A Blog Reposted from a Blog: Looking Back From Goodbye Means Learning From It

I am reprinting an entry I made for an online workshop two months back. After I finished writing it, I realized that I wanted to post it on my personal blog, simply because I felt I had already written what I wanted to write, and could not muster the strength to run myself through the same emotional wringer again just so I could say my proper goodbye on my own blog. See, as a writer, I tend to jot down the first things that come to my head, at the speed it comes, and whenever I reread what I’ve written I realize I cannot again capture the same emotion once the moment has passed. This is true for most of the things I write, and particularly true for what I wrote in the entry below.

So — if I need to apologize for reprinting my own words in my own blog, here it is — I apologize. Just in case.

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The school year is over, and there has yet been another cohort that has passed me by. As a teacher who has done this over and over for the past sixteen years, the yearly ritual of packing and sorting tends to become a bit of a religion: if you are constant enough in your practice, you will definitely experience a deepening of insight.

I guess this feeling is magnified when you pack up because you are about to leave an institution for good, which is what I am doing right now. The melancholy that accompanies the thought of leaving these walls that I have populated for a good eleven years is something that borders tears, but as this is not a luxury I can afford right now (given the limited time I have for doing this task) I simply decide to ignore the sadness and focus on the good times and on the learning I have done over the years. This I can definitely do, and it is infinitely more uplifting.

I have at least three boxes full of things, student material, letters, graduation programs, curriculum handouts, readings and books that I have accumulated throughout the years. I guess if you could box up memory and laughter and frustration and sleepless nights I would be going home with twenty and not three. Thank God for the wonderful collecting bin that is our brain, and I don’t even have to hire more vehicles to cart them all off. Nevertheless these are the ones that provide me with much insight to remember and live by, even as I leave one school and begin anew in another:

(1) Trust your students. It’s scary to do this, especially because we have been brought up in that culture that dictates teachers to be the be-all and end-all of knowledge. But I have discovered that students trust teachers who trust them, because they know that they are part of the process called learning, something that their teacher is also still doing.

(2) Don’t stop learning. As they say, practice what you preach. How can you challenge your students if you yourself have stagnated in what you do and what you know? No one knows everything, thank God. That definitely refers to your students. And most especially, that refers to you as a teacher as well.

(3) Find joy in what you do. As I told my colleague once, I prefer to hire a teacher based on their heart than on their knowledge or skill. See, knowledge you can learn and skill you can acquire. But heart is something that you cannot pay the world to have, because if you are not passionate about teaching (and indeed, in whatever it is you do!) then you will find no joy in it. But if you are, there will always be something fulfilling, hilarious, amazing, and inspiring in your everyday, even if all you’re doing is checking papers.

(4) Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Even if it sounds stupid to you. Believe me, our students think precisely the same thing! But without questions, there will be no answers to seek. And without that whole process, this world will simply be a limp, lifeless, unchanging landscape, worse than Mars. It would be a drab, boring place to be.

(5) Take that risk: your classroom is bigger than you think it is. The classroom is not the only place to learn. Even in my depressed country, there are museums, restaurants, movies, parks, factories, farms, and even homes where learning can be achieved. I bring my students out as much as I can and I am always humbled and surprised with what they come away with. It reminds me that knowledge and learning is everywhere, just like air, and is just as needed for this world to keep turning.

There are perhaps more wisdoms lodged in my brain, but unfortunately they will have to remain there for now. My boxes await, and I would like to leave before the dust settles, or at least before this school-provided Internet connection is closed upon me permanently. 

Goodbye for now, my dear old school. I have learned much from you, and I hope you have, in whatever small way, learned from me too. Godspeed.

 

Grace and Blessings

… and just like that, Lent is almost over. Tomorrow (or, for those who are attending the Vigil Masses, tonight), it’s officially Easter — actually the most important day in any Christian’s life, when we mere mortals were given the hope that one day we, too, will share in God’s kingdom and lodge in one of his many mansions.

Wow.

And I mean the “wow” in many ways. Wow, that we could live in Heaven because of Jesus’ sacrifice. Wow, that Lent is almost over, all forty days of it. Wow, that, like spring, everything shoots up out of the ground again and the world begins its usual turn. All of that, I think, deserves a wow.

So … yes. Wow.

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As for me, I tried my hardest to keep to my promise of abstaining from soda and wheat products. I must confess (as I knew from the outset) that it wasn’t as easy as giving up coffee, but I did what I could. I did break my promise a couple of times — five, in total — but for most times it was because there was nothing else that I could eat and it was either that or starve. My body being what it is, I could not deprive myself for too long because my hands would start shaking and I would start feeling lightheaded if I did. Of course, that is not an excuse, because I could have stocked up on the things that I was allowed to eat, after all. Nonetheless, I am happy that I was able to make a teeny-tiny sacrifice for the Lord during this season of Lent.

An upside to my abstinence is that I have lost some of the weight that I had acquired while sitting around doing nothing. I believe I have lost anywhere from five to eight pounds (I wasn’t keeping close tabs in the beginning, mainly because stepping on the scale was depressing, so I’m not sure of how much, exactly) and a couple of inches. Nasty inches these are, really, when you acquire them in the latter part of your thirties, like I have, and staying off wheat has helped keep them at bay. Foolishly enough, I’ve known all this for two years now, but I keep going back to the habit, anyway. That’s the darned problem when you’re a pasta-lover like me.

Anyways, that being so, I think I will try and stay as free from wheat as I can. Soda is something that I can live virtually without, but wheat is much harder because, believe it or not, there are very few gluten-free items here in this country whose staple food is rice. Wait — let me revise that slightly — there are very few good gluten-free items in this country. Many of those that do exist are either too expensive, hard-to-acquire, or, as is the case most of the time, taste nothing like food. And I kid you not! You’re actually better off eating cardboard, as it has better taste and a more interesting texture. Cheaper, too.

Granted, there are some pretty good alternatives now as opposed to about two years back, but these are still far and few between. Regular stores still don’t carry them, and not even Starbucks has the option of using almond or hazelnut milk as opposed to soy, skim, and full cream. Maybe they will someday, and when that time comes, you can be sure that I’d be writing about it in my blog.

But for the moment, I am savoring the idea that tomorrow, I would be able to eat one of the Krispy Kreme donuts that my ever-thoughtful husband bought after his bike ride this morning. It’s a happy thought, not comparable to the thrill of an Easter egg hunt, of course, but an excitement all on its own.

Thank you, Lord, for your blessings, great and small.

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“And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

 

 

A Commentary on YouTube

Having a lot of time on my hands I have spent a lot (actually, sometimes I think too much) time browsing YouTube, and it never ceases to amaze me. I’ve come to think of it as the online equivalent to being in the biggest grocery in the world: you come in with a specific thing in mind, then find that there are many permutations of the same item, so you start looking closely at them all to find the best bargain. Before you know it, you’d already whiled away a good part of your time — and to top it all off, you’re now slightly dazed and confused, trying to remember what it was that you were looking for in the first place.

One example of this would be a relatively obscure song, Somebody That I Used to Know by a Belgian-Australian singer who prefers to be known as Gotye. His original song, featuring Kimbra, a Kiwi singer, is quirky enough to be interesting in itself, as you can see below:

 

Despite its status of being a relative unknown, this song, believe it or not, has spawned at least two more versions — at least those worth seeing — the first by yet another relatively unknown group called Walk Off the Earth, made interesting by the unique way they defined the term sharing, and the second by the a capella group Pentatonix, winners of the NBC show Sing Off, who together create sounds that you would not believe only come from five mouths:

 

 

Now, imagine, if you will, a very popular song, such as Someone Like You by Grammy winner and chart-topper Adele. How many versions do you think it would it spawn? Let me count the ways …

 

 

 

 

 

… and those do not even include the ones being sung by four-year-olds, by groups, or by people whose versions could only be explained by a bout of either madness or alcoholism.

This fact is amazing to me especially when I think how many of us were cajoled (read: threatened) by our parents and various aunts and uncles to sing or dance for them when we were young, and how many of us would shy away from the idea of having to perform in front of a judging crowd. I’ve seen this happen a lot of times not just among our family, but also in my students and in my colleagues — and I completely understand why. After all, how many amongst us would willingly step up to the limelight and receive the proverbial pie in the face if things go wrong?

But there is something in posting a video of yourself that encourages the emergence of dormant talent out of many people in a way that good-natured cajoling does not: it is the fact that, when you do put yourself out on the line, you do not have to necessarily hear your audience’s claps or catcalls, whichever there may be. You can, after all, post a video of yourself and disable the comments to it, and voila! you have made yourself known, but you don’t have to suffer the attendant humiliation that you fear. It is now up to people to either rage or rave about you as they will, to ignore you completely or repost you on their blogs, like I just did.

So now the performer in all of us can slowly, if not secretly, come to the fore — without having to wince in advance, anticipating the rotten tomatoes and cream pies that we would receive. We can now sing, dance, beat box, or act (thanks to all the video-capturing technologies available to even the most retiring of people) to our heart’s content, and imagine how much better the world is now that we have let our talents come through.

For this, thank you, YouTube!

 

Sacrifice

It’s strange what a vacation does to your sense of time.

Just a bit ago — or so it seemed — Christmas had just finished, the gifts given, the acquired loot stashed accordingly. Amazingly enough, I’d allowed myself to be distracted by day-to-day things (you’d be amazed with what can fill up your time when there’s nothing to fill it up with), ran around without my head, and, when I finally slowed down to get my bearings — voila! — it’s Lent again.

Amazing.

So … anyway.

Lent being the time of contemplation and sacrifice, I am once more thinking of what I can give up for this season. Last year I gave up coffee (surprisingly easy during that time, by God’s grace), something that I promptly took up again right after, but achieved the purpose of offering up a little bit of self-denial which, of course, is a paltry thing compared to the enormity of Jesus’ sacrifice.

What I am therefore giving up this year — for a full forty days — are two things: (1) soda of all kinds, and (2) wheat products of all kinds. Yup, you heard it right — me, the cake-and-banoffee-pie lover will be giving up all sorts of pastry, bread, and pasta for the next forty days. On the other hand, soda drinking is a sad habit I’d picked up again for the past six months and although (I am hoping) it would not be as hard a wrench as giving up wheat, it’s still going to be a sacrifice especially when you’re eating the driest meals and the day feels as sluggish as pumpkin soup …

Why, you ask, are you writing about this? Believe it or not, it’s not me trying to get anyone else into doing something similar. It’s actually a personal thing: I am making a promise to God, but I also need others who can be God’s voice to remind me of my promise. There will be times when I would be forgetful or that I would be tempted, and having those who can slap me on the wrist physically would be a solid reminder of what I had steeled myself to do. Without that, I may fail in my resolve despite my good intentions.

So here we go: it begins. A blessed Ash Wednesday to everyone!

 

Pork Chops with Caramelized Apple Sauce

Pork chops have never been this good.

My hubby and I aren’t big pork fans, but I accidentally “invented” this when we were in Hong Kong and I was desperate to get rid of several overstaying ingredients in the fridge. To both my husband’s and my surprise (and gratitude), we liked it a lot … so much so that I cooked it again today, with similar results!

I think putting apples with pork chops is actually quite common, but I call this “my” version because I didn’t consult any recipe for anything. For starters, I basically threw things together and I wasn’t really measuring ingredients — which means getting this right is a challenge for your estimation skills (or, as Rachel Ray used to say, your “eyeballing” abilities). Better yet, adjust to your taste, as everyone has their own concept of yummy.

To those who may actually have the same recipe — I apologize; I promise I was not trying to steal yours. It just so happened we have similar ideas.

So, without further ado, here goes: “my” Pork Chops with Caramelized Apple Sauce (serves 2)

Ingredients:

2 pieces pork chops, skin off

1/2 cup flour

Salt, pepper, and all the herbs that go well with pork, such as sage, thyme, rosemary

Canola or any other vegetable oil

1/3 Fuji apple

Butter

1 tbsp brown sugar

1/2 cup apple juice

Procedure:

(1) Begin with the pork chops. Put enough oil in the pan to fry your pork slices. Estimate such that they would not end up swimming in oil, nor standing bare, otherwise you’ll end up with soggy or burnt versions.

(2) Mix the flour, salt, pepper and herbs in a sandwich bag (those that zip shut). Plunk the pork chops in, one at a time, and shake vigorously to coat each one thoroughly.

(3) Fry the pork chops until golden brown. Remove from the pan and place on an uncovered plate to let it breathe. Remove the oil from the pan.

(4) Start making your caramelized apple sauce. Cut the Fuji apples into thin slices. Combine the apple juice and the brown sugar, stirring to dissolve the sugar completely.

(5) Melt the butter in the same pan you cooked the chops. Saute the apples in the butter, turning when the apples turn a nice golden color.

(6) Pour the apple juice and sugar mixture onto the apples. Boil vigorously until the apples are soft, at which point the liquid will be a bit thicker than when it started.

(7) Combine your pork and apples. Remove the apples from the pan, then do a second round of cooking on the chops by placing them in the boiling apple juice and sugar mixture, about two to three minutes per side. It is normal that whatever crust you may have successfully created when you fried the chops would start to fall off; just try to keep them in one piece. If not, it’s okay — you’ll get to eat all of it, anyway.

(8) Transfer the chops, along with the apple juice and sugar mixture, onto a plate. Spoon the caramelized apples on top of the chops, then drizzle the rest of the sauce.

(9) Enjoy with cooked white rice or mashed potatoes. Fantastic with boiled corn and steamed carrots as well!

Author’s Note: If you can find pork medallions — the kind of pork cut that’s thinner than a chop and ends up looking like round discs — they work even better with this recipe, because the pork ends up a bit crunchier. Yum.

 

 

2011: A Positive Look Back

Once again, my friends, it is the end of the year: that moment when we pause, look back, think of the past three hundred and sixty-five days (give or take a couple of hours), and either marvel or lament over it all. I, in particular, usually use these interesting in-between hours to draw my mental lists: to rue over the things that I had set out to do but failed, to smile at those that I accomplished, and create a whole new one for the next year.

But since one of my resolutions for 2012 is to become more of a positive-thinking person, I’ve decided to eschew my tradition of remembering both my accomplishments and failures. I’ve decided to list only those things that worked out for me this year, those that gave me great happiness and contentment throughout the year 2011, and to put the negatives behind me. This way, I hope to be looking forward and celebrating all year!

So, without further ado: my accomplishments for the year that has been, 2011:

Read more books. Yup, if there was anything I was able to do a lot of this year, it’s reading. I think I finished an average of about a book every four or five days, and I would have read more had it not been for that blasted Game of Thrones series, particularly Book Four (seriously, how many more main characters are there left by now?). The bulk of my readings were sci-fi (thank you, Kathy Reichs, Mira Grant, and the late Michael Crichton), but I enjoyed the occasional non-fic, as well. My poor shelf, I believe, is groaning under all the weight.

Just a few of my year's readings.

Got myself a Kindle. Despite the trauma (and cost) of my first attempt at getting a Kindle, I finally managed to get myself one, and boy — am I ever so glad I did. Now I can carry fifteen books at the same time and not have to bring a suitcase along to tote them all. Amazon is, of course, making me pay for the books I really like (using your free e-books is practically impossible because of the font size), so I trawl their website for free books as often as I can. Of course, you pay nothing for those, so you can’t expect much. But I have chanced upon some really good fledgeling authors, and those were the most fascinating surprises of all.

Have Kindle, will travel. Freebies like "Noon God" and "Sherlock Holmes" make trawling Amazon's website worthwhile.

Spent more time with my dog, Harry. With the exception of the past three months when we had to leave him behind, my hubby and I have exerted greater effort to spend more time with our fifteen-month-old Yorkie, Harry. We have actively tried to walk, bathe, and play with him more often. Given our busy schedules, this doesn’t always work out, so I’m glad Harry’s a patient bloke. A lesser pooch would have complained, but not so our Harry!

The ever-patient, ever-energetic Harry!

Got more sunlight. That might sound mundane to you, but I am one of those people who work indoors most of the time, breathing airconditioned oxygen and never seeing the sun until I leave work and it’s about to set. Since I took a leave in September, I have been to more parks over the last three months than I have for the past ten years of my life. More parks meant more time under the sun; more time under the sun meant a happier, cheerier me.

Kowloon Park is just one of the hundreds, but it's the one we frequented most. It's gorgeous.

Got myself not just one, but two, Longchamps. If you’ve read my posts before, I mentioned late in 2010 that I had wanted a Longchamp, but that I had not been able to get one due to various reasons. I closed that post with a vow that I would, and voila! — I did. Not just one, mind you: I got myself two. With the proliferation of fakes, I decided to purchase only those with interesting and unique prints so as to make sure that they were made in the original French factory. The provenance of the first was a lucky chance with one of my hubby’s colleagues, while the second is a proud holdover from my Hong Kong stay. Will I buy any more in the future? You bet.

The short-handled blue one is called "Tree of Life", while the red long-handled one is the "Great Wall of China, Limited Asian Edition". They are equally fantastic.

Embraced new experiences. As I’ve mentioned previously in my other posts, I hate flying, I don’t really like Hong Kong, and I prefer the routine of work over vacations. But this year was really an eye-opener for me in terms of possibilities, and I found — much to my surprise — that I actually could be flexible if I wished. All those three things I mentioned were set ideas that were challenged over the past couple of months, and the results were interesting, to say the least: I still don’t love flying, but I’ve gotten a bit more used to it, which is better than the shaking wreck that I usually am when I’m forced to fly. I now love Hong Kong, and I happily admit that many of my preconceived notions about it were wrong. I still like the routine of work, but I’ve also realized the value of vacations and rest, something I would not have discovered had it not been forced on me. Looking back, therefore, I can legitimately say that I am a (marginally) different person than when the year 2011 started, and that I am proud of that fact.

My passport has never been so full. That, in itself, is an accomplishment.

On that note, do join me, my dear friends and random readers, in welcoming the new year, the year of the Water Dragon, 2012. May there be more interesting books, contented families, sunny days, abundantly happy shopping, and wonderful, blessed surprises for all of us!

God bless you all!

 

Five Things I Still Don’t Like About Hong Kong

Okay.

First, a disclaimer: I now really like Hong Kong. There are a great many things that I love about it as I mentioned in my previous entry. But to hark back to my marriage metaphor, time spent with any one person (or place) exposes you to the not-so-great stuff as well. This is perfectly normal, but for some, it’s a deal breaker. I am not sure if my pet peeves regarding Hong Kong spoil the whole thing for me; perhaps it will take more living-in time to figure out whether these aspects mess everything up or whether they merely magnify the best things about it.

So here goes: the five things I still don’t like about Hong Kong:

(1) Their environment is hopelessly polluted. Despite their best efforts to lessen smog and plastic consumption, Hong Kong continues to rank third on the list of the most polluted cities in the world. This is particularly obvious during mornings when one happens to gaze across the Victoria Harbor and watch the sunrise: the sun doesn’t exactly rise. It pretty much appears from behind a haze of blue. True, the blue smog creates quite a beautiful effect on the mountains, making it blurry in the distance, almost like a monochromatic watercolor painting – light blue for the farthest mountains, slightly darker blue for the ones in front, a wee bit darker still for the nearest. The problem is, that exact same beauty is what you would be breathing in everyday, thereby accounting for the high incidence of allergic reactions in people. I fervently hope that the government’s attempts to find ways and means to solve this problem turns out to be as effective as the solutions they’d made before regarding other problems, because otherwise, the next fashion statement Hongkers would be promoting is the wearing of oxygen masks.

(2) They are not pet friendly. My husband and I are the proud pet parents of a two-year-old Yorkie named Harry, and initially we had wanted to bring him along for our stay in Hong Kong. And here we begin – issue number one. As it turns out, bringing a dog over to Hong Kong requires not just a pet passport but also a four-month quarantine for the pet. Since we were only supposed to stay a bit over three months, we decided it was going to be a useless move to stress Harry with the flight-and-quarantine thing only to bring him home right after. While we were there, however, we decided to sniff around (pardon the pun) for possible places for us to stay if he were with us, and bam! – issue number two. Apparently, there are very few places where lessors would allow you to have your pooch with you. Most of these places are either old buildings (and believe me, when I say old, I mean old), in Mid-Levels (which has no grassy place for a dog to romp in), in expensive expat areas like Stanley, or in far-flung places like Sai Kung or Discovery Bay. If you, by some lucky turn of events, find a place that’s actually near work or which is commuter-friendly, the effort does not quite end there. Issue number three – you will need to keep your pet as quiet as possible. Two complaints from neighbors and you’re out on the street with your little animal companion. All these restrictions make you not only hesitant to have a pet but makes you feel like a hunted being if you do happen to have one. I know how much value my own dog has added to my family and we love Harry greatly, so I was appalled to know that it would practically take heaven and earth before we could have him with us. Come on, Hong Kong – have a heart!

(3) I could never get used to their strong sense of self. This one I chalk up to my own high standards: as a teacher and as a person, I expect that my students not only care about themselves but also for others. It is therefore jarring to me to be living among people who don’t seem to practice this. I speak generally, of course: I speak of people who blatantly sit on seats specifically marked for the elderly, pregnant or disabled and do not get up even when one of the aforementioned make an appearance; of those who speak too loudly in public places, ignoring the fact that about a thousand people around them do not care to hear a broadcast of their personal lives; of those who rush along the streets even if they’re stepping on other people’s feet or poking them in the eyes with their umbrellas (yes, I know I mentioned that before. And yes, it’s one of my pet peeves). I admit that individuals like these exist everywhere, but unfortunately they do seem to exist in greater numbers in Hong Kong than in the other places I’ve been to. Sadly enough, I cannot think of any reason why that is so.

(4) The lifestyle is too nocturnal. I am a day person. It’s hard for me to imagine sleeping beyond nine every night or waking up beyond seven every morning; by the third day I would probably be sleepwalking or hallucinating if I tried. However, it’s hard to sleep early in Hong Kong because they have such a nocturnal lifestyle: their malls are open till late and people are still jogging or drinking or what-have-you for as long as there is light left (and believe me, you will never go without light in Hong Kong, whether electric or natural. Ever.). At one point, it got so that we couldn’t sleep in our darkened room because of all the lights flashing outside. Only when we realized that we should draw the curtains every night (stupid of us not to notice from the get-go, but yes, that’s the drawback when you live in a place that isn’t your own) did we actually get a decent night’s sleep at our preferred time. Even then, we noticed that we ourselves started sleeping later and later until – gasp – we actually began turning in at ten p.m.!

Imagine the havoc that wrought now that we’re back in our home country!

(5) Everything is commercialized. This is, of course, expected from a country whose main source of income is its reputation for being a shopping mecca. However, what I didn’t expect is the kind of lifestyle this sort of reputation spawns: practically everyone here walks around like some sort of advert. If you could stand on one corner and give yourself ten dollars every time the brands Apple, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Goyard, Marc Jacobs, Christian Louboutin, or Gucci make an appearance in any form, you’d come away rich – and we’re only talking about standing there for half the day. Although I appreciate the fact that people could parade these expensive brands everyday without any fear of being mugged, being surrounded by these also sucks you into the perpetual I-need-to-buy-something mindset, which is, if you ask me, a very material way of looking at life. Ironically, my own love for shopping was curbed here: being dipped, rolled and fried in shopping opportunities greatly dampened my enthusiasm for retail. After all, what’s the fun in shopping if you could do it everyday, everywhere, anytime?

Now that I think of it, maybe I should move this particular item to the entry on the things I love about Hong Kong … or better yet, move it to my husband’s list of the things he now loves about it!

 

 

Five Things I Love About Hong Kong

They say you don’t really know someone unless you’ve been married to them. I would probably say that that adage is quite true as well for places: you never really know it until you’re married to it – that is, living with it and in it, day in, day out.

If you had asked me about a year ago if I would want to live in Hong Kong, I would have most likely laughed, rather incredulously. Me, exist in a smoggy metropolis where everyone seems to be in a perpetual hurry? Me, stay in a country of small spaces and even smaller kitchens? Me, survive in a place where people toting umbrellas unabashedly poke me in the eye and do not even have the decency to apologize? Hah. Me, live in Hong Kong?

No. Definitely not.

But apparently, God moves in mysterious ways, for the city that I would have least imagined to inhabit became my home for the last three and a half months. Interestingly enough, as my husband’s training period is coming to a close very soon, I find myself not only frantically packing bags but also waxing rather sentimental about the past hundred-plus days which I have spent in this smoggy, tiny, individualistic country, thinking about my own learning, and revising the prejudices and impressions that I brought along with me when I first came.

Let me tell you, therefore, of five things I now love about Hong Kong and its people.

(1) They have a wonderful sense of organization. As a bona fide member of the obsessive-compulsive club, my particular obsession is organization. I prefer things to happen in orderly, predictable ways; I want to see logic behind things. Hong Kong surprised me with a sense of organization that rivaled mine, almost as if a clone of me came over and ran their government for a bit. For example, the MTR (Mass Transit Railway), which is the main choice for transportation, has trains that come within two to five minutes of each other*, and, on the rare occasions where it has to run about thirty seconds off schedule, you could immediately hear apologies in two languages pouring over the speakers and flashing in screens. Each station is color-coordinated, so you would know exactly where you are at, even if all you manage to see through the crush of people are blurs of color indicating your destination. You may choose to get tickets every time you travel, but a wonderful time saver is the Octopus Card, an all-in-one card that you could load e-cash in through any 7-11 Store and could be used not only to beep yourself in and out of stations but also to pay for purchases in restaurants and stores. In other words, the way they have set things up here makes perfect sense to me. That, in itself, is a fantastic (and rare) thing.

(2) They are an intellectual people. Not that my own countrymen are not intellectuals – they are, but unfortunately, it’s not cool to be so. Here, it is commonplace to be an intellectual, and it’s perfectly normal. Reading, for instance, is one of the favorite pastimes in this tiny country: everyone is constantly, perpetually reading. Trains are full of people reading books or some website on their mobile phones. There are libraries in every major city, full even on Sundays, and membership and borrowing are free.** Newspapers are given out gratis in every major MTR station exit, and both Mandarin (Po Tung Hua) and English versions are available. Pocketbooks can be purchased everywhere, from the convenience stores to the magazine stands, and are cheap. In other words, the country has set itself up to be one that allows for continuous learning and discovery through books, and its people have responded enthusiastically. I, in particular, love that I could sit anywhere and turn my Kindle on or pull out a pocketbook while people walk all around me, minding their own business. Here, I am in welcome, and common, company.

(3) They love the natural outdoors. My own country is rich in natural resources: the wealth of shoreline, mountains, farmlands, and varied waterways really make for a lot of beauty. However, you could only see these if you personally made it a point to traipse around the countryside, and even then, you’d have to make your own itinerary and find your own way around. Not so in Hong Kong! Everywhere you look, there is one lovely park or another, open for people to jog through, do tai chi, take pictures, race remote controlled boats, picnic, or just sit around in and stare at something green for a change. Even better, there are signs and plaques everywhere that point to them and encourage you to visit. If you get around to hiking – a favorite pastime – you would be surprised as to how well the paths are maintained, how strategically markers are placed so you would know where you are going and how long you’d need to take to get there, how thoughtfully public payphones and bus stops are scattered along the way so that you would never be far from help should you need it. They do have very little of it left, but what they have of the natural outdoors they obviously are proud of. How I wish we could do the same in my country, especially taking into account our own dwindling green!

(4) They find ways to solve problems. I guess it comes from having so little of everything to make do with, but the people of Hong Kong are fantastically resourceful when it comes to solving problems. For example, apartments are tiny, so what they do is make intelligent use of every single inch of space: indeed, you would be hard-pressed to find a more efficiently-designed three-by-four kitchen that fits a stove, exhaust, microwave, toaster, and washing machine in one fell swoop. The city is mostly concrete and the only places available for green are “dead” spaces – between buildings, under flyovers – so squeeze plants into these spaces they do. Street space is limited as well, resulting into crazy traffic jams, so they created an efficient public transportation system to discourage people from using cars and clogging the streets some more. To give opportunities for small-scale industries, they close certain roads in popular shopping districts on weekends and allow these businessmen their turn for space and potential customers. The Filipino saying, “Kapag maigsi ang kumot, matutong mamaluktot (literally translated: Learn to curl up if the blanket is short),” is perfectly illustrated here: the people of Hong Kong have learned to solve their problems while making do with what they have.

(5) They have an efficient government. I would never tire of telling others this story: when I first came to Hong Kong in mid-September, I noticed signs all over the place proclaiming something about the ‘6000HKD Scheme’. I had no idea what this meant, so I made sure to ask around. It turns out that it was a public announcement for every Hong Kong citizen from the age of 18 and up to go to the nearest HSBC bank branch and claim their 6,000HKD (roughly Php36,000) check on certain dates. Why were there checks waiting for them? It was because the government had a surplus and could give the people’s money back to them. Not satisfied with this stupefyingly fantastic move, the government discovered that they still had money left over, so they sent out a second announcement informing those who are not Hong Kong citizens but who earn within the lowest income bracket to come out to the HSBC banks as well and claim their share of the excess.

When I found out about this, I could not believe my ears. Never in my life has my own country’s government done something like this – yes, there was once that Php500 (roughly 90HKD) dole out that the government gave away at the height of the country’s financial woes around two years back, but it was vastly different from the Hong Kong government’s windfall in the sense that my government’s act was done out of pity (and, most probably, less honorable emotions and intentions – but let’s not depress ourselves further). On the other hand, the Hong Kong government did what they did out of honesty and efficiency: we have surplus, let’s give it back to the people we taxed in the first place. This, too, from a government that provides excellent services to its people, first-rate roads and airports, and has published telephone numbers that actually work and are answered by actual human beings when you wish to file a complaint. Their governing body works, and works well – a fact that is just a fantasy right now for my poor, suffering country.

Of course, not everything is perfect about this tiny country – and to be fair, I will be writing about that as well – but I am glad that, despite my earlier misgivings, Hong Kong has proven me wrong in so many ways. I am glad that, after years of personal disdain, I have found many things I could love and rave about in terms of this country. In other words, yes, I am glad that I lived in Hong Kong, if only for a short while.

Thank you for sheltering my husband and I for the past three and a half months, Hong Kong! It was an awesome ride.

 

*Although, of course, I am talking about the regular lines. Far-reaching lines like the ones running to Tung Chung and Disneyland present themselves in 10-minute intervals.

**If you hold a citizen card, that is. If you don’t, you will have to pay a deposit of HKD150 for every book you wish to borrow. This amount is given back to you as soon as you return the book. 

 

HK Day 26: Laundering

And I do not, in any way, mean money laundering. I mean honest-to-goodness washing of clothes, towels, bedsheets, and the like.

When I was young, I never really got to wash clothes. Not because we were rich and had maids, but because my mom would refuse to let me anywhere near a task that involved water. I loved to play with water, splashing around whenever I was tasked to wash the dishes or some small article of clothing. I liked the feeling of doing a chore that felt like I was also taking a bath. In other words, I made a mighty mess every time I tried, so my mother decided that the household was safer with me dealing with strictly dry objects.

That meant I never really did the heavy duty, soap-and-fabric-conditioner, scrubbing-and-dunking kind of wash. I was allowed to do a bit of sink washing when I was older (and presumably more mature) but was definitely not deemed worthy to approach the washing machine. I had more luck with the flat iron, but as I was petrified of burning clothes, and God forbid, myself, I only ironed clothes when it was absolutely necessary (such as when my brother would pay me Php20 per item when he was in a hurry to go to work).

Now that I live far away from my well-meaning mom, I am now confronted with the interesting — and very foreign — task of washing clothes for myself and my husband. Worse still, the flat we live in comes with a drum type (front loading) washing machine, one that I have truly never even seen at home. I would have  had a better idea if it were a top loading sort, which my mom used, because I’d spent hours watching her heave and pull assorted clothing out of the machine from a safe distance. For example, I knew that one could save the soap in a top loading machine because you’re not compelled to immediately drain it in order to remove clothes and dunk in a different batch. Not so in a front-loading machine, not unless you’d like to be splashed all over by soap water (that, and besides, the darned door wouldn’t open even if you tried).

To top that all off, the washing machine is a relatively old model that is as cranky as a drunkard denied his usual beer. It’s got all these dials and buttons that have no words on them, just numbers — which would have been alright, assuming you had the manual that usually goes with these things and explains everything, but alas, no. As it was, all this piece of machinery has by way of instruction is this sort-of illustration panel that makes no sense to my visual brain. My husband and I thought the symbols referred to the amount of time each cycle would go, but once I fed the machine its diet of clothes, it would just go ahead and do what it wanted with it, leaving me pulling hair in its wake. The thing is, I cannot stop it in the middle of its cycle even if I wished, not if I wanted to destroy the whole thing and end up having to pay for it. So of course, I’ve had loads that went through three full washing cycles and others that got spun-dry twice as I desperately twirled dials. Thank God my earliest efforts involved mostly my husband’s white undershirts, which I could ruin and just replace at small cost. Whew.

Finally, someone explained the whole thing to me and I found, much to my surprise, that I was over-reading everything. The symbols and colors simply referred to wash (black; dots) and dry (pink; sun-burst type of symbol). The duration was apparently roughly five minutes per number, so, say, if I wanted a quick wash I would turn the dial to seven because it always stops at nine (that’s ten minutes, total). Better still, I could now control the drying process so I could take better care of delicate clothing that did not require a lot of tumble drying. Likewise, I found that I could tumble dry for two hours so that everything comes out almost completely dry, and hardly even needs a line!

Now that I’ve finally figured things out, the next thing I had to learn was reading those mysterious symbols that come with clothes — yes, those little triangles and squares that are on every label. Apparently, there’s a whole system that dictates how you wash, how long, how hot, etc. There’re also reminders on dry cleaning (you can do it yourself, but I would highly suggest having it professionally done. After all, you may be saving a couple of bucks but it wouldn’t be worth accidentally shrinking that dress that you love!), bleaching, and ironing. Once I learned this, it was like suddenly making sense of a foreign language: there was, apparently, some rhyme and reason to these things. Isn’t that cool?

Very handy reminders.

 

Armed with my new knowledge, the washing machine and I have found a sort of middle ground. I have accepted the fact that even though we will never really be friends, we could actually come into a truce, and I am now able to cajole it into doing what I want it to do with my clothes. In return, I only ever put in half a load (a bit wasteful on soap but at least I keep it happy) and try to keep from spin-drying jeans (which it hates, apparently). With these few precautions in mind, the machine chugs happily away even as I go on and do other chores, and I could be confident of the fact that I would not be pulling out a mess at the end of a cycle.

So do I enjoy laundering? Mysteriously enough, I actually do. There’s something therapeutic and soothing about the task of loading, unloading, and folding clothes. There’s a satisfaction to be had looking at a fresh pile of folded clothes on the bed, smelling clean and crisp. There’s an odd sense of safety in knowing that you have had a personal hand in providing your household with clean wear, especially if you deal with hyper sensitive skin, like I do. And there’s a sense of pride in the fact that you have made a contribution towards everyone’s well-being.

Now … if only that could also apply to ironing …

 

 

HK Day 21: Homesick

Every so often, despite everything that keeps your mind busy and your eyes full while living in a foreign land, you feel the inevitable pang of missing home, of missing everyone and everything familiar. Being surrounded by (usually nice) foreigners, most of them chinky-eyed and speaking a completely alien language, does tend to amplify the feeling that you’re pretty much alone in a very wide world. These are the days when I long for Filipino spaghetti; the moments when I want to hear someone say something in Tagalog; and the times when I would give anything to see familiar vegetables and goods.

When these days strike, I head off to where most Filipinos in the know do when they’re in Hongkong and feeling sentimental: World Wide Plaza (WWP).

WWP is in Central, right in the middle of things and in front of a well-known shopping destination, Landmark. There are many ways to get there, and the cheapest and most panoramic is by tram (HKD2.30, or Php19), but I prefer taking the MTR (HKD8.30, or Php50) because it practically drops you onto the building’s doorstep.

Once you take the escalator up into the building, you’re literally transported from Hongkong back to the Philippines, particularly Greenhills (the old version, not the fancy new one). The first thing you notice is the noise level: when Filipinos congregate, we can’t help but be loud about it. We love to laugh and talk and do so even when we are separated by a distance of up to about ten feet. We like to celebrate life in as boisterous a manner as we can muster, so yes — we do tend to be a bit loud, and proud about it.

The other thing you’d notice are the ads: mostly for calling home, remittances, or money exchange. That’s another thing that reeks of home: the unforgiving placement of ads, complete with Sarah Geronimo, Sharon Cuneta and Erik Santos smiling from every poster (but no Kris Aquino. Thank God).

Providers like Globe (called CSL here) offer a gamut of possibilities.

Once you’re inside, it’s a hodgepodge of shops, reminiscent of a bazaar, although thankfully it’s not possible to get lost as it is just a single loop of establishments. For one such as myself missing something that did not have barbecued pork in it, this is where you can find several shops offering all manner of Pinoy food. For example, a popular joint, Bisacol, does a roaring trade selling Visayan dishes.

One of the larger eateries, Bisacol.

Things are relatively cheap here as it is the haven of many domestic helpers looking for a place to grab a familiar bite. It’s not surprising, therefore, that one can satisfy his or her tastebuds to the tune of HKD10 (roughly Php60) with a variety of popular Pinoy snacks: Filipino spaghetti, halu-halo, pansit,or ginataan. You could even get two viands and rice for as little as HKD20 (Php120), reminiscent of turo-turos in Manila, and if you wish to be a bit more frugal, you can have a single viand and rice for half the price. Fantastic, isn’t it?

The menu's not a formal sit-down affair, but it sure is affordable.

Another thing that would be of interest in this place are the markets — two mini-groceries and a couple of stalls selling fresh produce. They’re small, to be sure, but packed with goodies: favorites such as ChocNut, Nagaraya cracker nuts, Purefoods corned beef, Century tuna, and even Safeguard. None of these are available locally in any Hongkong grocery, so you could wander around the (very cramped) aisles and wax nostalgic if you so wished. Just make sure to be ready to move once someone else wishes to reach the Tanduay Rhum bottle you were ogling at.

One of the two mini-groceries, Fiesta Mart is the bigger establishment.

Moby or Dingdong, anyone?

Since WWP also serves as some sort of base for many Filipinos working in Hongkong, they ingeniously set up a message board for related advertising beside the biggest currency exchange outlet, Franki (located just outside of the main entrance and to the right of the escalators, if you’re going down and out). Some people advertise their places as temporary bed spaces for those who had just arrived or had been cut from their previous employers. Others advertise themselves, looking for jobs and for potential employers. In other words, this is essentially Buy and Sell on a corkboard, and it succeeds in its purpose.

Just in case you were looking.

Coming down from WWP is yet another of those brain-shifting moments. You’re back, once again, onto the streets of busy Hongkong, watching everyone mill about to buy the latest Louis Vuitton or Chanel creation, toting cameras and shopping bags everywhere.

Yep. The World Wide Plaza. Itself.

But just like my favorite Home TV Shopping Network ads say: wait! There’s more!

Because — believe it or not — yes, there is more.

Don’t leave just yet. Go to the left side of the building (if you’re facing it) and enter a small alleyway, because that’s where you will smell and see the ultimate familiar Pinoy thing …

... yes! It's Jollibee!

HOW TO GET THERE: If, like me, you are coming from Tsim Sha Tsui, take the MTR to Central Station. Look for Exit B (and Central has a lot of exits because it’s an exchange station, so be careful), which you could easily find if you see Mrs. Fields’ Cookies, an Urban Health Tea shop, and a branch of Pret A Manger. Take the escalator going up to street level where you will find yourself in the lobby of World Wide Plaza. Do not go into the building just yet: look for the escalator behind the MTR exit, and proceed to the next floor. Turn right and enter through doors that proclaim “World Wide Plaza” and voila! You’re back home. 🙂