As of late, I’ve had to focus my time and effort into my studies, so my blogging has unfortunately not been as frequent as I like. As a result, I’ve begun to fall behind again.
Now two weekends ago, we managed to make our way over to Phuket, Thailand (ภูเก็ต). The name isn’t pronounced as crudely as it looks. As I was enlightened, the “h” in Phuket (as well as in “Thai”) denotes aspiration, think puff of air, rather than an “f” (or “th”) sound in conjunction with the “p” (or “t”). As such the “Ph” at the beginning as “p” like at the beginning of the word “pin.” Glad we got that one straightened out.
Secondly, Phuket is an island, according to my research. Telling my friends though was an uphill battle, as I had to contend with faulty logic in convincing them—example of which include: “I don’t think it’s an island because I don’t think it’s an island;” “But there’s buses going to Phuket”—ever heard of bridges?; and my favorite, “It doesn’t look like it on the flight map”—well I’m sorry, but small islands aren’t worth drawing as separate from the mainland when covered by a dot and lines—does Singapore look like an island on the flight map? As I would later find out, that friend didn’t know Singapore’s land mass consists of one main island and a number of smaller ones. And Australia is smaller than China, but only by about two million square kilometers. Cool.
Well we landed after four hours of flying from Hong Kong (I remember five hours from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C.), and went through immigration. Like in Taiwan, the officers stapled our departure cards to our passports, but we went through without a hitch.
On the other side, I pointed out the stand of tourist maps saying “Welcome to Phuket Island” in English and when we went up to the taxi counter to get transportation to our hotel about an hour away at Patong Beach (หาดป่าตอง), there was a map clear as day showing the island formation. Without rubbing it too much into their faces, I gave them haughty looks for fun as they looked away in shame, realizing that their (faulty) logic had been to no avail.
We ended up in a minibus (smaller than Hong Kong minibuses) to Patong Beach and our lodging, the Patong Swiss Hotel. The whole ride was in the dark, but from what I could see (mostly buildings), it became obvious that we weren’t in China anymore. The funny thing was that this was the first time on the whole trip that we (myself included) had been outside Greater China. As I’ve just recently figured out, this was to be my last trip outside Greater China before going back to California.
The thing is, though, that despite the fact that we were in a foreign foreign country, there was more English on signs and in general than Thai (which by the way is quite aesthetically pleasing). Our minibus stopped midway at a storefront to collect our tickets, and after politely refusing their tours and excursions, I got back onto the bus.
Arriving at the Patong Swiss Hotel, I was exhausted. By this time, it was about 1:00 a.m. Hong Kong Time and about midnight local time. Ready to lie down, we checked in to find that they had given us just two beds for our five-person reservation. One person got sick though before the trip, so we arrived as four. So the first night we ended up sharing beds, though the next morning we were given two bigger rooms (and me my own bed). Like in Guilin, the showers were without curtains, which only meant to me that the cleaners would have more work (though I tried hard not to get water everywhere).
That first night, I studied for my Fine Arts final, which was to take place the day after we got back to Hong Kong. The rest of them went out exploring Patong Beach nightlife.
The first morning, I woke up in a rut. It was quite hot and humid (though admittedly not as bad as my first weeks in Hong Kong), and we had just come from sub-75 degree temperatures back in the SAR.
After getting ready, we went out the front door, and much to my amazement, the beach lay right across the (two-lane) street from the hotel. I hadn’t noticed it at all the night before! I guess I forgot that my friend booked us a beachfront hotel.
We walked a couple blocks along that street. What was expected were the large volumes of shops selling merchandise, particularly knock-off brands. What wasn’t expected was the large number of expats there—and I say expats rather than tourists because most men were hand in hand with Thai women (though I remain open to the interpretation that many of them could just be escort). It was odd to see such a large expat population, but on the other hand it wasn’t unreasonable since they, along with the large numbers of European and Australian tourists present, were the reason for all the English signage.
Walking by, the hawkers try to grab your attention—and they do it much better than in Mainland China and definitely better than in Hong Kong, where they don’t even attempt. There, they understood the value of the relationship in business. Rather than pulling you in by listing off their merchandise, they’d start by “Hello, where are you from?” or “My you’re handsome,” or something to that effect. I personally got a lot of “你好s.” One of my American friends who speaks Cantonese answered back: “I speak Cantonese” in English, to which I laughed.
We got breakfast at one of the many done-up venues. I got some authentic Pad Thai, which was delicious, and some (real?) Thai Tea, which tasted more like cold milk than anything else.
This is the only trip that I took this term that I didn’t really take to get any historical culture out of—no sightseeing, more fun I suppose (though I enjoy sightseeing).
So that day we actually got to ride (Asian) elephants. It cost ฿500 Thai Baht for a half hour (฿33 Baht = $1 USD), so that was like $15 USD. The experience wasn’t really like I’d imagined. I’ve ridden on horseback on multiple occasions (and my fair share of carnival ponies when I was under three feet tall), but never an elephant.
There was a platform to mount them that was a good ten feet in the air. Getting on was intimidating, as you were to step onto the elephant’s back to get into the seat secured on the elephant. The guide sat right behind its head, on its neck with his feet touching the elephant’s ears. To move left, the guide would shake the elephant’s left ear with his left foot, and to move right, the guide would shake the elephant’s right year with his right foot.
The whole thing made us feel oddly sad for the elephants, and remembering back the horses, I remember having similar sentiments, only to cast them off by saying that we aren’t the first to do this.
We were taking all over a muddy trail. The barefooted guide dismounted the elephant halfway and took pictures of us, this led the elephant back to the base with voice commands. At one point, the elephant began to make a wrong turn, and the guide hit its right leg hard with a sickle-looking rod, making a vicious sound and making us wonder what was going on.
I guess we couldn’t help but to feel sorry for the elephants. I guess you could hope that at least they are well taken care of and fed properly. As we dismounted the elephants, one put its trunk up on the platform. My friends petted it, thanking him (or her) for his (or her) service. I guess I was too busy taking photos, because as I reached my hand out after putting my camera away, it retracted its trunk and went on its way.
The rest of the day we went around the shops and played a modified (and more intense) form of Jenga at a bar. At night, we got Mexican food. Right after, I went back to the hotel to keep studying for my Asian Art History class.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
One Hundred
This is my one hundredth post—ninety-two published, including seven unpublished posts, so I thought I would make something out of it by going over what I’ve done.
If I do say so myself, I am proud of my perseverance in writing and updating this blog. When I started, I reminded myself of how my mother would always make sure that I could finish something before I started because many of my interests were short-lived, mostly because there were so many of them. One in particular was the piano—in which I had become rather good at playing, though I lacked in still lacked in theory. When I was little, she taught me some of the basics of how to play and a few songs before my span could reach across an octave, and years later, a couple months at a time of review gave me some aptitude and a repertoire of songs that I could hammer out if need be. Never have I really become great at playing the piano.
I knew all to well before I began this long process of writing this blog that I very well may not finish. I’ve never kept a diary or a journal in my life, and until just recently, I’ve found reading most boring with writing coming in at lack of interest number two.
I guess there’s a couple of reasons I’ve really put myself into this blog and why, after almost eight months, I continue to contribute and why now, I’m writing something of around two posts a day. First off, I’ve found that I’ve fallen back into writing. Before departing for Hong Kong, I started a lengthy piece of fiction currently at thirty thousand words that I hope to continue when my travels slow down back in California. I’ve also found an interest in reading that has surprised my parents as well as myself. To this effect, I read twelve books over the summer (a personal record), as well as five books in my free time since coming to Hong Kong.
First and foremost thought was the fact that I wanted to write to record why I am here in Hong Kong and how I interact with Hong Kong during my few months here. I hope that I have succeeded and will continue to succeed. I have fallen in love with this place and I feel so indebted to everyone (as previously mentioned) for having been afforded the opportunity to come here and the resulting experience.
I hope that what I’ve been writing has been of interest, and thanks for sticking with me.
Right now, the temperature’s just taken a downturn. It’s gotten chilly and it’s been raining on and off for the past few days. There was plenty of strong wind accompanying it. Because of the rain is falling and due to its partial visibility, my Scottish friend dubbed it smeary rain. All I know is that if I ever move to somewhere cold, I’m going to have to learn to layer clothes better.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
If I do say so myself, I am proud of my perseverance in writing and updating this blog. When I started, I reminded myself of how my mother would always make sure that I could finish something before I started because many of my interests were short-lived, mostly because there were so many of them. One in particular was the piano—in which I had become rather good at playing, though I lacked in still lacked in theory. When I was little, she taught me some of the basics of how to play and a few songs before my span could reach across an octave, and years later, a couple months at a time of review gave me some aptitude and a repertoire of songs that I could hammer out if need be. Never have I really become great at playing the piano.
I knew all to well before I began this long process of writing this blog that I very well may not finish. I’ve never kept a diary or a journal in my life, and until just recently, I’ve found reading most boring with writing coming in at lack of interest number two.
I guess there’s a couple of reasons I’ve really put myself into this blog and why, after almost eight months, I continue to contribute and why now, I’m writing something of around two posts a day. First off, I’ve found that I’ve fallen back into writing. Before departing for Hong Kong, I started a lengthy piece of fiction currently at thirty thousand words that I hope to continue when my travels slow down back in California. I’ve also found an interest in reading that has surprised my parents as well as myself. To this effect, I read twelve books over the summer (a personal record), as well as five books in my free time since coming to Hong Kong.
First and foremost thought was the fact that I wanted to write to record why I am here in Hong Kong and how I interact with Hong Kong during my few months here. I hope that I have succeeded and will continue to succeed. I have fallen in love with this place and I feel so indebted to everyone (as previously mentioned) for having been afforded the opportunity to come here and the resulting experience.
I hope that what I’ve been writing has been of interest, and thanks for sticking with me.
Right now, the temperature’s just taken a downturn. It’s gotten chilly and it’s been raining on and off for the past few days. There was plenty of strong wind accompanying it. Because of the rain is falling and due to its partial visibility, my Scottish friend dubbed it smeary rain. All I know is that if I ever move to somewhere cold, I’m going to have to learn to layer clothes better.
Copyright © 2009 James Philip Jee
This work may not be reproduced by any means without express permission of the author.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Couture and Lamma
Like most public transportation systems, the MTR subway system here in Hong Kong has its fair share of advertisements. One advertisement was for the Couture exhibition at the Hong Kong Heritage Museum up in New Territories. It interested one of my friends, so we went up there to check out the exhibition as well as the permanent exhibits of the museum.
With public transportation, it took half an hour by bus to get to the MTR station and about 45 minutes on four lines of the MTR to get to the museum. From the Che Kung Temple station though, it was an easy walk from there.
When we got there, I knew I was hungry, and that at many American museums, they put decent restaurants on the premises to squeeze more money out of their patrons, but there, there was just a 7-Eleven style convenience store with a sitting area, along with a ritzy tea shop which didn’t serve food.
Going into the museum itself, I didn’t know what to expect. In the advertisement in the subway, it explained that the Couture exhibition was a fashion display specifically of London and Paris in the 1940s and ‘50s. It featured several models—all Asian, dressed up in clothing like that on display.
At the museum itself, which cost HK$10 as a student to get into, the exhibition took up several “thematic rooms” spanning the first floor (which would be the second floor in the United States) included rows and rows of dresses, along with original sketches. There was nothing more than what was to be expected, though one question remained on my mind.
Why is this about fashion on the other side of the globe? Why not have some sort of exhibition about contemporary culture in Hong Kong? This brings me to something that exchange students learn about Hong Kong—there is a deficiency of culture here—and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Elsewhere in the museum there were exhibits about operas and theater in Hong Kong, as well as a permanent exhibit about the history of land reclamation here.
Land reclamation—Hong Kong is famous for it. The most visible and architecturally beautiful landmarks here are arguably on reclaimed land. Because they are on reclaimed land, they are relatively new, as land reclamation didn’t start until after the British arrived. This means that much of Hong Kong’s pre-colonial history is not cherished, including the many Tin Hau temples (dedicated to the Daoist goddess Mazu who overlooks seafarers) dotting the territory.
The result? Locals think they are more British than they really are. Because of Hong Kong’s history as a colony separate of China and its continuing high level of autonomy, it has been a haven for businesses of all sorts to make their way into East Asia.
This competitive advantage, though still visible in such aspects as freedom of press and free flow of information, is gradually but surely diminishing. Soon, I feel it will become nothing more than other large Chinese city.
Many locals think that the use of English in Hong Kong, having been a British colony, is an advantage that they have a monopoly on. However, the Mainland Chinese students coming over speak better English than the local Hong Kong students. With such a large business and finance presence here, in combination with the wide array of human capital here, why wouldn’t we get more business? However, why wouldn’t business skip Hong Kong and go straight to somewhere like Shanghai, where there is more usable land, cheaper human capital, and a rapidly expanding infrastructure.
With many of the locals that I meet being business majors hoping to go into finance, I can’t help but realize how true this veil really is. If diversification of industries is the key, then Hong Kong is behind a double-bolted door, in a room furnished with attractive furniture that is, unfortunately, of poor material, ready to break.
And I don’t mean the furniture is the people—it’s the attitude here. Many locals feel that Hong Kong is ultimately a financial center, feeling it wouldn’t be plausible, much less desirable, to introduce other economic sectors, such as creative industries, into the mix.
For a while, Hong Kong used to be second only to Hollywood (meaning Southern California) in film production in the world. Regarding local music, I’ve heard of Cantopop but I’ve never heard Cantopop. Sports?—what are sports?
So where do I feel Hong Kong stands in the world? I think it’s a declining city. Though not having reached its economic peak yet, life here seems hallow, and the culture seems conceited. Maybe Hong Kong should accept that it’s part of China and go from there in terms of long-term planning.
I don’t hate Hong Kong. I just think it’s misguided.
On a brighter note, the next day we went on a daytrip to Lamma Island. Still located within the SAR, it sits just southwest of Hong Kong island itself and contains a few large power plants and a lot of pristine, undeveloped land.
I can actually see Lamma Island from my window, but from Central it takes about a half-hour ferry ride to get to. While both of the towns on Lamma Island are noticeably touristy, there is a sense of relaxation and enjoyment there not present in the more crowded areas of Hong Kong.
My friends and I took the two-hour hike from one town to the other. On one hand, the weather was thoroughly unenjoyable. It was hot and really humid. My shirt was so soaked with sweat that instead of being able to spot sweat stains, my whole bright green shirt turned a shade darker.
It was totally worth it though. I feel like that was the most fun I’ve had since coming here. Walking through the first little town named Yung Shue Wan, we felt relatively crowded. We visited a temple and lit incense there. After getting out of the town, the island was overwhelmingly wooded with plenty of tropical-looking trees and pleasant houses pushed into the hillsides.
It was great until we spotted a huge spider up in the tree in front of us. Legs included, it was likely six-inches long. Then a friend of mine pointed one out that was but a few feet away from my head. It had noticeable stripes of color on it, and, long story short, I don’t like spiders.
In total we saw about six of those big spiders by the time we were halfway through the hike. Along the way, we saw a large beach named Hung Shing Yeh, complete with shark nets and expats and tourists. Halfway through, we bought water from a guy who raised prices to make an extra buck. Instead of buying water himself, one of my friends refused to pay the slightly higher prices and instead drank out of another friends bottle.
At the other town named Sok Kwu Wan we ate good seafood family style. We definitely paid tourist prices, but as part of eating there at Rainbow Seafood Restaurant we were given a ride back to Central on a charter boat.
With public transportation, it took half an hour by bus to get to the MTR station and about 45 minutes on four lines of the MTR to get to the museum. From the Che Kung Temple station though, it was an easy walk from there.
When we got there, I knew I was hungry, and that at many American museums, they put decent restaurants on the premises to squeeze more money out of their patrons, but there, there was just a 7-Eleven style convenience store with a sitting area, along with a ritzy tea shop which didn’t serve food.
Going into the museum itself, I didn’t know what to expect. In the advertisement in the subway, it explained that the Couture exhibition was a fashion display specifically of London and Paris in the 1940s and ‘50s. It featured several models—all Asian, dressed up in clothing like that on display.
At the museum itself, which cost HK$10 as a student to get into, the exhibition took up several “thematic rooms” spanning the first floor (which would be the second floor in the United States) included rows and rows of dresses, along with original sketches. There was nothing more than what was to be expected, though one question remained on my mind.
Why is this about fashion on the other side of the globe? Why not have some sort of exhibition about contemporary culture in Hong Kong? This brings me to something that exchange students learn about Hong Kong—there is a deficiency of culture here—and I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Elsewhere in the museum there were exhibits about operas and theater in Hong Kong, as well as a permanent exhibit about the history of land reclamation here.
Land reclamation—Hong Kong is famous for it. The most visible and architecturally beautiful landmarks here are arguably on reclaimed land. Because they are on reclaimed land, they are relatively new, as land reclamation didn’t start until after the British arrived. This means that much of Hong Kong’s pre-colonial history is not cherished, including the many Tin Hau temples (dedicated to the Daoist goddess Mazu who overlooks seafarers) dotting the territory.
The result? Locals think they are more British than they really are. Because of Hong Kong’s history as a colony separate of China and its continuing high level of autonomy, it has been a haven for businesses of all sorts to make their way into East Asia.
This competitive advantage, though still visible in such aspects as freedom of press and free flow of information, is gradually but surely diminishing. Soon, I feel it will become nothing more than other large Chinese city.
Many locals think that the use of English in Hong Kong, having been a British colony, is an advantage that they have a monopoly on. However, the Mainland Chinese students coming over speak better English than the local Hong Kong students. With such a large business and finance presence here, in combination with the wide array of human capital here, why wouldn’t we get more business? However, why wouldn’t business skip Hong Kong and go straight to somewhere like Shanghai, where there is more usable land, cheaper human capital, and a rapidly expanding infrastructure.
With many of the locals that I meet being business majors hoping to go into finance, I can’t help but realize how true this veil really is. If diversification of industries is the key, then Hong Kong is behind a double-bolted door, in a room furnished with attractive furniture that is, unfortunately, of poor material, ready to break.
And I don’t mean the furniture is the people—it’s the attitude here. Many locals feel that Hong Kong is ultimately a financial center, feeling it wouldn’t be plausible, much less desirable, to introduce other economic sectors, such as creative industries, into the mix.
For a while, Hong Kong used to be second only to Hollywood (meaning Southern California) in film production in the world. Regarding local music, I’ve heard of Cantopop but I’ve never heard Cantopop. Sports?—what are sports?
So where do I feel Hong Kong stands in the world? I think it’s a declining city. Though not having reached its economic peak yet, life here seems hallow, and the culture seems conceited. Maybe Hong Kong should accept that it’s part of China and go from there in terms of long-term planning.
I don’t hate Hong Kong. I just think it’s misguided.
On a brighter note, the next day we went on a daytrip to Lamma Island. Still located within the SAR, it sits just southwest of Hong Kong island itself and contains a few large power plants and a lot of pristine, undeveloped land.
I can actually see Lamma Island from my window, but from Central it takes about a half-hour ferry ride to get to. While both of the towns on Lamma Island are noticeably touristy, there is a sense of relaxation and enjoyment there not present in the more crowded areas of Hong Kong.
My friends and I took the two-hour hike from one town to the other. On one hand, the weather was thoroughly unenjoyable. It was hot and really humid. My shirt was so soaked with sweat that instead of being able to spot sweat stains, my whole bright green shirt turned a shade darker.
It was totally worth it though. I feel like that was the most fun I’ve had since coming here. Walking through the first little town named Yung Shue Wan, we felt relatively crowded. We visited a temple and lit incense there. After getting out of the town, the island was overwhelmingly wooded with plenty of tropical-looking trees and pleasant houses pushed into the hillsides.
It was great until we spotted a huge spider up in the tree in front of us. Legs included, it was likely six-inches long. Then a friend of mine pointed one out that was but a few feet away from my head. It had noticeable stripes of color on it, and, long story short, I don’t like spiders.
In total we saw about six of those big spiders by the time we were halfway through the hike. Along the way, we saw a large beach named Hung Shing Yeh, complete with shark nets and expats and tourists. Halfway through, we bought water from a guy who raised prices to make an extra buck. Instead of buying water himself, one of my friends refused to pay the slightly higher prices and instead drank out of another friends bottle.
At the other town named Sok Kwu Wan we ate good seafood family style. We definitely paid tourist prices, but as part of eating there at Rainbow Seafood Restaurant we were given a ride back to Central on a charter boat.
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.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Welcome to Hong Kong
I am so utterly confused.
When I landed on Friday, August 21, I just wanted to get to my dorm as quickly as possible. From the airplane Hong Kong looked beautiful, and from the ground it still does. I took the airplane express train to Central Hong Kong, where the taxi pick up area was located underground.
I waited there for half an hour as the taxis slowly came and went. In the meantime, I began sweating up a storm as I realized how humid it really was. Even inside the stations, which I believe were somewhat air-conditioned, I was a precipitating mess carrying around my bags. I just wanted to get to my hall.
Just about 20 hours before then, my parents dropped me off in the airport. We didn’t weigh my one suitcase, so my dad brought an extra duffle bag in case I needed to repack to avoid the $150 over-weight fee. I could bring up to two pieces of luggage weighing less than 50 pounds each, but not one weighing up to 100 pounds. It turned out that my suitcase weighed almost eighty pounds, so it was good my dad brought the extra bag.
Security was on high alert that day, so I had to wait through winding Disneyland-style lines with the other travelers trying to get into the terminal. Before then I said my goodbyes to my parents, and then I was alone and off on my way. The next time I would see home or my immediate family would be in December.
Finally my taxi came up to the gate. I entered after my bags were in the trunk and we were off. He asked where I was headed in Cantonese. I replied “6 Sasoon Road, the University of Hong Kong.” Unfortunately, I mispronounced “Sasoon,” which I said with an “oo” like “moon” as I was taught. However, as Anglicization is an aid more than a solution, the way the “oo” of “Sasoon” is pronounced is closer to the French “u” as in “tu.”
So he misunderstood me. I ended up showing him the cheat card that the university provided me with that explicitly said, “Please take me to the following hall at the University of Hong Kong at 6 Sasoon Road: Lee Hysan.”
Then he was like, “Oh Sas[French “u”]n Road!” As we emerged from the underground pick-up place, I couldn’t help but notice the roads sprawling upwards, the streets visibly twisting back and forth among themselves—and it wasn’t even a freeway. These flights of roads gave me the impression that most of Hong Kong Island was like that, and I quickly became hesitant to go exploring the city by myself. Now most people tell me I have a good sense of direction, but this sight just intimidated the hell out of me and at that point I just wanted to sleep.
We drove from the downtown district up and around the west side of the island, into Pok Fu Lam District where I couldn’t help but noticing the propensity of Hong Kongers to finish their buildings in tile. While not really noticeable in pictures, most residential buildings are covered in small ceramic tile squares of varying colors.
As we approached my hall I was shocked. I was still in a surreal mind state, but the hall was nothing like what I expected. The turn-around driveway was partially under construction and all the buildings surrounded it had bamboo-constructed scaffolding and green covering.
I walked in and found an unexpected language barrier with the woman who was helping me check in. I was under the impression that since classes were held in English, most of the staff would be competent as well. Well there’s an expectation thrown out the window.
I went up to my room on the fourteenth floor, which has great views (albeit covered by green mesh netting) of the west entrance to Victoria Harbor. I also found a couple hall mates to introduce myself to. One was really nice and one was really not so nice (like students elsewhere).
That night, I finished up by calling my mother (at 6 a.m. pacific daylight time) and my HKU exchange buddy, who offered me a tour of campus the day after I arrived. The first picked up, relieved that I had gotten there on time and safely (as there is only one SFO-HKG flight a day and my flight to SFO from LAX was delayed by almost two hours). The latter didn’t pick up, but as I will explain, I still got my tour later.
That night—no air conditioning, fully humid with just a fan and five open windows—I went to sleep, apprehensive about what was to come. My thoughts drifted on, as always.
Lesson learned—pronouncing Anglicized Hong Kong names and places with an American accent won’t get me very far.
Welcome to Hong Kong, James.
When I landed on Friday, August 21, I just wanted to get to my dorm as quickly as possible. From the airplane Hong Kong looked beautiful, and from the ground it still does. I took the airplane express train to Central Hong Kong, where the taxi pick up area was located underground.
I waited there for half an hour as the taxis slowly came and went. In the meantime, I began sweating up a storm as I realized how humid it really was. Even inside the stations, which I believe were somewhat air-conditioned, I was a precipitating mess carrying around my bags. I just wanted to get to my hall.
Just about 20 hours before then, my parents dropped me off in the airport. We didn’t weigh my one suitcase, so my dad brought an extra duffle bag in case I needed to repack to avoid the $150 over-weight fee. I could bring up to two pieces of luggage weighing less than 50 pounds each, but not one weighing up to 100 pounds. It turned out that my suitcase weighed almost eighty pounds, so it was good my dad brought the extra bag.
Security was on high alert that day, so I had to wait through winding Disneyland-style lines with the other travelers trying to get into the terminal. Before then I said my goodbyes to my parents, and then I was alone and off on my way. The next time I would see home or my immediate family would be in December.
Finally my taxi came up to the gate. I entered after my bags were in the trunk and we were off. He asked where I was headed in Cantonese. I replied “6 Sasoon Road, the University of Hong Kong.” Unfortunately, I mispronounced “Sasoon,” which I said with an “oo” like “moon” as I was taught. However, as Anglicization is an aid more than a solution, the way the “oo” of “Sasoon” is pronounced is closer to the French “u” as in “tu.”
So he misunderstood me. I ended up showing him the cheat card that the university provided me with that explicitly said, “Please take me to the following hall at the University of Hong Kong at 6 Sasoon Road: Lee Hysan.”
Then he was like, “Oh Sas[French “u”]n Road!” As we emerged from the underground pick-up place, I couldn’t help but notice the roads sprawling upwards, the streets visibly twisting back and forth among themselves—and it wasn’t even a freeway. These flights of roads gave me the impression that most of Hong Kong Island was like that, and I quickly became hesitant to go exploring the city by myself. Now most people tell me I have a good sense of direction, but this sight just intimidated the hell out of me and at that point I just wanted to sleep.
We drove from the downtown district up and around the west side of the island, into Pok Fu Lam District where I couldn’t help but noticing the propensity of Hong Kongers to finish their buildings in tile. While not really noticeable in pictures, most residential buildings are covered in small ceramic tile squares of varying colors.
As we approached my hall I was shocked. I was still in a surreal mind state, but the hall was nothing like what I expected. The turn-around driveway was partially under construction and all the buildings surrounded it had bamboo-constructed scaffolding and green covering.
I walked in and found an unexpected language barrier with the woman who was helping me check in. I was under the impression that since classes were held in English, most of the staff would be competent as well. Well there’s an expectation thrown out the window.
I went up to my room on the fourteenth floor, which has great views (albeit covered by green mesh netting) of the west entrance to Victoria Harbor. I also found a couple hall mates to introduce myself to. One was really nice and one was really not so nice (like students elsewhere).
That night, I finished up by calling my mother (at 6 a.m. pacific daylight time) and my HKU exchange buddy, who offered me a tour of campus the day after I arrived. The first picked up, relieved that I had gotten there on time and safely (as there is only one SFO-HKG flight a day and my flight to SFO from LAX was delayed by almost two hours). The latter didn’t pick up, but as I will explain, I still got my tour later.
That night—no air conditioning, fully humid with just a fan and five open windows—I went to sleep, apprehensive about what was to come. My thoughts drifted on, as always.
Lesson learned—pronouncing Anglicized Hong Kong names and places with an American accent won’t get me very far.
Welcome to Hong Kong, James.
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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