blowing bubbles in the wind...

The little piece of heaven...

2007-08-21T08:46:00.000+08:00

that is the world of kids' books is where I now get to live for at least part of my new job. :)

I'm in the process of choosing the reading lists for my classes this Fall and am gloriously poring through whatever books I can get a hand on and racking my memory for good reads from the past twenty-some years. Suggestions, anyone?

Of course, in my time of need, I'm discovering that Hong Kong bookstores are pretty much a barren desert when it comes to kids' books, carrying only one or two copies of anything -- if I'm even lucky enough to find what I'm looking for. Next time anyone visits, I'm placing a massive book order -- be forewarned. I think it may finally be time to start re-building my home library...

E-M-P-A-T-H-Y

2007-05-19T21:03:00.000+08:00

A question to teachers, parents, and other educators out there -- how do you teach/help students to have empathy?

All year long I've been frustrated by kids not respecting each other -- standard classroom stuff like talking while others are talking, goofing off and not paying attention during other kids' presentations, etc, etc. I chalked it up to kids just being kids and having short attention spans, but lately, I've been rethinking it. I mean, we've had those discussions about "How do you feel when your friends are talking when you're giving a presentation?" but the effect is not at all long-lasting.

A few weeks ago, I tried an activity with my after-school club and some of the kids' reactions to it completely shocked me. My friend, a 5th grade teacher at an international school here, recommended that I make birthday cards with my students for a boy in Canada who has leukemia and is trying to break a world record for the number of birthday cards received. There have been numerous news reports about him and apparently cards have been coming in from all over the world. It sounded like a great activity where the kids could read a real news article in English, watch a video clip from the news, learn about someone close to their age, do some arts and crafts, and help the little boy achieve his goal.

I was really surprised then at the responses from some of my students, especially the boys. While watching the video clip, some made horrendous and really disparaging comments (in Cantonese, of course). When I tried to press them to tell me what they were saying so that I could address the comments, no one spoke up, essentially tying my hands. I'm glad this deaf-mute pretending game is almost over.

At first, I wondered if there was a language gap that was making it hard for them to understand/relate to the boy, but when I talked to students one-on-one, they all seemed to be clear on the situation; some just didn't seem to care all that much. A few students, in fact, tried to hand me zero-effort pencil scrawls of 'Happy Birthday' on folded pieces of construction paper and pass them off as cards. Have they no hearts at all? How could they even consider giving someone a card like that? Of course, there were some students who were genuinely interested in the activity and spent a lot of time making cards specific to the boy's interests.

The few 'this isn't about me' kids really worry me, though. It's the same thing with the kids who refuse to adhere to the rules of good sportsmanship and chant "lose, lose, lose" to the other teams, or who point and laugh at people across a stadium during a performance.

Really, what can we do?

Kiva.org

2007-05-12T23:14:00.000+08:00

Greetings, friends. One of the things about settling into a routine is that the days and weeks go by before you know it and it feels like time has been flying by in the past few months. A few things to update on, but first, I wanted to help spread the word about this great idea I read about a couple months back when it was covered in the NYT.

Kiva takes the idea of micro-financing to a new level by using the Internet to connect entrepreneurs in need to potential lenders all over the world. The entrepreneurs are identified by local micro-finance partners, so Kiva just provides information -- profiles on the entrepreneurs and a space for entrepreneurs to give updates on their businesses' progress. 100% of your loan goes to the individual and it only takes a few clicks of the mouse.

I love this idea because it's a great way to help individuals and their families, and while you only get a small snippet of someone's story, it's still nice to know where your money is going. Plus, once your loan is repaid, you can go ahead and lend it to support someone else. Check it out!

Also, if you have 10 weeks or more and are interested to see what it's all about in the field, they have a fellowship program where you go to work with one of their local micro-finance partners to meet with and chronicle the progress of their entrepreneurs. How cool is that!

Happy CNY

2007-02-19T22:34:00.000+08:00

Wishing you all good fortune, good health, your dreams come true and all the rest of it this lunar new year. I hear it's the year of the Golden Pig, but have yet to figure out what exactly has made the pig golden this time around. If someone knows offhand, do fill me in. What I do know is that Hong Kong is relatively peaceful this time of year. Who would've guessed... I suppose everyone's off travelling or visiting relatives somewhere but there don't seem to be many people out and about.

The major exception though is at the New Year's Flower Market, which I experienced for the first time this year. Imagine throngs of people, fresh flowers galore and balloons in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, ranging from Chupa Chups to giraffes to trophy cups and mushrooms a la Super Mario Bros. It's a sight. The beautiful thing is that no one's really in a rush to go anywhere or push ahead, so you just sort of flow along with the crowd. It's oddly kind of fun. Of course, it's not so fun to hear the announcements about lost children, but I think I'm finally starting to understand this very Hong Kong idea of going to a crowded place just for the heck of it.

So, Chinese New Year, regular New Year, or for whatever reason, the past month and a half has actually been pretty fruitful for me as far as resolutions/new starts/trying new things go... It's no marathon, but I did my first 10km run with a friend and finished with a respectable time; I started Chinese (Mandarin) lessons again with a focus on seriously learning to read and write; I started going to a new (to me) yoga studio; got my first perm (no, it's not crazy curly -- in fact, just barely wavy); started tutoring a new student; and finished up one volunteering stint with youth probationers (more to come on this in another post) and signed up for another one starting in March. It's been busy, but good. I'm hoping to keep riding this wave of enthusiasm for as long as it lasts. Wish me luck! If all continues well, I have a feeling the rest of this school year will fly by and then I'll be back North America-side for a couple brief visits to see two of my dearest friends tie the knot with their respective other halves. I can't wait!

Finger lickin' good

2006-11-21T22:29:00.000+08:00

I remember the slogan clearly from my childhood, with many a family fishing trip where KFC played a central role in the eating pre-catch. It took on new meaning, though, when I was at my local KFC one day. [Side note: The popularity of fried chicken here took me entirely by surprise and there are a fair number of KFCs in the city -- not to mention that my third graders cite KFC as *the* place to have a birthday party, other than McDonald's.] Anyways, so I was sitting at KFC when I noticed a girl and her mother donning big plastic disposable gloves to eat their chicken. At first, I wondered at the OCD-ness of a family that would bring disposable gloves with them to KFC, but then I looked around and saw that a few other customers had them as well! Now, really... can't you just wash your hands? They already give us wet wipes!

I was even more dismayed the next time the plastic gloves made an appearance -- at a Chinese seafood restaurant where we were eating hairy crab (so named for their hairy claws, but also known as Chinese mitten crab or literally from Chinese, "big binding crab"). So, where lobster sometimes comes with bibs, crab in Hong Kong sometimes comes with a side order of plastic gloves. How appetizing.

The Vultures

2006-11-19T22:26:00.000+08:00

They crowd the exits of the subway station -- so much so that the MTR people have set up barricades to prevent them from entering within however-many-feet of the doorway. In their black suits, they lean over the railing, watching, waiting for their prey.

Once you've gotten past the exit barrage, it's not over yet. Enterprising ones choose not to stand with the crowd but to try and claim their own spot... every inch of the way from the station to the building and through the mall to the resident elevators. They're persistent with their leaflets and calls for your attention. But above all, they're always watching you, sizing you up -- your age, your income, your worth as a potential customer. It's worse than walking past a construction site.

So what do these vultures want from you? To buy an apartment, of course. As if upon their suggestion, you might suddenly feel moved to own a place. Yes, that's right. These vultures are property agents.

The sight of them makes me shudder and I consider their presence and invasion of public space a personal affront. Hong Kong is crowded enough as it is. The last thing I need is to navigate crowds of loitering, soliciting suits on my very doorstep. Besides, let's be realistic -- NO ONE is randomly walking up to impulse buy apartments. If they're interested, they'll find you. Go wait in your office!

PSP for all

2006-10-18T18:30:00.000+08:00

When I ride the MTR in Hong Kong, I frequently see people glued to their PSPs. Most of the time, these are youngish guys, avidly playing the latest game. So, when an older woman sitting next to me the other day pulled one out of her LV bag, I couldn't help but look over her shoulder. Ah... To a video game, addicted she is not. To one of the many Hong Kong soap opera/drama/TV series, addicted she most definitely is.

I wonder if she bought it for this express purpose or whether she and her son/husband negotiate over who gets it each morning...

"You made me ink!"

2006-10-18T18:19:00.000+08:00

One of my favourite lines from Finding Nemo took on new meaning last Saturday as I held up a squid for a Kodak moment and it inked all over the boat. The occasion marked another first of our Hong Kong experiences -- squid fishing.

Leaving from Sai Kung pier, we chatted and snacked as we waited for darkness to fall. Then, with bright lights set up on the sides of the boat to attract the squid, we set to work. And work it was! This is no put-the-bait-on-set-the rod-and-wait kind of fishing. This is bait-free, just-keep-jerking-on-the-line-in-hopes-of-snagging-something fishing... so we did. All 25 of us. When the boat owner lady did it, she caught four right away. We, on the other hand, exercised much patience and arm strength for our loot. Over the course of the night, though, our success rate wasn't bad. I was ecstatic at my catch of two. Plus, in the spirit of friendship everyone partook regardless of their luck when Mrs. Boat Owner cooked the little suckers up for us. Mmm, mmm, good.

Apparently, there's a place where you can dig for clams in Hong Kong too. Maybe next time...

Writing, reading and recording

2006-10-10T21:25:00.000+08:00

A teacher once told me that there are no good writers, just good editors and it's something I've repeated to students of my own. That being said, I think editing comes in different forms. When I was in school, I hated handing in drafts. Most often, I would write my piece and then go backwards and create the "drafts" I was supposed to hand in with the final copy, trying to create feasible changes I might have made. I found it a tiresome exercise, mainly because I tend to edit as I go. This is not to say I don't believe in teaching writing process -- I just believe that there's more than one.

The writing and editing process -- thinking through flow, word choice, and everything else as you write and revise -- took on a whole new meaning recently when I read The Diving-Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby. Once the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine in Paris, the author suffered a stroke and became paralyzed, unable to move anything except one eyelid. By blinking his one eyelid then, he dictated a book about his experiences with Locked-In Syndrome. Thanks to the speech therapist who devised a blinking/alphabet code with the letters in order according to their frequency of use in the French language (brilliant!), and the woman who patiently recorded his words, Bauby offers a concise, but rich glimpse into his world.

On the subject of worlds, I've just finished Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore that I thoroughly enjoyed. Totally surreal and fantastical but gripping action and interesting ideas as well. Would definitely recommend it...

Separately, Pat pointed out to me that I'm now a bona fide recording artist. I have a set of 6 CDs, on sale now, complete with a set of educational readers. That's right. I'm one of those voices. If you want to hear some questionably educational passages read by yours truly, give me a shout. They even come with multiple choice questions to test your listening/reading comprehension. Yippee :)

Finally... the elephants

2006-10-02T09:58:00.000+08:00

As I'm about to retire another notebook, I decided it was time to finally finish writing about my travels this summer. It's been a long time coming -- a little bit of the albatross on my shoulder -- but here it is.

This was more on the beginning end of our trip in Laos and we saw and experienced much more after this (probably accurately summed up as buddhas, stupas, fruit shakes and massages) but this remains the closest to my heart.

As most people who know me are aware, I've always liked animals. Dogs, monkeys, zebras, giraffes, lionstigersandbearsohmy. On this trip, however, I (re)discovered a deep, inner love for elephants.

Walking down the main tourist street of Luang Prabang on one of our first days in Laos, we spotted a sign for something called the Elephant Park Project. A few days later, we embarked on our excursion to "live like a mahout".

Move up, move up, closer to her head, my mahout gestured. I wriggled myself forward and brought my knees up, tucking them behind her wide, flapping ears. As we swayed from side to side, she folded her ears back, holding my knees snugly in place. Cozy, I thought. As we trekked through the grass, I rubbed the top of her head with its sparse but coarse black hairs. I held on as she leaned forward to grab a shrub or a bush with her trunk. Always snacking, these elephants are. Sometimes uprooting entire plants, leaving a gaping hole in the ground. Watch your step!

When they open their mouths, you can't help but think they look like they're smiling. I tore a couple bananas off the bunch and lay them on her trunk. She tossed them in. Chomp, chomp. "Ok, I'm ready again." She unfurled her empty trunk expectantly. One, two... she continued to wait. Ok fine, three, four. "Eat those, first," I told her. She indulged me, but I could't help but feel like she was thinking, "Silly person."

Over the afternoon and early next morning that we spent with the elephants, we fed them bananas and pineapples, we walked with them along the water, through the water, and into the jungle where they spent the night, and I fell utterly and completely in love. They're simply amazing. Every part of them. Their trunks, slurping up water like a straw and then squirting it into their mouths; their tails, with their long black hairs that look almost like feather; their big, thick, round feet with the rounded toenails and wrinkly bottoms.

The mahout tried to show me up how to climb up on her with a hop, skip and a jump. When he does it, it looks so easy. One, two, up. One hand holding onto her ear, then stepping onto the leg she's raised to help him up. Alas, I'm not quite so graceful. Even when she was sitting down, my ascent was not so pretty to look at.

When we met them in the jungle in the morning, our dear friends were covered -- absolutely caked -- in mud. It had rained hard the night before and clearly they had decided to have a little party of rolling in the mud. Who can blame them? They knew they'd have a bath in the morning anyways...

As we reached the river for said bath, the elephants opened their mouths and seemed to grin. My mahout and I were armed with a long handled brush and a metal basin but I wasn't all too clear how this 'bath' was going to go down. I soon found out. Splosh, splosh, splosh, in she went. As she got settled in the river, the mahout shouted an order and the next instant, she was sitting. He handed me the brush and pointed at her head. I scrubbed. We traded and I poured basins and basins of water on us, trying to rid her of the brown tinge. Limited luck. As I scrubbed away, I felt her weight shift. Oh no... tell me she doesn't want to roll around in the cool, brown water. I envisioned myself squashed like a pancake by a bathing elephant. The mahout steadied her though snd she resisted the temptation. Much scrubbing and rinsing later, we emerged, slightly less muddy, considerably more wet but altogether a happy crew. Oh yeah... elephants are the best.

Our first Three Elephants

2006-08-02T15:13:00.000+08:00

Chicken larp
Originally uploaded by blowingbubbles.

The day begins at the market, us dutifully following behind Ruth, our Lao-Australian guide explaining and expounding on what 'the Lao' love to eat. Not a bit of an animal is spared, she tells us, and as if on cue, a pig's face appears on the butcher's table before us. I sneak a wide-eyed, gluttonous glance at the others as we pass overflowing piles of rambutans, mangosteens, lichees. As we walk, she picks up a few carrots here, a few mangoes there and hands them to Leng, who adds them to the bag slung over his shoulder.

It's the first part of our full-day Lao cooking class at the Three Elephants Cooking School in Luang Prabang. Our teachers are Neng and Leng, both who have been trained at Tamnak Lao, Ruth's affiliated restaurant. Over many hours, we watch, we taste, we try, and we eat. On a more minute level, we chop, we peel, we slice, we blend, we pound, we grind, and we stirfry. Again and again. The result? Seven dishes between two work stations and three very satisfied bellies.

As we eat, we also listen. Neng tells us about life in his Hmong village, a two-day journey from the city. There, they grow both steamed and sticky rice -- the one in paddies, the other in soil. He tells us about his eight other siblings and how he came to the city as an alternative to the hard life of the farmers. He is studying at the teacher training college and taking extra classes at an English language school, run by Ruth's friend. He tells us with humble gratitude that Ruth and her friend are like parents to him. They help him with rent, with lessons and the chance to cook and teach about making Lao food. He tells us he'd like to take what he's learned back to his village and let them taste this Lao food, so unlike Hmong food in their village. He tells us about getting sick when he was young; the visions he saw in his sleep and the sickness that has slowed him down ever since. He tells us about the computer classes he's taking and about typing emails to his uncle in Wisconsin, one finger at a time. He asks us excitedly if we have email and carefully writes down his address to exchange.

As I listen, again, I'm impressed with the openness with which he shares his life with us. He talks freely, unassumedly. His stories carry a hopefulness -- of being in the city, of studying and learning, of working hard to pursue a goal -- of what the future holds. What a contrast it seems to some of the tired and disillusioned comments we heard earlier that day...

Photos...

2006-07-13T10:23:00.000+08:00

So I'm back in Hong Kong now and need to gather my thoughts on the rest of our adventures in Laos. In the meantime, though, I've uploaded some photos onto Flickr (I've converted -- it's great!). You'll notice that there are significantly more photos from Laos and Yunnan than from Vietnam -- a reflection in part of how long I spent there, but also an experiment in relying on writing to capture my impressions of Hanoi, rather than pics.

More stories from Laos to come soon...

Birthday surprise

2006-06-29T17:12:00.000+08:00

A belated thanks to everyone for all the birthday wishes. For those who hoped I was doing something special, let me assure you that I was -- thanks to YuppieNomad and j.fisher, my wonderful travelling buddies.

The first birthday surprise began at the Luang Nam Tha bus station with us realizing that we had set our watches forward instead of back when leaving China.
"Come back at 8:15? But it's 8:30 now."
"It's 6:30 now."
"6:30? Really?"
The upside is it gave us time for breakfast and a visit to the market to pick up some mangosteens and rambutans for the road. We were headed to Luang Prabang.

The second birthday surprise was the relative painlessness of the bus ride. We had heard horror stories of Lao buses and roads. A Brit we met in Kunming told us that he felt like Chinese buses were heaven, compared to Laos. I braced myself for the worst, but it wasn't bad at all. There was the regular picking up and dropping off of passengers at random spots along the way and the cramming in of passengers on little plastic stools in the aisles but we had no livestock this time (see j.fisher's accurate description of bus rides in recent memory), no smoking on the bus and only one little novice monk puking. Not bad at all. Plus, everyone seemed to be in great spirits. The bus driver and his crew were continually laughing and joking -- it really seemed like a party up there -- and bus rides that add 1-2 hours onto the scheduled time no longer faze me much.

The best birthday surprise though was where we headed after the bus ride. The dynamic duo revealed that in honour of my birthday, we were going to stay at a hotel. And a pretty luxurious one at that; fit for a king, you could say. Enter Maison Souvannaphoum, once the official residence of Prince Souvanna Phouma. Let's just say we enjoyed the eating, the comfy beds and the swimming pool enough that we gave in and asked for a late check-out. Thanks, guys! :)

The land of craaazy skies

2006-06-27T20:40:00.000+08:00

My first impressions of Laos? The people are relaxed and the skies are craaazy. It seems like every time I look up, the clouds are doing something else to amaze/entertain me. Stripes, poufs, layers like shading, dark brooding clouds and others like a tornado touching down in the distance. One reminds me of the wind and clouds from the age-old story about the competition between the wind and the sun, blowing with all its might.

Suddenly, all there is is whiteness. The sky's been erased, leaving only the green outlines of the palm trees. We walk towards the white and I feel an isolated drop on my head. I check the pavement for confirmation. The splashes in the rice paddies along the road grow more frequent. We wave down a passing pickup. It passes, it slows, it hesitates, it goes. Yes? No? Yes? No? Finally, it stops. They've discussed, they've decided -- the teenagers in the pickup. j.fisher gestures and smiles, "Bus station?" We hop in the back with two of the guys. One motions to space in the backseat of the cab, but we shake our heads, no. "We're ok here. Thank you!"

It starts to rain some more. He asks again. We smile -- we're ok. A few minutes later, he bangs on the roof of the cab and the truck slows to a stop. He doesn't really ask, he just points. We relent and scramble into the backseat, touched by their graciousness. The guy in the passenger seat doesn't even lean back in his seat, for fear of squishing us. We insist it's ok but he persists with his forward lean. The rain is now pelting down on us and they roll up the windows. We look back to see the other two leaning against the cab for a tiny modicum of protection. We're cognizant that they gave up their shelter as a gesture of kindness to the strangers by the roadside. When they drop us off, they insist on backing up as close to cover as they possibly can. We drop our heads, we smile, we grin -- anything to try and convey our gratitude. We wave and shout our thanks as they drive off, "Khawp jai."

Why does it always rain in Kunming?

2006-06-27T20:26:00.000+08:00

Our second visit to Kunming and it was raining again. As YuppieNomad pointed out, we had somehow designated it an errand-running city, and while that generally is not very exciting in itself, the rain didn't do much to lift our spirits.

M for meat or mother. A for apple. L for love. A for apple. R for red. I for ice cream. A for apple. No, I don't have malaria. I want to prevent it. I am speaking Chinese. So, perhaps needless to say, our quest for anti-malaria meds in Kunming was unsuccessful, despite a visit even to a local Chinese hospital. I don't like hospitals to begin with and believe me, I never want to see one like that again.

Kunming did have some redeeming moments, though. We did eventually get our Lao visas --and for the right dates-- after chasing down the consulate people in their rooms. We also visited the food court-esque place we had discovered the last time that has booths featuring foods from different parts of China (plus Korea). And, we found a place to have sushi after having talked about it many days previously. "Maybe in Kunming," YuppieNomad kept saying. Well, our hopes were realized. [Yes, we live a tough life.] At any rate, it was definitely a good last meal to have before the long bus rides to Lao.

Mama Naxi

2006-06-27T20:04:00.000+08:00

I've been blogging a lot about people we've met and the reason is simple -- the people we've met in Yunnan are some of the kindest I've encountered in China.

For other views and more details about our travels, visit j.fisher and YuppieNomad's blogs. I love the fact that we're travelling and blogging together because I, for sure, can't remember or capture all that we're experiencing; plus, reading their renditions as we go along makes me smile and I haven't even left them yet. Another upside for you guys is that they've posted some pics, which I promise to do... eventually.

Ok so back to Mama Naxi. I first heard of her on a boat in Halong Bay, Vietnam from Emma, an Australian girl who had never been to Lijiang herself. Then, there were the American girls in Zhongdian who raved about her kindness and Mama-like tendencies. And finally, there was Amit, the Israeli guy on the bus from Baishuitai who told us about her 8 yuan all-you-can-eat dinners and led us to her. Now we too know why she's famous. Bananas upon arrival and departure, dinners where the number of dishes on the table does not vary proportionately with the number of people sitting around it, and potpourri on a string that has rescued our noses on countless occasions since then. Plus, you can buy bus tickets from her and she'll pick you up/drop you off at the bus station or even the airport. The place also has free internet (limited to half an hour at a time) and a cozy atmosphere where guests eat, sit and relax together. If you go to Lijiang, pay her a visit. The official name for her place is Gu Cheng Xiang Ge Yun Ke Zhan (Address: #78 Wen Hua, WuYi, DaYan).

Blue-eyed granny

2006-06-27T19:24:00.000+08:00

We met our Granny Naxi on the same day as the incense cowboy; in fact, probably not a half hour later. We strolled past her restaurant where she was working in the garden and she waved an arm our way. "Come, see if you want to eat. If you want to eat, you eat; if you don't want to eat, it's ok."

Swayed by her kind lilting voice and good-natured soft sell, we sit ourselves down by the window. She brings us sunflower seeds and tiny nectarines to whet our appetites -- "We grow these ourselves. We don't sell them. Try. For free!" Tasty noodles and the best(!) wild mushroom fried rice later, she settles down to sit with us for a while. She tells us that most of the things they eat are wild -- from the mountain -- and not the things they grow. She tells us about her daughter, teaching Chinese and Chinese history at a high school in Shangri-la for over 10 years. She tells us about her son, now married to a Shangri-la girl, and their eight-month-old son that she's been helping to care for, until yesterday.

"Have you been to Bita Hai? It's really beautiful. My daughter drove me there -- she can drive -- on June 14th. It's beautiful. Everywhere you look!" She turns her head, "Over here is beautiful," and again, "Over there is beautiful."

"It's beautiful here," we interject, gesturing towards the mountain scenery.

"Yes, it's beautiful here, but it's more beautiful there. You didn't go? Oh, what a shame. Such a shame. And a shame that you came so late! If you came earlier, we would go around the village to tell the Naxi girls and they would do some Naxi dance for you. But now, so late, no time to go around. They would put on the traditional Naxi dress and dance. When the six students from Hong Kong came, they danced for them. And when the chefs from Guizhou came, they danced for them. They would dance for you too, but now, too late."

She's a sweetie, this granny, and she invites us back for breakfast the next day. "Good morning! Hello! I'll make some baba for you. Sit down." She watches out for our bus and encourages us to eat more, eat more. She worries we don't like it because we can't clean the plate. "No no, we like it. We're very full, thank you." She warns us that we won't get to Lijiang until after lunchtime.

"Next time, come again and I will take you to all the beautiful places around here. I know them -- Bita Hai, etc, etc. We'll go together. Next time you come. Do you live far? If you come, we'll go together. If you don't come, it'll be a shame but there's nothing I can do. Come again. May is the best time. Bye bye!"

We leave her, our granny Naxi with the kind face and grey-blue eyes, her little pup tangled at her feet, standing in the front yard making porridge and waving goodbye.

Baishuitai

2006-06-27T17:59:00.000+08:00

"White water terrace", so named for the only mildly remarkable limestone terraces that grace the hillside above this village, about a 2-hour bus ride away from Shangri-la. The different formations have been named for fairies, dragons, and goddesses among other things, but it was largely lost on us. In fact, from far away, they might even be mistaken for plastic tarp-covered crops. We did, however, meet on the terraces the man we would come to refer to as the incense cowboy.

Decked in the cowboy hat that is ever-popular around Yunnan, he invited us to his shrine on the terraces, handing each of us three sticks of incense, lighting a small fire and blessing the backs of our heads with a pine branch. He wished us peace, safety, good fortune and prosperity and instructed us to touch our heads, bowed, to the limestone. He asked us where we were from and for a token of appreciation, which we willingly gave -- to be repaid manifold only a short time later.

Our visit to the terraces was not long and soon we were wandering down the one street of the village, looking for a restaurant or place to sit. We noticed a finely decorated gateway, complete with tiled well-wishes and scenic pictures. We paused, wondering if it was a guesthouse or a restaurant, when a man at the doorway beckoned us inside. A courtyard, some chickens, a granny with a baby strapped to her back. "Ni hao."

He invited us in for some tea and I suddenly recognized that he was the one and the same, incense cowboy. He gestured us inside a dark doorway and we entered into a spacious room with sofas and cushions around a hearth -- fire, bursting through a wok with a heavy, black kettle, always ready for tea. He hung his hat and his necklace on their regular hook and together, we sat and chatted. Clad in his orange-yellow sweats, the three-year-old grandson wandered in and looked hesitantly at us strangers. Granny offered us tea and massive white steamed buns, of which the little boy would have none, despite YuppieNomad's efforts. He listened and looked as she showed him her pictures, though, and even posed for a shot himself. Meanwhile, we learned that the baby was not feeling well because she had just had a shot. We learned that the couple had four sons, one of whom lived down the street, while the others had flown the nest to work in the city (Shangri-la). Our cowboy asked us to invite others to come to Baishuitai and visit his shrine, but declined to give us his name. "Just tell them to come here. I'll be there. I'm there everyday."

So, as promised, I'm spreading the word. And, as he is too -- about the Vietnamese from America and the Chinese girl from Canada that he met. After all, he started telling his story about us before we even left. The incense cowboy has a cell phone too.

Closer to the Sky

2006-06-21T21:45:00.000+08:00

From Shangri-la/Zhongdian, our object was to get as close to Tibet as we could without crossing the border and in doing so, we got closer to the sky. We embarked on yet another bus ride, this time along winding switchbacks up and up and over and beyond countless mountains. Mountains that at one turn were dry and arid with sparse scrubby brush -- the deserts of mountains -- and at the next were covered in dense pine forests, interspersed with bright flashes of wildflowers. A new scenic surprise awaited with every turn of the road (and sometimes the stomach). Nestled among the mountains, Tibetan villages, monasteries and stupas and the occasional green of pastures, fields and paddies.

For me, many of the places we've visited are marked less by sights we've seen than by people we've met. In Deqin, I will remember the girl at the hostel next to ours, from whom we sought advice time and time again. My favourite moment perhaps was after we called "Keith", an English-speaking local who had posted a flyer offering guide services and recommendations for local activities. He recommended we head over to see the "old city" but when we filled the girl in on our plan, she erupted in laughter. Shaking her head at us, "There's no old city here!" and turning to her friend in disbelief, "They're trying to go see the old city!" Turns out the "old city" was a misnomer for a street of old houses, but we enjoyed the wandering and ultimately found our way to more town dancing, children playing and the grannies and daddies taking care of them.

Deqin will also be remembered for the restaurant with the fastest service and best fried fish ever. Compared to relaxed Shangri-la where each dish and drink is made and brought to the table one at a time, our food at this restaurant in Deqin was on the table before we had barely finished ordering it in the kitchen. So quick, in fact, that we had no opportunity to change our minds and thus had to go back the next day to try everything we wanted (namely the fish). And believe me, it was well worth it -- even the curious stares of the chefs checking on our progress.

We also thought we had discovered an establishment where you can hang out without ordering, but no, while it may be Shangri-la county, it's not that magical of a place. Nevertheless, our teapot was kept ever filled while we sat and played cards and no one ever pressured or even asked to take our order for only a minimal fee. Who's complaining?

Snapshots of Things I Like

2006-06-18T21:52:00.000+08:00

The sight of steamers because they mean one of two things -- buns or dumplings -- and if I'm really lucky, both. Whatever you call these tiny packages of goodness -- dumplings, gyoza, momo, jiao zi, xiao long bao, perogies, gnocchi, ravioli, the list goes on... I love 'em. Thicker skins, thinner skins, fried, steamed, boiled, juicy, soupy, meat or veggie, I appreciate their differences. Pass me a plate of tasty ones and they're sure to bring a smile to my face. Mm...

Mountains. Snow-capped, craggy, tree-covered, bare. I'm pretty much certain to raise my head, spread my arms and drop my jaw in awe. Purty.

Cute dogs. Especially when they're found in unexpected places. At our hostel in Dali, we looked up onto the roof to find, not one, but two St. Bernards. And three German Shepherds. I guess they're not afraid of heights. The question is, do they always land on two feet?

Happy people dancing. On two recent occasions, we've stumbled across masses of people dancing outdoors. The first time, a group of elderly Naxi women in traditional dress, dancing to folk music. In time, in rhythm. Holding hands. Laughing, smiling but also watching intently to follow the steps. The second time, we were in Zhongdian, also known as Shangri-la. Wandering through the old city on our way back to our hostel, what should we find but the main square filled with the sound of music and seemingly everyone in town. Old ladies, young ladies, men and children danced together in festive and harmonious celebration. Those not dancing watched from the outskirts or from balconies and windows above. We smiled as a small boy before us crashed continually into his mother's bum, not yet quite in tune with when to go forward and when to go back, but oh, he thought it was funny.

The kindness of strangers.
"Have some plums," the landlady at our hostel in Lijiang said. "Do you like them? I'll get you some more tomorrow." Her cousin who took us to eat noodles and cancel my plane ticket, and her cousin's husband who drove us to the mountains, noting that horseback riding is "good fun for you young people." The man who directed us, unasked, to the public bus in Shangri-la while we were standing in front of a taxi stand. The Naxi mama who offered us a big smile and fresh mint tea. Jane, the chilled out, deep-voiced proprietor who stored our bags for free, gave us a map of the Gorge and refrained from laughing at our enormous meal after the trek. The fellow with the Commie cap who followed us around town in Dali until he was finally able to help us find a bus. The sweet girl in the Lijiang coffee shop, always with a smile on her face and coming back again and again to learn a new word or phrase in English. During our travels in Yunnan, we've encountered more kindness and warm hearted souls than we can count. To all of you, thank you.

Dong Bas and Leaping Tigers

2006-06-18T20:35:00.000+08:00

Within days of extending my travels, I've reaped the rewards in two distinctly unforgettable experiences -- meeting a Dong Ba and hiking Tiger Leaping Gorge.

Yunnan province is one of the most ethnically diverse areas in China. Among the many ethnic minority groups that call this area home are the Naxi. One of the rare traditionally matriarchal societies, the Naxi are also unique in having their own pictographic script that is still in use today. Passed down from generation to generation by grand masters known as Dong Bas, the script has survived centuries. In fact, when we visited the Dong Ba Research Institute in Lijiang, we were shown a text more than 400 years old kept by this particular Dong Ba's family. The secret to its preservation? Paper that's made with poison to protect it from the ravages of worms.

Sadly, though, there are only 20 Dong Bas remaining today, with slim hope of the complex script surviving many future generations. We did meet a lovely girl who showed us around the institute, however, and it was really heart-warming to see how earnest she was in sharing with us and helping to preserve this part of her culture. She also introduced us to the resident Dong Ba, who was a picture-perfect grand master if you could imagine one -- complete with a long grey beard, time-wizened face and immense hat adorned with colourful feathers. We learned about their creation story that involved 7 sisters and 9 brothers, and to decipher a few simple messages (e.g. "Happy Birthday"). Over the past week, we've also attended a Naxi orchestra concert, seen the stone and wood houses that miraculously withstood the major earthquake in the early 90s that leveled most other buildings, and enjoyed the kind hospitality of Naxi families while hiking the gorge.

And that brings me to... Tiger Leaping Gorge. We hiked up and up and up, with the jangle of horses behind us and the songs of their men entreating us to go for a horseback ride or give them our bags. "It's a lot farther you know... you'll be tired..." YuppieNomad set them straight with a few vehement "bu yao"s, though, and thereafter we continued our hike in relative peace, save for the chirping of birds and the sounds of cicadas. The scenery was breathtaking and we paused probably just as often to catch our breaths as to enjoy the views. Snowcapped mountains piled on top of each other; waterfalls, trees and rockscapes; wonderfully sweet-smelling berries; the lazy curves and rushing rapids of the Jingsha River; and oh, the defiant brightness of wildflowers. Ten and a half hours of hiking, a mild sunburn and farmer's tan on one arm, but it was all worth it.

One thing the Gorge probably could do without, though, is the advertising that persists even there. Somewhere along the line, some of the guesthouse owners decided to mark the route with yellow and red arrows for the ease of hikers. Good plan, definitely, and we were often reassured by the sight of an arrow when paths diverged. I begrudge them not the right to say "Naxi family guesthouse this way" or "Tina's 30 min" but some (namely Woody's) were just too much. Directional signs are one thing, effective graffiti is another.

Free as a bird

2006-06-13T19:43:00.000+08:00

Sometimes fortune smiles down on us and hey, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? My once two-week vacation has now suddenly been extended indefinitely... at least until such time as I feel like going home. And it's a glorious feeling. The plan was to visit jfisher and yuppienomad in Hanoi and then travel together around Yunnan province before I returned to a summer job in sweaty Hong Kong. Apparently, it wasn't meant to be and lucky for me, my travel companions have determined that my elementary Mandarin and I are yet still useful... we'll see what happens when we head to Laos.

But no, I'm feeling very lucky as we sit in Lijiang, a charming preserved town in southwestern China, complete with lanterns and streams lining the cobblestone streets, kind folks, and evenings with candle-lit paper flowers set floating gently down the streets by the myriad of Chinese tourists. It's kitschy, but well done, and I'm definitely charmed. A horseback ride up Jade Dragon Snow Mountain earlier today with stunning views, whistling and song-singing guides who notably walked up the mountain with us, and I've had one of the most pleasant days in recent memory.

Sleeping under the stars on a boat and kayaking amid mountains jutting out of Halong Bay probably comes a close second, though. Even the Vietnamese karaoke blasting over the water from the fishing village didn't faze me. I'm a romantic, after all.

Anyways, more thoughts and photos to come. A bientot!

Japan Photos

2006-05-21T18:39:00.000+08:00

The upside of Pat training in Japan is that I've had the chance to visit Tokyo twice in the past few months -- the first time in February for a weekend and the second for Easter break. Here are just a few photos:

I was lucky enough to catch the tail end of the cherry blossoms in April. Here, in Shinjuku Gyoen.

I know vending machinese in Japan are famous, but we were surprised to see this fortune vending machine at a shrine in Kamakura.

Aside from relaxing hot springs, Hakone offers a touristy but pleasant route of attractions that combines train, bus, tram, cable car and ferry travel. One stop is Owakudani -- 'hell valley', formed by a volcanic eruption centuries ago and complete with steam and sulfur smells.

My photos can't capture the elaborateness of the Toshogu Shrine in Nikko. Definitely worth a visit for the sheer contrast of the ornately sculpted buildings with the imposing but quiet natural beauty of the forest around.

If you're interested in more photos, go here.

Blast from the Past and other thoughts on the way to Tokyo

2006-05-21T08:55:00.000+08:00

Blast from the Past
I was browsing in an airport bookstore, waiting for my flight to Tokyo, when what did I see? Prominently displayed in the centre of a shelf just below eye level -- none other than Inside Chinese Business by Ming-Jer Chen. Apparently, it's still in print, he's still at Darden, and the book has made its way to paperback. Who ever would have thought? Standing on the shoulders of years of undergraduates... Cat -- will you guys invite him to your wedding? ;p

Hong Kong in the sunshine
I'm not usually one to wax poetic about the beauty of Hong Kong, but as I rode the bus from my home to the airport, the thought crossed my mind on more than one occasion. The view of buildings scraping the sky on the edge of a crowded harbour; the shipping containers, stacked and ready, coloured and uniform like a child's lego set; the giant crane-machines with their long legs and tiny suspended operators. Maybe it's the influence of my fourth graders, but I kept watching and waiting for the robotic giants to step up and march to battle against the backdrop of rolling hills. Ok... imagination still overactive.

Then, as we made our way across the bridge, I gazed out at beautiful views of Lantau Island -- at the seafoam green water, churning as boats sped past, and at the darker green shadows of clouds overhead flitting across. Water, beaches, and low green-covered mountains. Hong Kong in the sunshine, not so bad -- from the inside of an air-conditioned bus, anyways.

Airport daydreams
Does anyone else daydream in the airport as they walk to their boarding gate? When there are no more shops to browse and views become airplanes instead of restaurants? I know I do. I dream about stepping off the moving walkway early and making my way to a new, unexpected destination. I read the signs -- Hanoi, Vancouver, Kota Kinabalu, San Francisco -- and I feel a twinge of destination envy. I imagine stepping up to an alternate gate, handing over my ticket, and by some miraculous failure in airport security, being on my way to a new adventure. I get as far as imagining dropping in on friends or wandering unfamiliar streets before the voice of the walkway lady brings me back: "The walkway is ending. Please watch your step."

The Upside of Dictation

2006-05-20T17:52:00.000+08:00

Going to try and catch up on posts that I've put on hold from the last month... posts and pics from Japan trip to come.

First, though, I was walking on the street today and heard a little girl talking to her mom. I noticed she wasn't jabbering on and on in the way that kids usually do, but instead, was speaking in a kind of stilted, but very purposeful, slow manner. As I approached, I realized she was speaking in English. It explained the slow, stilted speech, but I was intrigued -- what was she talking about? She looked only about 7, so if my students are any indication, she wouldn't have enough vocab to be engaged in any lengthy conversation. I got closer and heard, "He sits under a tree and says, 'I think I will take a rest.' The turtle...." I heard no more, but as I'm sure you've all deduced, she was reciting the age-old story of the tortoise and the hare. Recited, I say, because I realized she was probably practicing for her English dictation -- a weekly English class test that involves reciting (and sometimes writing) word for word a passage from the unit's storybook. Any of you who have taken Chinese school will probably recall this torturous teaching method. It's a painful exercise, but I guess even if they can't hold a conversation, they can at least tell a story??

3 days, 2 nights

2006-04-06T23:11:00.000+08:00

Last week, I set off on a 3-day camp with my fourth graders. All 160 of them. Luckily, camping in Hong Kong is not typically in tents, sleeping bags and the like. Our site: Lady MacLehose Holiday Village in Sai Kung. Students stayed in "bungalows" equipped with hot showers, electric kettles, beds and linens, and campsite facilities range from tennis and squash courts to archery, rock climbing and karaoke.

While they got a chance to enjoy the facilites on the last day, our students spent most of their time engaged in team-building activities led by social workers from a local social service organization. It was an experience. While I had no official duties other than to serve as the school photographer, the days were tiring. For many of the students, it was the first time away from home ever and the combination of nerves and excitement resulted in a lot of tears, hyperactivity, and general madness.

As I watched a couple of the lead social workers (who were quite young) lose patience with our noisy students, I felt kind of sad. Sad because I could see the transformation in their tone and approach to the students. Sad because I could see how fast it happened. Sad because it reminded me of how I underwent the same transformation over the course of this past year. At the beginning, they (and I) spoke quietly. We appealed to reason -- 'If we aren't quiet, we won't be able to hear the instructions, so then we won't be able to play the game. Please be quiet. Are you ready yet? We're not quiet yet...' When they didn't listen, we tried again, slightly louder. When it still didn't work, we looked around helplessly, appealing to somebody, something to make them listen. Usually, it came in the form of a local teacher and this camp was no exception. The school teachers (myself included this time) stepped in to take the role of discipline enforcers. Essentially, we yelled, we threatened, we pulled students out. Following our examples then, it didn't take long before the social workers' calls echoed our sentiments. They yelled. They asked students to step out. They threatened by invoking us and our empty threats to send students home.

I don't blame them. I know what it's like to face these kids with no authority, no respect. And it's not all the kids. But when you've got 160 of them and you're trying to run a whole-group activity, it's not the majority of well-behaved ones that disrupt the game. I feel their pain and it's not that I could do any better. But it still makes me sad. Being fun and friendly and nice isn't enough to get respect from students.

So did the students enjoy themselves and learn stuff in the end? Yes, I think so. Were the social workers able to run the activities? Yes. Did the activities work? Sort of. They certainly worked better when the students were split into their small groups. Fostering team-building, mutual trust and cooperation is a heavy task, though, particularly when you expect it to happen overnight (or over two nights) but don't spend much effort on it the rest of the year. In a school culture where public humiliation is a common source of punishment and students thrive on telling on each other, where do we expect this trust to come from? I was amazed over the few days how many times students intentionally got each other into trouble when it wasn't necessary. Something as simple as finding someone's left-behind item and returning it to them had to be made into a big production of public shaming by handing it in to the discipline teacher. Why?? Why not cut the guy some slack and just give it back? I guess they haven't figured out they live in glass houses...

Taiko drums

2006-04-06T22:54:00.000+08:00

Last weekend, I got invited to an orchestra concert by the Hong Kong Philharmonic with a special program featuring Taiko drum master, Eitetsu Hayashi. SO COOL. As far as orchestra programs go, the whole thing was pretty light, starting off with Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade (think Arabian Nights/Aladdin). The second piece by a Japanese composer was kind of creepy/haunted-sounding, but the main attraction was well worth any reservations you might have had. It was simply amazing. Basically a concerto for taiko drums, I assure you no one was focused on the orchestra. The one-man show had all our attention and then some. I felt like I was back in fourth grade, but all I could think over and over was "So Cool." If any of you ever get a chance to see taiko drums, do it. The number and range of sounds that can come from just one drum, and the immense power of it all, is beyond words. I want to learn taiko drumming.

Separately, during intermission, my friend and I were amused to hear a woman complaining to her companion that she couldn't even hear the taiko drums. I hope they stuck around for the second half.

map

2006-03-26T11:44:00.000+08:00

Here's my version of the aforementioned map. The trail of comments/debate on the site about which countries got noted, ignored, swallowed, etc. is pretty amazing. His stance is that the borders of the mapmaking tool will be governed by UN recognition of nations.

In many ways, the idea of generating this kind of map feels more than a little imperialistic but I'm influenced by my recent read about colonial Hong Kong. Nevertheless, to ease my own conscience, I will note the superficial nature of this map of mine, reflecting neither length nor depth of experience in a given place (and often single city within a country). The more I write, the more absurd this seems but ah, everything's a journey.

There is no way really to transfer stories and memories layered upon each other into one single simple fixed three-colour two-dimensional political map, so let's treat this as a conversation-starter and not a badge... more like a favourite photo pinned to a cubicle wall than a display of stamps in a passport. My memories of travel are much more deeply imprinted on images of specific places and people, rather than the outlines of borders, but here goes nothing. For the record, if the map showed places I want to visit or live (and visit or live again), almost everything would be one colour.

Learning to read the radical way

2006-03-26T10:50:00.000+08:00

Following a link from YuppieNomad to a cool tool that helps you generate a map of the places you've visited in the world, I came across another interesting 'fun' project by this Dutch Google engineer. Among the many people who have wanted to learn Chinese, he believes the way to go is not to first learn to speak, but to read (and only read silently, for that matter, as he has no interest in pronunciation). I'd say that's a pretty big task given the 50,000 or so characters in Chinese, according to Wikipedia. His rationale is because it's just plain hard for speakers of 'completely different languages' to learn Chinese but you could also argue because of the many variations and vastly different dialects of spoken Chinese.

The method to his particular madness of learning to read Chinese is to first learn all the radicals as a way of trying to understand how words are constructed. To this end, he's made a program that teaches and tests you on the radicals and associated characters. Sounds like an interesting idea, though as one person comments, somewhat complicated by the fact that many Chinese words have completely different meanings when used in combination with other words. Thus, while the radical may give you clues to one meaning of the word, it may ignore the many other meanings the word (and its associated phrases) can have.

One other thing, he's counted 215 radicals used in simplified Chinese. Makes sense to use simplified, I suppose, given that written Chinese was 'simplified' to improve literacy (by reducing the number of brush strokes). As someone who started by learning traditional, though, I find the many more meanings attached to a word confusing and by 'simplifying' the words, sometimes the radical is changed or taken out all together. How much does it really help then to know the meanings of the radicals to begin with?

At any rate, it's food for thought, especially as I've been trying to practice speaking Cantonese and been thinking about trying to become literate beyond a kindergarten level. Besides, my years of Chinese school and tutoring in both Cantonese and Mandarin seem to have had minimal results. Who knows, maybe I should give it a whirl...

Proud moment

2006-03-24T20:17:00.000+08:00

My English team kids presented their Easter plays yesterday and I'd say they pulled it off pretty spectacularly. There were a few minor goofs here and there -- a briefly forgotten line, a character who almost didn't show up, a lion's head and bunny tails that kept falling off -- but the audiences paid attention, followed the stories, and laughed at the appropriate moments. Most of all, I think the kids in the plays had fun doing them and were proud to be performing for their classmates. Doing a play in a second language is no small feat, especially when you can count the number of rehearsals you've had on one hand. Even scarier is doing it in front of 400 of your friends, who may or may not understand what you're saying and are notorious for talking during speakers, shows, etc when convened in the assembly hall.

As great a job as the actors, singers, stage crew, and lighting crew did, however, my proudest moment yesterday was because of a student who wasn't even present at the performance. "Proudest" is not exactly the right word because I had no hand in it whatsoever, but I can think of no other word to describe the warm feeling and grin that spread over my face when the school reception desk handed me an envelope about an hour and a half before the show.

"To: Miss C
From: [Student] 6D"

I had entrusted each student with the safekeeping of his or her own props for the show with the repeated promise to bring them intact on the day. This student was a member of the 3-person sound/lighting crew and unbeknownst to me, the keeper of the CD and sound effect props. Of course, on the day of the show, he fell ill and stayed at home. Lucky for me, who didn't even check the attendance rosters to see if everyone was at school, he was responsible enough to send someone to drop off the stuff. Awww, so smart. So thoughtful. So responsible. (If you're not sure why this is amazing, you haven't spent enough time with kids.)

what the youth are on about in hk...

2006-03-19T22:16:00.000+08:00

Today, I went to the Hong Kong Independent Short Film and Video Awards at the Hong Kong Arts Centre to check out a screening of the finalists in the "Youth" category. I love work produced by youth and I was curious to see what would be on the agenda for youth in Hong Kong. Alas, most of the films were not subtitled as advertised (especially so for my non-Canto-speaking friends that I dragged along), but it was interesting nonetheless. A couple of the films were really artfully done and I was most taken with Chow King-sum's "Anyone here?" Tracing the day of an average disillusioned, disenfranchised teenager, we witness the Hong Kong that passes him by -- the early morning work of bakers and butchers, the mindless rush of suits and briefcases, the countless people going places and doing things, while he smokes a cigarette, invisible to their preoccupied eyes. I feel his aimless floating through the crowds, nowhere to go really but nowhere to stay. He smokes another cigarette. He buys an ice cream cone. Even playing video games loses its allure after a while. He sits on an isolated bench, downing a dinner of a beer and a bun under the gaze of a streetlamp. There he sits and thinks. Smokes another cigarette. Until it's time finally to go home again. Text at the end reveals that he's failing school but nobody notices. He tried hard to look for a job, but nobody would hire him. And now...

Do we wonder why he and so many others ask if anyone is here?

public/private space

2006-03-19T21:18:00.000+08:00

While I don't regularly think about the intricacies of public and private space, it's happened on more than one occasion in the past year. The first was at Live8 when a friend and I noted the complex social codes being silently written, revised and battled over as the 800,000 attendees negotiated for space in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Blankets were laid down, chairs were set up, and in some cases, caution tape was hung to signify to others that *this* piece of land was taken. Arguments arose as latercomers tried to squeeze in and through, balancing on tiptoe on the few unclaimed corners or passing over and around backpacks, coolers and small children. An unspoken nod to courtesy led most people to remove their shoes before walking on others' blankets but it was by no means universal and we wondered what governed these rules and made them acceptable to some, but not to others.

Recently, I thought about the battle for space yet again. One Sunday, my friend and I wanted to go to the library and needed to walk through one of the major city parks to get there. The area around the library is always busy on weekends, and this week especially so because the park was the site of the Hong Kong Flower Show. Who knew it'd be such a popular attraction but there were throngs of people everywhere and walking was less like walking and more like bumping through the crowd in the general direction you wanted to go. The going was further complicated, though, by the countless people camped out around the edge of the park. Hong Kong is home to hundreds of thousands of Filipino (and other Southeast Asian) maids and nannies, most of whom live in cramped, closet-like quarters in the homes of their employ. On the weekends, however, they typically enjoy at least one day off when they can flee their closets and gather in the city streets. In a city of almost 7 million people, though, public space is a relative term. These congregations of amahs are literally in the streets, in the parks and anywhere else a small space can be claimed for a few hours of music, conversation and picnicking. In my wanderings last week, I discovered that any available space can be up for claim -- a few steps of a staircase here, the corner of a landing there, a piece of an overhead walkway -- and claim is as simple as laying down a few sheets of newspaper and marking it as your own.

Not too far afield from the blanket-layers at the PMA, eh? What are the rules, unspoken or otherwise, that govern this territorial rite that we find repeated and respected in more than one corner of the world? And what happens when your piece of public space is infringed upon or at best suffocated by admission fee-paying-flower-show-goers? Who was first? Who comes first? Who decides who the public includes?

Interestingly, the Hong Kong government is keeping tabs on (or recognizing, depending on how you look at it) who the public users of their various parks are. According to local historian Jason Wordie, signs asking people to clean up their litter in parks differ depending on location. Some signs are in Chinese, English and Tagalog, for example, while others are in Chinese, English and Thai. I haven't noticed it yet personally, but I'll keep an eye out for it. Talk about targeting your audience...

The things we tell children...

2006-03-12T22:02:00.000+08:00

When I was young, my mom told me that if I swallowed my bubble gum, a bubble gum tree would grow out of the top of my head. Needless to say, I believed her.

Of course, that's why parents do it -- tell their kids crazy things, that is. It's like a game to see how far they can pull you into an imaginary world of their making. It's all fun and games, but man, sometimes that world is twisted.

Recent crazy thing told to a child #1
The vice principal at my school gleefully told us a story over lunch the other day:

"You know so-and-so kid?"

"The really clueless one?"

"Yeah, the kind of slow one."

"Yeah, I know who you mean. What about him?"

"The other day, I asked him if he knew who I was."

"Did he?"

"Yes, he said, 'Vice Principal'. So then I asked him what my last name was..."

"Uh oh. And he said 'Vice'?"

"Exactly. Haha. But then I went on and asked him why he never says hi to me in the mornings when he sees me at the gate. I told him that he should and asked him to remember to do it every day. Of course, he nodded his head and said yes, but then I asked him to pinky swear on it. I told him that he'd better remember because he pinky swore on it and if he forgot, then his pinky finger would get smaller and smaller."

"Did he believe you??"

"Of course! SO much fun!"

Recent crazy thing told to a child #2
As I was waiting to cross the street, I overheard a grandmother talking to a young boy:

"Look over there! Police men! You'd better be good or they'll take out their guns and shoot you."

"What if they miss?"

"Then they'll shoot again."

"What if I run away?"

"Then they'll chase you and shoot you."

"What if I get back home?"

[The light changed at that moment but I suspect you can guess the response...]

Not until I become a lady of leisure...

2006-03-07T16:29:00.000+08:00

On my flight home from Tokyo a couple weekends ago, I picked up the South China Morning Post to discover an insert on The Man Hong Kong International Literary Festival 2006. "Excellent!" I thought to myself. "What a wonderful opportunity to go to some interesting events or readings." Upon looking more closely at the program calendar, however, I realized that the festival isn't really for us people who work. With a lot of their events at 12:30pm, 3pm, or 4:30pm on weekday afternoons, the organizers were making a loud and clear point. Literature is for people of leisure -- only. I guess that explains their series of "Literary Lunches" too.

Miniature world

2006-02-20T11:42:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, a couple friends and I went up to Shenzhen for a day of shopping, haggling, eating and a miniature around-the-world trip. Aside from bootlegged DVDs, knock-off designer bags and "copy watches," Shenzhen is home to "Window of the World," a Disneyland-esque park filled with many of the world's most famous sights -- in miniature. Believe it or not, I have actually been there twice before when I was younger. Needless to say, I didn't have high hopes for a wow factor on the third time around, but my friends were intrigued so I was happy to go along. I must say, though, that I quite enjoyed myself.

The first time I went there, the novelty of it all was overwhelming. We took far too many pictures. There were just so many cool-looking things from places that I had only heard of or read about in books. The second time around, I barely remember the visit. This time, though, seemed different. In the past ten to fifteen years since my first intro to miniature world, I've learned more about places and sights and even had a chance to travel to some of them. Seeing the miniatures seemed to take on more meaning and really, the detail on the replicas is impressive. Sure, it's not as amazing as the real thing, but it's a pleasant couple hours' activity and hey, if there's any place that has expertise in "copy _____s," China's it.

Today, I encountered my first...

2006-02-19T21:47:00.000+08:00

...Hong Kong subway-riding conspiracy theory expounder. I had started to miss the random regulars of the New York subway -- particularly the "entertainer" on the 1/9 with the Michael Jackson jokes and "Hot in Here" singalong. Anyways, back to this guy... although he was expounding in Cantonese, I understood a few key words: "Bush," "White House" and "TVB" (a Hong Kong TV network). The details of his theory were more than a bit fuzzy to me, but what was more interesting than watching/listening to him was watching the reactions of the other subway riders. One young man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend and turned them both away from the man, pretending to stare out the window. Most others opted for the "look down and avert gaze" technique -- common in New York also, but New York isn't a land of starers like Hong Kong is (ask anyone, particularly women and non-Chinese folks who've lived here). The thing that really surprised me though was that the minute the man stepped off the train, a man struck up conversation about him with the stranger sitting opposite. And, they chatted for a good few minutes until one of the two got off. I really think it's the first time I've ever seen strangers on the subway converse here. People just don't do it. So, as much as they might have been saying the man was crazy, they were also acknowledging that he's clearly a thinker and partially right. What's more, they were thinking and talking about his points -- even if only for a few minutes -- and to a complete stranger. If the man only knew, I'd say he'd be proud of himself.

Shutting down inquiring minds

2006-02-17T21:04:00.000+08:00

You know how people joke about growing up only to become your parents and the crisis that occurs when you hear yourself echo the words you swore you'd never say to your own child? Ok, well the same thing happens with teachers.

Last year, in my copious amounts of reading (oh, the good ol' days...), I came across the term "apprenticeship of observation" (Lortie, 1975). The idea is simple -- some things you are taught explicitly, other things you learn through observation. For most people, parenting is one of those things that you learn primarily by observing. And who are your most significant models? Your own parents. Thus, it's hardly surprising that when push comes to shove, the behaviour you fall back upon and the reaction you instinctively come to in a stressful situation is that which is most familiar to you, that which you've observed time and time again for all of your life -- whether you agree with it in principle or not. Of course, this is not to say that people don't change their behaviour based on their own experiences -- they do. Across generations, in fact, corrections are common and can be severe. What I'm talking about are those moments -- those moments of crisis -- when you recognize your actions and where they are coming from, but perhaps don't want to claim them as your own.

Over the past few months, I've been thinking about this a lot. I'm not a formally trained teacher and I don't claim to be. I can say, however, that I have spent a lot of my time in the past few years thinking about education and learning. I have some core beliefs about teaching and learning, and this year has been about seeing how the theory plays out in practise. In job applications/interviews, you're frequently asked, "What is your teaching philosophy?" It's part of the game of interviewing, yes, and to a certain degree, it's bound to include your top hits of the latest educational jargon, but I also think it's an important thing to reflect on. Sometimes, though, as I'm teaching, there are key moments when I experience a huge disconnect between the teacher I want to be and the teacher I'm being. The reasons and circumstances are too complex to go into right now, but I can certainly say that I'll come out of this year having learned about both the possibilities and the limits.

As for shutting down inquiring minds, I now understand first-hand how it happens. Maybe I learned it through observation during my apprenticeship of many years of schooling, but as I was tutoring a student the other day, all I could think was that I wanted him to shut up and stop asking questions so we could get through the material. My verbal response was a slightly milder version, but I'm certain my tone was harsher than would be desired. I came out and immediately texted my friend: "I've become one of those teachers." I care about my students, I do. Just like the other teachers I know here care about their students. Yet, there's still that model, that learned behaviour in the back of our minds that comes to the surface in moments of stress that results in students reciting verb conjugations, writing lines and copying worksheets. I've managed to avoid those types of tactics so far, but the most frightening part is not the tactics we might employ; it's the attitudes that endorse them.

I've mentioned a couple times now that I've noticed these types of behaviours come out most often in times of stress. My job, as it currently stands, is honestly not that stressful, but even I feel it getting to me sometimes. What does this mean then for the local teachers here who are under such intense pressure? Education reform and the pressure on teachers have been hot topics in the news here after two teachers committed suicide in January, and the education bureau's inappropriate response only fueled controversy. Given the climate in our schools though, I've got to ask whether certain methods of instruction and/or classroom management/discipline are what I should be really worried about or whether I should turn my attention to the environment and system that fosters them...

A mini-visit to Seoul

2006-02-15T23:13:00.000+08:00

On my way to Vancouver a few weeks ago, I had a 13-hour layover in the Seoul-Incheon Airport. Far be it for me to sit in any airport that long by choice, so I ventured out into the city of Seoul for a little bit o' wandering... While much more was recommended to me by the friendly folks at the airport, my need for some sleep, the cold weather and pending flight left time for only 2 major stops: Gyeongbokgung Palace, the oldest of the Joseon Dynasty palaces, and Insa-dong, a touristy shopping/arts/restaurants area where I enjoyed a good meal and aimless wandering. Some pics below, but one of my favourite finds was a building in Insa-dong which seemed to double as retail shops and a public art space. I was first drawn in by the Christmas trees decorated with woolen pompoms, but found much more...

And lmv, this one's for you. This is my all-time fave:

My first children's play...

2006-02-15T16:48:00.000+08:00

I've written my first children's play. Granted, I borrowed the idea for the story from a summary of a children's book that I haven't read (when I re-find it online, I'll credit the author, of course). But yes, it's done and yesterday began the first day of rehearsal. Our school has deemed Easter yet another "Western" holiday worthy of celebration in English and we are putting on not one, but two Easter plays, performed by the English team students and directed by yours truly. Wish us luck! We'll need it -- we only have 4-6 rehearsals before showtime...

Treasures...

2006-02-09T22:09:00.000+08:00

I found an old notebook with a couple really good quotes. I'm posting them half as a reminder to myself and half to share.

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." -- Joseph Chilton Pearce

"The quality of life is in proportion, always, to the capacity for delight. The capacity for delight is the gift of paying attention." -- Julia Cameron

I'm going to start paying attention again.

Sleep Monster

2006-02-09T07:52:00.000+08:00

As I was flying back here, I realized that I've only lived by myself twice in my life -- once, the summer right after we graduated from college, and now. It's only been a few days, but I'm discovering something -- people apparently keep me awake. Without them, the sleep monster overcomes all. Muahahaha.

Happy New Year

2006-01-30T14:53:00.000+08:00

Ok, so I lied. I did absolutely no updating over the Christmas holidays, but here I am now. I usually opt not to use this as an alternative to a mass email, but seeing as I've been horrible at keeping in touch with anybody lately, I figured it might be due (and forgivable).

Currently on holiday again for Chinese New Year (I know I'm rubbing it in) but this time, I'm back in rainy Vancouver visiting the fam and some friends. It's been six months since I moved to Hong Kong and I feel like much has happened in the lives of those around me. I've had three friends get engaged over the past couple of months, one each from high school, college and grad school -- congrats, congrats! Friends have been moving cross-country and around the world, starting new jobs and careers. And, my nephew is now eating food other than milk and making a variety of baby noises, though none of which are "Mama" or "Baba", much to the great disappointment of his doting parents. Maybe it doesn't sound like a lot, but it's a reminder of the things you miss when you're living far away -- the life-changing ones, as well as the little ones.

Nevertheless, I've pretty much decided that I'm going to be in Hong Kong next year as well. My current contract comes up in May so it's time to think again about what to do with myself. I feel like I've finally started to settle in to Hong Kong since Christmas but there's yet much exploring and wandering to do.

Some signs I'm becoming acculturated to Hong Kong:
1) I have a character dangly thing hanging from my cell phone. As much as I've tried to resist the fanaticism over cutesy animated characters, I have to admit, I've given in. I think being a teacher has definitely contributed though -- the kids are a perfectly good excuse to buy cute stationary and accessories. It's for them, really.
2) I wear a down jacket and complain about the weather when it's 11 degrees Celsius out. I also sleep in my sweats with two duvet blankets. I swear, it's freezing.
3) I consider walking around a mall an acceptable weekend activity. There's very little I can say in my defense here except that Hong Kong has a lot of malls.
4) I'm trying to cut down from working six days a week.
5) I drink warm water. I can't remember which of my friends predicted this, but it's true.
6) The idea of waiting more than 4 minutes for a subway is appalling. My idea of timeliness and "cutting it close" has been taken to a new level.
7) I'm starting to enjoy dice games. In fact, sometimes I prefer going to one of the dice game bars rather than a club.

On a last note, reunion with the girls in 3 days! Yay for the Pacific Northwest (rainy as it may be)! Hope all is well with everyone. Miss you!

In Hong Kong...

2005-12-22T11:45:00.000+08:00

Lots more updates to come now that I'm on Christmas holidays (yay!) but first, a random note:

You know how in North America when you get your hair cut (this mostly applies to ladies unless some of you guys have ever had super long hair), they use those clips to hold up part of your hair while they cut other parts? Well... in Hong Kong, they use people. That's right. Last week, I finally drew up the courage to go for my long overdue haircut and was most shocked to find my stylist had an assistant for the express purpose of holding my hair up. As you can imagine, it's rather awkward. And well, if labour here has become cheaper than plastic clips...

A night at the races

2005-11-25T21:47:00.000+08:00

Last week, in a pleasant crossing of former and current New Yorker paths, we decided to check out the races. Here are some pics...

Who are the bad guys?

2005-11-24T23:12:00.000+08:00

Last week, a TV station crew came to our school to tape a presentation to our upper primary kids. My teacher in charge suggested I check it out, so I tried to sneak in without too much notice and sit in the back. I got a few looks from the sixth graders since the show was in Chinese, but I really didn't have too much difficulty keeping a confused look on my face. [Why are dramas/skits geared to children always so weird?]

It turns out the "show" was part of a media education/media literacy effort by the children's channel of Asia TV, involving a number of skits and a post-presentation survey. In a way, it was good to see the effort being made, and yet I wondered throughout the program how effective it was. Is exaggeratedly re-creating a TV ad where a fat girl becomes thin and then asking students whether the girl is right to believe the ad particularly useful? Should we be surprised when students are able to give us the answer we want to hear?

We talked a lot about it in a class I took last year, but I still puzzle over what it means to "teach" media literacy to students. Students are usually more "aware" and "critical" of specific media than we give them credit; yet, I can't say I don't understand why people are concerned about the influence of the media.

I think about the media quite a lot here, actually. I've noticed that there are quite a number of public interest ads on the MTR and on TV, but there are just as many ads that I find troubling. The number of ads for face whitening creams/lotions/masks and slimming spas/machines/pills/creams, for example, is incredible. The latest TV ad that I mentally boo is one that encourages people not to wait to fulfill their "dreams" of losing weight (via going to a slimming center) or enjoying spa treatments just because they don't have money. Their simple solution is to borrow some... Why don't we just say, "Hello, let's promote a culture of instant gratification"?

School excursions

2005-11-10T23:37:00.000+08:00

Today, 1700 students, staff and parents trekked off to Tuen Mun Park for the school picnic. I somehow imagined a national park-type place up on a mountain, or at the very least, somewhat away from the city. Foolish me. Nevertheless, it was quite pleasant. Also, as I invited Christen to join us on this school excursion, I was relieved from any teacherly duties -- ie. rather than sitting at our assigned spot to chat with students, we were free to roam the park and choose our sitting spot. I must say, I do enjoy the fact that students here commonly share their snacks and food with their teachers, as well as their friends. Aside from the fact that I get free snacks, it's just nice. At school even, I periodically have students come up and offer me candies or treats. Yay, sharing is caring.

Of the two school excursions I've been on (the other being sports day), the picnic was definitely the winner. It was hot out, but it was good to see the children actually running around. For once, there were no teachers yelling at them over loudspeakers and some even joined in the games. Lots of parents showed up as well, which was refreshing. I'm not particularly surprised given the amount of attention parents pay to their kids' schooling here, but still... One thing that I hate seeing though is kids letting their parents carry all their crap. When they're young -- grade 1 or 2 -- ok, maybe. You can argue that their bags are too heavy for them, they're too tired/weak, etc. But when they're older, and especially by the time they're in grade 6, I'm positive they can carry their own stuff. I was appalled to see a couple of grade 6 boys with their little old grandma, letting her hold the umbrella over their heads and carry one of their bags. And, mind you, this grandma was of the short, frail variety and the boys were of the big, strapping variety. Now, really...

Another point for the school picnic excursion was the fact that we travelled on regular buses. Going to Sports Day, I felt like I was in a crazy storybook a la Harry Potter or the Magic School Bus -- only this school bus didn't have magic properties exactly, just the look of one that should. Hanging all throughout the bus were dangly Hello Kitty characters and little plastic jewels. At every slight turn of the bus, the Hello Kittys would swing vigorously from side to side. While you might think this would have a soothing, somewhat hypnotic quality, the effect is more nauseating than anything. How many people ever for colourful Kittys swinging to and fro to the sounds of shouting children....

And one final thing -- despite my own fairly positive memories of fun Sports Days doing 3-legged and potato sack races, running with an egg on a spoon or crawling under nets during the obstacle course, Sports Days in Hong Kong are nothing of the sort. Rather, the school's top athletes take part in a track meet against other schools and some of the other less athletic students are taken along to sit in the stands and cheer on their classmates. For added effect, the teachers pass out pom poms and multi-coloured clown wigs as props for the cheerleaders. How clowns are associated with cheering, I'm not really sure, but if nothing else, it makes for a colourful crowd.

Teaching multiculturalism in Hong Kong

2005-11-05T01:03:00.000+08:00

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

2005-11-02T23:16:00.000+08:00

My boyfriend's hit the big time

2005-10-31T22:34:00.000+08:00

Ladies (and gents if you're interested), check out the December issue of Marie Claire. You'll never guess who's in it. If you know him at all, you won't be surprised by his quote.

Latest mini-addiction

2005-10-30T17:05:00.000+08:00

Towards the end of last year, I rediscovered the crossword puzzle as an accessible, entertaining and mildly addictive form of procrastination. On my way to school, I'd often pick up one of the free papers for the express purpose of getting the crossword. {The crosswords in these papers are notably easier than the Times crossword and better for my ego/amusement. After all, if I'm letting myself play a bit before I work, I don't want to have to think TOO hard. Also, the best kinds of procrastination are those that make you feel like you've accomplished something and are being semi-productive -- in this respect, both crossword puzzles and making to-do lists fall in this category.)

Anyways, here in Hong Kong, the free papers do not have English crossword puzzles -- surprise, surprise. I have, however, found a fabulous substitute: Sudoku puzzles.

I first encountered one of these math puzzles in The Globe and Mail, a Canadian paper and was so excited to find them in a fair number of the papers and magazines here (Chinese and English). The concept is simple, but some of the puzzles are challenging enough to keep me occupied for a fair bit of time. The idea is that in every 3x3 grid, horizontal line and vertical line, you have to use each number from 1-9 only once.

If you're looking for some procrastination fun, other than Minesweeper or Solitaire, check it out sometime and keep an eye out for it in your local paper!

For your amusement

2005-10-17T22:40:00.000+08:00

I just remembered I hadn't yet posted about this, though I discovered it about a month ago. Our school and the 10 or 12 other schools that are affiliated with it have a Sing Aloud, Read Aloud book of English songs and rhymes for the lower primary and upper primary students. The idea is that each week, the students learn a new English song or rhyme and practice it at various times in class, on the playground, etc.

Most of the songs for the lower primary kids are typical children's songs like Old MacDonald, Are You Sleeping (aka Frere Jacques), etc. as well as a number that I've never heard before but am finding are amazingly catchy. For the upper primary kids, the selection so far seems to have focused a LOT on Peter, Paul and Mary songs, although today we had the pleasure of singing Westlife's Seasons in the Sun. Anyways, the point of this post is that soon after I received my personal copies of the Sing Aloud, Read Aloud books, I was flipping through the lower primary one and found the Farmer in the Dwell. Ohh yeah. Thousands of kids all over Hong Kong are going to be singing about the Farmer in the Dwell. Heeheehee. Tell me that doesn't make you chuckle.

Book your tickets

2005-10-15T18:55:00.000+08:00

I have recently learned that I can expect my very first visitor in Hong Kong in less than 2 weeks!! Who's excited?? Me!!! Our one and only Yuppie Nomad is going to grace this city with her presence for a whole week -- yay! :)

But don't be dismayed, just because you can't be the first visitor is no reason not to come this way. A few other people have already said they might pay me a visit in the next year -- I can't wait!

Here's the tentative schedule so far:
Oct -- Yuppie nomad
Nov -- Mr. Jeffrey? Are you still coming this way?
Dec/Jan -- ex-roomie from SF; J.Fisher
Spring -- friend from the NY internship days
Sometime next year -- the newlyweds

Who else? Who else?

[In case you hadn't guessed, I miss you all!]

Entering the digital age...

2005-10-13T22:34:00.000+08:00

That's right, friends. I have finally bought a digital camera -- an Asian model of the Canon PowerShot SD450. Yay! Pictures to come soon...

Tales from the Discipline Officer, Issue 2

2005-10-06T21:13:00.000+08:00

Today, as I stood sweating on the playground (when does it get cooler in this godforsaken place?), I once again failed to control my facial expressions in front of the children as the discipline officer came over the PA system to announce a terrible thing: a child had put money into the vending machine to buy a lemon tea (so HK)... only to have another child jump ahead of them and grab it from the machine!! Petty crimes at such a young age...

The announcement at the end of the day was even better though. Apparently, during the lunch recess, the discipline officer had two grade 1 students come up and inform him that older students had thrown a basketball at their heads! The horror, right? But alas, upon further investigation, the discipline officer realized that the older students were not intentionally throwing basketballs at the little ones' heads. Rather, they were rightfully (and in an orderly fashion) lining up to shoot hoops and had simply missed, only to have the basketballs bounce off the rim/backboard and again off the ground but still hitting the unaware first graders. The rest of the announcement involved sensitive warnings to the young ones to not stand under the basket or near the basketball courts during lunch recess since basketball is a designated activity. How this man makes announcements and gives out punishments without ever cracking up is beyond me.

Is it the season or my neighborhood?

2005-09-29T20:43:00.000+08:00

I am starting to feel like I'm in one of those nightmares or bad ads, though I'm not sure exactly what the product would be in this case. But anyways, the point is that there are pregnant women everywhere. Seriously. Maybe it's the fact that I live and work in the equivalent of Hong Kong suburbia, but everywhere I go, there are pregnant women. In the 15 minutes that it takes me to walk to the subway, take the subway, and then walk to my school everyday, I see countless pregnant ladies -- not to mention the two pregnant teachers at my school. It's kinda creepy, actually.

And whatever you say about the beauty of the miracle of life, blah, blah -- there's a lot they don't tell you about motherhood. [Cat, I still owe you that list...]

Escalator safety is simple

2005-09-27T23:30:00.000+08:00

In the MTR (subway) stations here, they have a series of announcements about escalator safety. All begin with "Escalator safety is simple...." and there's something about the words and the tone of voice that when I hear them, I automatically mentally respond, "Is it now? Why, thank you."

Anyways, most of the safety tips involve holding the hand rail and using the elevator instead of the escalator if you have luggage. Recently, however, I've heard a new one that really makes me wonder what happened to prompt the addition:

"Escalator safety is simple. When wearing sandals, keep your toes away from the edge."

Tales from the Discipline Officer

2005-09-27T22:49:00.000+08:00

At my school, all of the local teachers are perpetually busy. I am continually amazed by the number and range of duties each person has, ranging from leading extra-curricular activities to performing various administrative functions. The teacher who sits in the cubicle next to mine in the staff room, for example, not only teaches Chinese, but also accompanies various singing groups on the guitar, leads sports teams/morning exercise drills, handles all things related to the fast food/catering company that students order lunch from if they don't bring their own, and arranges substitutes when teachers are absent/on leave. With his many responsibilities, he can frequently be heard over the PA system making announcements about this, that and the other. The tinkle of the song that signifies an announcement, however, does not usually sound for him.

The most frequently heard voice over the PA system does not belong to the principal, but rather to the school discipline officer. Although a P.E. and math teacher in the classroom, this man is most frequently seen roaming the halls and the playground chastising students or at the least, keeping a sharp lookout for offenders. My interactions with him have been minimal and he has been cordial enough, but I fear the day when he catches me accidentally walking up the down staircase or allowing students to run on the playground (yes, they are forbidden to run on the playground -- except during P.E. class).

The school takes discipline very seriously. [In fact, my grade 1 co-teacher has indicated that while my teaching activities are fine, I need to work on classroom discipline, but more on that another time...] Every day, after lessons are over and students have returned to their home rooms, the song tinkles and the discipline officer comes on the air. This is his designated time to address the students, typically with a discipline-related story. While this is all very serious and I must adopt a stern face and make sure students are listening attentively, I can't help but chuckle inwardly sometimes as I listen. My favorite discipline announcement was made perhaps two weeks into school and went something like this...

"Good afternoon, boys and girls. Good afternoon teachers. This is Mr. K. Today, I would like to talk about something that has come to my attention. In the bathrooms, there are paper towels to dry your hands after you have finished washing them. As I was walking by the bathrooms today, I couldn't help but notice that some students are not being very careful as they're taking the paper towels and are pulling out more than one. Now maybe the first graders do not know, so older students, you should teach them. If you see a first grader who is pulling out more than one towel, you should teach them not to do that. It is up to you to help the younger ones learn. And first graders, remember, use only one towel at a time. Use both hands to pull the towel. Don't use one hand; use both hands. Both hands together, you can make sure you pull out one towel...." etc, etc, etc. This continued for some time, but you get the idea.

Oddly enough, I had a flashback to emails at the office about the disgraceful state of the ladies' room and the importance of cleaning up after ourselves. At what point in our lives do we stop needing discipline officers chasing after us?

Kids being kids

2005-09-17T17:24:00.000+08:00

On Thursday, I had a long day at work. It was hot out and I was tired and all I really wanted to do was go home and sleep. When I walked out the school gates, though, I enountered a scene that made all my worries go away. All I could do then was smile, nod my head and think, "Yeah. It's all right."

The scene? Half a dozen middle school/junior high kids cruising down the path with a boombox blaring from the basket of one of their bikes -- silent as they rode, heading who knows where, resolute yet carefree, minding nobody but themselves.

Not even eavesdropping

2005-09-10T11:25:00.000+08:00

Come on, you've all done it: sitting in a restaurant/cafe/office, etc, you start to find the conversation at the next table/cubicle grossly intriguing and before you know it, all your attention is focused on them and you might even have begun to stare. One of the parties involved suddenly notices, however, and glances in your direction. You struggle to look nonchalant and as if you're completely fascinated by your own book/menu/silverware, etc but really, it's a hard act to pull off.

Ok, now try pretending you're not listening/don't understand when someone is talking to you directly and making eye contact. Everyday at school, I have to put on this charade and I honestly think it's a matter of time before they find me out. I've been told that it's really important for me to not let the students know that I understand even the tiniest bit of Cantonese. I was originally told the same for others at the school, including staff, to encourage people to practice their English with me. It is SO difficult. With the other teachers, I've given up because when someone is telling jokes or making snarky comments in the staff room, it's hard not to crack a smile and I think it's ultimately better in terms of developing friendships with people. With the students, I understand how it'll undermine my own objectives in the classroom, but I'm struggling.

Example from two days ago during choral speaking activity period (more on this choral speaking business later): A grade 1 student is staring up at me, talking animatedly. Instead of engaging her in conversation, I don a confused look and pretend that I don't understand. I tell her in English that I'm the English teacher and I don't know Cantonese. Could she please say it again in English? Her eyes get really big and she turns immediately to her friend asking what I'm saying. I make exaggerated "I don't understand" shrugs. In the end, she turns completely around, they giggle, and proceed to discuss how they have no clue what I'm doing.

Aiy. My bit parts in school plays have not prepared me for this.

Doctors across borders

2005-09-08T18:58:00.000+08:00

A couple weeks after I got here, I developed a mild flu -- nothing serious, but I did have a persistent cough. Besides the fact that coughs are physically annoying, the major problem I have with them is that they're impossible to hide. If it were simply a sore throat or a headache, at least it'd just be my own internal suffering and I could pretend that all was well if I wanted to. Not so with a cough. My inability to control my coughing fits resulted in Pat's family ganging up on me and insisting that I visit a doctor. I don't like going to see the doctor in general, so I was not particularly keen on trying it out in Hong Kong (AND paying money for it). Nevertheless, I folded under the pressure. Having your own family tell you you're being stupid is bad enough; when it's not even yours, there's only a limited number of snarky remarks you can make.

Anyways, I survived. It was not unduly painful either, but I must say, I'm glad my regular doctor at home doesn't wear a face mask while talking to me. I understand, of course, but I don't know. I don't like it. Plus, it heightens my awareness of the potentially horribly contagious people who have sat in that chair before me. Visiting the doctor did reinforce my belief, however, that doing so is completely useless. He told me I have a mild flu and then told me to go outside and wait for the receptionist to give me my medication. In my mind, the remedy for the flu is getting lots of rest and drinking lots of water and juice. When I went up to the counter however, I was most surprised to see the nurse hand over 4, yes 4, different packages of medicine. Granted, one package was just vitamin C, but still. I was instructed to take vitamin C, anti-histamines, cough pills and cough syrup every four hours. Kill me. I hate taking medicine.

Another thing that sucks about having a cough in Hong Kong: people around you stare, inch away and give you dirty looks -- particularly on the MTR/subway. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm covering my mouth. Besides, I've had this particular cough so long, I'm pretty sure I haven't been contagious for a long time. What do you want me to do? There are so many people in this city, germs are everywhere. Deal.

Update

2005-08-31T16:45:00.000+08:00

Training is now officially over and all of us teachers have scattered across Hong Kong to our respective homes... because school starts tomorrow! It's nerve-wracking and yet exciting at the same time. I met a couple of the teachers at my school earlier this week and they seem pretty nice. The work ethic here is seriously hard core though -- I need to clock in and clock out on the computer system so they can check whether I'm punctual and if I'm putting in enough hours. Intense!

The good news is that the search is over and I have found a home, woohoo! Alas, I can't move in for a few weeks but when I finally do, I'll be very close to work AND Cat will be most excited by this detail: the apartment has an in-unit washing machine! The day has finally come. I will be hauling my ass and Ikea bag full of laundry to the laundromat no more. La!

Ok, more tales to come. In the meantime, the answer to the previous post is that a shroff is like a cashier. And aubergine is eggplant. I learned a new British term today for zucchini but I've already gone and forgotten it. Go figure.

Shroffs, flats and lifts

2005-08-23T19:33:00.000+08:00

"As;lkj werpo iuxz awer lkj adsf;alkdfj..."

I puzzle over it for a minute and then give in and just deliver one of my raised eyebrow looks. [Picture the one most commonly seen after a pop culture question/reference.]

"Ah, there you go again. When you don't know what I'm saying, you just fall silent, don't you?"

I have to admit, it's true. My questioner is one among many in our program that are from the UK, but the single person I find the most difficult to understand. Perhaps it's because he speaks rather quickly (I know, who am I to complain...) but I think namely because he uses many phrases/terms that are completely unfamiliar to me. Talking to him and the others is good practice though, I suppose. The North Americans in our group consider daily whether we want to wage the cookie-biscuit debate or whether we should throw our rubbish in the bin or our trash in the garbage can. It took me years before I finally converted from pop to soda but if you asked me what I did last weekend, I would tell you I went flat hunting. Flats, lifts, biscuits, lorries, having the Queen on the money... I've been able to take the leftover British-isms here in stride for the most part. But seriously now, how many people know what a shroff is??

(And no -- no luck securing a flat as yet. The search continues...)

Like Costco, but not

2005-08-16T10:16:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, we went to the Hong Kong Convention Center to check out the Hong Kong Food Expo. I wasn't really sure what to expect... maybe, hopefully, Hong Kong's answer to Taste of Chicago? Not exactly. Think about the type of sampling at Costco laid over a job fair, but with maybe the number of people at Taste of Chicago.

Nevertheless, it was fairly entertaining. There was an "Alcoholic Beverage Tasting Center," and one of the more bizarre types of packaging I've seen for a drink: "Go Wodka." My friend took a picture, but here's one that I found online. In real life, it looks even more like a toothpaste tube. I also tried Yakult for the first time, of which our friends bought tons and tons to get a cute key chain. Maybe it's something you have to grow up drinking... I suppose it tastes ok, but I'm weirded out that it's called "Live Lactobacillus casei Shirota drink." Also, somewhat bizarre was a stand where they were selling an advanced slow cooker that can steam chicken, make rice AND cake. Their promotional offer though was the most random -- a free pair of sneakers and a piece of luggage with your purchase.

Airport food

2005-08-14T10:04:00.000+08:00

My friend was telling me the other day about how her brother refuses to go to the airport -- picking up people included -- unless someone promises to buy him a hotdog. (I can't remember the exact type of hotdog but her boyfriend was notably also very familiar with said special airport hotdog). A bit odd, but ok. Then as I was walking through the Vancouver airport, I couldn't help but notice the posters along the walkways that said, "You won't believe what I ate at the airport..." Certainly, the Vancouver airport has gone through a number of upgrades, etc, now offering a wide range of brand name restaurants and fast food places at exorbitant prices to cater to the hungry traveler. It's nice yes, but I never really thought much about it... until I found myself wandering around the international terminal at LAX looking for anything remotely appetizing to eat. Nothing. In the end, I gave in because I was starving, but who knew that airport food really did add that much to the quality of my flying experience. So those airport retail consultants DO do something...

Pop goes the bubble

2005-08-12T14:34:00.000+08:00

I'm not even close to being a minimalist. I have attachment to many worldly things. Alas, a fair number of them do not fit in my bags.

Nevertheless, I'm finally packed. After a whirlwind visit, I said goodbye this evening to my sister, brother-in-law and little nephew and it finally hit me. I'm going far, far away. While I've still been in the same country code, it hasn't seemed all that different from my regular visits here -- just a few weeks before going back to school or work. Now I've started to realize that yes, I'm really doing this. Deep breath. Here we go, here we go, here we go again...

...then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage

2005-07-30T01:30:00.000+08:00

Last weekend, I attended my first wedding of friends/cousins around my age. The past few days, I've been playing with and tending to my 5-week old nephew. People keep asking me if these experiences make me want my own and/or when to expect them. I'm terribly sorry to disappoint, but the answers are no and not anytime soon. Now, don't get me wrong. My nephew is the most adorable thing ever -- particularly when he's calm -- but my own? Not for a long time. I'm perfectly content playing the auntie role, helping to cater to his every whim while I stay here for two and a half weeks, but am I mentally and emotionally prepared to be a parent? No way. Further, I tend to sleep deeply. When I'm on baby duty, I wake up perpetually wondering if he's actually been sleeping or if I've just been dead to the world. Just ask Cat -- it's been known for noisy activity to occur while I'm sleeping without my knowing. And as for the wedding, yes, it was beautiful. Yes, at moments, I found myself a bit teary-eyed. But again, the instinctive reaction to duck or hide when people ask "Who's next?" is probably a pretty good indicator that I am far from ready. So, when people ask "Who's next?" I will continue to quickly turn my head and direct attention to the nearest, and most plausible, candidate. Please let me know if anyone wants to take this one for the team.

Hello, hello... I don't know why you say...

2005-07-26T13:44:00.000+08:00

In a few short hours, I'm on my way and while I probably should be sleeping, I can't bring myself to do it. The time in the past couple of months has flown by way too quickly and here I find myself about to embark on a new adventure. It's exciting but I won't deny I'll welcome the time at home to think about all that's gone on in the past year, months, weeks. I look forward to the quiet drives around my childhood city, soaking in the beauty of the familiar view, revelling once again at the stars, the water, the mountains. And as I sit there, I will remember all that has happened during my time here in the Big Apple. I must admit, I'm a sucker for nostalgia and sure, sometimes I romanticize things (particularly those that are no longer within my grasp) but hey, I like my bubbles.

Thanks to everyone who has in some way not allowed me to retreat into hiding to avoid saying goodbye. I still refuse to say it, but I'm grateful for the opportunities to see each of you or talk to you again... until the next time. A bientot, and for all those I've promised to have actual (as opposed to rushing-off) conversations with before I go for real, I'll talk to you soon.

Melting ice cream cones

2005-07-21T23:25:00.000+08:00

The other night, my best friend from high school and I met up for dinner and then went in search for ice cream. We found ourselves at the neighborhood Ben & Jerry's. Chocolatey yummies in hand, we foolishly headed outdoors into the sweltering heat. Now those of you who have eaten ice cream with me know about my issues with walking, talking and ice cream cone eating. But I didn't even get that far. Within minutes, my generous heaping of chocolate ice cream on a crunchy sugar cone proceeded to dribble drip dribble dribble dribble drip all down the sides. At first, I tried to fight it. I tried to stop dribbles mid-drip and enveloped a napkin around the cone in an effort to catch some of the chocolate streams. And then, I just started to laugh. I looked at my chocolate mess now with rivers pouring down my hand, and laughed. It's like that moment when you're walking through the rain, hopping, jumping, skipping over puddles, trying to re-invert your umbrella and then know that there's no better feeling thing to do than to just stand there and soak it all in. And then an even better idea strikes -- to run and jump and dance through the rain, laughing and screaming and shouting for joy. I didn't dance with my ice cream but somehow, it still felt free.

Sushi? No.

2005-07-16T22:53:00.000+08:00

Complete disclosure: what follows is a rant.

Every time it happens, it takes me by surprise. Sometimes it's completely repelling and I feel physically dirty after. A particular occasion that I can think of, I honestly felt violated, assaulted. The words rang in my ears as I continued to walk down the street shell-shocked at the intrusion into my space and my happy, cheery day. I remember the words so clearly that I tried to write a poem about it once. But it made me cringe just to write them down, much less to read them out loud.

What I'm talking about are the under-the-breath, sometimes muttered, sometimes yelled from a passing car or truck comments by men. The ones from the trucks and cars I actually don't mind too much. They're in their space, I'm in mine, and soon the light will change and they're on their way. The ones I find really distasteful are the ones that lean in towards you unexpectedly as you're crossing the street. No. My space.

What's puzzling to me is what the intention is. To intimidate me? To be friendly? To engage me in conversation? To impress me with your ignorant attempt to talk to me in what you presume to be 'my' language? I know this is a common complaint -- of people greeting all Asians with "Konnichiwa" or "Ni hao" -- but at least those are greetings.

Why bother to yell or lean in and say the single word, "Chinese" or even "Chinese girl"? Or the latest and I think most bizarre one, "suuushi"? And, anything about race or ethnicity aside, do you really think that muttering something about pussy makes me want to stop and talk to you? No!! And yes, I find it offensive. If my primary concern were not to get immediately away from you, my preferred action would probably be to smack you. And even for the mildly less offensive "Asian girl" oriented comments, I'd watch out. I might decide to lecture you and I promise, it won't be pretty.

My boyfriend is a gossip columnist

2005-07-15T12:15:00.000+08:00

Yes. I couldn't quite believe it myself either when I first heard. In fact, I blocked it out until I was reminded again just the other day. I can't explain why, but the thought of it leaves me speechless. I've been wanting to write about it but at the same time not really wanting to say it out loud, so to speak. It's not so much that it's terribly shocking. Not so much that it's necessarily so out of character or way out of line with his interests. It's just, yeah. Yeah. My boyfriend is a movie gossip columnist. For an in-flight magazine. And I should be proud that he's a published writer. And I am. Certainly. I am.

(Re)discovering Whitman...

2005-07-13T19:19:00.000+08:00

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

- Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

"Getting out"

2005-07-13T01:20:00.000+08:00

As I'm working on my final paper, I've been re-reading some notes I made during this last semester from two ethnographies of urban public high schools -- Framing Dropouts by Michelle Fine and Subtractive Schooling by Angela Valenzuela. Among the critiques they offer is the pervasive idea among teachers and schools that to succeed for these students means to "get out" of the neighborhood. There is a sense of teachers feeling like they are engaging in "educational triage," identifying those students who can still be "saved" and helping them to "escape" the fate of their peers by leaving their families and their communities behind.

I couldn't help but think back on this past weekend and the comments by many well-meaning teachers and educators echoing this idea. As the entire staff of the workshop sat around discussing each student individually, I heard suggestions that students needed to get away from the negative influences in their neighorhoods, in their homes, and "make a life for themselves" away from it all. I, for one, am all for students going away from home for college--to explore what's out there, and challenge themselves and others. I went just about as far as I could go and in some ways, continue to do so.

But what I resist, I suppose, is the idea that we focus all our efforts on getting these young people "out." Perhaps we need to get them out now, but we also need them to come back. To come back and effect change in their communities, to serve as role models for those that follow and make "getting out" not the only option. Otherwise, what are we left with?

I was pleased that a few leaders of the workshop tried to make this point, even if rhetoric among the teachers did not fall completely in line. I worry, I suppose, because the teachers and counselors are the adults who support and advise these young people year-round, while the workshop staff are people they see for a mere four days. Nevertheless, I have the utmost faith in these students. The young people I met this weekend--and the ones I met last year--serve as a real inspiration to me. All of them have struggled hard to get where they are, but with their fierce and largely quiet determination, I know they're going to get where they need to go and make us all proud.

Old haunts, new memories

2005-07-12T01:25:00.000+08:00

In the past ten days, New York has basically been a brief refueling point where I emptied my bag and refilled it with clean clothes and promptly headed out of town again. Two places very dear to my heart -- Philadelphia and Chicago -- were the beginning and end of this extended adventure and as per usual, they didn't disappoint.

Philly was filled with revisits to old haunts with old friends and new: Reading Terminal Market, the game pieces, City Hall, Beau Monde, the magic garden, Penn, and the list goes on. A wonderful weekend of random wandering mixed with the craziness of Live 8 and the 4th of July. There's something I can't explain about being in a crowd of thousands and looking out and seeing a sea of people, all gathered in celebration, in anticipation. The angry and feisty park real estate claimants aside, the general feeling of camaraderie and goodwill is incredible. Crowds of people, appreciating the music, the company of good friends, the pleasure of sitting, standing or lying on the grass, and the magic of fireworks that no matter how old you are, never really gets old.

As I walked through both Chicago and Philly, memories, stories, recollections assaulted me at every turn. I must've looked like such a goof walking around smiling and chuckling to myself and trying to remember it all this one more time around. There's nothing that makes me feel more carefree than wandering around cities and finding places to park myself to just soak it all in. I feel like I could sit for weeks just watching the people around me, enjoying the summer days, laughing, playing, reading, sleeping.

All play and no work would be too much indulgence, however, and I found myself plunged into a crazy work schedule with my students this weekend. The long hours and early mornings aside are always worth it when I read a student's piece and can say nothing but smile widely and nod my head, yes. This is an essay with heartbeat, as we say. Certainly, it may still need work, it may still need more, but it's the moment when a student has let us in. Opened the door to a glimpse of who they are and that's by far, the hardest and scariest part of being a writer.

Thinking-feeling...

2005-06-30T23:39:00.000+08:00

I've been thinking for a few days now about how to capture all that's been going through my head, so of course, as I'm procrastinating the writing of my penultimate assignment of my master's program, I will attempt to get these things down -- at least in one version. [Yes, I said penultimate.]

***

mind swirling emotions gripped by unseen hands
spinning
scenes alternately blurred
colours bright encircling me
then coming to sharp focus
snapshots
fleeting
yet engraved
in the rich darkness of my memory
want to slow
slow
it all down
luxuriate
in
this perfect moment

***

Only in New York...

2005-06-18T21:43:00.000+08:00

New York in the summertime. I am so going to miss it. Last night was one of those perfect evenings -- beautiful weather, good music, chill crowd, fun company. We revisited my old 'hood from three years ago and enjoyed the outdoors to the sounds of Charlie Hunter, Bad Plus and the James Carter Organ Trio as part of the Celebrate Brooklyn and JVC Jazz festivals. Where else is summer filled with free outdoor concerts played by amazing artists?

Next up on my free outdoor concert list -- Dar Williams, singer of my favorite happy song. Ooh, I hope she sings it (though I have had it pointed out to me that she has about a million songs and the chances she will actually sing it are fairly low, but hey, you never know...) Besides, it's music. Outdoors. And it's Dar. :)

Ack!

2005-06-06T22:50:00.000+08:00

Some time ago, a friend freaked me out by asking how many more weekends I had left in New York. At the time, it still felt far, far away and I resolutely dismissed the idea. Now, though, every passing day is a reminder of the countdown and it's awfully scary. From now until Hong Kong, it's only 5 weekends in New York (and maybe less 1 for a trip to Philly), 1 in Chicago, 1 in Toronto and 2 in Vancouver. Aaaaah.

So much to do, so many people to see, so many items still on my "New York to-do list." I feel like I should be like Cat and plan my days meticulously and jam-packed with adventures. As I sit in "our" new apartment though, listening to the ringing of church bells and looking at our air mattress sleeping corner, I can't help but think everything is good and somehow appropriate. As Cat pointed out, my adventures in New York have almost come full circle -- one last summer hurrah, squatting in an apartment that's not my own, visits from old friends and visits to old places. One more time.

For now, back to work. Anyone who's up for fun and joining in on my to-do list activities, give me a shout.

Escape from reality

2005-05-21T06:59:00.000+08:00

Friday morning, I escaped New York for a wonderful 5 days in Montreal. I wandered around to my heart's content, ate yummy food at every turn, and hung out with our fave Montreal-er before she returns to this side of the border. Highlights include going to the Tams-tams on Sunday afternoon in the park with drummers, dancers and observers galore revelling in the brief respite from the drizzly weather. Nearby, a group of Dungeons and Dragons fans (adults and kids alike) attacked one another with hand-crafted foam, duct tape and cardboard swords, maces, and even a bow and arrows. We wandered through the park and up the mountain for good views of the city, drove out in search of the fancy mansions of Westmount, enjoyed many a good meal, and a lovely evening of martinis at D's favorite lounge. What a wonderful break!

Bubble strikes again

2005-05-13T05:45:00.000+08:00

Today, I was reminded once again of the dangers/benefits of bubble-y optimism. Mainly, that when the bubble bursts, you have to face a reckoning of sorts with yourself and with reality that, while maybe not pretty, is certainly a learning moment.

Over the past couple of months, I've had great hopes for a writing project with high schoolers where we create multi-genre texts that explore identity, family and community through a variety of forms. It's been a tumultuous ride, though, as I've alternately been very excited about it and made the time to work on and prepare for it, and then been too busy and semi-given up hope that the idea would ever be actualized. Nevertheless, I finally found a site, got in touch with a couple teachers and managed to get a few students to sign up when I went to recruit in person. I was somewhat disconcerted at the low level of interest, but reminded myself that it's already May and school being out for summer is just around the corner. I held out hope though, and continued to send out the info here and there thinking that maybe, maybe, some people might be interested and just show up to the first session.

Alas, not even my few sign-up-ees showed. As it approached the meeting time, I had a sinking feeling that it may be a workshop of me, myself and I. So, I eventually packed up my stuff, said my thanks and apologies to the folks at the site and mumbled something about trying to get in touch with the students/teacher to find out what happened. The real question, though, is whether I give it another try or concede that the timing's not right, etc. I guess we'll see...

Thinking... And not.

2005-05-07T11:04:00.000+08:00

So after watching 7 episodes of the O.C., I'm taking a break from mind-numbing absorption in the lives of fictional characters in a land of sun and drama. Earlier today, I was talking to my friend at school and I was thinking a lot. In the craziness of the past month or so, I haven't really had much of a chance to think. Not for real, I mean, though the last couple reflection papers I wrote made me realize that I've been thinking quite a lot over this semester without really knowing it.

Or maybe it's just that now I have some semblance of my own time again, the mind is churning. Today, we had the last day of our reading buddies program and it was really, very bittersweet. I spent time yesterday making up cards for my students and photocopying their favorite poems out of my book for them each to have a mini collection, and today at the school, we had a breakfast celebration honoring each one of them and all their hard work. They, in turn, each spoke about us and smiles and hugs were shared all around. I'm really going to miss them and at times, it was a struggle, but it was definitely well worth it. I think I've learned as much if not more this semester from this experience as I have from some of my classes. Makes me excited about next year.

Actually, the past few days have really been a bit sad, but good. I had the last class of my two favorite classes this semester and it was a great way to end the semester. I have another class still next Tuesday, but I really feel like it's come to a close already. In one of my classes, we were asked the all-time favorite "So what?" question about all the things we've talked about. In response, a guest to our class and one of my classmates made the same great point--the "so what" is that we all have gained new perspectives about literacy, youth, learning, teaching, research and many other things and we will carry it with us wherever we go, whatever we do. In a very odd way, I feel that this semester has really influenced me, affected me, inspired me, whatever you want to call it, and that what I have learned has really become a part of me. It's cheesy, but really--it's not the things I've learned in terms of things to know; it's ways of looking at the world, and especially the world of teaching and learning.

In a funny way, I feel like the end is drawing near but it's also the beginning of much, much more. I'm just not sure exactly what or how. All I could tell my friend today was that the distinct feeling is that my work is not done yet--and far from it. It's not that something-looming-over-your-head feeling at all, though. Quite the opposite; the possibilities seem endless.

A favorite quote from my reading this semester goes: "It is in the transgression of boundaries between schools, communities, and students' lives where 'youths' sense of possibility, imagination, social critique, outrage, despair, aesthetics, and social action lie'" (Weis & Fine, 2000 in Wissman, 2003). I return to it over and over and over again and I remember this is why I do what I do.

On that note, I've been thinking a lot about what I'm doing with my blog and how I'm going to continue my learning and exploration after I leave school. I want to keep reading and reflecting and discussing my thoughts, and I've considered starting a separate blog to keep track of my own academic/research inquiry journey. But then I wonder whether I can really, truly separate my life and my experiences into personal and professional without compromising something on both sides. I've asked the question of why we ask our students to leave so much of themselves at the door when they step into our classrooms. How then could I honestly pretend to leave parts of myself at the door as I launch into my career as an educator?

So.. the long and short of it is that this blog may at times jump from "what I did this weekend" to "what I think about a dissertation I'm reading on youth movie-making" as I experiment and puzzle through all this in my mind. Those who have spent even a limited amount of time talking to me won't be surprised at all, but I felt a fair warning was in order. Cheers and good night.

Wasting time

2005-05-01T14:16:00.000+08:00

Thanks to Mr. Jeffrey, I've been wasting inordinate amounts of time playing Minesweeper when I should be writing papers. And I'm not even fast. Boo. At least we had the pleasure of his company yesterday to make up for it.

Separately, the end is in sight. And it's quite sad, really. The semester is coming to a close, some people I know are graduating and/or won't be around for the summer, and the next few months are going to go by in a blur. Must be diligent about scheduling in the weekend fun. Let me know if you have any suggestions :)

The Perfect Ending to a Rough Week

2005-04-25T03:25:00.000+08:00

Last night, I came home after an exhausting week filled with paper writing, tape transcribing, presenting, poster making and conference attending. Earlier on in the day, I had wanted nothing more than to go out and get a little drink on, but after a four hour nap, I realized I was way too tired for anything involving going outside. I crawled out of my bed, awake and wanting to enjoy my brief respite from all the work but not sure what I wanted to do until...

I spotted an envelope on the floor of our living room with a Canada Post sticker on it. My heart skipped a beat. Maybe.... oh yes, maybe.... YES! The package from my friend Emily had arrived -- the first part of season 2 of the OC all on CD-ROMs. Yeaaaah. I grabbed my laptop, crawled back into bed and I was in heaven. Honestly, the perfect ending to a rough week. Now the real challege will be rationing out the rest of them until she arrives for her visit May 8 with part 2. :)

It's Official. Next stop: Hong Kong

2005-04-18T05:25:00.000+08:00

So it's official. Today, I email accepted my offer to teach English in Hong Kong next year. While I still have lots of work to do until then, my mind is already drifting to the process of sorting stuff out and beginning the process of moving once again. Of course, much of that also has to do with our upcoming apartment move at the end of May and the copious amounts of buying and selling of furniture that's been going on ;p It's all very exciting though and Cat's model show home is shaping up nicely. If anyone is interested in any of our furniture, let us know. Pretty much everything is going... fresh starts and new beginnings for all.

Buckling down...

2005-04-14T11:36:00.000+08:00

It's that time of year... when all of a sudden the end is nigh, but there's so much to do before I can get there. This time is always filled with a lot of anxiety, and I can't believe it's come up so soon. Grad school is almost over and I feel like it's just begun. In the next few weeks, I'm afraid I need to go into hibernation. What a shame, given the beautiful weather we've been having these days.

I wish I could be officially committed to my job post-graduation. I haven't yet seen any paperwork, and random things that are coming my way are, I must admit, somewhat interesting to consider.

On another note, as I approach the end of my degree, I find myself still somewhat perplexed. I thought doing a Master's was supposed to help me clarify/narrow my specific interests but I feel like they're just as broad as when I began, if not even more so. So many things to think about, to read about, to talk about... Part of me wishes I could just be part of a community of people who were interested in these things and shared resources and thoughts. Do I really need to be in school for that? Do I need to do research myself and publish? Get another degree? Not anytime soon, anyways. We'll table that discussion for a little while longer yet...

Biting the Bullet...

2005-04-03T10:26:00.000+08:00

Or just sucking it up, as Cat used to tell me to do when I was whining about stuff.

This time, it's about working out. I have finally rejoined a gym -- a Crunch -- despite the not-so-great pricetag and the hardcoreness of the other patrons that I saw there today. I've decided it's time, though. I've had free membership to the gym at school all year, and not once have I made it, and I'm feeling very sloth-like these days. So... if it means coughing up the money to belong to a gym close by, so be it. Besides, the cost will have to serve as an incentive because if I don't go often enough, the per-visit price is going to go through the roof and I'm going to be sooo mad at myself.

Alright, wish me luck. May the image of DD running her marathon serve as my inspiration. :)

Beer ______

2005-03-28T02:41:00.000+08:00

Toasted garlic bread chips with a beer cheese dip
Beer shrimp salad
Cheesy beer bread
Sauteed shrimp on a bed of herbs with beer sauce
Beer chili mac
Potato and vegetable melange simmered in a beer sauce
Beer crab cakes
Beer chili with lime crema served with cheese and tortilla chips*
Beer can chicken*
Turkey croquettes with an apricot wheat beer reduction sauce
Guinness ice cream with Guinness and banana topping**
Chocolate chip beer pancakes

FG Iron Chef Challenge cookbook in the works... yum! :)

**First place winner
* Second place winners

Wow.. real competition

2005-03-26T08:48:00.000+08:00

I am impressed to see that some people are taking our Iron Chef competition seriously. Trying stuff out in advance... now that is inspiring.

Cool new tool, exciting news, worries, and new challenge

2005-03-25T05:13:00.000+08:00

First of all, check out this cool new tool, called the I/O Brush developed at MIT. Make sure to scroll down and watch the video!!

Secondly, exciting news -- I've been offered a job to teach English in Hong Kong, starting the next academic school year.

Thirdly, with all the unrest going on in Kyrgyzstan right now, I'm thinking of my friend Jonathan who's serving in the Peace Corps there. I came across another Peace Corps member who is lucky enough to have internet and has been updating about the events through his blog.

And finally, our latest Iron Chef challenge will be this Saturday. The ingredient? Beer. Mm... Let's see if Mr. Jeffrey prevails.

Subject to suggestion...

2005-03-18T06:11:00.000+08:00

Having Cat on holiday too is not good for my work ethic -- those of you who know me well know that I am soo subject to suggestion... and laziness. Nevertheless, it has been thoroughly enjoyable to go watch movies, eat popcorn, read books and laze around in bed. I'm beginning to think I'd be perfectly happy as a lady of leisure -- now I just need to find a sugar daddy.

Last night, we went to go see Robots. Very funny and very cute. See it sometime. And, at 9:45pm on a Wednesday night, only 1 kid and not even screaming. Woohoo.

After doing more work and only getting frustrated, I finally gave up and sought sanctuary in my bed with a good book. Man and Boy: book by British novelist Tony Parsons and exactly what I needed. The cover says you'll cry five times and laugh out loud two. I think I cried most of the night, and laughed silently (so as not to wake Cat up) at least a couple. Definitely worth staying up til 5:45 to finish, just like in the good ol' days. In one word, cathartic.

Tonight, perhaps some St. Patrick's Day festivities. Mm....

Random road trips...

2005-03-14T13:52:00.000+08:00

are so much fun, and random any kind of trips actually. I had a lovely weekend away in DC. The sun was shining and there's really not much more enjoyable than the first outside ice cream cone eating of the season, followed by sitting by the river, chatting, and listening to the lapping water.

I can't wait for Spring/Summer to hit in full force. :) Picnics and park-going galore.

Fairy Tale Characters Out of Control

2005-03-11T06:25:00.000+08:00

Ha! I just read about this on an Australian literacy professor's blog. Heeheehee.

The blurb about the movie:
Inspired by the classic Grimm Brothers Fairy Tales (the second best selling book in the world, after the Bible), this feature CGI comedy explores what would happen if the balance of good and evil were set out of whack in Fairy Tale Land.

Tired of the status quo, an unholy alliance of bad guys led by Frieda, Cinderella's evil stepmother, takes on the good guys. Cinderella (aka Ella) starts out as a damsel in distress (your typical Prince dreamer), but when her own fairy tale takes a radical left turn she is forced to form and eventually lead a resistance group without her Prince Charming.

Set against a backdrop of fractured fairy tales spinning wildly out of control, Ella and her unknown true love Rick, the palace dishwasher, ultimately must choose their own destinies in a world of happy endings gone wrong. The race for control of the kingdom is on, and the power mad Frieda, fuelled by a total disdain for goodness, is set to change the age-old storyline to 'Happily N'Ever After'!

Police station, souvenirs and growing up

2005-02-27T12:44:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I went to my local police station to get fingerprinted and I must say, it was an odd experience:

a) cops/people with guns un-nerve me
b) it was like TV, but not
c) they only have a men's bathroom
d) it's totally a boys' club --> stares, chuckles and random comments at the guy who offered to help me though he was not on duty and clearly had no idea what he was doing (uh yeah... we had to do them twice).

I've never felt more watched -- and I wasn't even guilty of doing anything bad!
----
So my friend and I went to walk around in Central Park and look at the Gates, and these people were handing out tiny swatches of the "saffron"-colored nylon. The whole thing is a bit crazy to me -- $20 million! What that could do...
And I'm not exactly sure how they're going to recycle all these after... what does one make with this nylon? Tents? And how much extra material did they have to pass out samples to the hundreds of visitors?
---
On another note...

Despite the wonders of technology, the possibility of shooting someone an email, hearing someone's voice halfway around the world, chatting online and all that jazz, there's something very lonely about the prospect of growing up. Of picking up and traversing your own course even if it means walking away from a lot of people and things you love; of heading towards something really good but knowing as you put one foot in front of the other that you've also left pieces of yourself behind that you only wish you could bring with you. Walking away from sounds harsh, but it's not meant to. Heading in a different direction, perhaps.

Why taunt me?

2005-02-18T15:02:00.000+08:00

Today, I thought I was offered a job. Granted, it was slightly ambiguous, but when someone starts telling you about the culture of the school where you'd be placed, what you'll be doing every day broken out by hours, and things you'll need to consider when you're working there, etc you think it's pretty set. And then, I get an email asking if I have equipment to do a final on-line interview (ie. a webcam and Netmeeting). What's with that??

Anyways... does anyone have a webcam I can borrow?

We've entered the age...

2005-02-16T11:43:00.000+08:00

Almost everyone I know who's in a relationship is either:

a) getting engaged/married; or
b) breaking up.

Boo. And the sucky thing is that most times, b) is for reasons of circumstance like location/career, etc.

Another reason why I stick to my point that relationships more often than not have to be about "seeing how things go."

Sigh.

I Love Learning (Yes, I'm a Dork)

2005-02-10T22:44:00.000+08:00

As a student, learning is my job. Learning from my readings, learning from my professors, learning from class discussions, blah blah blah.

And yes, it's interesting (though questionable how much I actually retain from week to week), but more than schoolwork, I like learning from random reading and from my friends/random people. Of course, I never devote as much time to all that as I'd like because learning from school is supposed to be privileged -- particularly so when you're paying them lots of money to go there.

But, more than anything, I love learning from kids. I always forget how much kids get really into things, and how much random information they can absorb about the things they like.

One of the kids I read with loves science-y stuff, and right now, we're reading a book about bugs. As someone who was never that into science/bio, it's really very challenging sometimes because he'll ask me things and I honestly won't know. I dig back into the reaches of my memory from grade school, fumble around a bit, and usually come up blank. But really, have I ever really thought about whether a scorpion is an arachnid or an insect? Do I know what a tachinid is? So yeah, learning a lot about bugs.

If you're curious, a tachinid is a bristly, usually grayish fly whose larvae live parasitically on caterpillars and other insects. Apparently, they're good for controlling noxious insects.

What have I done?

2005-02-05T07:40:00.000+08:00

So... I know you're not supposed to apply for jobs because they're easy to apply to, but it's just so tempting. Especially if you don't know exactly what you want to do.

At any rate, I got a phone call today saying a placement agency for independent schools wants to interview me, and they need a cover letter from me by early next week explaining why I want to teach middle/high school English. What was I thinking?? I don't know anything about middle/high school kids!!!

AND, they said some schools ask to see a demonstration lesson. ACK!

Week of Weird Identity Incidents

2005-01-30T11:11:00.000+08:00

I'm used to random mistaken/incorrent identity incidents here and there, but this past week, I feel like I had more than my share in close succession and a couple of particularly strange ones...

1) On Tuesday, I had the first class of my language planning and policy course. The room was packed and there were about 50 students in the overflowing classroom. We all went around and said our names, programs and what languages we speak, and the prof notably went around and impressively managed to remember almost everyone's name. Almost, I say, because she couldn't remember mine. No big deal, it's a lot of students and I understand. What was weird though was the whole conversation around it.

Prof: Ok, the last few of you. I honestly have no clue.
Me and another girl she can't remember (trying to be helpful): Well we have the same name...
[Prof still looks puzzled]
Me: It's Christine.
Prof: Oh. Christine. Of course. As I said, I can't remember the easy names. (She had previously forgotten names like Beth and Erica)
[Prof chuckles]
Prof (to me): Well that's what you get for taking an American name. You should've stuck with your Korean name.
[I give her a confused look]
Prof: You know... choosing an American name.
[I still look confused]
Prof: Is it Korean?
Me (what she's saying is slowly sinking in): Uh, it's Chinese.
[A few awkward moments pass, and all I can think is "Did she REALLY just say that?"]
Prof: Oh, of course. I should've known. You said you speak Cantonese.
[I look up, flustered, and across the room, I see my friend with a puzzled look, going "She's not even American." And then I think, yeah! I'm not! and mutter to myself "Yeah... I'm Canadian." The prof stops what she's saying and looks at me.]
Prof: What?
Me: I just said I'm not actually American either. I'm Canadian.
[Class laughs]
Prof: Oh! Canadian. We'll be talking about that.

I must say, this is one of the strangest encounters I've ever had. I just didn't know what to think. It was so... surreal. I got so distracted trying to figure out what she had said that I totally lost what was going on in the class for the next while. The more I thought about it though, the more offended I was. I mean, the way she said it was like she was joking and I really didn't expect anything like it, but really... What the hell!?! Aside from the fact that I'm neither Korean nor American, I wish I had had the chance to point out that Christine IS my name. I didn't TAKE it or CHOOSE it. In fact, I probably had it first; plus, no one even calls me by my Chinese name. And how did she know I even had one!? Also, she's a bilingual/bicultural education prof... Shouldn't she, of all people, know better?

I wondered at first if I was overreacting, but since then, what's even stranger is the number of people from the class that I either know, or who I've just randomly talked to at other times this week, who have mentioned it and how weird/offensive it was.

2) On Wednesday, we went to visit another school in central Harlem. To get there, I needed to take the 3 line all the way to the end, so I'm on the subway, minding my own business. Then at the 135th St stop, the entire train empties. Every single person in my car gets out except for me -- and from what I can see, the same is true in the cars on either side. A woman steps onto the train, and looks at me, puzzled. I'm starting to wonder if I screwed up and this is the last stop...

She asks, "Where are you going?"

As I'm about to respond, the conductor pops his head in and asks the same, "Miss, where are you trying to go?"

By this point, I'm so confused. "Um... 148th St?"

"Oh. Ok." And we continue on our way.

So strange. Turns out, the lady was going there too. What puzzles me is why they were so confused by ME.

3) When I arrive at the school, we all have to sign in with a lady in the principal's office who writes down our names. A bunch of people go in before me, and then it's my turn. She writes down my name, and then asks if I'm bilingual. "Uh... not really," I say, not knowing what she means. Later, I relay this to my friend Joanne who also came to the school and she said that the lady asked her and all the other Asian people the same thing. So odd. Particularly so since all the bilingual/ELL (English-language learner) classrooms I passed were bilingual English/Spanish.

Lost Innocence/Innocents

2005-01-27T14:03:00.000+08:00

So it's been a while since I've posted about... stuff. I've only been back at school a week and there's so much going on, so much swirling around in my head. When I get more of it sorted out, I'll write, but for today, one thing I've been trying to figure out how to write about...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This semester, I'm beginning my job reading to six 3rd graders in a Harlem public school who have been designated 'struggling readers.' Our group of Buddies is assigned to four different schools around the Harlem area, and the past couple of days we've been visiting schools.

On Tuesday, our visit to a school in central Harlem involved talking to a social worker affiliated with our school who also works in the elementary schools. She brought in guests from two of ten preventive agencies in Harlem to talk about their work and provide us with a mental health context for the kids we may work with. Certainly I have heard my share of stories about the troubles that beset youth in low-income urban areas, but never could I have imagined what I was hearing.

She told of students exhibiting 'strange behavior' that warranted concern that they may harm themselves at school or at home... so much so that while they prefer not to call the paramedics because of the sirens and disruption and their general opposition to children being strapped down, sometimes they have to... or how even when they don't call the paramedics, they make sure the child is taken to the emergency room and sometimes hospitalized. These are children, I cry out to myself inside. I cannot conceive that the world we live in is one where eight-year-olds are intentionally trying to injure themselves... of a world where a social worker needs to accompany her six-year-old student to Bellevue Hospital where she or he is receiving outpatient mental health services... and that this is not surprising to those who work in the schools. That while we see multilingual posters throughout the subways proclaiming free medical insurance for all who need it, that this qualifies a family to only three mental health visits a year. Try telling that to the parent of this child.

Heavy stuff, I know, but it's been weighing on my mind ever since I heard it. Nothing like a harsh dose of reality to put things in perspective. But don't get me wrong -- I've also been seeing many things in these schools that give me little ounces of hope, particularly the people: the teachers, the principals, the school district staff, and the preventive agency reps that are so deeply and firmly committed to helping these children in any way they can. You've got to believe that that's worth something.

Back in the City...

2005-01-19T04:43:00.000+08:00

I'm home! After more than three weeks away, it feels good to be back. The break was filled with lots of eating, board games and generally hanging out with family, a few high school friends and Pat. The next semester looks to be a busy one, and while like any student, I don't really want to start school again tomorrow, I have a good feeling about it.

More later, but one major finding over the break was that I had no problem being disconnected from the Internet and only checking email sporadically. In fact, it was kinda nice. Makes me realize how much time I actually waste when I'm connected all the time...

Happy Holidays!

2004-12-24T12:43:00.000+08:00

Dear Friends,

Happy Holidays! :) Wishing you all the best for a safe and enjoyable holiday. May next year be even greater.

Much love,
Christine

Where have all the considerate people gone?

2004-12-21T08:09:00.000+08:00

Ok, that's overly dramatic, but I just wanted to briefly express my dismay at the lack of consideration and respect for others that I have witnessed recently while proctoring exams at the law school. (Do keep in mind this is not intended to be a jab at law students generally -- they just happen to be the latest offenders to have crossed my path).

So I understand that finals are a stressful time (believe me, I can relate) and that students pour a lot of time and energy into studying for their exams so that when they're done, they want to shout and scream and celebrate, or just talk to the person next to them about what they thought of the test.

I have no problem with that, but DO IT OUTSIDE.

In these laptop exams, there are always at least a few students who encounter technical difficulties along the way, so we give them extra time. It's fair -- after all, who can't relate to the stress of having your computer freeze while in the middle of an essay? When the exam ends, we ask everyone to stop typing, save their work, etc, etc. AND we ask them to please be quiet since others are still trying to finish.

Apparently, this falls on deaf ears because I have found myself asking students over and over again to please not talk until they go outside. And by over and over again, yes, I mean sometimes the same students. Why do people insist on believing that rules don't apply to them? I don't care if you're not talking about the exam -- that's not the point. It's just inconsiderate and disrespectful to your peers who are trying to work. And, what makes you think yelling across the room or laughing loudly constitutes being quiet?

Oh, and one other tip if I'm proctoring your exam and you don't want to see me grumpy after -- clean up your crap. Grrr.