeway Bay, which happens to be halfway across the island, to IKEA.
Knowing IKEA back home as a large home store, I set out, without a map or any idea where in Causeway Bay I was going. The minibus dropped us off and I wandered around for a while. After asking a few people where IKEA was and getting piecemeal answers, I decided to just go to a bedding store I saw along the bus ride. I paid HK$174 for that pillow, thinking that’s like less than $25 USD. Unfortunately for me, at the Wellcome at Westwood, a short five-minute bus ride away, they were selling nice pillows for HK$30. Oh well! It’s too late now.
As there is an undoubtable and irresolvable delay in what currently happens and what I write about in posts, I’ll say that I type this right now as I wait for a University of California Education Abroad Program “How to get approval for classes back home” seminar to start.
Also, I haven’t written about it yet, but I’ve done quite a bit of local sightseeing over the past few weeks. Just this weekend I went on two tours advertised by the school giving a good overview of the area.
Posts to come!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
The Ugly World
So I’ve been talking about the prototypical stereotypical “Ugly American” over several posts prior. Loud and obnoxious, drinking to no end, the “Ugly American” was what we were told not to be. We were told that the rest of the world frowns on such seemingly senseless actions, but after what happened last night, not only do I have doubts about how inclusive the “Ugly American” is of Americans and exclusive of everyone else, but also I feel I sense a common humanity among the people of the world.
Last night was something of an unofficial gathering of the HKU international exchange students. We were to meet at HKU’s west gate and then venture over to the party area of Central by bus. People from the Sasoon Road Campus, myself included, met earlier and then trucked over to west gate together. There we found a small crowd of international students.
And that was my intention in going to this get together. As previously explained, I’m not a huge fan of drinking. I still have never been drunk, never hungover, and the most I’ve drunk at one time was one-and-a-half limoncellos in Sorrento, Italy. In short, I made no effort to disguise the fact that I was there primarily to meet-and-greet other exchange students.
I met a lot of people from Australia, Canada, the United States, and Europe mostly. It was a diverse group. I thought the gathering would be very casual—you know, maybe a drink or two—nothing big and explosive.
I’m not against drinking personally, despite what my actions seem to suggest. I always thought that I was more of a glass-of-wine-with-dinner kind of guy over a let’s-go-drink-the-night-away one. I don’t drink also because in the United States the appropriate age is 21, whereas most everywhere else it hovers around 18, as most people know.
And the little get-together was going great. The crowd began growing and before we knew it, we probably numbered in the low hundreds. I met more people than I could ever possibly remember (a sentiment shared by many of those students), and before I knew it we were being herded onto a double-decker bus.
Now trying to get some hundred people onto a single bus at a single bus stop is kind of a nightmare. First, we were on a two-lane road with blind curves, so we stopped all traffic behind the bus as we filed our way onto it. To make matters worse, most of us, having just arrived from our home countries used coins to pay the fare. Locals prefer to use so-called Octopus cards, which work like rechargeable, good-as-cash gift cards all around Hong Kong, that are way more convenient for purchasing as well as public transportation. Unfortunately, taxis only take cash, but that’s beside the point.
When all of us managed to get on the bus, over twenty of us didn’t have seats. Standing in the aisle, most of us used this highly claustrophobic time to acquaint ourselves with more people with varying levels of success.
We got off in Lai Kwai Fong in Central, which pretty much serves as Hong Kong’s party district, and the drinking began. Some people easily spent hundreds of Hong Kong dollars on drinks (as the prices at the bars were absolutely ridiculous). Most of us went onto this small pedestrian side street where there was a 7-Eleven, which was much, much cheaper than the bars, of course. Whereas the bars had loud music, the pedestrian street had lower volumes of it, allowing us to keep introducing ourselves and such.
I only had one beer the whole night, but as the night went on and the drinking began showing its effects, it became less a night about meeting other people and more about having drunken fun, I guess. And while the Americans drank to the effect of the “Ugly American” stereotype, others of different nationalities drank to that same effect. The taxis for hire were patrolling the streets for business as the partying went on and on and on.
While they remained in a drunken stupor, I became bored, being completely sober and all. Ugly American? I couldn’t help thinking that that classification is more deserving of the title “Ugly World.” As the night went on, I split a taxi back to my hall with two other people. I pronounced Sasoon more properly, with rounded lips and a French “u” for the “oo” of Sasoon and we found our way back easily.
The night was over and I was ready to go to sleep. And for the record, I still don’t see the point.
Last night was something of an unofficial gathering of the HKU international exchange students. We were to meet at HKU’s west gate and then venture over to the party area of Central by bus. People from the Sasoon Road Campus, myself included, met earlier and then trucked over to west gate together. There we found a small crowd of international students.
And that was my intention in going to this get together. As previously explained, I’m not a huge fan of drinking. I still have never been drunk, never hungover, and the most I’ve drunk at one time was one-and-a-half limoncellos in Sorrento, Italy. In short, I made no effort to disguise the fact that I was there primarily to meet-and-greet other exchange students.
I met a lot of people from Australia, Canada, the United States, and Europe mostly. It was a diverse group. I thought the gathering would be very casual—you know, maybe a drink or two—nothing big and explosive.
I’m not against drinking personally, despite what my actions seem to suggest. I always thought that I was more of a glass-of-wine-with-dinner kind of guy over a let’s-go-drink-the-night-away one. I don’t drink also because in the United States the appropriate age is 21, whereas most everywhere else it hovers around 18, as most people know.
And the little get-together was going great. The crowd began growing and before we knew it, we probably numbered in the low hundreds. I met more people than I could ever possibly remember (a sentiment shared by many of those students), and before I knew it we were being herded onto a double-decker bus.
Now trying to get some hundred people onto a single bus at a single bus stop is kind of a nightmare. First, we were on a two-lane road with blind curves, so we stopped all traffic behind the bus as we filed our way onto it. To make matters worse, most of us, having just arrived from our home countries used coins to pay the fare. Locals prefer to use so-called Octopus cards, which work like rechargeable, good-as-cash gift cards all around Hong Kong, that are way more convenient for purchasing as well as public transportation. Unfortunately, taxis only take cash, but that’s beside the point.
When all of us managed to get on the bus, over twenty of us didn’t have seats. Standing in the aisle, most of us used this highly claustrophobic time to acquaint ourselves with more people with varying levels of success.
We got off in Lai Kwai Fong in Central, which pretty much serves as Hong Kong’s party district, and the drinking began. Some people easily spent hundreds of Hong Kong dollars on drinks (as the prices at the bars were absolutely ridiculous). Most of us went onto this small pedestrian side street where there was a 7-Eleven, which was much, much cheaper than the bars, of course. Whereas the bars had loud music, the pedestrian street had lower volumes of it, allowing us to keep introducing ourselves and such.
I only had one beer the whole night, but as the night went on and the drinking began showing its effects, it became less a night about meeting other people and more about having drunken fun, I guess. And while the Americans drank to the effect of the “Ugly American” stereotype, others of different nationalities drank to that same effect. The taxis for hire were patrolling the streets for business as the partying went on and on and on.
While they remained in a drunken stupor, I became bored, being completely sober and all. Ugly American? I couldn’t help thinking that that classification is more deserving of the title “Ugly World.” As the night went on, I split a taxi back to my hall with two other people. I pronounced Sasoon more properly, with rounded lips and a French “u” for the “oo” of Sasoon and we found our way back easily.
The night was over and I was ready to go to sleep. And for the record, I still don’t see the point.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A Friend or Two
At the moment, I’m not advertising that I’m keeping this blog to my new HKU acquaintances and friends. I intend for it to be read by people back in the states who would be more open to taking what I say with an open mind and realizing that I intend my narratives to be a reflection of my raw thoughts and impressions and less a forum for bias and slant (though I realize the words are often the same for both purposes). Now I’ve tried searching my name in Google and this blog pops up pretty close to the top; I’ve posted the address in my Facebook profile, so maybe they will find it. At that point I shall not ask them not to read it, but hopefully my thoughts will be understood as thoughts to which I am entitled, whether positive or not.
So I arrived at my hall in the late evening and ended up going to bed at 9:30 (Hong Kong time). I didn’t have a pillow and I didn’t need blankets. I felt so alone in my hall those first few days for a few reasons. As I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, I was not able to register for Internet until Monday, which left me without an outside world and a way to reach back to California. Though all of the local students had already moved in, they were seldom visible as they were on the second day of their ten-day hall orientation. (Long, right?)
I met a few of them, as I mentioned before. More recently I met another who went by the notable name of 99, pronounced “nine, nine” and not “ninety-nine.” He was friendly, telling me how to use the copy machine and something else that has, at the present, slipped my mind. Another I met in a hallway but he continued onto his room without allowing me to introduce myself. Fair enough.
I slept okay. It was humid and hot, ceasing little in intensity at night, and as harsh in the late evening as during the early afternoon. I must have woken up four times during the night, each time forcing myself to go back to sleep. Finally at 6:30 a.m. I woke up hungry, knowing that little, if anything would be open. However, I knew there was a 7-Eleven on the ground floor that I had seen coming in, so I went to go find it again. Instead I was met by the night guard who spoke to be in precipitous Cantonese. I replied in English and she realized she was faced with one of those students.
Now I expected that since classes were in English, students would speak good English, and that staff members would speak decent English as well. But similar to the woman checking me into my room some ten hours prior, I found myself struggling with, the night guard was of poor English competence. I would not judge these staff members so harshly if I were going to a school whose primary language were not English, but I was not, so I expected some English.
She managed to get out a “Hungry?” while pointing to her stomach.
“Yes,” I answered properly and deliberately for maximum comprehension.
She led me outside and pointed at the 7-Eleven. “7, 10,” she said explaining the hours. Then she faced me towards the restaurant and said “7 and half, 9 and half.”
I thanked her for her explanation, though the hours were pretty conspicuously posted on the signs outside both establishments. There was also a vending machine there (that only took big coins) and a Hang Seng Bank ATM, where I tried my HSBC card at with successful results. I went back up to the fourteenth floor of my hall. It was still as humid as ever.
I came back down in an hour to eat at the restaurant (locals style it “canteen”) that was meant for HKU students and staff pointed out earlier. I went down the steps into the restaurant and ordered some Congee (like oatmeal but with rice instead of oats) which came with a side of noodles. It was a lot of food and of decent quality for $16 Hong Kong Dollars (about $2 USD).
As I was eating three students came in with some very American clothing. They had advertising contributors to specific events (such as Honda being the presenting sponsor of the Los Angeles Marathon). One of the students had a blocky “M” on the front of his T-shirt that looked more like an upside-down “W” than a right-side-up “M” and I thought Michigan (as in the university).
After the ordered their food and sat down, I introduced myself and subsequently moved to their table. It turned out that they are from Minnesota (hence “M”) and had gotten to Hong Kong a few days before I had.
It was good to meet some other international students. The sounds of Cantonese were all too easy for me to zone out (as I have trouble really understanding the language at the moment), so it was easy for me to ignore the local students all together.
They told me how they were out partying practically every night prior and were trying to figure out where to go that day. And for that I could admire their boldness. I feel utterly lost when I venture into Hong Kong outside of the university (still as I write this post) and think that they were either being very brave or very stupid for going around town partying. I feel that I would have trouble finding my way back to my dorm after dark, and I don’t even know how it would turn out if I were even partially incapacitated.
So I found out that two of them were from the Faculty of Social Science (like me) whereas the third was actually a student from the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (which I would find out is pretty far away).
I left on basis that I was going to meet my HKU buddy for that tour she had offered me for that day. I went up to my room and called her, leaving her a message. When she didn’t call back, I just lay in bed watching movies that I had brought from home on my laptop.
She ended up calling at 1 p.m. asking me to meet her at main campus at 4. I was to take minibus 8 or 28 to get there, but I had no idea how the buses operate in Hong Kong, how long it takes to get to main campus, nor even what main campus looked like. So when the bus arrived I verified that it would be going by HKU in broken Mandarin, deposited my coins, and sat down.
Like other buses, you have to ring the bell (or pull the cord) to tell the driver to stop, but out of all the minibuses (which seat 16 and are painted a dirty mint green) I have taken, only one has had some non-verbal way to alert the driver. As I found out, you have to verbally ask the driver to stop. Those little buses are loud and I continue to be impressed that the driver can hear the requests over the angry sounds of the engine.
The journey went smoothly (though the minibus did not) and I arrived at HKU main campus and descended the bus at the proper stop (with the driver’s help) like half an hour before my buddy was set to arrive.
Waiting under this awning spanning the path of the West Entrance, the humidity was as present as ever and I could feel the presence of the sun beating down on me without the direct light of the sun. Bored, I studied the campus map in front of me. It looked pretty simple. There didn’t look to be too many buildings. The roads and pedestrian paths among the buildings didn’t appear straight, though, as the campus is on the side of a hill.
When my buddy arrived, I was relieved to start moving again. She tried to call me by my Chinese name (which very few people know) but I insisted on my English name. I asked her how to properly pronounce her name, but she misunderstood my question to be inquiring her English name. So she explained that she goes by her Chinese name. I rephrased my question and she taught me how to say it properly, afterwards commenting on my poor Cantonese ability, to which I just laughed.
She showed me around campus, which was bigger than I imagined. The map was totally useless to those not acquainted with the campus, and I found myself gawking at the presence of the almost senseless routes that we needed to take to get to where we wanted to go. There was no way that I was going to remember this all right away. I was shown where the Global Lounge is (from where I’m writing this now), as well as the location of my Faculty and Main Library, among other buildings and locations.
Still afraid of getting lost, augmented by the almost illogical campus layout, I ventured straight back to my hall, where I knew what floor I live on and from the elevator where my room is. And there I stayed (except for bathroom breaks and showers) until the next morning. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go down to the canteen and all (though I truly didn’t) but I wasn’t hungry for dinner, and something about the humidity in my room relaxed me as I went to bed at 7.
I still don’t know how to pronounce my HKU buddy’s name properly.
Just to note, I just changed the time zone of my blog, which incidentally affected previous posts. As a result, any posts that I didn't publish in Hong Kong are slightly off in time and date.
So I arrived at my hall in the late evening and ended up going to bed at 9:30 (Hong Kong time). I didn’t have a pillow and I didn’t need blankets. I felt so alone in my hall those first few days for a few reasons. As I arrived at the beginning of the weekend, I was not able to register for Internet until Monday, which left me without an outside world and a way to reach back to California. Though all of the local students had already moved in, they were seldom visible as they were on the second day of their ten-day hall orientation. (Long, right?)
I met a few of them, as I mentioned before. More recently I met another who went by the notable name of 99, pronounced “nine, nine” and not “ninety-nine.” He was friendly, telling me how to use the copy machine and something else that has, at the present, slipped my mind. Another I met in a hallway but he continued onto his room without allowing me to introduce myself. Fair enough.
I slept okay. It was humid and hot, ceasing little in intensity at night, and as harsh in the late evening as during the early afternoon. I must have woken up four times during the night, each time forcing myself to go back to sleep. Finally at 6:30 a.m. I woke up hungry, knowing that little, if anything would be open. However, I knew there was a 7-Eleven on the ground floor that I had seen coming in, so I went to go find it again. Instead I was met by the night guard who spoke to be in precipitous Cantonese. I replied in English and she realized she was faced with one of those students.
Now I expected that since classes were in English, students would speak good English, and that staff members would speak decent English as well. But similar to the woman checking me into my room some ten hours prior, I found myself struggling with, the night guard was of poor English competence. I would not judge these staff members so harshly if I were going to a school whose primary language were not English, but I was not, so I expected some English.
She managed to get out a “Hungry?” while pointing to her stomach.
“Yes,” I answered properly and deliberately for maximum comprehension.
She led me outside and pointed at the 7-Eleven. “7, 10,” she said explaining the hours. Then she faced me towards the restaurant and said “7 and half, 9 and half.”
I thanked her for her explanation, though the hours were pretty conspicuously posted on the signs outside both establishments. There was also a vending machine there (that only took big coins) and a Hang Seng Bank ATM, where I tried my HSBC card at with successful results. I went back up to the fourteenth floor of my hall. It was still as humid as ever.
I came back down in an hour to eat at the restaurant (locals style it “canteen”) that was meant for HKU students and staff pointed out earlier. I went down the steps into the restaurant and ordered some Congee (like oatmeal but with rice instead of oats) which came with a side of noodles. It was a lot of food and of decent quality for $16 Hong Kong Dollars (about $2 USD).
As I was eating three students came in with some very American clothing. They had advertising contributors to specific events (such as Honda being the presenting sponsor of the Los Angeles Marathon). One of the students had a blocky “M” on the front of his T-shirt that looked more like an upside-down “W” than a right-side-up “M” and I thought Michigan (as in the university).
After the ordered their food and sat down, I introduced myself and subsequently moved to their table. It turned out that they are from Minnesota (hence “M”) and had gotten to Hong Kong a few days before I had.
It was good to meet some other international students. The sounds of Cantonese were all too easy for me to zone out (as I have trouble really understanding the language at the moment), so it was easy for me to ignore the local students all together.
They told me how they were out partying practically every night prior and were trying to figure out where to go that day. And for that I could admire their boldness. I feel utterly lost when I venture into Hong Kong outside of the university (still as I write this post) and think that they were either being very brave or very stupid for going around town partying. I feel that I would have trouble finding my way back to my dorm after dark, and I don’t even know how it would turn out if I were even partially incapacitated.
So I found out that two of them were from the Faculty of Social Science (like me) whereas the third was actually a student from the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology (which I would find out is pretty far away).
I left on basis that I was going to meet my HKU buddy for that tour she had offered me for that day. I went up to my room and called her, leaving her a message. When she didn’t call back, I just lay in bed watching movies that I had brought from home on my laptop.
She ended up calling at 1 p.m. asking me to meet her at main campus at 4. I was to take minibus 8 or 28 to get there, but I had no idea how the buses operate in Hong Kong, how long it takes to get to main campus, nor even what main campus looked like. So when the bus arrived I verified that it would be going by HKU in broken Mandarin, deposited my coins, and sat down.
Like other buses, you have to ring the bell (or pull the cord) to tell the driver to stop, but out of all the minibuses (which seat 16 and are painted a dirty mint green) I have taken, only one has had some non-verbal way to alert the driver. As I found out, you have to verbally ask the driver to stop. Those little buses are loud and I continue to be impressed that the driver can hear the requests over the angry sounds of the engine.
The journey went smoothly (though the minibus did not) and I arrived at HKU main campus and descended the bus at the proper stop (with the driver’s help) like half an hour before my buddy was set to arrive.
Waiting under this awning spanning the path of the West Entrance, the humidity was as present as ever and I could feel the presence of the sun beating down on me without the direct light of the sun. Bored, I studied the campus map in front of me. It looked pretty simple. There didn’t look to be too many buildings. The roads and pedestrian paths among the buildings didn’t appear straight, though, as the campus is on the side of a hill.
When my buddy arrived, I was relieved to start moving again. She tried to call me by my Chinese name (which very few people know) but I insisted on my English name. I asked her how to properly pronounce her name, but she misunderstood my question to be inquiring her English name. So she explained that she goes by her Chinese name. I rephrased my question and she taught me how to say it properly, afterwards commenting on my poor Cantonese ability, to which I just laughed.
She showed me around campus, which was bigger than I imagined. The map was totally useless to those not acquainted with the campus, and I found myself gawking at the presence of the almost senseless routes that we needed to take to get to where we wanted to go. There was no way that I was going to remember this all right away. I was shown where the Global Lounge is (from where I’m writing this now), as well as the location of my Faculty and Main Library, among other buildings and locations.
Still afraid of getting lost, augmented by the almost illogical campus layout, I ventured straight back to my hall, where I knew what floor I live on and from the elevator where my room is. And there I stayed (except for bathroom breaks and showers) until the next morning. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go down to the canteen and all (though I truly didn’t) but I wasn’t hungry for dinner, and something about the humidity in my room relaxed me as I went to bed at 7.
I still don’t know how to pronounce my HKU buddy’s name properly.
Just to note, I just changed the time zone of my blog, which incidentally affected previous posts. As a result, any posts that I didn't publish in Hong Kong are slightly off in time and date.
6 Sasoon Road
This is my dorm room and hall building. I have a low bed on my half with a relatively hard mattress and slept without a pillow for several nights. 
There is an industrial ceiling fan as well, which helped mitigate the heat and humidity of the nights before the air conditioning. The outside of my hall, Lee Hysan, as well as the surrounding halls is covered with bamboo scaffolding and green mesh. So until that comes down in late October, my views (which are really great from the fourteenth floor) are through that green mesh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
