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 immigration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label immigration. Show all posts
Monday, December 21, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The Prince and the Pauper
I am now convinced that nationality is so fickle and so fake. While I still see merit people identifying themselves with their country, which individuals a country identifies itself with is another story.
In no way would the People’s Republic of China grant me citizenship and or nationality (two distinct concepts in United States law). For one, my parents’ parents were the ones with Chinese nationality and since those born outside China who receive a different nationality upon birth are not entitled to Chinese nationality, there was no way I could become a member of another country—or so I thought.
Dual nationality or citizenship though can be a messy thing if you don’t fully know what you’re doing. Countries like the United States levy taxes on all their citizens regardless of what country the money is earned in. Countries like Singapore have conscripted military service that can more often than not put other citizenships into danger.
If you enter one country on one passport, you may not be afforded another state’s consular services guaranteed by another passport. If you’re from certain countries, you don’t need visas to certain countries. For countries with exit customs, you cannot leave if you never entered. It’s all very artificial.
It’s great for me, though, because as an American I can easily get into most countries and since the United States has relations with most countries, it’s easy to get consular assistance if need be.
I’ve got a friend here who’s originally from China, born in Taishan, Guangdong, to Chinese parents. As such he was afforded Chinese nationality and enjoyed it even after immigrating to the United States. This last year though he decided to become an American citizen, having met all the criteria for a while but finally doing it to make it easier to apply for EAP (the same UC program that’s facilitating my study abroad).
After the tests and oaths, he became a naturalized United States citizen. As part of the oath, one renounces all other allegiances, citizenships, and nationalities prior to becoming American, which in reality is not enforced. As such, the United States, as of late, has recognized dual nationality.
My friend went after that though to the Chinese consulate in San Francisco as he was advised to in order to tell them of his new nationality. There, he was asked to present his Chinese passport. In front of him, the clerk cut off the corner of the identification data page (I’d imagine dramatically). Forwardly, his Chinese passport had just been invalidated. I believe personally that he had then effectively renounced Chinese nationality. I imagine that the clerk had also documented this in some form of a Chinese national database.
I know for Americans, you have to present your old passport when you apply for a renewal. So for though he says it’s really quite easy to get a passport in China, if it’s anything like in the United States, they verify and verify that you are qualified to receive that passport. So if it’s anything like in the United States, he’s not easily getting another Chinese passport.
My friend seemed to me to have fallen to nationality laws. I myself had also fallen to nationality laws, except in my case, they were applied to me in theory before I was even born. There was no way I could become naturalized as a Chinese national without giving up my United States citizenship—or so I thought.
I have no intentions of naturalizing myself as a Chinese national—mainly because, I found out just a week ago that I’ve been one my whole life and just never knew it. It’s not like this was due to some secret my parents had been keeping from me until I was exactly seven thousand, eighty-five years days after birth.
And this is how it worked. My mother was born in British Hong Kong to Chinese parents. As such, she had British National Overseas citizenship (that does not transfer to one’s offspring). Upon naturalizing herself as an American citizen well before I was born and as such well before the transfer of sovereignty over Hong Kong to China, she probably didn’t see any reason to maintain her BNO status.
When Hong Kong became part of China again, all BNOs of Chinese descent became Chinese nationals. Under terms of the one country, two systems framework, Hong Kong was permitted to keep its own immigration controls. As such, rules regarding who has the right to live and work in Hong Kong (right of abode) were established. It fits in with Chinese nationality as such:
The first clause states that all Chinese nationals born in Hong Kong SAR are Hong Kong permanent residents with right of abode. All Chinese nationals living documented in Hong Kong for seven years are eligible for permanent residency and right of abode. Chinese nationals born to either of the above also become Hong Kong permanent residents with the right of abode. I’m going to stop there, but more provisions exist for non-Chinese nationals as well for permanent residency and right of abode as well.
I read these clauses over and over, in addition to the laws regarding what is makes a Chinese national to see if I was eligible. I guess many would ask why I would care to have another nationality. Dual nationality is messy and can create problems when you’re not careful. But then again there are plenty of dual nationals in the world and in the United States, so would it really be so bad to have it?
So since Hong Kong controls its own immigration, many of its people are Chinese nationals. In a misnomer of a term, Hong Kong nationality, Hong Kong controls Hong Kong Chinese nationality separately from Mainland China as well. In Hong Kong, and not in China, there are provisions for Chinese nationals by descent that allow for dual nationality when that Chinese national is given another nationality upon birth. As such, I am eligible for Hong Kong Chinese citizenship. As I also found out Hong Kong and the United States have special provisions allowing dual Hong Kong Chinese-American nationals access U.S. consular services and protection, even when entering as a Hong Kong Chinese national.
I figure that having the protection of two governments can’t be a bad thing, and if say, one country or the other were to implode, without legal issues there would be another place to live. In addition, if I ever want to work in Hong Kong, it would be my right to move here and do so. And if in the farther future I would ever want to move to China to work, it would be a lot easier (as a Hong Kong Chinese national) to do so.
As for conflict between the two nationalities, I would always have to pay taxes to the U.S. government. But as far as I know, Hong Kong does not have similar tax laws. In addition, nationality is one thing that’s easy to renounce. If someone doesn’t want to be part of a country, it would not benefit that country to force that person to stay a part, so if it ever becomes more of a disadvantage than an advantage to be a dual national, it would not be difficult to go into the local Chinese consulate and renounce my nationality.
The process by which I would substantiate my claims of permanent residency with an appropriate Hong Kong Identification Card is a different story, and it’s a convoluted process, something I hope to start in a few years.
What strikes me though is that my being a Chinese national is still so foreign to me. Still, I would call myself an American long before Chinese. Whereas I was born, raised, and educated in California, the first time I stepped foot in China was in 2007, when I was 17 years old.
It’s so fictitious the fact that I’m Chinese in this regard—and it’s all because of luck. If my mother had been born anywhere in China instead of Hong Kong, I would have no chance of being a Chinese national.
On the other hand, my friend who spent the first ten years of his life in China, and is, as such, much more culturally Chinese than me, has less rights than I do. It’s easier to go from Hong Kong or Macau (being the other special administrative region) to Mainland China than the other way around. Whereas I have recently discovered my right to live and work in Hong Kong, though this is the first time I’ve ever been to the south of China, he, despite having grown up partly near here, has no such rights, and would need to live here for seven full years before being given the same permanent residency that I, when the paperwork gets pushed through, have the potential to enjoy. And even if he were to live here for seven years, it would not be as an American, and as such not covered by the second clause of Hong Kong immigration law.
On the macro level, rules are rules, and laws are there for a reason. Hong Kong would be flooded with Mainland Chinese if there were greater freedom of movement in China. This would create plenty of problems, as Hong Kong has very little usable land without additional flattening and reclaiming.
On the micro level, why should I, never having even been outside North America, let alone to China until I was nearly an adult, have the right to live and work in Hong Kong when people who are from China, just over the border, have to make much more effort to get a permit to first go to China, then live there for seven years before being allowed to stay for good.
My friend wants to move to and work in Hong Kong much more than I want to, and he’s have to get a visa to do so.
Is it really fair? I was lucky enough to be born into it. My friend was not.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
In no way would the People’s Republic of China grant me citizenship and or nationality (two distinct concepts in United States law). For one, my parents’ parents were the ones with Chinese nationality and since those born outside China who receive a different nationality upon birth are not entitled to Chinese nationality, there was no way I could become a member of another country—or so I thought.
Dual nationality or citizenship though can be a messy thing if you don’t fully know what you’re doing. Countries like the United States levy taxes on all their citizens regardless of what country the money is earned in. Countries like Singapore have conscripted military service that can more often than not put other citizenships into danger.
If you enter one country on one passport, you may not be afforded another state’s consular services guaranteed by another passport. If you’re from certain countries, you don’t need visas to certain countries. For countries with exit customs, you cannot leave if you never entered. It’s all very artificial.
It’s great for me, though, because as an American I can easily get into most countries and since the United States has relations with most countries, it’s easy to get consular assistance if need be.
I’ve got a friend here who’s originally from China, born in Taishan, Guangdong, to Chinese parents. As such he was afforded Chinese nationality and enjoyed it even after immigrating to the United States. This last year though he decided to become an American citizen, having met all the criteria for a while but finally doing it to make it easier to apply for EAP (the same UC program that’s facilitating my study abroad).
After the tests and oaths, he became a naturalized United States citizen. As part of the oath, one renounces all other allegiances, citizenships, and nationalities prior to becoming American, which in reality is not enforced. As such, the United States, as of late, has recognized dual nationality.
My friend went after that though to the Chinese consulate in San Francisco as he was advised to in order to tell them of his new nationality. There, he was asked to present his Chinese passport. In front of him, the clerk cut off the corner of the identification data page (I’d imagine dramatically). Forwardly, his Chinese passport had just been invalidated. I believe personally that he had then effectively renounced Chinese nationality. I imagine that the clerk had also documented this in some form of a Chinese national database.
I know for Americans, you have to present your old passport when you apply for a renewal. So for though he says it’s really quite easy to get a passport in China, if it’s anything like in the United States, they verify and verify that you are qualified to receive that passport. So if it’s anything like in the United States, he’s not easily getting another Chinese passport.
My friend seemed to me to have fallen to nationality laws. I myself had also fallen to nationality laws, except in my case, they were applied to me in theory before I was even born. There was no way I could become naturalized as a Chinese national without giving up my United States citizenship—or so I thought.
I have no intentions of naturalizing myself as a Chinese national—mainly because, I found out just a week ago that I’ve been one my whole life and just never knew it. It’s not like this was due to some secret my parents had been keeping from me until I was exactly seven thousand, eighty-five years days after birth.
And this is how it worked. My mother was born in British Hong Kong to Chinese parents. As such, she had British National Overseas citizenship (that does not transfer to one’s offspring). Upon naturalizing herself as an American citizen well before I was born and as such well before the transfer of sovereignty over Hong Kong to China, she probably didn’t see any reason to maintain her BNO status.
When Hong Kong became part of China again, all BNOs of Chinese descent became Chinese nationals. Under terms of the one country, two systems framework, Hong Kong was permitted to keep its own immigration controls. As such, rules regarding who has the right to live and work in Hong Kong (right of abode) were established. It fits in with Chinese nationality as such:
The first clause states that all Chinese nationals born in Hong Kong SAR are Hong Kong permanent residents with right of abode. All Chinese nationals living documented in Hong Kong for seven years are eligible for permanent residency and right of abode. Chinese nationals born to either of the above also become Hong Kong permanent residents with the right of abode. I’m going to stop there, but more provisions exist for non-Chinese nationals as well for permanent residency and right of abode as well.
I read these clauses over and over, in addition to the laws regarding what is makes a Chinese national to see if I was eligible. I guess many would ask why I would care to have another nationality. Dual nationality is messy and can create problems when you’re not careful. But then again there are plenty of dual nationals in the world and in the United States, so would it really be so bad to have it?
So since Hong Kong controls its own immigration, many of its people are Chinese nationals. In a misnomer of a term, Hong Kong nationality, Hong Kong controls Hong Kong Chinese nationality separately from Mainland China as well. In Hong Kong, and not in China, there are provisions for Chinese nationals by descent that allow for dual nationality when that Chinese national is given another nationality upon birth. As such, I am eligible for Hong Kong Chinese citizenship. As I also found out Hong Kong and the United States have special provisions allowing dual Hong Kong Chinese-American nationals access U.S. consular services and protection, even when entering as a Hong Kong Chinese national.
I figure that having the protection of two governments can’t be a bad thing, and if say, one country or the other were to implode, without legal issues there would be another place to live. In addition, if I ever want to work in Hong Kong, it would be my right to move here and do so. And if in the farther future I would ever want to move to China to work, it would be a lot easier (as a Hong Kong Chinese national) to do so.
As for conflict between the two nationalities, I would always have to pay taxes to the U.S. government. But as far as I know, Hong Kong does not have similar tax laws. In addition, nationality is one thing that’s easy to renounce. If someone doesn’t want to be part of a country, it would not benefit that country to force that person to stay a part, so if it ever becomes more of a disadvantage than an advantage to be a dual national, it would not be difficult to go into the local Chinese consulate and renounce my nationality.
The process by which I would substantiate my claims of permanent residency with an appropriate Hong Kong Identification Card is a different story, and it’s a convoluted process, something I hope to start in a few years.
What strikes me though is that my being a Chinese national is still so foreign to me. Still, I would call myself an American long before Chinese. Whereas I was born, raised, and educated in California, the first time I stepped foot in China was in 2007, when I was 17 years old.
It’s so fictitious the fact that I’m Chinese in this regard—and it’s all because of luck. If my mother had been born anywhere in China instead of Hong Kong, I would have no chance of being a Chinese national.
On the other hand, my friend who spent the first ten years of his life in China, and is, as such, much more culturally Chinese than me, has less rights than I do. It’s easier to go from Hong Kong or Macau (being the other special administrative region) to Mainland China than the other way around. Whereas I have recently discovered my right to live and work in Hong Kong, though this is the first time I’ve ever been to the south of China, he, despite having grown up partly near here, has no such rights, and would need to live here for seven full years before being given the same permanent residency that I, when the paperwork gets pushed through, have the potential to enjoy. And even if he were to live here for seven years, it would not be as an American, and as such not covered by the second clause of Hong Kong immigration law.
On the macro level, rules are rules, and laws are there for a reason. Hong Kong would be flooded with Mainland Chinese if there were greater freedom of movement in China. This would create plenty of problems, as Hong Kong has very little usable land without additional flattening and reclaiming.
On the micro level, why should I, never having even been outside North America, let alone to China until I was nearly an adult, have the right to live and work in Hong Kong when people who are from China, just over the border, have to make much more effort to get a permit to first go to China, then live there for seven years before being allowed to stay for good.
My friend wants to move to and work in Hong Kong much more than I want to, and he’s have to get a visa to do so.
Is it really fair? I was lucky enough to be born into it. My friend was not.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Monday, October 26, 2009
You Guys
Last week in my Hong Kong and the World class, we had James Thompson, CEO and founder of Crown Holdings International, as a guest speaker to talk to the class about United States-Hong Kong relations.
As an American businessman living in Hong Kong, he had some good things to say about the place, perhaps too many good things. And before I start getting called a pessimist or what have you, he knew a lot about business—and that was about it. And business is good right now. It’s easy to set up shop with little bureaucracy and maintain profitability with low taxes.
Admittedly, he probably knows more about Hong Kong than I do, but after 15 years of living here, it was pretty clear that he lived in foreigner’s Hong Kong. He seemed to be speaking from the heart, but then again he was a high-profile businessman. The content of what he said suggested that though he spoke with decorum, business and Hong Kong for foreigners was all he knew.
And I could very well be wrong, but out of how he phrased one particular statement, it seemed to me that business was the primary focus of his living—so much so that cultural insensitivity becomes commonplace.
First off, what do I mean by foreigner’s Hong Kong? Well, I’ll preface this by saying that I am still a foreigner to Hong Kong both culturally and officially. I’d be among the first to admit that I do not understand it any meaningful extent—not yet, maybe not ever. When I first thought of Hong Kong, I envisioned the skyline of Victoria Harbour of the skyscrapers alongside the mountains that everyone’s seen in postcards.
That first night I took the taxi to Sassoon Road from the Airport Express Station, I was a little more than surprised to see the buildings behind the skyline. It’s like I knew they were always there, just never how they looked like.
And that’s how I’d describe foreigner’s Hong Kong in the figurative sense. (as Crown Holdings did set up shop in Sha Tin, which is quite far from Central Hong Kong). From the way he described his daughter’s ability to speak Mandarin, he suggested that he himself lacks a significant grasp of Cantonese or Mandarin.
And this makes sense since it’s quite easy to get around Hong Kong in English. Though most don’t speak proficiently, many service workers know amounts necessitated by their work.
So back to James Thompson’s appearance as a guest speaker for one of my political science classes, he did a good job politically in his speaking, acknowledging the widespread presence of Hong Kong and Mainland Chinese students in the lecture hall.
And he ended his presence with one comment about Asians—not Hong Kongers or Chinese, but Asians. He recounted the story of his daughter (applying as someone from Hong Kong) to the University of California, Berkeley. Though white with a European surname, she and her application for admission were rejected with the memo that they’d already filled the Asian quota for that year (though affirmative action is now officially banned in public settings in California).
That little anecdote was summed up, addressing the Hong Kong and Mainland Chinese students as, “Well, you guys are doing something right!” Apparently James Thompson doesn’t get the difference between Asians in California (or seeming anywhere else) and those from East Asia. This was met with approval by laughs from most of the class.
They say that you learn something new every day. That day, I confirmed something the same.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
As an American businessman living in Hong Kong, he had some good things to say about the place, perhaps too many good things. And before I start getting called a pessimist or what have you, he knew a lot about business—and that was about it. And business is good right now. It’s easy to set up shop with little bureaucracy and maintain profitability with low taxes.
Admittedly, he probably knows more about Hong Kong than I do, but after 15 years of living here, it was pretty clear that he lived in foreigner’s Hong Kong. He seemed to be speaking from the heart, but then again he was a high-profile businessman. The content of what he said suggested that though he spoke with decorum, business and Hong Kong for foreigners was all he knew.
And I could very well be wrong, but out of how he phrased one particular statement, it seemed to me that business was the primary focus of his living—so much so that cultural insensitivity becomes commonplace.
First off, what do I mean by foreigner’s Hong Kong? Well, I’ll preface this by saying that I am still a foreigner to Hong Kong both culturally and officially. I’d be among the first to admit that I do not understand it any meaningful extent—not yet, maybe not ever. When I first thought of Hong Kong, I envisioned the skyline of Victoria Harbour of the skyscrapers alongside the mountains that everyone’s seen in postcards.
That first night I took the taxi to Sassoon Road from the Airport Express Station, I was a little more than surprised to see the buildings behind the skyline. It’s like I knew they were always there, just never how they looked like.
And that’s how I’d describe foreigner’s Hong Kong in the figurative sense. (as Crown Holdings did set up shop in Sha Tin, which is quite far from Central Hong Kong). From the way he described his daughter’s ability to speak Mandarin, he suggested that he himself lacks a significant grasp of Cantonese or Mandarin.
And this makes sense since it’s quite easy to get around Hong Kong in English. Though most don’t speak proficiently, many service workers know amounts necessitated by their work.
So back to James Thompson’s appearance as a guest speaker for one of my political science classes, he did a good job politically in his speaking, acknowledging the widespread presence of Hong Kong and Mainland Chinese students in the lecture hall.
And he ended his presence with one comment about Asians—not Hong Kongers or Chinese, but Asians. He recounted the story of his daughter (applying as someone from Hong Kong) to the University of California, Berkeley. Though white with a European surname, she and her application for admission were rejected with the memo that they’d already filled the Asian quota for that year (though affirmative action is now officially banned in public settings in California).
That little anecdote was summed up, addressing the Hong Kong and Mainland Chinese students as, “Well, you guys are doing something right!” Apparently James Thompson doesn’t get the difference between Asians in California (or seeming anywhere else) and those from East Asia. This was met with approval by laughs from most of the class.
They say that you learn something new every day. That day, I confirmed something the same.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Shenzhen Shenanigans
The day after Mid-Autumn Festival, we went up to Shenzhen. Admittedly, it was a spur-of-the moment decision, but for $20 HKD to get there, it was worth the daytrip.
Shenzhen is the first of China’s Special Economic Zones, sharing its southern border with Hong Kong’s northern border. From what I can gather, it was set up right around when China began opening up to the world. Back then Hong Kong was still a British Crown Colony and these zones were meant to stimulate international trade and investment.
My aunt and uncle, who are familiar with Hong Kong as of recent, told me of Shenzhen’s amazing transition. I couldn’t gather whether they thought it positive or negative, but they talked about gutting the mountains to reclaim the sea, skyscrapers popping up from the small fishing village that it used to be. Today, Shenzhen has an official population larger than Hong Kong SAR (8.6 million over 7 million), with many more unlisted and commuting people contributing to its makeup.
In just one of the many examples of China’s massive and impressive economic growth, Shenzhen has two subway lines crossing each other with about thirty stations total. Before 2011, there will be three times that many stations open on five lines.
Heading from Central District on Hong Kong Island, the journey to the border at Lo Wu took about an hour, transferring lines thrice. Alternatives to Shenzhen (that we did not take) were ferries from Sheung Wan and Central Piers, some of which conveniently go directly to Shenzhen Airport. From Hong Kong Airport, there are ferries direct to Shenzhen Airport as well for transfers free of additional security checkpoints.
At the border, we went through Hong Kong exit immigration (which I now know I can use the “Residents” line at) and Chinese immigration, where the woman thoroughly checked my passport and shifted her eyes between my face on my passport and my face in person.
Through customs, Shenzhen Railway Station is immediately to the left. A shopping mall is to the right. We went into the shopping mall, where they persistently kept trying to sell us fake Rolexes and the like. They went so far as grabbing arms to try to drag you into their shop.
From there, we took a bus to this beach area that a local recommended to us. There was pretty much nothing there but some street shops and a theme park that we could see the other side of without entering. We took the bus back shortly thereafter.
On the bus ride both ways, it was apparent that we were no longer in Hong Kong. The streets were three lanes wide in each direction and ran straight as arrows. Each light post on either side of the road had two Chinese flags all the way down each avenue (possibly because of National Day).
The buses themselves were operated differently. There were no money-collecting machines that I am so used to. The buses cost about ¥6 CNY and instead of paying a machine (or metal box), you paid the ticket collector, who in turn kept an eye on who entered the bus, announcing stops as crowds came and went.
Back to where we started, we took the Shenzhen Metro to a park called Window of the World, which I feel turned out to be kind of a waste of time.
Exiting the subway station, you come out of a glass pyramid (hey, that’s the Louvre!) and proceed towards the entrance. While corny, some would say that’s part of the appeal. Entering the park the first thing you see is the Eiffel Tower, which dominates the curb appeal of the property. After buying tickets, you ascend to the park and enter to the main stage, surrounded by different style columns.
Going around the park, it’s divided into different continents. The biggest section of the park is Europe (big surprise). That’s in the center where the Eiffel Tower stands opposed to the Arc du Triomphe as well as Venice, with St. Mark’s Square and Holland with a bunch of windmills. Elsewhere in the park were sites in Thailand as well as the Taj Mahal and a garden representative of Japan. I posed in front of the Sydney Opera House, flanked by “traditional” Maori dwellings. For America, there was a model of the main sites of Washington, D.C., as well as Niagara Falls incorporated into the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. For Africa there was an elephant and the Pyramids of Giza.
Leaving the park, we crossed the road to a mall in search of food. We found some average food and walked outside and saw the street vendors (who kept having to move their carts to avoid the police). With a friend’s assistance, I learned sort of how to eat sugar cane that cost me just ¥1 CNY.
After that it was back to the border and back to Hong Kong Island.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Shenzhen is the first of China’s Special Economic Zones, sharing its southern border with Hong Kong’s northern border. From what I can gather, it was set up right around when China began opening up to the world. Back then Hong Kong was still a British Crown Colony and these zones were meant to stimulate international trade and investment.
My aunt and uncle, who are familiar with Hong Kong as of recent, told me of Shenzhen’s amazing transition. I couldn’t gather whether they thought it positive or negative, but they talked about gutting the mountains to reclaim the sea, skyscrapers popping up from the small fishing village that it used to be. Today, Shenzhen has an official population larger than Hong Kong SAR (8.6 million over 7 million), with many more unlisted and commuting people contributing to its makeup.
In just one of the many examples of China’s massive and impressive economic growth, Shenzhen has two subway lines crossing each other with about thirty stations total. Before 2011, there will be three times that many stations open on five lines.
Heading from Central District on Hong Kong Island, the journey to the border at Lo Wu took about an hour, transferring lines thrice. Alternatives to Shenzhen (that we did not take) were ferries from Sheung Wan and Central Piers, some of which conveniently go directly to Shenzhen Airport. From Hong Kong Airport, there are ferries direct to Shenzhen Airport as well for transfers free of additional security checkpoints.
At the border, we went through Hong Kong exit immigration (which I now know I can use the “Residents” line at) and Chinese immigration, where the woman thoroughly checked my passport and shifted her eyes between my face on my passport and my face in person.
Through customs, Shenzhen Railway Station is immediately to the left. A shopping mall is to the right. We went into the shopping mall, where they persistently kept trying to sell us fake Rolexes and the like. They went so far as grabbing arms to try to drag you into their shop.
From there, we took a bus to this beach area that a local recommended to us. There was pretty much nothing there but some street shops and a theme park that we could see the other side of without entering. We took the bus back shortly thereafter.
On the bus ride both ways, it was apparent that we were no longer in Hong Kong. The streets were three lanes wide in each direction and ran straight as arrows. Each light post on either side of the road had two Chinese flags all the way down each avenue (possibly because of National Day).
The buses themselves were operated differently. There were no money-collecting machines that I am so used to. The buses cost about ¥6 CNY and instead of paying a machine (or metal box), you paid the ticket collector, who in turn kept an eye on who entered the bus, announcing stops as crowds came and went.
Back to where we started, we took the Shenzhen Metro to a park called Window of the World, which I feel turned out to be kind of a waste of time.
Exiting the subway station, you come out of a glass pyramid (hey, that’s the Louvre!) and proceed towards the entrance. While corny, some would say that’s part of the appeal. Entering the park the first thing you see is the Eiffel Tower, which dominates the curb appeal of the property. After buying tickets, you ascend to the park and enter to the main stage, surrounded by different style columns.
Going around the park, it’s divided into different continents. The biggest section of the park is Europe (big surprise). That’s in the center where the Eiffel Tower stands opposed to the Arc du Triomphe as well as Venice, with St. Mark’s Square and Holland with a bunch of windmills. Elsewhere in the park were sites in Thailand as well as the Taj Mahal and a garden representative of Japan. I posed in front of the Sydney Opera House, flanked by “traditional” Maori dwellings. For America, there was a model of the main sites of Washington, D.C., as well as Niagara Falls incorporated into the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore. For Africa there was an elephant and the Pyramids of Giza.
Leaving the park, we crossed the road to a mall in search of food. We found some average food and walked outside and saw the street vendors (who kept having to move their carts to avoid the police). With a friend’s assistance, I learned sort of how to eat sugar cane that cost me just ¥1 CNY.
After that it was back to the border and back to Hong Kong Island.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Commissioner’s Office of China’s Foreign Ministry in the Hong Kong SAR
Though I’ve now been to Mainland China twice during my episode here at HKU, I must first preface these experiences with what it took to get there.
Hong Kong to the average individual is full of bureaucrats. Businesses, who find it easy to incorporate here, would beg to differ. Though a friend of mine spent a total of five hours on applying for her Hong Kong identification card (HKID) and had to pick it up a month later. In contrast, when I was 16 I completed my behind-the-wheel portion of my driver’s test at the California DMV office within the hour I arrived.
So before leaving on my plane to Hong Kong, my mother asked why I didn’t get my Chinese visa in the United States before I left, knowing the likelihood of my travels there. I had no good answer, except that CEDARS (the student assistance office for HKU which has been lacking helpfulness) said it would be easy to pick it up here in Hong Kong.
At two pages long, the application was shorter than the ten plus pages of the Hong Kong visa form and the six pages of the U.S. passport application (if memory serves me right). With a processing time of four days flat (two if you pay $150 HKD more), it was back to me faster than the Hong Kong visa (a month) and the U.S. Passport (six weeks).
My timing wasn’t great. Admittedly, I could have gone for it in the first few weeks of school when nothing was happening and I should have gone during the summer to the local consulate office in Los Angeles.
Oh well.
After gathering my passport photo and filling out my application, I appeared at the office for the Commissioner’s Office of China’s Foreign Ministry in the Hong Kong SAR in the Wan Chai district. It took me five seconds to get through building security, ten minutes in a waiting room, call number in hand, and thirty seconds at the window. (Less than fifteen minutes in comparison to the hours at Hong Kong immigration.)
Seven days later (though I could have gone in four), it took a little longer. It took about half-an-hour to get in the building, and fifteen minutes in the collection line. For pickup, there were two windows. The first, we gave the people behind the window our receipts (with something of an application number). Then proceeding to the second, they had our passports ready to go. Depending on how fast people could pay and how fast the clerks could make change the line moved faster or slower.
I thought this system was rather efficient.
Going up to pay, I was reminded that I am American. The guy in front of me was from an African country and the guy behind me was from Europe. (I didn’t judge based on skin color.) They paid $150 HKD and $225 HKD, respectively. I paid $1020 HKD to get my passport back.
The little fee thing is based on country because of reciprocal charges, so because the United States charges the Chinese $130 USD for visas, China does the same to Americans.
But at that point, it didn’t matter. I had my passport back. Without the biometric electronic chip, my passport is retro. It bends easily and has a bland color palate of baby blue and pink. It has the thickness of an Emory board. The new ones have a palate of red and blue and have a thickness comparable to British passports (about two stacked Emory boards).
Inside my passport was evidence of all my adventures thus far. There was my first Chinese visa when I went in 2007. My Schengen stamps followed (Zurich in, Munich out). Next page was my Hong Kong student visa (important though bland). After that my student entry stamp to Hong Kong, which takes up a full page or a half page depending on its orientation. Flipping the page were my Macau in and out stamps, and on the opposing page was my new Chinese visa.
It looked the same as my first Chinese visa. (Duh, James.) I was allowed multiple entries into China before March 2010. I was then ready to go to China.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Hong Kong to the average individual is full of bureaucrats. Businesses, who find it easy to incorporate here, would beg to differ. Though a friend of mine spent a total of five hours on applying for her Hong Kong identification card (HKID) and had to pick it up a month later. In contrast, when I was 16 I completed my behind-the-wheel portion of my driver’s test at the California DMV office within the hour I arrived.
So before leaving on my plane to Hong Kong, my mother asked why I didn’t get my Chinese visa in the United States before I left, knowing the likelihood of my travels there. I had no good answer, except that CEDARS (the student assistance office for HKU which has been lacking helpfulness) said it would be easy to pick it up here in Hong Kong.
At two pages long, the application was shorter than the ten plus pages of the Hong Kong visa form and the six pages of the U.S. passport application (if memory serves me right). With a processing time of four days flat (two if you pay $150 HKD more), it was back to me faster than the Hong Kong visa (a month) and the U.S. Passport (six weeks).
My timing wasn’t great. Admittedly, I could have gone for it in the first few weeks of school when nothing was happening and I should have gone during the summer to the local consulate office in Los Angeles.
Oh well.
After gathering my passport photo and filling out my application, I appeared at the office for the Commissioner’s Office of China’s Foreign Ministry in the Hong Kong SAR in the Wan Chai district. It took me five seconds to get through building security, ten minutes in a waiting room, call number in hand, and thirty seconds at the window. (Less than fifteen minutes in comparison to the hours at Hong Kong immigration.)
Seven days later (though I could have gone in four), it took a little longer. It took about half-an-hour to get in the building, and fifteen minutes in the collection line. For pickup, there were two windows. The first, we gave the people behind the window our receipts (with something of an application number). Then proceeding to the second, they had our passports ready to go. Depending on how fast people could pay and how fast the clerks could make change the line moved faster or slower.
I thought this system was rather efficient.
Going up to pay, I was reminded that I am American. The guy in front of me was from an African country and the guy behind me was from Europe. (I didn’t judge based on skin color.) They paid $150 HKD and $225 HKD, respectively. I paid $1020 HKD to get my passport back.
The little fee thing is based on country because of reciprocal charges, so because the United States charges the Chinese $130 USD for visas, China does the same to Americans.
But at that point, it didn’t matter. I had my passport back. Without the biometric electronic chip, my passport is retro. It bends easily and has a bland color palate of baby blue and pink. It has the thickness of an Emory board. The new ones have a palate of red and blue and have a thickness comparable to British passports (about two stacked Emory boards).
Inside my passport was evidence of all my adventures thus far. There was my first Chinese visa when I went in 2007. My Schengen stamps followed (Zurich in, Munich out). Next page was my Hong Kong student visa (important though bland). After that my student entry stamp to Hong Kong, which takes up a full page or a half page depending on its orientation. Flipping the page were my Macau in and out stamps, and on the opposing page was my new Chinese visa.
It looked the same as my first Chinese visa. (Duh, James.) I was allowed multiple entries into China before March 2010. I was then ready to go to China.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Nationality and Ethnicity
I should start out with an apology. I’m having trouble keeping on schedule with my posts. This one in particular was supposed to coincide with National Day, celebrated October 1 to commend the founding of the People’s Republic sixty years go.
I guess you could say that my style is not that of impulse blogging. I wouldn’t go so far in the other direction to say that I maul over my posts for days on end, meticulously correcting mistakes, wittily adding in bits of symbolism every which way the reader turns. The way I’ve been working with the task that is this blog is to decide what topics I want to write about and queue them up to be expanded and finally published.
For example, this post has been in planning stages since mid-September. I felt that this timing would be appropriate to elaborate on the ongoing topic here of identity and nationalism.
I started out by saying that I would first identify myself as American before Chinese American and never Chinese except in ethnicity or ancestry. Regarding my trip to Italy, I explored the perceptions of those locals towards nationality and how it relates to ethnicity.
Some background—I would be close to the first to tell you that nationalism is an entirely fictitious concept. Ultimately we are all humans, and scientifically speaking there is more genetic variation within ethnicities than among different ethnicities, hence the terms “ethnicity” and “race” have no scientific basis. Nationalism, a concept that I push as a separate from race and ethnicity, then, would be even more artificial, especially since we are taught in primary school that Americans all have immigrant backgrounds (minus the Native Americans) and come from all walks of life.
I also have to say that I follow nationalism quite a bit. I feel I share a great deal more in common with a fellow American than with, say, a Chinese national. With common upbringing and (most likely) a common mother tongue, there just seems to be more to relate to whether there really is or not.
In the hand of irony though, the first person to question my nationality, requiring me to defend myself, was at the opinion of a guy from Massachusetts. Of note is the fact that I haven’t had to defend myself against my roommate, who, in a fell swoop of fabricated statistics, quasi-neoconservative opinions, and resistance to learning a single word of Cantonese, has found my being in the four percent of Americans in the Asian minority an acceptable thought.
And here I present two events: the first in my Traditional Chinese Society class, and the other with a good friend of mine here.
This little discussion in my sociology tutorial actually took place something like a month ago. Usually, it’s an insignificant occurrence when something like this happens to me because it happens more often than I’d like, but this time it was in an academic environment, involving an offensive on my perception of myself.
In discussing nationality and ethnicity as the topic of the week for that class, the topic over overseas Chinese came up. I made my point that while I have no problem identifying my ethnicity as Chinese, I would always stop short of calling myself Chinese in the general sense and overseas Chinese in that it appears that I have some sort of allegiance to China.
I don’t.
To say that I do would imply that I have Chinese nationality or citizenship, that I have the right to be in China, or that I have parents that do. A typical conversation would go like this:
“Why don’t you call yourself Chinese?”
“Because I’m not from China. I was born, raised, and educated here in California.”
“But your parents are from China.”
“Not really.”
“But your grandparents are from China?”
“And where are your grandparents from?”
The answer to that is rarely the United States.
But in class it was a bit different, it was a local student trying to convince me that I could not be anything but Chinese. This was weird, because all my life I have found that Chinese and Chinese Americans hesitate to call me one of them due to my lack of fluency in any Chinese language, yet prototypically perceived Americans refuse to see me as one of them as I look different from them.
If you couldn’t tell already, I identify more with the prototypically perceived Americans, though I like to believe that everyone who wants to call him- or herself American living in the United States is entitled to do so regardless of (primary) language spoken or customs or practices that happen not to be the societal norm. This guy though was using my appearance to say that I could not be anything other Chinese, which, while it happened a few times back home, was less common than not.
So with a different audience I had to defend myself in a different way. I used Chinese nationality law. Being an American both by birth and by blood, I figure to call myself Chinese in the same way, I would be able to be granted Chinese nationality in some form—but I can’t.
My father’s parents were Chinese nationals, though left when the Nationalists were in power. As a result, it would appear to be virtually impossible to find all the appropriate documents to prove that they had citizenship, then that my father had citizenship because of them. But even if my father were to have citizenship, it would likely not be conferred to me. My thinking is that even in U.S. nationality law, a citizen (natural-born or naturalized) must have lived in the U.S. for a certain period of time before his or her citizenship can be given to his or her children born outside the United States. And my father has never set foot outside of North America, much less lived in China for any period of time.
On the other side, my mother’s birth in Hong Kong to Chinese parents makes her a Chinese national in theory as of 1997, when her British National Overseas status was commuted with the handover. However, she was naturalized as an American long before I was born, and has made no effort (understandably) to claim PRC citizenship. In addition, as she has been naturalized, she may be rendered herself ineligible for PRC citizenship.
So me, being born American by virtue of being born in the United States and by virtue of being born to two American parents, makes me ineligible for PRC citizenship under nationality law that makes clear that children born abroad to Chinese parents (which mine were effectively not) are not Chinese if they gain a different citizenship on birth.
And another reason why I hesitate to grant myself allegiance to China is the fact that my mother’s family emigrated from China specifically because of the Communists and what they did to the family that I never met.
So when my roommate bought a deck of playing cards that sported Chairman Mao Zedong on every face, he slammed it down on the desk in front of me to show what he had just done. His motivations behind why he bought that deck of cards, as well as a stereotypical People’s Liberation Army hat I don’t agree with and feel are quite crude, but that’s no matter as long as he doesn’t bring it in front of me.
As I pushed my hand across my forehead, sighing in a miniature fit of displeasure at my roommate’s misguided intentions, he mistook my disgust and assured me that “James, they’re not offensive or anything.”
Yeah, he didn’t get it, nor do I expect him to.
In my second note, we were all at Lamma Island enjoying some seafood after a long hike in hot weather. A good friend of mine asked me about how my family hierarchy works if I claim to be so American.
I think my response satisfied her question.
I had no idea what she was talking about.
She said that at funerals, for example, the Daoist priest would call up nuclear families one at a time, in a certain order, based on their family hierarchy. I told her that at the last funeral that I attended, which was my maternal grandmother’s, we didn’t have any of that. The service was presided over by a Methodist leader and at the end we went up to say our goodbyes in no specific order.
This reminds me of when I was little and asked m mother about something to that effect. I brought in family hierarchy in the same manner as the English royal family and she just brushed off my question, because it really didn’t matter.
And so national day is celebrated—this year the sixtieth anniversary of the Communists taking over China, the founding of the People’s Republic. Out in Victoria harbor a half-hour fireworks show of massive proportions started at 8:00pm.
Good luck.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
I guess you could say that my style is not that of impulse blogging. I wouldn’t go so far in the other direction to say that I maul over my posts for days on end, meticulously correcting mistakes, wittily adding in bits of symbolism every which way the reader turns. The way I’ve been working with the task that is this blog is to decide what topics I want to write about and queue them up to be expanded and finally published.
For example, this post has been in planning stages since mid-September. I felt that this timing would be appropriate to elaborate on the ongoing topic here of identity and nationalism.
I started out by saying that I would first identify myself as American before Chinese American and never Chinese except in ethnicity or ancestry. Regarding my trip to Italy, I explored the perceptions of those locals towards nationality and how it relates to ethnicity.
Some background—I would be close to the first to tell you that nationalism is an entirely fictitious concept. Ultimately we are all humans, and scientifically speaking there is more genetic variation within ethnicities than among different ethnicities, hence the terms “ethnicity” and “race” have no scientific basis. Nationalism, a concept that I push as a separate from race and ethnicity, then, would be even more artificial, especially since we are taught in primary school that Americans all have immigrant backgrounds (minus the Native Americans) and come from all walks of life.
I also have to say that I follow nationalism quite a bit. I feel I share a great deal more in common with a fellow American than with, say, a Chinese national. With common upbringing and (most likely) a common mother tongue, there just seems to be more to relate to whether there really is or not.
In the hand of irony though, the first person to question my nationality, requiring me to defend myself, was at the opinion of a guy from Massachusetts. Of note is the fact that I haven’t had to defend myself against my roommate, who, in a fell swoop of fabricated statistics, quasi-neoconservative opinions, and resistance to learning a single word of Cantonese, has found my being in the four percent of Americans in the Asian minority an acceptable thought.
And here I present two events: the first in my Traditional Chinese Society class, and the other with a good friend of mine here.
This little discussion in my sociology tutorial actually took place something like a month ago. Usually, it’s an insignificant occurrence when something like this happens to me because it happens more often than I’d like, but this time it was in an academic environment, involving an offensive on my perception of myself.
In discussing nationality and ethnicity as the topic of the week for that class, the topic over overseas Chinese came up. I made my point that while I have no problem identifying my ethnicity as Chinese, I would always stop short of calling myself Chinese in the general sense and overseas Chinese in that it appears that I have some sort of allegiance to China.
I don’t.
To say that I do would imply that I have Chinese nationality or citizenship, that I have the right to be in China, or that I have parents that do. A typical conversation would go like this:
“Why don’t you call yourself Chinese?”
“Because I’m not from China. I was born, raised, and educated here in California.”
“But your parents are from China.”
“Not really.”
“But your grandparents are from China?”
“And where are your grandparents from?”
The answer to that is rarely the United States.
But in class it was a bit different, it was a local student trying to convince me that I could not be anything but Chinese. This was weird, because all my life I have found that Chinese and Chinese Americans hesitate to call me one of them due to my lack of fluency in any Chinese language, yet prototypically perceived Americans refuse to see me as one of them as I look different from them.
If you couldn’t tell already, I identify more with the prototypically perceived Americans, though I like to believe that everyone who wants to call him- or herself American living in the United States is entitled to do so regardless of (primary) language spoken or customs or practices that happen not to be the societal norm. This guy though was using my appearance to say that I could not be anything other Chinese, which, while it happened a few times back home, was less common than not.
So with a different audience I had to defend myself in a different way. I used Chinese nationality law. Being an American both by birth and by blood, I figure to call myself Chinese in the same way, I would be able to be granted Chinese nationality in some form—but I can’t.
My father’s parents were Chinese nationals, though left when the Nationalists were in power. As a result, it would appear to be virtually impossible to find all the appropriate documents to prove that they had citizenship, then that my father had citizenship because of them. But even if my father were to have citizenship, it would likely not be conferred to me. My thinking is that even in U.S. nationality law, a citizen (natural-born or naturalized) must have lived in the U.S. for a certain period of time before his or her citizenship can be given to his or her children born outside the United States. And my father has never set foot outside of North America, much less lived in China for any period of time.
On the other side, my mother’s birth in Hong Kong to Chinese parents makes her a Chinese national in theory as of 1997, when her British National Overseas status was commuted with the handover. However, she was naturalized as an American long before I was born, and has made no effort (understandably) to claim PRC citizenship. In addition, as she has been naturalized, she may be rendered herself ineligible for PRC citizenship.
So me, being born American by virtue of being born in the United States and by virtue of being born to two American parents, makes me ineligible for PRC citizenship under nationality law that makes clear that children born abroad to Chinese parents (which mine were effectively not) are not Chinese if they gain a different citizenship on birth.
And another reason why I hesitate to grant myself allegiance to China is the fact that my mother’s family emigrated from China specifically because of the Communists and what they did to the family that I never met.
So when my roommate bought a deck of playing cards that sported Chairman Mao Zedong on every face, he slammed it down on the desk in front of me to show what he had just done. His motivations behind why he bought that deck of cards, as well as a stereotypical People’s Liberation Army hat I don’t agree with and feel are quite crude, but that’s no matter as long as he doesn’t bring it in front of me.
As I pushed my hand across my forehead, sighing in a miniature fit of displeasure at my roommate’s misguided intentions, he mistook my disgust and assured me that “James, they’re not offensive or anything.”
Yeah, he didn’t get it, nor do I expect him to.
In my second note, we were all at Lamma Island enjoying some seafood after a long hike in hot weather. A good friend of mine asked me about how my family hierarchy works if I claim to be so American.
I think my response satisfied her question.
I had no idea what she was talking about.
She said that at funerals, for example, the Daoist priest would call up nuclear families one at a time, in a certain order, based on their family hierarchy. I told her that at the last funeral that I attended, which was my maternal grandmother’s, we didn’t have any of that. The service was presided over by a Methodist leader and at the end we went up to say our goodbyes in no specific order.
This reminds me of when I was little and asked m mother about something to that effect. I brought in family hierarchy in the same manner as the English royal family and she just brushed off my question, because it really didn’t matter.
And so national day is celebrated—this year the sixtieth anniversary of the Communists taking over China, the founding of the People’s Republic. Out in Victoria harbor a half-hour fireworks show of massive proportions started at 8:00pm.
Good luck.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Four More Stamps: Fabulous Macau
For the first time since I arrived here in Hong Kong, I left the Special Administrative Region to visit Macau, another SAR of the People’s Republic of China. With different immigration schemes and regulation, leaving Hong Kong got me one stamp in my passport, entering and leaving Macau got me two more, and my reentry into Hong Kong got me another large student stamp.
In addition to controlling immigration separate from mainland China, Hong Kong and Macau each maintain their own currencies. Macau’s is the Pataca, which is pegged to the Hong Kong Dollar (which is in turn pegged to the U.S. Dollar). Being such as small currency zone though most everyone takes Hong Kong Dollars there, which means that only as much as 30% of currency in circulation in Macau is the Macanese Pataca.
For those who don’t know, Macau is often referred to as the Monte Carlo of China; and for those of you who don’t what Monte Carlo is, I refer to Macau as the little Las Vegas of China.
Situated on an island and a peninsula (which I believe is technically another island), it’s quite a bit smaller than Hong Kong SAR and has an industry heavily based on the gambling and entertainment industries. However, in comparison to the Strip of Las Vegas, many of the casinos appear smaller and less in number. Like Las Vegas, there were many not-so-ritzy areas that appear in stark contrast with the shining lights of tourist Macau.
Though more than anything, I went to Macau with some other exchange students to simply see and be there, I found the cultural items, most of with heavy Portuguese influence to be the most interesting part of the whole expedition.
Which brings me to another point—Macau is an SAR because it used to be a Portuguese colony in much the same manner that Hong Kong used to be a British colony. Having been controlled since 1557 by the Portuguese, Macau has a history as being the oldest European colony in China. Having been given back to China in 1999, Macau is also the last European colony to be returned. So in many ways, Macau is more Portuguese than Hong Kong is British.
The name of Macau itself has, since I first learned about the city, always been a point of personal contention. In Chinese, it is referred to as 澳门, which would be pronounced as Àomén in Mandarin and Ou3mun4 in Cantonese, neither of which sounds like its English name, adopted through Portuguese.
Though not a problem, since many names have not been transliterated properly (for China would be written Zhōngguó or at least Zhongguo), and life continues to move on, apparently when the Portuguese first landed in Macau, the locals told them that the territory was called AMaa5Gok3, named after Matsu, the goddess of seafarers, for whom a temple is dedicated. On the other hand, the name Hong Kong is transliterated by the British from Hoeng1Gong2, which was and remains the local name of the main island.
But back to the trip, we took a ferry from Central District direct to Macau’s ferry terminal. At about 37 miles, the journey took about an hour. With how bumpy the journey was, I was glad that I didn’t get seasick on the way there.
Trying to find the way to the hotel that we booked, we went up to the taxi stand and asked cabdrivers whether they could take us to the address we had written down. None of them had any idea where it was. Apparent to us now, the bilingual street names are translations of each other and not transliterations, meaning that a street named “Praca de ponte e horta” is not understood by those who operate in Cantonese (which has a completely different sounding name for the same street).
We ended up taking a bus to the Central Square (which has an absence of casinos). Nearly all the buildings along the way showed Portuguese styling. And I don’t know how it is in Portugal, but like in France and Italy (where I have been in Europe) the street names were written on the sides of buildings instead of on freestanding posts, as they are in most of Hong Kong and the United States.
The Central Square (officially Senate Square), in addition to sidewalks along the main road, was colorfully tiled in black and ivory, with wavy stripes and designs of animals apparent (which I read is traditional Portuguese pavement). The buildings were ornate and brightly colored with traditional columns and arches. Preparing for some festival in all likelihood, large decorations in the shapes of fruits and vegetables were hung over the main square. I watched them put them up from my window when I ate at McDonalds the next morning.
Our hotel, which, while close to the square, was not as close as described on its website. Ole London Hotel was, while not located in the best of neighborhoods, not in the worst of neighborhoods, and offered a comfortable bed, bath with a large showerhead, and free air conditioning.
Once we dropped off our stuff, the first stop was Macau Tower. Similar in shape to the Space Needle of Seattle, Washington, the one in Macau offers great views of Macau (as well as mainland China across the river) in addition to the highest bungee jump in the world. I did not have the privilege to do that, though it was more like I didn’t want to spend the money.
Getting up to the observation deck cost $90 HKD, but the bungee jump would have set me back $2088 HKD for the jump and $588 HKD for an additional jump, if I wanted it. Plus, one of my friends, who works as a nurse in Australia, said that a lot of peoples eyes pop up when the bungee bounces back due to the pressure change. I did see three of my friends do it too, and though I regretted not doing it with them at first, I decided that I was in Macau not to bungee jump but to see the city.
Later, we went to a casino—the Venetian. While on the other island and away from the other casinos, it is the largest Venetian hotel and casino of them all. I saw the one in Las Vegas and I thought it was pretty cool. The one in Macau was in all earnestness not any better than the one in Las Vegas. They both had the artificial sky and the pool-water Grand Canal, along with St. Mark’s Square (incomplete without Doge’s Palace and the campanile). We went to the food court, which served average food at terribly inflated prices, not to mention the food venues were way slow.
Down on casino level, the casino was just like any other casino. I originally intended to gamble like $5 HKD at slot machines (gambling and drinking age in Macau is 18) but ended up just looking and gambling nothing. What caught my attention was how the casino was entirely shielded off and one had to go in between gates along with people with the authority to verify your age to card you. This is in contrast to how in Las Vegas, they make you walk through the casino to get anywhere and everywhere, in hopes that the combination of clicking and shining lights will get you to sit down for a bit and spend a lot.
The next day, we went back to the central square and ate at McDonalds. It was great except that it didn’t sit well with me. After getting my coffee fix at Starbucks in the same square, we set off on a walking tour prescribed by the Lonely Planet guidebook for Hong Kong and Macau.
On top of markets (which I have yet to see as any better than Chinatowns in the United States), some of the highlights were St. Dominic’s Church on Central Square, which, being Catholic, reminded me of the many Catholic churches I saw early last summer in France and Italy. The main difference was that the interior of this church, just as grand as the others, is painted a light color, which in part makes it much more bright than the others. As part of the church, one of the bell towers was turned into a museum that houses relics and the like.
The other highlight was the Ruins of St. Paul’s, which used to be the façade of a seventeenth-century church in that location. Now, the façade is reinforced and equipped with a viewing platform, from which there is a great view of Macau. In front of the façade are steps leading down to street level. Though just as crowded as the Spanish Steps in Rome, there are more of them.
We headed back to Hong Kong that day, ready for classes to start again the day after.
In addition to controlling immigration separate from mainland China, Hong Kong and Macau each maintain their own currencies. Macau’s is the Pataca, which is pegged to the Hong Kong Dollar (which is in turn pegged to the U.S. Dollar). Being such as small currency zone though most everyone takes Hong Kong Dollars there, which means that only as much as 30% of currency in circulation in Macau is the Macanese Pataca.
For those who don’t know, Macau is often referred to as the Monte Carlo of China; and for those of you who don’t what Monte Carlo is, I refer to Macau as the little Las Vegas of China.
Situated on an island and a peninsula (which I believe is technically another island), it’s quite a bit smaller than Hong Kong SAR and has an industry heavily based on the gambling and entertainment industries. However, in comparison to the Strip of Las Vegas, many of the casinos appear smaller and less in number. Like Las Vegas, there were many not-so-ritzy areas that appear in stark contrast with the shining lights of tourist Macau.
Though more than anything, I went to Macau with some other exchange students to simply see and be there, I found the cultural items, most of with heavy Portuguese influence to be the most interesting part of the whole expedition.
Which brings me to another point—Macau is an SAR because it used to be a Portuguese colony in much the same manner that Hong Kong used to be a British colony. Having been controlled since 1557 by the Portuguese, Macau has a history as being the oldest European colony in China. Having been given back to China in 1999, Macau is also the last European colony to be returned. So in many ways, Macau is more Portuguese than Hong Kong is British.
The name of Macau itself has, since I first learned about the city, always been a point of personal contention. In Chinese, it is referred to as 澳门, which would be pronounced as Àomén in Mandarin and Ou3mun4 in Cantonese, neither of which sounds like its English name, adopted through Portuguese.
Though not a problem, since many names have not been transliterated properly (for China would be written Zhōngguó or at least Zhongguo), and life continues to move on, apparently when the Portuguese first landed in Macau, the locals told them that the territory was called AMaa5Gok3, named after Matsu, the goddess of seafarers, for whom a temple is dedicated. On the other hand, the name Hong Kong is transliterated by the British from Hoeng1Gong2, which was and remains the local name of the main island.
But back to the trip, we took a ferry from Central District direct to Macau’s ferry terminal. At about 37 miles, the journey took about an hour. With how bumpy the journey was, I was glad that I didn’t get seasick on the way there.
Trying to find the way to the hotel that we booked, we went up to the taxi stand and asked cabdrivers whether they could take us to the address we had written down. None of them had any idea where it was. Apparent to us now, the bilingual street names are translations of each other and not transliterations, meaning that a street named “Praca de ponte e horta” is not understood by those who operate in Cantonese (which has a completely different sounding name for the same street).
We ended up taking a bus to the Central Square (which has an absence of casinos). Nearly all the buildings along the way showed Portuguese styling. And I don’t know how it is in Portugal, but like in France and Italy (where I have been in Europe) the street names were written on the sides of buildings instead of on freestanding posts, as they are in most of Hong Kong and the United States.
The Central Square (officially Senate Square), in addition to sidewalks along the main road, was colorfully tiled in black and ivory, with wavy stripes and designs of animals apparent (which I read is traditional Portuguese pavement). The buildings were ornate and brightly colored with traditional columns and arches. Preparing for some festival in all likelihood, large decorations in the shapes of fruits and vegetables were hung over the main square. I watched them put them up from my window when I ate at McDonalds the next morning.
Our hotel, which, while close to the square, was not as close as described on its website. Ole London Hotel was, while not located in the best of neighborhoods, not in the worst of neighborhoods, and offered a comfortable bed, bath with a large showerhead, and free air conditioning.
Once we dropped off our stuff, the first stop was Macau Tower. Similar in shape to the Space Needle of Seattle, Washington, the one in Macau offers great views of Macau (as well as mainland China across the river) in addition to the highest bungee jump in the world. I did not have the privilege to do that, though it was more like I didn’t want to spend the money.
Getting up to the observation deck cost $90 HKD, but the bungee jump would have set me back $2088 HKD for the jump and $588 HKD for an additional jump, if I wanted it. Plus, one of my friends, who works as a nurse in Australia, said that a lot of peoples eyes pop up when the bungee bounces back due to the pressure change. I did see three of my friends do it too, and though I regretted not doing it with them at first, I decided that I was in Macau not to bungee jump but to see the city.
Later, we went to a casino—the Venetian. While on the other island and away from the other casinos, it is the largest Venetian hotel and casino of them all. I saw the one in Las Vegas and I thought it was pretty cool. The one in Macau was in all earnestness not any better than the one in Las Vegas. They both had the artificial sky and the pool-water Grand Canal, along with St. Mark’s Square (incomplete without Doge’s Palace and the campanile). We went to the food court, which served average food at terribly inflated prices, not to mention the food venues were way slow.
Down on casino level, the casino was just like any other casino. I originally intended to gamble like $5 HKD at slot machines (gambling and drinking age in Macau is 18) but ended up just looking and gambling nothing. What caught my attention was how the casino was entirely shielded off and one had to go in between gates along with people with the authority to verify your age to card you. This is in contrast to how in Las Vegas, they make you walk through the casino to get anywhere and everywhere, in hopes that the combination of clicking and shining lights will get you to sit down for a bit and spend a lot.
The next day, we went back to the central square and ate at McDonalds. It was great except that it didn’t sit well with me. After getting my coffee fix at Starbucks in the same square, we set off on a walking tour prescribed by the Lonely Planet guidebook for Hong Kong and Macau.
On top of markets (which I have yet to see as any better than Chinatowns in the United States), some of the highlights were St. Dominic’s Church on Central Square, which, being Catholic, reminded me of the many Catholic churches I saw early last summer in France and Italy. The main difference was that the interior of this church, just as grand as the others, is painted a light color, which in part makes it much more bright than the others. As part of the church, one of the bell towers was turned into a museum that houses relics and the like.
The other highlight was the Ruins of St. Paul’s, which used to be the façade of a seventeenth-century church in that location. Now, the façade is reinforced and equipped with a viewing platform, from which there is a great view of Macau. In front of the façade are steps leading down to street level. Though just as crowded as the Spanish Steps in Rome, there are more of them.
We headed back to Hong Kong that day, ready for classes to start again the day after.
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