So I’ve arrived in the United States. As if there was no turning back earlier, I’m pretty much back now. I forgot that winds work so that it takes much less time to go west to east over the Pacific than the other way around. To get to Hong Kong to San Francisco, it took thirteen-and-a-half hours. Going back, it took just under eleven hours, and here I am now, sitting in the domestic terminal of United Airlines.
It’s currently around 9:30 a.m. Pacific Standard Time, and I’ve just gone through immigration and customs and went back through security in about an hour and a half, having arrived here just before 8:00 a.m. Though it’s still early in the day, my all-nighter that I pulled yesterday may have just paid off. I’m not tired, though it is around 1:30 a.m. in Hong Kong (at which point I would be snoring).
The flight was on par with other standard long-haul flights. There were two meals serves and a few meals in between. Unlike many other airlines (probably most), United though doesn’t have individual entertainment screens for economy class. It was fine, because I slept about half the flight, and the other half I watched the movie Julie and Julia as well as the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which I had already seen many times previously.
I arrived better than other long flights. With this being my sixth such flight (a number that pales in comparison to some of my friends), I guess practice makes perfect. I went through immigration first, where lines are divided between United States Residents (including non-residents) and Visitors. In line, this one duddy young adult behind me kept asking his father if they should move over to the citizens’ line, which, if he had taken a quick glance, would have realized that he was in it.
I went through without a hitch and asked the officer to stamp my passport. He did, but it was funny how he decided to skip my extra pages added mid-November by the United States Consulate-General in Hong Kong and went straight to the back, to the very last stampable page. He was nice though, so I thanked him.
He asked me if I had anything to declare, so I said that I have to pay customs tax but nothing outright to declare. He asked me what the purpose of my trip was, and I told him study abroad, and then said education, followed by some sightseeing. He’d already marked my Customs and Border Protection Sheet though with a circled numeral one. He waved me on without delay.
What was weird though happened to be what I did. Having gone through tons of Chinese immigration and airport security on this trip (Mainland, Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan), I was so used to just blurting out something in Cantonese and or Mandarin, once a disastrous and erroneous combination of both (that led me to say “I want” in Cantonese followed by “computer” in Mandarin to mean that I have a computer). Arriving in San Francisco, I caught my tongue and had to remind myself for a split second to speak English. Feel free to suggest what this means, since in Hong Kong I used English 70% of the time and Cantonese at about 25% of the time, with the other 5% consisting of Mandarin between newly-arrived service workers and French between the off-chance need to communicate something secretive in nature.
After that, I waited for luggage at carousel six along with most of the rest of the 747’s passengers. The bags took forever to come, and as expected I had to wait for them to take through customs then recheck them into the system. Waiting, I saw this unkempt guy in the army-veteran style as opposed to the hippy style who kept whining to anyone who would listen about how slow the bags took to come through. He was particularly poking at the various security checks he was told they send the bags through, which although annoying, also increase national security. This guy seemed to be one to argue in the realist sense for high national security and preemptive attacks upon foreign sovereigns yet he couldn’t see that his waiting was making the country safer in a more micro sense.
I got my bags after waiting for a long time, and remembered just how heavy they were. I was allowed two bags each under fifty pounds or twenty-three kilograms depending on where you checked in. I had my two bags that I managed to fit everything into except my pillow, which I’d have liked to keep, and though I had a hunch that it would go over weight, it was too late to mail stuff back. I resolved to just bring them along and see how things went.
So after calling home, telling them that I was leaving for the airport and that I would see them the next day, I dragged my bags up to the airport bus stop and waited for that bus to come. When it came, I had to toss my bags onto the bus, pay with my Ziploc bag of change pulled (with permission) of my roommate’s desk, and then heave my bags onto the luggage racks. With $48 HKD in the form of mostly ten- and twenty-cent pieces, the driver seemed oddly accepting of my method of payment. To me, that either meant that he didn’t care, didn’t care to show that he cared, or his coin collector had a counting mechanism in it. Whatever the case, I got on the bus and went on my hour-long journey to the airport, during which I accidentally took a nap.
Back to San Francisco, I picked up my bags off the carousel and onto my cart and from there I proceeded onto customs. I wrote down that I bought $1300 USD-worth of merchandise, after the $800 exemption, $500 of which was liable to a 3% tax, or $15 USD. Instead of directing me to some sort of cashier to pay my customs taxes, the woman looking at my ticket said “Thousand Oaks” (reading my United States address), and pointed me past the various luggage inspectors (or luggage unpackers) to find all the Cuban cigars and the like they could find to discard.
I’m glad that I didn’t get unpacked, because my bag was stuffed to the brim. Opening it put you in danger of not being able to close it. I found this out at I dragged my two bulky bags (as well as my carry-on backpack and camera case) to the check-in counter. One weighed seventeen kilograms and the other weighed a whopping forty kilograms (something just under ninety pounds). I was informed that I could pay an extra $150 USD to check in a bag under thirty-two kilograms, and that I couldn’t check in anything heavier (for the carriers’ contracts I suppose).
To that effect, I had to rearrange my two bags to even out the weight. I was directed several meters away to do it, substituting heavy books from the heavier bag with lighter clothes from the lighter bag. For a minute, it looked like I was going to have to abandon my two full-sized umbrellas, but in the end, everything fit back in. The whole thing took around fifteen minutes, the whole time in paranoia that someone was going to take my other bags (each with contents worth a very pretty penny).
Going back up to the check-in counter, I still had a little bit of adjusting to do, but my bags after moving two books into my carry-on luggage came in at about thirty-four kilograms and twenty-four kilograms, which to the checker was over the weight limit but acceptably so (probably as per her guidelines). With those two suckers off my back, I had a lot less to worry about (a main factor in choosing to travel in groups or at least with one other person so as not to leave luggage unattended).
Before packing these bags full though, I removed all the price tags I could find because while I planned to properly declare what I bought, I didn’t want the customs officers to be counting pennies on me.
One of my last friends who hadn’t yet left told me that I shouldn’t declare in excess of what’s tax-exempt, because no one pays customs taxes, implying that I was overly law-abiding and silly in doing so. I told him that it’s not that much, so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t pay it. I had the money to and knew that it would come down to whether or not they believed me when I said that though I’m bringing the box back, I solemnly swear that I bought it in the United States.
I guess when it comes down to it, I follow Socratic philosophy regarding civics. When he was sentenced to death, Crito came to free him, seeing that no one was going to stop him. However, Socrates chose to take his punishment seeing that the society that he lived in decided against him. I suppose I feel that the overwhelming majority of laws are there for a reason, and if not for the sake of the law itself, for something secondary in the least. In my case, paying customs tax (which happens to be much lower than Los Angeles County sales tax) helps my country protect our national security interests.
On the other hand, my roommate, in addition to bring six People’s Liberation Army hats (with a red star square center) and quite a few Quotes of Chairman Mao pocket books for cheap thrills, along with a defiling depiction of President Obama for his right-wing father, bought a small pack of Cuban cigars to bring back. Now if Communist souvenirs provide cheap thrills for Americans, bringing Cuban cigars over to the United States provides just downright ridiculously cheap thrills for Americans.
It’s not like the cigars are particularly good that makes them so fun to bring over, nor is it being bad for your health to smoke the reason why they’re illegal to import. It’s because of our long-running trade embargo upon Cuba set during the Kennedy years that first Cuban cigars are illegal to bring it and second that people like my roommate find it deviantly fun to sneak in. * Snicker, snicker.
Well I’m back in the States now, definitively so, having come in without having been asked to pay customs tax, yet following the law to the T. It just goes to show that people get by perfectly well by doing things the proper ways as well—just saying.
Showing posts with label housing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housing. Show all posts
Monday, December 21, 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.
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!
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.
Monday, July 27, 2009
After Acceptance:
Visas, Passports, and $290 later
I was accepted to study abroad at the University of Hong Kong on January 26, 2009. I guess I was walking on Cloud 9 the rest of that day.
A couple weeks before, I was anything but.
I had submitted my application on the day it was due and I was not informed that I had to get a letter of recommendation, as there were already 25 applicants for the eight available spots with the 4:00 pm deadline eight hours on the horizon. I was not happy. In a previous post, I explained how I managed to get two positive letters of recommendation within the week and turn them in.
I had done more than was instructed, actually. As I have found out, that can be a really good thing or a really bad thing; and honestly I have no idea which it was for me. I didn’t turn in the letters on time; however, I got them in relatively quickly. I was asked specifically for one letter of recommendation, but I submitted two just for good luck.
I was not told when I would be informed of the decision. I assumed that it would be late February or early March because of the preliminary deadlines involved (visa application, preliminary fees, etc.). Great, I thought, two months to wait.
I surely did not get it, or did I? I wondered. On the positive side, I would have senior standing when I departed and I did submit a 3.925 GPA (which I later had adjusted to a 4.0 due to clerical errors). Against me, I did not submit my application on time. I did not follow instructions to the “t.” There were probably over 30 applicants for the eight available spots. I only could study abroad for half a year to graduate (early) on time. On the positive side, my application was now on the top of the pile due to its late completeness.
I worried a lot. I told my friends who had known what I was doing that if I don’t get in, I don’t think I would be going abroad at all. I thought about applying in advance for spring semester, seeing as many deadlines had not come up yet. In the end, I decided to just bear it out. I thought that maybe if they saw that I had other applications pending, they would not be so inclined to accept me to such a selective option.
I was accepted to study abroad at the University of Hong Kong on January 26, 2009. I guess I was walking on Cloud 9 the rest of that day.
I called my father during the day and told him not to tell my mother, whom I called later in the day. I let out a shrill bit of excitement for which I am now ashamed. My friend and I went to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in downtown La Jolla, where they began rolling out the bongs for hookah.
Now what did I tell you about drugs? Yep, I’m still clean.
The next day I sat down to follow through on my paperwork pursuant to the acceptance of my application.
Now I have a habit that has now proven itself to be an Achilles’ heel of sorts. I plan way far in advance. As my first roommate knows, I have a very hard time dealing with flaky people—those who don’t show up for meetings, miss planned on events frequently, etc. I plan so far in advance that often the party that I am coordinating with tells me to call back in a month (or two). My medical provider told me, “We just don’t have the calendar up that far in advance.” I’ll get back to my Achilles’ heel later.
I had about seven things to accomplish by March 10 (to get it in the Goleta (Santa Barbara) office by March 20). There was a list to check off on. I ordered transcripts from UCSD immediately. I faxed my written request to Moorpark Community College that afternoon.
After that day, it took me about another week to get everything done.
The next day, I completed my application to HKU, which was required of me under the auspices of the University of California. I got more passport photographs taken. EAP provided medical insurance under the tuition fee. So I had to read over the terms and benefits, sign and sign some waivers.
Then came the big part: my student visa.
In short, I had it easy applying for my student visa. According to my Spanish teacher in high school, her daughter studying abroad for a year in Spain had to get two medical doctors to certify her mental competency, stability, and sanity. My mainland China exchange friends had to appear at the consulate in Los Angeles. I, on the other hand, only had to fill out the forms and submit payment. HKU was to do the rest for me—an they did.
Now about that visa application: first off, I needed to have a passport with validity beyond six months from anticipated date of departure from the host country (check).
The application for a student visa was daunting. At over 10 pages long with fine print and Hong Kong English (similar to British English) I was overwhelmed. Fortunately I only needed to fill out four pages of it. In the end, it wasn’t too bad. Looking at the clock, it took me about four hours for the application and a good amount of time checking it over. Shipping it to central California cost almost $3.00 first class. That was all said and done.
Then I bought my airplane ticket. United (though not my favorite) had decent rates and decent times—leaving August 20 for arrival at Hong Kong August 21; departing December 21 for arrival at Los Angeles same day. Not bad.
I was all set. I had finished preparation for my trip several months beforehand. I was all set and ready to go.
And then it hit. Dates were posted. EAP said I couldn’t check in until August 26—a full five days after I was to arrive. Being the great planner that I am, I immediately called United and rescheduled at the cost of $290 (including the $250 penalty for the rescheduling). The next morning HKU emailed me and informed me that I could check in August 21—my originally scheduled flight.
Upset that I had just paid $290 unnecessarily, I called United and asked them if they could reverse the whole thing to how it was a mere 12 hours earlier. They did and without fee too. Unfortunately they wouldn’t refund my $290. I pleaded with everyone in the company and they refused to refund even part of it—because it was a necessary charge.
Now I know. I should wait a day or two before making such a drastic change. Oh well. I just flushed $290 down the toilet and it landed below the water table on an undeserving United Airlines.
Thanks for reading. And now back to my summer reading!
A couple weeks before, I was anything but.
I had submitted my application on the day it was due and I was not informed that I had to get a letter of recommendation, as there were already 25 applicants for the eight available spots with the 4:00 pm deadline eight hours on the horizon. I was not happy. In a previous post, I explained how I managed to get two positive letters of recommendation within the week and turn them in.
I had done more than was instructed, actually. As I have found out, that can be a really good thing or a really bad thing; and honestly I have no idea which it was for me. I didn’t turn in the letters on time; however, I got them in relatively quickly. I was asked specifically for one letter of recommendation, but I submitted two just for good luck.
I was not told when I would be informed of the decision. I assumed that it would be late February or early March because of the preliminary deadlines involved (visa application, preliminary fees, etc.). Great, I thought, two months to wait.
I surely did not get it, or did I? I wondered. On the positive side, I would have senior standing when I departed and I did submit a 3.925 GPA (which I later had adjusted to a 4.0 due to clerical errors). Against me, I did not submit my application on time. I did not follow instructions to the “t.” There were probably over 30 applicants for the eight available spots. I only could study abroad for half a year to graduate (early) on time. On the positive side, my application was now on the top of the pile due to its late completeness.
I worried a lot. I told my friends who had known what I was doing that if I don’t get in, I don’t think I would be going abroad at all. I thought about applying in advance for spring semester, seeing as many deadlines had not come up yet. In the end, I decided to just bear it out. I thought that maybe if they saw that I had other applications pending, they would not be so inclined to accept me to such a selective option.
I was accepted to study abroad at the University of Hong Kong on January 26, 2009. I guess I was walking on Cloud 9 the rest of that day.
I called my father during the day and told him not to tell my mother, whom I called later in the day. I let out a shrill bit of excitement for which I am now ashamed. My friend and I went to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in downtown La Jolla, where they began rolling out the bongs for hookah.
Now what did I tell you about drugs? Yep, I’m still clean.
The next day I sat down to follow through on my paperwork pursuant to the acceptance of my application.
Now I have a habit that has now proven itself to be an Achilles’ heel of sorts. I plan way far in advance. As my first roommate knows, I have a very hard time dealing with flaky people—those who don’t show up for meetings, miss planned on events frequently, etc. I plan so far in advance that often the party that I am coordinating with tells me to call back in a month (or two). My medical provider told me, “We just don’t have the calendar up that far in advance.” I’ll get back to my Achilles’ heel later.
I had about seven things to accomplish by March 10 (to get it in the Goleta (Santa Barbara) office by March 20). There was a list to check off on. I ordered transcripts from UCSD immediately. I faxed my written request to Moorpark Community College that afternoon.
After that day, it took me about another week to get everything done.
The next day, I completed my application to HKU, which was required of me under the auspices of the University of California. I got more passport photographs taken. EAP provided medical insurance under the tuition fee. So I had to read over the terms and benefits, sign and sign some waivers.
Then came the big part: my student visa.
In short, I had it easy applying for my student visa. According to my Spanish teacher in high school, her daughter studying abroad for a year in Spain had to get two medical doctors to certify her mental competency, stability, and sanity. My mainland China exchange friends had to appear at the consulate in Los Angeles. I, on the other hand, only had to fill out the forms and submit payment. HKU was to do the rest for me—an they did.
Now about that visa application: first off, I needed to have a passport with validity beyond six months from anticipated date of departure from the host country (check).
The application for a student visa was daunting. At over 10 pages long with fine print and Hong Kong English (similar to British English) I was overwhelmed. Fortunately I only needed to fill out four pages of it. In the end, it wasn’t too bad. Looking at the clock, it took me about four hours for the application and a good amount of time checking it over. Shipping it to central California cost almost $3.00 first class. That was all said and done.
Then I bought my airplane ticket. United (though not my favorite) had decent rates and decent times—leaving August 20 for arrival at Hong Kong August 21; departing December 21 for arrival at Los Angeles same day. Not bad.
I was all set. I had finished preparation for my trip several months beforehand. I was all set and ready to go.
And then it hit. Dates were posted. EAP said I couldn’t check in until August 26—a full five days after I was to arrive. Being the great planner that I am, I immediately called United and rescheduled at the cost of $290 (including the $250 penalty for the rescheduling). The next morning HKU emailed me and informed me that I could check in August 21—my originally scheduled flight.
Upset that I had just paid $290 unnecessarily, I called United and asked them if they could reverse the whole thing to how it was a mere 12 hours earlier. They did and without fee too. Unfortunately they wouldn’t refund my $290. I pleaded with everyone in the company and they refused to refund even part of it—because it was a necessary charge.
Now I know. I should wait a day or two before making such a drastic change. Oh well. I just flushed $290 down the toilet and it landed below the water table on an undeserving United Airlines.
Thanks for reading. And now back to my summer reading!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Moving out of UCSD
Spring quarter ended last week so now I’ve moved out of La Jolla. I won’t see UCSD again for seven months. It took some five trips between my room and the car for my dad and me to move all my stuff out. I didn’t think I had that much, but I guess I did.
I guess I can’t do this for Hong Kong University. I shouldn’t have too much trouble with this because my program is for four months whereas I was living at UCSD for eight months. At orientation, some students mentioned that they had to leave stuff there. After all, I paid for one flight there and just one flight back.
I’ll try to add to this post later. I’m tired from preparing to go to Europe. I leave tomorrow with my mom and brother. We won’t be back until July 7, so I won’t be able to update again until after then.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
I guess I can’t do this for Hong Kong University. I shouldn’t have too much trouble with this because my program is for four months whereas I was living at UCSD for eight months. At orientation, some students mentioned that they had to leave stuff there. After all, I paid for one flight there and just one flight back.
I’ll try to add to this post later. I’m tired from preparing to go to Europe. I leave tomorrow with my mom and brother. We won’t be back until July 7, so I won’t be able to update again until after then.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Bring Bugspray: Hong Kong, the prequel
For our country-specific orientations, we had an informal panel discussion about what to expect. Hong Kong’s was the day after Sun God and everyone seemed to have made it in one piece. From it, there were a couple things I think were worth noting.
First was the environment. I’ll be first to admit that I’ve been spoiled by beautiful California weather. Granted we still have overcast days here and there, but compared to the east coast, we have it great. In fact, during the summer and early fall, I’m told Hong Kong is similar to New York City. They are after all similar in set up with dense islands right off the mainland. So likewise, the hot and humid weather is similar too.
This is where the similarities end, though. At orientation we were informed that we would have to pay for our air conditioning. Here at UCSD we are not given air conditioning, but Hong Kong is significantly hotter, and the humidity undoubtedly makes it worse. Easy solution—get out of your room more often. I suppose the library is well conditioned and indoor spaces for convening are probably made bearable as well.
In Hong Kong, there are typhoons as well. I didn’t quite know what typhoons were, so I looked it up, and they’re basically tropical storms (precursors to hurricanes) in the northwest Pacific. During typhoons, the returning students said that they often close up the buildings and do not let people out. Although I suppose it would be for our own safety, it would also be nice to have a warning.
One unexpected item that they overwhelmingly agreed on was to bring bugspray. I do not believe that a mosquito has ever bitten me during the day, but one returnee in particular said that as soon as she stepped out of the airport, five relatively immediately attacked her.
I personally have a weird history with bugs, especially the ones that bite or sting. When I was little, I got bitten all the time. At home, especially during camping trips, it was not uncommon for me to wake up and find another two or three bites. One time, the back of my leg had this giant one that freaked everybody out in fourth grade (for I had not covered it up). Then one day, I did not get bitten any more. I guess they were tired of my blood. And that’s the way it was for years.
This last year though, the attacks came back. Though I have not yet been bitten here in La Jolla, when I go back to Thousand Oaks, I find myself in the morning with more bites here and there like when I was little.
I wonder how my blood will taste to the Hong Kong bugs.
The second item brought up is the bureaucracy that you have to deal with in the university. I was surprised to find this out because here in the United States hardly a person doesn’t have a complaint against the bureaucracy. Apparently it is worse there.
In addition, their method of registering for classes is very different than the one at UCSD. Here, we are given time slots to register for classes, based primarily on units and, consequentially, class level. Once you register for a class, you are in that class. If you get on the waitlist, it is because you didn’t or couldn’t register for classes earlier. Our system is commonly termed first-come-first-served.
The universities in Hong Kong employ a different system. According to the returnees, a typical student go to quite a few classes at first to shop around and will eventually register for about eight classes (the regular class load is five or maybe six). From those choices, the school does a lottery behind closed doors (or more likely computer automated). The students then get informed to what classes they’ve been accepted.
The last notable topic that was mentioned was housing. They all have “hall culture,” which is like school spirit for one’s hall of residence. The hall-mates do events together. They also have a few formal dinners, in the British tradition at HKU—something completely lacking at UCSD (or for that manner any UC I believe).
My host university, the University of Hong Kong is apparently short on housing. So while I hope to get in on hall culture, I may end up living off campus in university-owned or sponsored housing, having to take a short bus ride to school every day.
Fingers crossed.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
First was the environment. I’ll be first to admit that I’ve been spoiled by beautiful California weather. Granted we still have overcast days here and there, but compared to the east coast, we have it great. In fact, during the summer and early fall, I’m told Hong Kong is similar to New York City. They are after all similar in set up with dense islands right off the mainland. So likewise, the hot and humid weather is similar too.
This is where the similarities end, though. At orientation we were informed that we would have to pay for our air conditioning. Here at UCSD we are not given air conditioning, but Hong Kong is significantly hotter, and the humidity undoubtedly makes it worse. Easy solution—get out of your room more often. I suppose the library is well conditioned and indoor spaces for convening are probably made bearable as well.
In Hong Kong, there are typhoons as well. I didn’t quite know what typhoons were, so I looked it up, and they’re basically tropical storms (precursors to hurricanes) in the northwest Pacific. During typhoons, the returning students said that they often close up the buildings and do not let people out. Although I suppose it would be for our own safety, it would also be nice to have a warning.
One unexpected item that they overwhelmingly agreed on was to bring bugspray. I do not believe that a mosquito has ever bitten me during the day, but one returnee in particular said that as soon as she stepped out of the airport, five relatively immediately attacked her.
I personally have a weird history with bugs, especially the ones that bite or sting. When I was little, I got bitten all the time. At home, especially during camping trips, it was not uncommon for me to wake up and find another two or three bites. One time, the back of my leg had this giant one that freaked everybody out in fourth grade (for I had not covered it up). Then one day, I did not get bitten any more. I guess they were tired of my blood. And that’s the way it was for years.
This last year though, the attacks came back. Though I have not yet been bitten here in La Jolla, when I go back to Thousand Oaks, I find myself in the morning with more bites here and there like when I was little.
I wonder how my blood will taste to the Hong Kong bugs.
The second item brought up is the bureaucracy that you have to deal with in the university. I was surprised to find this out because here in the United States hardly a person doesn’t have a complaint against the bureaucracy. Apparently it is worse there.
In addition, their method of registering for classes is very different than the one at UCSD. Here, we are given time slots to register for classes, based primarily on units and, consequentially, class level. Once you register for a class, you are in that class. If you get on the waitlist, it is because you didn’t or couldn’t register for classes earlier. Our system is commonly termed first-come-first-served.
The universities in Hong Kong employ a different system. According to the returnees, a typical student go to quite a few classes at first to shop around and will eventually register for about eight classes (the regular class load is five or maybe six). From those choices, the school does a lottery behind closed doors (or more likely computer automated). The students then get informed to what classes they’ve been accepted.
The last notable topic that was mentioned was housing. They all have “hall culture,” which is like school spirit for one’s hall of residence. The hall-mates do events together. They also have a few formal dinners, in the British tradition at HKU—something completely lacking at UCSD (or for that manner any UC I believe).
My host university, the University of Hong Kong is apparently short on housing. So while I hope to get in on hall culture, I may end up living off campus in university-owned or sponsored housing, having to take a short bus ride to school every day.
Fingers crossed.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
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