stevenmarkmiller

Like our Fathers

2010-02-04T15:06:00.000-08:00

A dear friend of mine wrote this true story and shared it with me. I found it inspirational and hope you do to.

.....

It had been a relatively mild winter, but every now and again frost would be on the windshield of my car in the mornings before I went to work. Usually, it was not much ice to speak of, generally nothing that my credit card couldn’t handle in a few minutes. On one of these frosty mornings in November, my next-door neighbor, an African American man in his late 30s, saw me scraping away again (his wind shield of his truck was strangely unfrozen) and asked, “Do you want to borrow a scraper?” I said my credit card as doing me just fine, “thank you though.”

In the year and a half we lived beside each other, I believe those were the only words we ever exchanged. Beside the time he tried to feed his dead gold fish to one of the stray cats, of course. And the “stray” didn’t come, because I had already “rescued” it and moved it into my home. I did hold up her bowl, however, and let him drop the fish in it, which she promptly devoured.

He was a hard-working man, if nothing else. Usually gone before I left in the mornings; usually home after me at night. I found out later that he was supporting his mother, paying her bills before paying his own rent. One time the late notice accidentally came to my door. A few days before he moved out in May this year, his mother dropped by, cursing him out so loud the entire block heard it. “You’re gonna turn out just like your daddy,” she yelled, among some other things I won’t repeat. Eventually, she got into her car and drove off.

A few days later, I saw a yellow piece of plastic on my stairs. I thought it had come off one of his pieces of furniture when he moved out. I scoffed, annoyed that he didn’t clean up after himself. The next day it still lay on my railing. I picked it up and gave it a closer look. “He couldn’t have,” I exclaimed. “He wouldn’t have!”

It was a window scraper; small, but sturdy. It didn’t have a handle like most scrapers do – but then, that would have been luxury for me anyway. It was just about three times the size of a credit card. And it was rubber-ducky yellow. The man I thought hardly knew who I was and who, I thought, cared about me even less, remembered (6 months later) that the girl next door didn’t have a window scraper. And when that next harsh North Carolina winter hits, she’ll probably need one.

It’s a good thing that man turned out just like his daddy.

Death of a Caterpillar

2010-01-16T04:53:00.000-08:00

More Urban Hiking

2009-11-28T06:01:00.001-08:00

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Here are some more pictures from a recent trip to Seoul Palace and Lantern Festival. The duck is one of my favorite pictures. I took it in Disney World last year, but I didn’t find it until I was organizing photo’s last week.

Hope you all are having a great holiday season!!

Urban Hiking

2009-10-25T08:12:00.001-07:00

I like to plan a route on Google Earth and go hiking on Sunday afternoons. Here are some photos from tonight’s walk.

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Seoul Panorama

2009-09-30T21:03:00.001-07:00

Here is a panoramic view of our city that I found online. The picture was taken by Roman Sobolenko. Thought you might enjoy it. It should enlarge if you click on it.

The Missing Teacher

2009-09-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

Here is the final part of the missing teacher movie that my Pennsylvania class and I made. I lost one of my students after the swine flu scare, and the giant ninja finished his contract and left Korea, so I had to change the planned ending, but I'm still proud of my kids for their hard work.

Swine Flu Over the Cuckoo's Nest

2009-08-07T00:26:00.000-07:00

“Steven… I’m very disappointed in you. I asked you several times not to get sick. I know the students and parents love you and you are doing good things for the school, but you let me down. You got the swine flu because your body is weak. You have not been responsible to the school and we are losing a lot of money now because of you.”

As the buzzing of the phone indicates a palpable absence of humanity I realize the line has been disconnected. Through the euphoric haze of the fevered mind, I’m left to question whether there was ever a human on the other side… although most certainly the conversation did unfold as described. And as certain as wet jeans will chafe thighs, that voice belonged to the manager of my school-- she who shall not be mentioned.

After nearly 3 years of professional work and study experience in Asia, I find myself back at ground zero, as perplexed by the Asian mentality as ever; perhaps more so, as I was just beginning to profess an elementary understanding of these fascinating lil’ enigmas. I suppose I should be grateful, for now that my eyes have been opened, I realize that being sick is a personal choice. (like being straight or male or tall or handsome or white -- I list this criteria because Asia, not unlike the rest of the planet, continues to place a disproportionally high social value on these personal choices)

It’s not the first time I’ve had my eyes opened by she who shall not be mentioned. But that’s a story for another blog… well.. wait.. I’m quarantined to my 10’ * 15’ apartment for the foreseeable future… I’ve got time… I’ll tell you now.

********

Her dirty white sneakers would tread soundlessly across the marble floor, had there not been a poorly discarded bandage affixed to the left soul of her petite size 4’s. Stick, rip…. Stick, rip…. Stick, rip.. which, when combined with the cries of agony from the gentleman lying on an adjacent cot, cumulated in the sort of auditory harmony one might expect to find at a parlor offering discount bikini waxes. Stick, rip… aaaagh! Muhaha… the thought made me smile; or maybe it was the IV bag delivering it’s steady stream of sensory numbing deliciousness. Either way, I was amused.

I arrived at the hospital some thirty minutes earlier. This is not my preferred venue for mind numbing elixirs on a Friday night, but necessity is the mother of invention; and kidney stones are the mothers of necessity. I was immediately impressed with the speed and efficiency of the hospital’s services. (after the initial 15 minutes, when I realized I was the only person in the line who wasn’t pregnant and that I probably belonged somewhere else)

With no signature, affidavits or credit history reports necessary, the doctor came up to me. “What’s the problem?” “I have a kidney stone.” “How do you know? Did you have tests?” “How does an expecting Irish Catholic know she’s got the 10th bun in the oven?” (ok.. I didn’t say that, but you get the point…) “This way, sir.”

In a blur of motion, I was prone on an emergency room cot and an attractive nurse was standing over me with a large needle and a smile. Now I can’t say for sure that she’s never seen blue eyes before, but if she bothered to break eye contact, she might have realized that my vein was nowhere near the tip of her needle. Ah well… four “so sorry’s” later she managed to find the sweet spot… and a few moments later, I no longer cared.

After a routine x-ray and a 2 hour nap, the urologist showed up. The look of pity on his face frightened me more than anything. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t speak English, genuine empathy from a urologist transcends linguistics. The stone was about ½” in diameter and I needed surgery. I opted for Extra Corporal Lithotripsy, not because I knew what it was, but because it was the only picture he sketched on the pad that didn’t involve a direct violation of my body’s “exit only” policy. The procedure was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon.

On Monday, we had open class day. This means my kid’s mothers sit in the class and watch me teach their little angels. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Twenty minutes prior to class I was still talking to the porcelain. I taught my morning classes and then collapsed in the library as soon as I was out of eyesight. A student found me there, and the manager was able to find another place that could do the surgery that afternoon.

Extra Corporal Lithotripsy is a treatment that sends shock waves of energy into your body, targeting the stone and attempts to break it into smaller, passable sizes. I didn’t really know what to expect; but as I lay on the machine with this inflated water balloon pushed firmly against my back, I imagined it would be like a vibrating massage chair of sorts. When the first shock wave scored a direct hit, my left leg shot straight up in the air, nearly bringing the machine crashing down around me. “Don’t Move!” cried the doctor. So for the next 40 minutes and 2,500 blasts, I didn’t move a muscle.

The doctor told me to come back next week to see if it worked and to get another treatment it if didn’t. (and it didn’t) On the day of my next scheduled procedure, she who shall not be mentioned called me into a private conference. I won’t quote this one, because I don’t remember verbatim, but for twenty minutes I sat and listened to her tell me about how much my kidney stone was inconveniencing the other teachers who had to sub for my classes and how I should be more considerate and be willing to make sacrifices. I asked her if coming in to teach classes when I could barely walk was considered a sacrifice. She said yeah, but now I have to miss a class for a second surgery and this is very inconvenient for everyone. She made a great show of pain as she filled out the substitute teacher form for the only remaining class I had after the surgery. I’ve never come so close to running from a job in my life. Being the stubborn fellow that I am; I made it back from surgery with 10 minutes to spare, taught my class, went home and passed out.

And so we’ve come full circle.

Lessons Learned:

Let’s scrap the h1n1 vaccine in favor of an educational campaign on why we should simply choose not to be infected by it.

Kidney stones are a state of mind. They needn’t interfere with the routines of daily living.

And strangely enough, I still like my insanely dysfunctional manager. I guess I'm learning the lesson I came here to learn. How to exercise patience, how to deal with humility and how to let things roll off the back. These are critical lessons if I hope to become a succesful businessman in Asia; and I suppose I should be grateful to have such a masterful professor.

The Missing Teacher - Part 2

2009-07-20T16:21:00.001-07:00

The Missing Teacher

2009-06-27T12:16:00.001-07:00

Here's a look at a movie project I'm doing with my 6 year old "Pennsylvania" class.

Shades of Gray

2009-06-15T05:45:00.000-07:00

Between the shades of black and white,
Lie colors undefined.
The absolutes of wrong and right,
Are quickly left behind.

Within these abstract shades of gray,
Entire lives subsist.
Things of beauty seen by day,
By night; sebaceous cysts.

And so the things I thought I knew,
Are now the things unknown.
Those things I always held as true,
Illusions now dethroned.

Yet, when at night, I close my lids,
One truth consuls the soul.
Teaching someone else’s kids,
Is perfect birth control.

Sorry, was feeling a bit poetic tonight, and thought I'd try to express my appreciation to the parents out there and offer a sincere apology for ever professing any understanding of what the word "parenting" means. And to any stay at home mom's who might read this blog... you are champions of patience, ambassadors of diplomacy, and might just be natures most important and undervalued resource.

On another note: I received my first care package! Thank you so much!!! It included many of the things I listed and one very special surprise.... an autographed diaper from Reagan, complete with compacted, partially melted granola bar stool ! I'm still smiling about that!

Say Hello to my Little Friend

2009-05-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

A wee-man complex is a terrible thing to witness, particularly when that wee-man is Kim Jong-il. Once again he’s hopped atop his enriched-uranium booster chair and is screaming for dinner. While I hate politics of fear, and am usually quick to dismiss the egocentric wailing of North Koreas leader, there is something disconcerting about having a nuclear weapon (reportedly the equivalent size of those dropped in Japan at the end of WWII) detonated a few hundred miles to the north. But, as I was drilling phonics into the already oversaturated brains of 5 year old children, that’s what happened today.

I’m not overly concerned about safety, but it will certainly be interesting to see how this plays out over the next few days/weeks. More than likely this is just another cry for attention, and, unless I miss my guess, he’s going to get plenty of it.

Also in the news, Roh Moo-Hyun, the former President of South Korea, committed suicide this weekend by leaping from a 100 foot cliff in the mountains behind his home. He had recently come under investigation for bribery charges and was expected to be convicted.

If you want to read more about these stories you can follow these links:

Roh : http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/05/23/roh.dead/index.html
Bomb : http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8066861.stm

Unbridled Solicitation

2009-05-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

Teaching here, as I'm certain it is everywhere else on the planet, is often a tedious, thankless job. You have no idea how much a simple letter or care package can brighten a bad day or week. If you feel like sending one, I promise I'll write back! (shameless solicitation... I know... I'm sorry)

My address at school is :

YBM Cheongdam ECC

3rd Floor, Mijoon Building,
19-17 Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam-gu,
Seoul, Korea 135-949

The schools phone# 02-581-0509

Letters are cheap but a medium sized package (about the size of a pair of boots) is around $25.

Here are some things that I miss, many of which and are hard to come by here...

1. Chrystal Lite Lemonade (pitcher sized portions)

2. MAC and CHEESE!!! (or shells n cheese)

3. Maple Syrup (it can be found here, but it's around $20 for a bottle the size of coke can)

4. Just-add-water pancake mix /oatmeal / cream of wheat

5. Deodorant

6. Ny-Quil (the knock you out kind)

7. General cold / sinus medicines (and anti-inflammatory meds for my old man knee :-)

8. XL underthings (v-neck t's; cotton boxers; etc...)

9. Cooking Spices

10. Other lil' toiletries and small kitchen items are great too.

11. Used Books in English... I love a good read; (anything on the NYT best seller list)

12... and perhaps most of all, pictures and letters from my family! Oh man I miss my little nieces and nephews.

(fyi: most of the dry food goods can be removed from their boxes and put into baggies; this takes up much less room in a small box)

If you send something, make sure you leave a return address so I can return the favor.

Here are a few more pictures from the past couple months. I'll file a proper update next weekend.

Expressions

Getting there is half the fun?

2009-04-07T11:47:00.000-07:00

“Please make sure oversized passengers are stored safely in the first class cabin. And be careful when choosing your seats, as some passengers may become annoying during the flight.” ….. Useful announcements for trans-continental flights… announcements that I did not hear.

Frenchy, the slender fellow sitting next to me, and I were celebrating our good fortune. The doors were closed for departure and, in a plane filled to capacity, we had the good fortune of having an empty seat on our three person row. Oh happy days! I slid over to the window seat, and we exchanged knowing smiles as we piled our personal belongings into the center seat. The emergency door blocked most of the foot room of the window seat, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make in order to be the first screaming passenger out the door in the event of a water landing. (chivalry is overrated) I tried to prop my feet up on the door’s ledge, but quickly realized that the engineers were one step ahead of me when they put just enough slope on the surface to encourage your feet to return to where they belonged.

Just as I was beginning to realize my mistake, and ask my diminutive French buddy to switch seats with me, the flight attendant arrived. If she were alone, I would have been relived; if she were followed by an equally petite Korean patron, I would have been only slightly disappointed; but as the hulking beast of a Chinese man towered ominously over her shoulders, I may have muttered .. “f**k”

“Excuse me sir, this gentleman is having trouble fitting into his seat, and because this is an emergency aisle, would it be ok for him to have the center seat?”

Now I am not a small man, by any stretch, but as “Yao-ming” wedged his 6’5”, 260lb self into the center seat; I felt small. Any plans I had for using my armrest were quickly scuttled, as were any plans to sit completely upright. (If I could have convinced this gentleman to store his hands in the overhead bin, I might have had a chance) As the flight attendant strapped herself into the jump seat adjacent to us, I could swear I saw her laugh.

He was a nice enough sort; a sports science professor at the University of Florida if I remember correctly. He asked if I had a laptop, and rather than ask the most important question, “Why?” I said, “Yes.” His eyes lit up.

“I bought a present for my friend in Korea, but I want to open it now. It’s a DVD of the Florida championship football game. Can we watch it on your laptop?”

Thinking quickly, I informed him that my laptop batteries were useless so I couldn’t use the laptop with out plugging it in… (a convenient truth). “That’s not a problem, there’s a plug under your seat.” he said. And as soon as the seatbelt light went off, he hopped up, unceremoniously banging his head on the overhead bin, (unfortunately not hard enough to disable my laptop or himself) and retrieved my bag for me.

Now my laptop is not exactly travel friendly. It’s a desktop replacement unit that weighs over 8 lbs. The only way to hold the laptop so that we could see it was to wedge my feet onto the sloping door and set the unit on my legs. We couldn’t hear the play-by-play commentator, but that would prove unnecessary, as the gentleman had clearly seen the game enough times to ad-lib. Some 230hrs later, the game ended; the commentary did not.

Oh, here’s something else you might note about the emergency aisles of a 747 economy seat. Because there are no seats in front of you, the food tray is stored in the armrest. This of course means that the arm rests can not be raised and lowered, as they can elsewhere. This is really only a concern if you are putting a 40” waist into a 16” seat. In the right light, you can still see the buttons for the video entertainment device imprinted on my side.

And so it was I passed the longest flight of my life. 5 minutes sitting up straight, 5 minutes slouched in my seat with legs propped up and 30 minutes standing in the gallery. I continued this cycle until our landing approach some 16 hours later. By a conservative estimate I spent fewer than 4 hours of the flight in my seat. I’ve learned some valuable lessons, I’m sure… but I’ll be buggered if I know what they are.

Short Update

2009-03-31T08:57:00.000-07:00

We took a field trip today... nothing novel or humorous about that... but here are a couple pictures of my little monsters and I at the museum.
This is my 6 year old "Pennsylvania" class. (front to back: Julie, Stella, Thomas, You-jin and Henry)

And this is my 4-5 year old "Cornell" class. ( Back: Sherry Teacher, Justin, Katie and Yoonji Front: Jennie, Eunice, Jun (June) and Sean)

Oh.. and one of my student's brought me a Frappacino and cookies today! Another one brought me a box of chocolates from Guam. That was kinda chill... I'm all about my apple polishers.

Dong-Chim

2009-03-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

“Here is the church, here is the steeple; here is the way we say “morning” to teacher.” (SIC) - if that acronym can also be applied to words that don’t exactly rhyme, but for lack of creativity are used anyway

I’m not talking about the neon-cross adorned steeples that light the night sky from the hundreds of churches scattered around the city of Seoul; rather, I am making reference to the extended pointer fingers of tiny intertwined hands that seek, with the accuracy and enthusiasm of a well practiced proctologist, to salute the teacher foolish enough to turn a back. Every morning cries of "Dong-Chim" echo through the school, and are drowned by the even louder cries of the surprised teachers. Dong-Chim... is litterly translated "Poop Needle" .... oh gosh. I swear it must be a national sport here, and I am its super bowl.

This is just one of the many surprises of being a Hagwan (kiddy school) teacher; but the parents among you would likely find none of it to be especially different from your own experiences. (save maybe Dong-Chim)

We have “Broke Back Hagwan”… featuring a little boy who is always trying to kiss, with great affect, another little boy in the class. I’m not prepared to address that one yet.

There are many nose bleeds, from excessive picking; bumps, bangs and scratches are no strangers; but the best story I’ve had thus far was an act of revenge that I distinctly remember contemplating in my youth.

The dilemma, of course, is determining how to separate those who need to use the bathroom from those who simply want to escape from your class for a while. I can remember one such seat squirming occasion, when I was being taught a lesson about crying wolf, and I can remember thinking, “ fine… if the evil teacher won’t let me go to the bathroom, I’ll use the trash can… that will show her!” In the end, my evil plans never came to fruition; likely due to the large wooden paddle sitting on Principal (and Uncle) Carl’s bookshelf. Oh man had I had my meetings with that Guantanamo-esque attitude adjuster. I wonder if there is a scientific correlation between hewn pine and bladder capacity… must be.

So, even though I wanted to scold the little girl for dropping trou and relieving herself under the table, I couldn’t. For as I got down on my hands and knees with a box of tissues, I couldn’t hide my own smile…… my inner child was doing back flips…. “Good for you kid…… good for you.”

More Pictures

2009-03-18T05:54:00.000-07:00

Here are a few more pictures I promised you. I've been too busy to do anything but teach lately, but I'll try to get back to this coffee shop this weekend and file a proper update.

A teachers eye view..

You-jin - one of my favorites

Our work area, with the ever watchful headmaster Eunice in the "I see you desk"..

Exterior View of School

My lil' 4-5 year old monsters.... oh man I hate this class... I'de love them if it wasn't my job to make them work... how would you keep 4 year old kids in a desk for 6 hrs a day?

Clearly I can't always .....

Oh... and just incase you thought I was joking about the cars... here are two Bentley's in front of our school during an average lunch day... If I had a wider angle, I would have captured two high end Lexus's on either side....

um... I'll start saving... I think they go for around 500k here...

9021aahhhhsoooo

2009-03-08T05:49:00.000-07:00

Any fantasies I might have had about making a difference and changing the life of a young child were succinctly shattered by the piston shredding, ego smashing, 10 cylinder Lamborghini that shat her spoiled cargo directly into my classroom. So if later, my lightning quick reflexes did not react fast enough to stop said brat from taking a sharpie to her Coach bag … you might understand.

Welcome to Cheongdam, the “Beverly Hills” of Seoul, a festering testimony to capital opulence where Bentley’s are as common as Taxi’s and a C-class Mercedes would be considered an eye sore. I sat in McDonalds today and watched some jack-ass sitting on the second floor automatically raising and lowering the top of his Mercedes SLK every time a westerner would walk by outside… I wanted to slap him, but more than anything else… I wanted to push the button. Haha…. Man I’m jealous… and sad.

Sad because 50 feet below this designer sweat pant wearing (yes they even make designer sweat pants, try Versace for $350+), D&G glasses sporting fool is a subway crammed full of people working 7 days a week just to make ends meet. I know we have the same problems in our own country, but one distinct difference is our powerful middle class, who help bridge the prosperity gap and provide hope for a way out to the struggling poor…at least in theory.

Hahaha…. man am I distracted. I actually logged on to share a few photo’s that I took around town today.. I guess I just got distracted by the $4 cup of coffee I had to buy in order to use the wireless Internet connection.

I really do love my kids, and spoiled or not, they are precious. I’ll try to post some pictures of my kids later this week.. but for now, here are some other random pics.

Here is home sweet home....

The mainstreet outside our school... any guesses what that is on top of the Chrysler dealership? (hint... Fore!)

I hiked up this lil' mountain to get some night shots of the city and almost wept when, utterly exhausted, I found this waiting at the top....

Ok... I either have to buy another cup of coffee or leave... I'm jittery enough. Thanks for the comments and I'll share more soon!

Korea Update 2

2009-03-06T01:31:00.000-08:00

Expect an update soon... but here's a quick what's happening.

1. Classes began this week, and I moved from a Korean "Love Motel" (everything but the quarter slots on the bed (floor)) into my permanent apartment.

2. It's hard work, with up to 8 classes per day but I'm enjoying it.

3. I love the kids... they are, in US ages, 5-13. My 5 year olds can be a handful.. my age 13 students can be too honest. Today I asked them to write a journal about any subject they wanted. One of the girls asked if she could write about exercise. I said sure. She followed that up with, "You look like you don't likes exercise." Everyone laughed... especially me.

My little kids keep trying to get out of eating lunch.... "teacher, teacher; my neck and my stomach are ouch" said in the most pitiful voice imaginable. I got her to finish her food but now "Steve teacher is scary teacher" is the popular thing to say.

(you don't get any break with the kindergarden classes... you take all breaks and lunches with them, serve them their food, clean them up etc etc...) I feel like a stay at work mom.

4. I lost my passport for the first time.... bad monkey. I filed for a new one and it should be here in a couple weeks. I suppose I'm stateless until then ;-) Ok.. it's Friday night and I have to get out of this school!!! See ya next week.

Oh... I also got a cell phone this week. My number is 010-8693-5354.

Update on Korea

2009-02-17T10:01:00.001-08:00

I will be flying out of Atlanta on Tuesday the 24th. I have a direct flight and should be in Korea 17 hrs later. I have to begin orientation immediately but my first class will not begin until March 5th.

My Lil' Niece

2009-01-29T12:43:00.000-08:00

Here is another video I did this week. It's the story of my niece who was born prematurely. Hope you enjoy!

Return to Asia

2009-01-27T10:27:00.000-08:00

Hi Friends. It's been a loooong time since I've updated this blog. I just wanted to let you know that I have accepted a teaching position in South Korea and will be moving at the end of February. Once I get settled in, I'll fire up the ol' blog and bring everyone up to speed.

I'm selling all my RC toys this month... Anyone that knows me well knows how much I love the sport of RC flying... so this has been a tough decision... but they aren't going to do me any good sitting in a garage on this side of the planet.

For your amusement here is a video of my favorite bird. Complete with authentic North Carolina style music! :-) See ya on the other side!

Netherlands - Dedicated to my lil friend in Groningen

2007-06-19T02:39:00.001-07:00

(I have been wanting to write about my trip through Europe, but so far all I have is some random scattered essays that are not joined in any logical fashion. As some of you have requested a new story, I am posting bits and pieces of what I have and will try to give a more thorough update later. )

One could make a point for not undertaking major architectural endeavors while stoned, but that point would almost certainly be lost in Amsterdam, a city where smoking pot is legal but owning a level is apparently not. Take a turn down any narrow alley and you are sure to find examples of Holland’s fine architecture, tilting forward on their foundations, like sprinters trying to edge out the competition in a photo finish. While not all the structures are poorly built, some in fact are magnificent examples of ingenuity and talent; almost certainly they will be beside a home which has simply grown tired of being. I don’t know if buildings are capable of thought, but if they are, “Please Kill Me!” would be the unifying voice of these decrepit structures.

I was at first tempted to think that the buildings were simply suffering from week foundations, which could easily be explained by the fact the Amsterdam, and in fact much of the Netherlands, have, until the last few hundred years, been under the sea. However, in many cases, the badly skewed structures seem to straighten themselves at the waist, suggesting to me that the brick mason recovered from his euphoric haze long enough to make the necessary adjustments. When I asked my Dutch friend about this phenomenon, he replied, “We make shoes, not houses.” (Referring to the Wooden shoes the Dutch are famous for… another tradition that unfortunately has gone by the way. I was so looking forward to hearing the thunderous clap of the morning commuters as they clomped down the cobblestone streets in the latest Oak and Maple fashions)

If wooden shoes, Coffee Shops (places which sell legal marijuana and surprisingly little coffee), and hilariously under-engineered buildings are not your thing, Amsterdam has yet another vise for which it has become famous, namely legalized prostitution and a thriving sex-toy industry. A quick stroll through the red-light district will give the average non-consumer an adequate appreciation, although I wouldn’t advise doing it before noon, as it’s a bit like watching Cher open for a Shakira concert. (although I prefer the music of the former, the music videos are quite another story)

In this district are normal looking houses with picture windows in the front. The windows are framed with red neon lights and behind them you can expect an assortment of freakish individuals, ranging from portly to the petite and all points between (although a pre-noon stroll is certain to provide much more of the former than latter).

In between these houses are sex toy shops, with their goods proudly displayed in the windows. Hundreds of over-sized, over-animated, over-illuminated plastic phalluses taunt me from the smug security of their double paned windows. I’m pretty sure they were not made in America, as we would have certainly added cup-holders as a standard option.

That being said, Amsterdam is an amazing city and one would be quite mistaken to assume that drugs sex and unhappy buildings are her only offerings. They are unfortunately the most entertaining subjects to write and talk about, sorry Aurthur! I'll try to give credit to the wonderful parks, places and people in a future essay :-)

The Bangkok Fore

2007-04-27T10:52:00.000-07:00

To those looking for substance I apologize and forewarn, you won’t find it in this journal entry. It contains little to no information about Thailand. But it was a fun getaway and something I’ve wanted to write about for a while:
….

I’m on a ship in the middle of a city. It somehow seems rational to me that the water and buildings coexist, I must be in Venice. What is certain is that the weather is turning ugly. Tornado-like water spouts are approaching our boat, threatening to tear it apart. These tornadoes sweep through building after building, destroying everything they contact. Is it my imagination or is that tornado wielding a sword… it is, I think.. it’s also not a tornado at all, rather a Tazmanian like female warrior. All the tornados are women.. angry, angry women… looking for me… good Lord I need to wake up!

A cool hand on my sweat-soaked shoulder shakes me awake (try saying that 5 times), a soft angelic voice tells me it’s time. As my disintegrating boat slowly transforms itself into a sleeper sofa, the tornado fades into the smiling face of our host, Mrs. Renee Dragon, quite possibly God's most perfect creation.. (lucky Marek)

A rustling in the bed room tells me my friends have been stirred from slumber as well. We arrived at 1:00 this morning, it’s now 4:30, and as the overhead light flickers on, I know my rest is over.

I stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water, and run into Dr. Guschel, otherwise known as Pete. By all appearances he is still asleep, but he has managed to locate the bagels and cream cheese..

To give a short introduction: Pete and Greg are good friends and former colleagues of mine from Singapore. Pete is a polymer scientist and Greg is the business development manager. The original odd couple, Pete is a sweet guy who tries to make everyone laugh, and Greg is an self proclaimed elitist jerk and the ultimate “guy’s guy.” Combined, they form an entity that is never boring, hence the reason they are two of my closest friends.
20 minutes later, Pete, Greg and I emerge into the still dark alley, the sun having had the good judgment to stay in bed for another hour. Pete tries to say something funny, as he is prone to do, Greg and I swear under our breaths and continue trudging into the blackness. A Tuk Tuk passes, it’s driver seems startled for a moment to find three western guys walking around with golf clubs at this time in the morning.

We meet our driver for the day and an hour and a half later we arrive at the course; the sun has grudgingly decided to join us. We meet our caddies and as only Thailand can offer, they are all female, and, to my relief, are wielding golf clubs, rather than swords, and are doing very little spinning. The entertainment value of this outing has just increased dramatically.
Still fighting the sandman, we groggily step up to the first tee. A few moments later, it is painfully evident that this is going to be a very long day. Greg, a former golfer for George Washington University, has managed to find the center of the fairway, I’ve sliced my ball into another country and Pete only needs to walk a few feet before having an opportunity to hit again. Our cadies have already started rolling their eyes.
Pete seems to be deteriorating with each swing, I don’t know if it’s the rapidly increasing heat or the 2.5 hrs sleep, but it’s not long before we notice that he has disappeared all together. He emerges from the woods a few minutes later, where he has just finished tossing his cookies.. or more accurately, cream-cheese bagels. Gradually Pete recovers and as the game wears on I begin to feel much better. A few snacks at the turn and we tackle the back nine. We come to a water hazard and discover Thailand’s version of a ball retriever.
When the game ends, and we are tipping our caddies, the caddie asks for Greg's number. Being a happily involved man, he did not give his number, so how she managed to find his number written on a piece of paper slipped in amongst the generous gratuity is a matter of speculation. (I certainly would be above such chicanery)
We enjoy a great lunch at the club house, summon our driver and head back to Bankok. Greg and Pete are asleep before we leave the parking lot.
After a quick shower, we decide that a good massage is in order so we walk down the street to the day spa. When we walk in, we are served a relaxing cock-tail and then usured to the private massage rooms where we shower again and wait for the masseurs. The manager comes in and asks if we want “pretty or professional”, I don’t have to tell you which one I choose, but as my face is buried in a pillow, it ultimately wouldn’t have made a difference. (save the fact I may have settled for an inferior rub down)

Later that night we went to dinner with Marek and his wife to celebrate Marek’s birthday. After dinner and drinks Marek and Renee returned home and the three of us pile into a Tuk Tuk to explore Bangkok. Our driver is a bit too happy to have our combined weight shifting his center of gravity and is doing wheelies when leaving every red light.
Later, I see the familiar faces of some of my fellow exchange student friends from Hong Kong. Talk about a small world. We take them to a local club, and Greg, being the generous benefactor that he is, hands me his wallet and says, “Take care of your friends.” This is just one of many times that Greg has shown extreme generosity to my friends and I, including flying me to Singapore last summer. I hope that one day I’ll be able to repay his kindness, but for now, as he loves to point out, I bring absolutely nothing to the table.

We make it home around 2:30 in the morning completely exhausted. It’s a good thing we don’t have to get up in 4 hours to play another round of golf.

It’s 6:30 in the morning when we pull out of the garage in Mareks suv with three golfers, two sets of clubs and one brutal hangover. It’s after 9:00 when we arrive at the Presidents Country Club. We were lost for half of the drive trying to find the place. Marek stops the suv along the curb so Greg and I can unload the clubs. My day gets off to a bad start as I step out of the suv and directly into the narrow edge of a street sign. My momentum caries my collapsing body onto the course lawn to the great amusement of Greg, Marek and the morning congress of giggling caddies…. I've said it before, this is going to be a very long day.

Because of our late start, the heat is much more intense than the day before, and by the 15th hole, the sun, exhaustion and malted barley have claimed their first victim.
Much like a drowning man coming up for a last gasp of air, Greg wakes up one hole later and wins the closest to pin contest with a birdie par three, gives the winnings to his caddie and “sleeps” through the last two holes.

As I’m turning in my rented golf clubs, a familiar voice crackles over the golf courses PA system.. “Ladies and Shenelmen, thank you fr letting me enjoy your beautiful golf coursh. (unintelligible garble) I’m Greg Kroll and I’m out.” I’m not sure how Greg got a hold of the microphone, but I’m fairly certain the grinning security guard standing beside him will be demoted to Ball Washer before the sun sets.

As my plane lifts off the ground the next morning, I breath a sigh of relief. I’m happy to be returning to school, I need the rest.

Comments

2007-02-12T08:32:00.000-08:00

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Guilin - Part 1 - Little Sister

2007-02-09T01:50:00.000-08:00

Colorless wisps of unconsumed pleasure rise in lazy vertical columns from the glowing ends of too many cigarettes. An old man coughs, a young man spits, a slender woman frets with the hem of her unraveling sweater while her child nonchalantly walks in circles and talks to someone I can not see in a language only the child and his invisible friend can understand. A shouting match erupts somewhere in room, I don’t look up. It’s China… people yell.

There are 2,300 ceiling tiles in Guilin station and 400 flickering fluorescent lights, all humming a tune, not quite pleasant, not quite harmonious, but a tune none the less. The hard bench is forcing my spine into an unpleasant therapeutic alignment, the clothes in my pack provide a makeshift pillow, the 400 member fluorescent choir continues humming somewhere above. I’m such a baby when I’m sick. “Hey China, Shut up and let me rest!” My train will be here in two more hours, 18 hrs later I’ll be back in my dorm, eating chicken soup and reflecting on the events of the past few days…

3 days earlier..

My final exams are finished, I’m bored. I pack a change of cloths, my camera and my passport. A Google search and a few clicks tell me there is an overnight train to Guilin leaving from Shenzhen at 6:00. Shenzhen.. hmm.. nice, maybe I’ll find a stall where I can buy a used Ipod and wallet. (ref: Shenzhen of Thieves)

There are generally three options for traveling by train in China; hard seats, hard sleepers and soft sleepers. Hard seats are exactly what they sound like. These cars are equipped for sitting only. The hard sleepers are actually quite comfortable rooms with 6 bunks, three on each side. The soft sleepers are more expensive. The rooms have doors and there are only four bunks.

This train should be an uneventful ride, but as luck would have it, I’m sharing the hard sleeper with 4 generations of Chinese women; Granddaughter, Mother, Grandma and, if my perceptions are accurate, Mother Time. They are very excited when I respond to them in Chinese and equally excited when 10 min later, I exhaust my vocabulary.

I’m laying on the middle bunk, Granddaughter and Grandmother are below me and the other two are on adjacent bunks. Not long after the train starts and the car grows quiet, a little hand snakes up from below and pokes my arm.. “Ge Ge…..Ge Ge.." Older brother… Older Brother, says a small little voice from below… then the hand is back again. This time, the poking finger has been replaced by a small stuffed piggy.. I take the piggy.. and granddaughter shrieks with laughter and starts clapping. (I think she was around 4 years old)

10 minutes later, I’m finding it difficult to move, as my bunk is littered with the child’s toys. I’m not sure about the proper etiquette with regards to playing with Chinese children, but across the way, Mother Time is smiling warmly (as a Jack-o-lantern might, if it did not want to scare the children) , so I continued to enjoy playing “trade the toy” with Mei Mei (little sister). Not having any toys, I give her a couple dollar coins to play with.

I’m hungry, I ask the train attendant where the dining car is, she tells me it’s car 10. A meal of rice, broccoli and chicken satiate my pallet, so I returned to my room to call it a night. Mei Mei, however, had other plans. Mom had purchased a toy stick helicopter from one of the vendors and Mei Mei is not going to sleep until I fly it with her a few thousand times.

We are flying the copter in the narrow hallway trying to set distance records when she suddenly decides it would be fun to take off running.. Mom and crew are not in sight so I give chase. A train attendant catches her before I do. I take her hand and turn around to go back down the aisle and notice that little Asian heads are poking out of every room on the narrow corridor. Apparently it’s not every day you see a lumbering American chasing a 4 year old Chinese girl through the train shouting “Bu Hao! Bu Hao!” Not Good! Not Good! I haven’t done anything wrong, so why do I suddenly feel like a kidnapper… I begin to fear for my life.. must get this child back to mom!

Mom thanks me, or scolds me, I’m not sure which. I’m winded from my chase, time to go to sleep. Just before my eyes close, the hand is back. This time it’s giving me a little piggy pillow.. Then the lil’ hand takes mine and pulls my arm over the side of the bunk. She plays with my “fat fingers” until she falls asleep.

6:00 am.. the train is at one of many stops, a little hand pokes me awake.. “Ci Jian, Ge Ge.. Wo eye ni!” Goodbye older brother, I love you!

I awake two hours later; my room is empty, save two dollar coins sitting on the table. I suddenly feel very lonely. I’ll miss my little sister.

Guilin - Part2 - The Tea House

2007-02-07T12:02:00.000-08:00

It’s 10:00 and my train has just arrived in Guilin, a city many consider to be the most beautiful in China, and I am excited to begin exploring. First surprise is the temperature, it’s near freezing outside in mid December. Mild by some standards but coming from Hong Kong where we are still enjoying high 50’s it comes as a bit of a surprise.. I’m not dressed for it.

Guilin is famous for its rock formations that are seemingly pushed up in random patterns across the landscape. Some are green and tropical, others grey and cold, but all seem to hold a captive beauty that inspires and mesmerizes.

Equally contributing to Guilin’s charm are the calm, green waters of the river Li. This picturesque river flows from Guilin to Yongshuo, another popular tourist attraction, but one that I am unable to visit in my limited time.

After walking around the city for a while, I stop at a tea and tobacco shop to have a rest and ask about available hotel rooms. The gentle man and his wife give me many helpful options. I am drinking tea with him until his wife picks up the youngest of their children and then pulls a bucket out from under our table. She holds the child over it unit her business is completed, then kicks the bucket back under the table.. “More Tea?” … “I’m good, thanks.”

The rest of the day is fairly uneventful. I travel to Elephant park (so named for the large hill in the center which vaguely resembles an elephant) and walk around for a bit.

I explore a cave…

Take pictures with strangers (their request)…..

Hug the Buddha….

And when leaving, I meet this guy. I’m not sure who he is, but if I ever hear a riddle that begins "96 legs but only two feet, three rolling wheels and 25 seats…" I’ll know the answer.

When I get to my hotel, it’s no surprise the going rate is marked at over 4 times the price my friends at the tea shop arranged for me. I presented the note given to me by the shop owner and grudgingly I am given a room at a 75% discount (price 95 yuan –vs- 400 yuan advertised). It pays to make some local friends. It’s not long before I’m off to sleep… tomorrow is going to be one long day.

Guilin - Part 3 - Longji

2007-02-06T03:47:00.000-08:00

I’m not feeling very well today… think I’m starting to get a bit of a cold.. I sit in the back of a small bus which is struggling to make its way up a narrow mountain road. The backpacker beside me tells me he’s been traveling around China for two months now and he’s from Israel, and he’s just met up with his mom, and this is his mom, and she gives me fruit.. and I just don’t care… I’m watching the edge of the narrow road, and of more particular interest is the river running some 1000 feet below. I don’t know if it’s amaxophobia, illyngophobia , judeophobia or some combination of the three… but I’m starting to feel very anxious… can’t we get there already, I want off this bus!

A few minutes later, we reach the end of the road and unload. We are high up in the mountains near the village of Long Ji. It’s meant to be a beautiful terraced rice field, but visibility is restricted to a few hundred feet. My pack resting heavily on my back, I say goodbye to my backpacker friend and thank his mom for the fruit and quietly disappear into the fog.

“hello… hello…” says the fog a few minutes into my hike. The dim silhouette of a souvenir stall looms ominously in the mist.. the voice continues… “hello… hello”. I’m in no mood to shop. My hands shoved a bit deeper into my pockets, I continue trudging through the mud.

Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. .. Is that my heart? It stops… I hope not. Ignore it and continue walking… Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. it’s back again.. this time the rhythmic pounding is more discernable and less ominous. I’ve reached the base of the village of Longji, a village undergoing much renovation, as locals try to capitalize on the recent influx of tourism into the area.

Thump.. Thump.. Thump.. now I can see the source of the noise. Not sure what this guy is doing, but he amuses me… the homemade cigarette in his mouth lets out a little puff of smoke with every swing, I’m reminded of a steam engine. My mind flashes back to my childhood days at the arcades.. I miss Whack-a-Mole.

A glance at my phone, tells me it’s 4:00. The last bus leaves from the drop location at 6:00. I’m already a good 30min walk away.. I decide that I’ll just see what happens in the village, and if nothing else, find a dry spot to sleep.

I’m immediately very impressed by the village. It’s the first time I’ve seen all-wood constructions since leaving the US. It’s quiet up here, no vehicles to create noise, and very little electricity so much of the work is still done using hand tools.

After passing through the village, I continue to hike towards the top of the mountain, where the best views of the terraced fields are said to be. Near the top, I pass a small wooden shack with a balcony that hangs over the side of the mountain. It’s a precarious creation to say the least, but a great spot to snap a few pictures.

There is a girl in traditional dress that will take a picture with you for a certain amount of money. I have my own camera, but buy a picture from her as well. It was interesting to see inside her living area. She has a bed, some baby cloths, a computer, printer and laminator and that’s about it, all in a house would be considerably smaller than most of our bathrooms.

I reach the top of the mountain as the sun is beginning to set. While sitting on a ledge overlooking the mountainside, I take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings. A bitterly cold breeze and the growing darkness bring me back to reality. I have no flashlight, the village has no lamps and I have no place to stay… hmmm time to head back down to the village.

On the way down I meet these two guys heading home after a day in the field (and pub if my nose tells me the truth) and one is kind enough to let me take a couple pictures with him. I love annoying the local people!

Coming back into the village, I hear “Hello!” again.. This time it’s a group of Asian students from Guilin excited to practice their English. They ask me questions in English and I respond in Chinese. After a while they ask me where I’m staying.. I tell them I have no idea.. The look of horror on their faces is quickly replaced with excitement when I agree to follow them back to their “hotel” and stay with them for the night. (I don’t know if they fully appreciate how happy I was to meet them… I had no idea where I was going to sleep for the night)

We arrive at the hotel.. it’s a three story wooden building very similar to all the other buildings in the village. The bottom floor has a large, open dining room.. a few jars of pickled snakes sit on shelves along the wall, a computer, dvd player,tv and karaoke machine form an impressive entertainment center, although none have been hooked up and look as if they will not be anytime soon. The second floor is the sleeping area. There are 6 rooms here, each room with 2 or three beds in it, but no other furniture. They do have a shower room, but the walls are made of sheet plastic and it’s too bloody cold anyway, I’ll just take a spray on shower, thanks.

Walking to my bed, I hear a conversation beneath me.. looking down, I am surprised (I think) to realize that I can see the conversation taking place as well. These floor boards are thin and sporadic… note to self… no sleep walking. The bed was quite comfortable; however, I noticed that all the blankets were wet.. (from the mist) and very, very cold. This should be the perfect icing for my pneumonia cake.

My friends came to get me for supper, so we adjourned to the “kitchen/dining room” to eat. We were joined by the hotels permanent guests: the owner and his wife, his mother, and his daughter and her husband. We sat in a circle surrounding a cooking pot suspended over an open fire.

The food is some of the best I’ve ever had, and I eat a lot of it. Grandma brings out some of her home-made rice wine and offers me a glass. I suppose gasoline is an acquired taste, grandma certainly seems to enjoy it, or maybe she just enjoys the look on my face as I try to mask the displeasure of consuming this high-octane brew.

After dinner we return to the first floor and sit around another open fire.. the Chinese girls sing and chat and make shoes, while we men play cards and enjoy a proper beer. My Chinese friends tell me to take the first shower and then they will shower.. I say ok and go to the shower “room”. I can’t do it… it’s freezing in here… I sneak out and into my room and crawl under my cold, wet blankets.

The sun and a knock on the door awake me at 10:00 the next morning. I try to say come in, but my voice won’t cooperate. I feel miserable.. My friends are leaving to continue the hike to another village a few hrs away and invite me to go with them. My girlfriend is visiting me in Hong Kong in a few days, so I politely refuse. I need to get back to Guilin… my train leaves tonight.

Guilin - Closing comments

2007-02-05T08:36:00.000-08:00

Without a doubt, the trip to Longji made this visit to Guilin worth it. Guilin itself failed to impress me, but the surrounding areas are magnificent. Maybe it’s my Amish blood or my preference for the simple life, but I fell in love with Longji and will certainly be back.

I still keep in contact with the Chinese friends I made there, and hope to see them again someday soon. I often wonder what lil’ sister is up to.. I think I miss her the most, she was such a bright and talented lil’girl. I just hope that she has a long and happy life and continues to outshine those around her.

As for me.. I’m back in school, working on my second semester now. I’m going to take a break from writing for a while and focus on my classes, but I’ll be back.

Shenzhen of Thieves

2006-12-01T01:17:00.000-08:00

There’s a party in my glass.. At least that is what the morning sun seems to think as her rays dance merrily off the frozen cubes swirling slowly in my drink. I wonder if the cubes would put up a fight if they knew what the sun was up to. Well, no matter, the cubes will exact revenge in their final moments when they release the carefully preserved bacteria strains the've so closely guarded. Note to self: “less stirring; more drinking”

Ok, besides the not-so-subtle reference to dysentery, that had little to do with Hong Kong. It did, however, create a fitting prologue for the primary topic of this journal entry. It is jokingly said that the Chinese will eat anything that moves, and after a recent trip to the Mainland, I can vouch for the validity of this theory.

A couple of weekends ago a friend and I took a trip into mainland China. We planned to spend a day in the city of Shen-Zhen which is the border city between Hong Kong and the Mainland. Upon clearing customs, we stopped at a booth to exchange currency and I made the critical mistake of putting my wallet in the outside pocket of my backpack. We walked out of the train station and into a 7-11 where I noticed that both wallet and Ipod were no longer in my possession. Luckily I had my passport in a different pocket. I had over 300 episodes of Lum and Abner on that Ipod, so whoever has it now is sure to be bored out of their minds.

After this rocky start, my friend Jeroen and I decided to continue our trip on his dime. We spent the rest of the morning walking around the city. It was fun to travel without agenda. Shen-Zhen is the first city in China to have a McDonalds, so we used this excuse to satisfy our western palates.

We went back to the train/bus station in the afternoon to return home, but decided to be spontaneous and go somewhere else. There was a large bus schedule covering one wall of the terminal, so we picked a city (random unknown Chinese symbol) and bought a couple tickets.

After a few hrs on that bus we arrived in the “unknown” city. I still have no idea where we went, but the setting sun was shining through the back of the bus so I have a general idea we were east and north of our previous location.

We walked around the city for a bit and then went to get something to eat. We had a nice meal of rice and several different types of meet and vegetables. When we went to pay the total came to 10 Yuan. I couldn’t believe how cheep it was! (10 Yuan is approximately $1.20 US for two people)

Next, we tried to find a suitable hotel. We went to the first one we came by, but it looked too nice for a student budget, so we didn’t bother to check for prices. We approached some people on the street, and, in my poorly spoken Chinese, I tried to explain to them that my wallet was stolen and we were looking for a cheep place to sleep for the night.

They understood my dilemma, but didn’t speak any English and I couldn’t understand the directions they were giving me. One of the guys asked me to wait and ran off in search of his friend. After bringing his friend from the restaurant, I again explained our situation and asked directions to a cheep hotel.

He spoke less English than I speak Chinese, but after a bit he said “Get in car, I take you”. Remembering my childhood lessons about not accepting rides from strangers, I was a bit hesitant, but then I figured I had broken so many other safety rules on this trip.. what’s one more.

The guy took us to a nice hotel, and parked the car. He went up to the front desk, handed the lady 300 yuan and said “Ok, I take you room”. Well, now my paranoia was in hyperdrive. I wasn’t sure what I said to the guy, but I was quite certain I never asked him to pay for our room! (or for that matter, don’t recall promising any sexual favors in return for his generosity, but like I said… my Chinese is quite poor)

We entered the room, which was nice and very comfortable. He said, “sit down”. I thought, “Oh Boy, Here it goes…” I leaned over to Jeroen and said, “You’re up first!” See, I’m an unselfish guy. Then the guy said, “You today.. have problem.” (heart beating faster) “Maybe I tomorrow also problem, so I help you!” Then he said goodbye and left… Was one of the most touching experiences I’ve had in a while.

Later that night we went for a walk through the city to find some food and entertainment. I bought a pack of Chinese cigarettes for 2 Yuan ( .25 cents USD) and lit one up. After a deep drag, I instantly understood the reason Chinese people are constantly spitting. I think a tube attached to a buss exhaust would provide fewer toxins.

Next stop was a small market stall selling dried, spicy goose neck. I promptly traded the remainder of my smokes for a neck and took a good bite.. Seconds later I had the overwhelming sensation that my lips were on fire. I looked over at Jeroen, who had polished off the rest of the neck, and he had fluids streaming out of his eyes, nose and the sides of his mouth. I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted anything that spicy before, but I was grateful my taste buds had been thrown into disarray. The goose could easily have been a few weeks (months) deceased.

We made a few more stops and on our way home, found another new delicacy we had not yet tried. Charcoaled bat… yum. The bats were skewered through the torso and through the wings.. like a crucifix-kabob. While waiting for our bats to cook, we took a couple of the raw fellows and had a bat fight… to the amusement of our spitting chef. After the bats were finished cooking, he said “Spice?”… sure… why not.

Have to say the bat was very tasty… but I couldn’t bring myself to eat more than a couple bites. Once again, Jeroen was happy to polish off the rest… head and all. After that we went back to our complimentary hotel room, apologized to our stomachs and fell asleep.

Having survived the night we set out in the morning to find a McDonalds. I asked several people for directions and then learned something.. It doesn’t do any good to ask directions in Chinese if you don’t understand direction words.. we never found the McDonalds.

We did, however, find a bus station 6 hrs later and decided it was time to go home. We were out of Chinese Yuan so we walked to the bank to change some more money. On our way back, my friend said something about wanting to visit Guangzhou, Chinas third largest city. A few minutes later, we had tickets to Guangzhou, another three hr bus ride in the wrong direction.

Having guessed that our day trip might be extended, I had a change of cloths, which was more than I can say for my Dutch friend, who was beginning to smell a bit. No matter, we arrived in Guanzhou and began walking again. We passed a nice duck restaurant but something caught my eye. There were the usual roasted poultry items strung from the neck in the window, but on the end, I saw something the looked suspiciously like a bald, cooked version of Rosie (grandmas dog).

It was a dog (rather half of one) strung from the nostrils… an initially disturbing sight for most westerners. We continued walking for a few blocks then Jeroen asked if we could go back and get a picture of the dog. So we did, but ultimately a picture wasn’t enough. A large helping of dog and two conflicted consciences later, we left the restaurant.

We found a suitable hotel room that night and spent the next day walking around the city. I would love to know the number of miles we covered during these three days, but I would not like to be the guys sitting near us for the bus ride home…. Yikes. Lucky for us, the only toilet on the bus backed up and a smell more powerful than ours provided adequate distraction.

I believe the thing that impressed me the most about this trip was the cost. All totaled, including tickets, meals, hotels and drinks, I owed my friend less than $70 when we returned. I easily spend that on an average night out in Hong Kong or the states.

So we tasted the good and the bad of China. Surprising low points were matched by equally unexpected moments of generosity. All part of the balance I suppose… the Ying… the Yang…. And the Yikes!

The Chinese University of Hong Kong

2006-11-01T21:37:00.000-08:00

Ni Hao! Wo jiao Miao Shi Wei. If you’re receiving this email, it’s because I (or someone I know) thought you might be interested. This is my first journal entry from my studies abroad. All photos are original, taken with a Sony DSC-T9 digital camera. Enjoy!

The Chinese University of Hong Kong campus is magnificent, with rolling, tropical mountains capturing three quarters of the landscape and an open sea greeting from the East. It is, however, the rolling mountains that are fuelling an epic civil war between my thighs and eyes. The mountains themselves pose no real threat; however, the flawless trifecta of mountains, 90% humidity and 95 degree weather has launched a strategic attack on my rapidly depleting energy reserves.

As large beads of sweat fall onto my freshly folded laundry, I wonder what administrative flaw put a 250 lb American 5 floors above the closest washer and dryer. Of course I could wait for the un-air-conditioned elevator, but it seams to have a mind of its own. When it’s working, it’s usually going in the wrong direction, and when it does climb it seems to be doing so without any justifiable explanation or input. (not unlike our Presidents approval rating)

This campus is hailed as the most beautiful in Asia. The wonderful contrast of tropical plants, modern architecture and cascading water are a perfect distraction from the insane heat. (As is the Chinese Pottery Museum in central campus… best air-conditioning in Hong Kong and great place to feign interest in 2500 year old water vessels)

When I arrived at CUHK it took me a little while to notice my surroundings. At first it took a bit of effort to leave the air-conditioned dorm and go exploring, however after orientation they shut off the free air-conditioning and we now have to pay for it. For me, this has provided adequate motivation to go out and embrace the tropics.

When I began writing this journal it was early August and it is now late September. The weather has improved dramatically and it is quite comfortable now.

Since then, things have calmed down. Only a typhoon and an earthquake last week are reminders that I’m “not in Kansas anymore”.

One evening we traveled to a three story river front restaurant in Shatin. There were 400 of us and we only filled up one of the three available dining floors. We were treated to an 8 course meal, only some of which I recognized. The fish and chicken were unmistakable as they were served without waste.

I went back to Shatin last night to purchase a desk top fan. The fan was in a bag clearly labeled with a price tag of HK$399. I asked the shop keeper to plug it in for me and he obliged. When writing my sales ticket, I noticed he charged me $599. I pointed out the tag and told him I would prefer to pay the local people price. He had a sheepish grin on his face as he tried to explain the “Bush Tax” to me. In the end he settled for HK$350 and an ear full.

(Note: I would have just gone to another vendor, however this guy earned huge creativity points in my book for his attempted explanation of the Bush Tax. I can certainly appreciate originality, especially in this country.)

Classes started in early September and are progressing nicely, although I admit I am having a difficult time focusing. I am taking a relatively light load this semester (15credits) so that I can do some traveling and learn more about the Asian culture.

I picked up my multi-entry Visa for the mainland yesterday. I am only a few minutes train ride away from the boarder and plan to take numerous trips into the mainland. My Cousin and her husband are teaching at a University a few hrs north of me and I hope to visit them soon.

I am staying in the International House dormitory (1 of 2) and it is quite comfortable. I share a room with two other exchange students from Beijing.
Having never lived on a college campus before I was a bit anxious about the experience, but it has not been a problem for me. My room mates are both interesting guys. Both are 20 and neither has ever kissed a girl, which I find terrifying but they say it’s the norm. One of them is an expert pianist and I enjoy listening to him play. We have a nice piano in the common room and it seems to always be in use. The musical talent that is emerging from my building alone is phenomenal. I have never heard Mozart and Beethoven played to such perfection.

Frank has the unusual ability to hear any song and directly write down the sheet music. I’ve never seen anything like it. I have played my Fur Elise for him and he is helping me work out the few remaining bugs. On numerous occasions he has expressed amazement that I can play with such “fat fingers”… Robert you should enjoy that.

The other room mate is Alex. I call him the “toucher” because… well… he is constantly touching me. Every time I come into the room he pats my stomach and says “wow… so soft!” I’m sure it is a cultural thing, and I am trying to endure with a good sense of humor!

As you can see from the picture above, taken from my living room and the pictures on the first page taken from my balcony, our flat has an incredible view. The only drawback about the I-house is that the closest free bus stop is 6 flights of stairs and a long hill away and the closest class room is even farther.

I have been taking some time to party, of course, but I am trying not to forget the reason I came here. Learn Chinese and a better appreciation for Asian culture.

To that end, I'll leave you with a fun little story that happened to me the other day.

I was walking across campus one evening and ran into a huge crowd of water gun toting Asian students. Apparently they were having a freshmen initiation and there must have been 50-100 people in this huge water fight. They had filled three small kiddy pools as well and were using these to refill guns and to dunk people in. I'm not sure how I became a target but next thing I knew I was in the middle of a full fledged war. Being the only white face in the fray, and being an easy 6 inches taller and wider than their largest representative, I became a popular target. 3 of the Lilliputians (ref Gullivers Travels) tried to pick me up and drop me into the pool. It amused me to watch them tugging at my legs in a futile effort to dislodge my footing, however my smirk quickly vanished when I realized they subscribed to the Power in Numbers theory. I quickly began to empathize with Gulliver when I was dropped into the pool and bucket after bucket of water was poured onto my head. The Lilliputians began to chant in a language that I didn't understand and which I can only assume was a celebration of my defeat. (more than likely a local college initiation song) Then, as quickly as they appeared, they vanished. I could hear their continued cries echoing across the campus, but there I was, holding a bucket of water in a sea of discarded guns and buckets and not a soul in sight. Cosmic….