Pictures from the Archives

I was going through photos and realized I hadn't published these. The 10,000 Buddhas Monastery is located on the northern side of Hong Kong and was built in the 1980's and continues to accumulate really random Buddhas. It sits high in the hills and requires quite a hike, but the hike is entertaining in that the path is lined with a different Buddha statue every few yards.


Terry and Leanne pose during their visit.

Unique and certainly exotic, the meaning behind the Buddhas was a mystery to us on our visit as there was little information in English. The whole site was by far the most rustic of tourist spots that I have seen in Hong Kong. The 10,000 Buddhas name comes from for the main hall of the monastery that has thousands of tiny Buddhas lining the walls.



The Buddhas continue to multiply as we saw more than a dozen or so that were being painted and polished on our visit.

When Late, Everything Goes Wrong

Last night I was headed out to see my friend Donna and her family as their youngest, Kate, was in the Wizard of Oz at the International School. I won't delve into how strange it was for a Kansas boy to see the Wizard of Oz in Hong Kong just yet, but suffice it to say, it was.

So, I remembered that we would be meeting at 6pm for dinner before the play. About 4:30 I decided to check my e-mail just to make sure I was right, and I wasn't. Donna lives about 40 minutes away by taxi, and I was to be there at 5. After finishing up the fresh salad I was to bring, I readied quickly, exited the apartment, and pushed the elevator button. I waited and waited. 11. Still on 11. My determination in pushing the button didn't seem to be helping so I finally surrendered to the reality of the stairs.

Hong Kong apartments, or at least all that I have seen, have double staircases that run throughout them. I suppose this is a fire safety mechanism. One staircase is accessible from the waiting space off of the elevators and the other by your back door. Unfortunately, the one by our elevator exits into the alley and is locked from the inside. I made it all the way down just to realize that I couldn't go out that way as there was no way to lock it back up. Back to the apartment, I pulled out the keys we've looked at once for our back door, moved all the kitchen things that we had piled up around it, and squeezed out. With only about 10 minutes lost, I was finally down the stairs and out of the building; the elevator indicator in the lobby still read 11.

Normally, I would take the bus as the cost is more reasonable for a long trip like the one to Stanley, but I jumped in the first taxi I could get. The driver seemed nice and also seemed to understand quite a bit of English. I could tell he was a little nervous about something when I said Stanley, and as soon as we hit traffic, he spoke up.

He was going to run out of gas. We had to stop at a station.

At this point, I had already called Donna was later than the revised time I had told her, and just laughed. What else can you do? The driver was super nice and we went for about 10 more minutes and then pulled into a little station. We chatted most of the time, and he told me about growing up in HK and coming out to the areas we were passing for summer swims with his friends.

Not having driven yet in HK and with no likelihood that that will ever happen, a trip to the gas station was actually kind of cool. The driver said he only has to do it once per day but usually his trips are so short he thought he was in good shape, until I came along. The station we went to only had full service, not surprising, as there is service here in places that Americans never knew or has long since been transitioned by business to the consumer (actually a new book out on this subject that sounded interesting). The taxis use a different fuel than normal cars - something a bit more efficient, I assume. What amazed me was the cost. For a taxi, the driver indicated he'd pay about HK$2.10/liter, which if I did my conversions right is about US$0.07/gallon. Now, that seems a little fishy to me, especially after doing some checking, so maybe I remembering his price wrong, but the important part was the differential to private gas prices. Joe Driver pays approximately 5x the cost for gas that a taxi does. Ouch, taxes, but that makes sense if you want to encourage public transportation.

That was the adventure. We got filled up, and I was delivered before having to push the taxi up a hill. I was late, but once I stopped caring, being late was sure a lot of fun.

What are the odds?

It turns out they were 32:1, actually. Those were the odds of my winning horse on Wednesday night. I don't know its name; all I know is he was number 4. I walked up to the betting counter and randomly picked #4 to win. HK$50. It was a silly bet I thought. I could have bet just $20. I was going to lose it.

But I didn't. Miraculously my unnamed horse won. It led early and led late. It was the leader. I couldn't believe it. I was so excited, and yet, there was no one with which I could share my joy or confirm my incredible luckiness. Everyone around me was speaking Chinese. Most were fairly gruff men, some women, all serious. This betting stuff was not something that seemed to be an idle affair for any of my neighbors. They had their newspapers out, folded, folded again, circled, crossed out, and in every way, used. Used betting tickets were folded over twice and discarded with disgust under the seats opposite me. Hurled at the floor to pay for their unpaying ways.

I was at the Happy Valley Racecourse, one of Hong Kong's most important race tracks. Since we have arrived I had been wanting to come to the course as it seemed such an anomaly. It is absolutely enormous, and it sits right smack dab in the center of one of Hong Kong's busiest areas. Ringed by buildings that seem to stand permanently in some sort of salute to its grandeur, the racecourse has been for me a bit of a mystery. Racing in Hong Kong is a bit of a historical tradition, stemming, I believe, from colonial days, but today, the races are very much a Hong Kong mainstay. 98% or so of the people that I saw at the races were Chinese and about 2% expatriots. The area where I was able to buy a ticket for on the street seemed to be for general admission although this was not what it was called. I arrived about 5 minutes after the first race had been run and already the place was packed. For about an hour I didn't see anyone that was non-Chinese and settled in for some good observation.

You entered the racetrack through a narrow turnstyle. The cost of admission HK$20 (US$2.5). Immediately I came to a bank of elevators and was whisked away by myself to the 4th floor. In Hong Kong, the 4th floor is really the 5th floor by U.S. standards as there is a ground floor and a 1st floor. The elevators were fairly nice, with gold highlights and some marble-like features. The only indicator of the slightly rough nature of the track was on the ceiling of the car, where something or someone had really scratched things up. It was as if a bull had prepared for a charge using the ceiling tiles to secure his footing. The 4th floor was clean and appeared long as I entered. The tile and decorations were more ceramic and plastic, which was actually a welcome change of pace. It somehow seemed like a place you could really let go unlike most places of relaxation in Hong Kong which are so glitz and glamour as to feel more fairy talish. Immediately upon entering the room I was propositioned by one of the attendants to take a survey. As it was all in Chinese, she translated for me, pulling every English word she could think of out of her purple-stewardess-esc suit. The logic of the interview was misplaced unless she didn't realize I had just stepped off of the elevator for all the questions were about my betting habits and activities thus far. Oh well. As a researcher I still felt like I needed to answer.

The windows to the track fell across the left side of the room, taking up about half of the wall. The sky had finally begun to unleash its contents on the people of Hong Kong a few minutes before the race and was doing so again by the 2nd race. The steam it created made for somewhat cloudy window views but still the track glowed a white ring of green titled on the horizon. I sat towards the windows on a banana yellow bench. The benches ran the length of the room and were precisely situated in their placements, allowing for three or so people to occupy each side of a bench. The occupants of the benches changed often, normally only lasting the span of a single race - every thirty minutes. The funny part about the non-musical musical chairs was that each time people switched spots, their stuff stayed and accumulated, untouched. I think there was a fear of disruption, of being accused of stealing things, or of throwing anything away. There were an odd number of large, filled manilla envelopes which men carried and some had discarded. I never determined if these were for the races or just random coincidence.

Down the middle of the room ran a series of quasi lounges created by the placement of TV monitors for viewing of the horses and the odds for the different races. Some lounges had only empty places for standing, which was the most common means of watching the race. Others had chairs, kind of late 1970's plastic bucket-like school seats. On the right side of the room was where all the betting took place. There were machines for the regulars, those that had registered with the Hong Kong Jockey Club, the organization that oversees all the racing in Hong Kong. These machines appeared to be dumbed down ATMs, actually they took ATM cards, but they sounded more like old fashioned time machines - the kind that one would clock in and out on on. Their moaning printing could be heard throughout the cavernous space. The peopled windows stood next in line and were but a few in number - I believe three. At the end of the space, opposite where I entered, there was snack bar which had an assortment of modern Chinese options, mostly pastries filled with meat and a few noodle choices. I had an iced coffee, which was the best I have had in Hong Kong and an oddity for you don't see iced drinks here except at Western chains.

Just at the ends of both sides of the room were patio-like doors that led to a small outside area that was sheltered from above but open to the front. This seemed a popular place on a night like I saw it, and perhaps it was always popular as it appeared to be no smoking inside and smoking allowed outside. From these spots you could see the good seats, or more aptly the good areas. These places were more ballroom-esc than seat laden. This was were most of the expats appeared to be, dressed well and focused mostly on socializing.

I was surprised at the variety of ages and gender that I found at the races. It was not something for the old, the young, the pretty, the ugly, the rich, or the poor, it just was. More than any other activity in Hong Kong, this just appeared to be for everyone. I liked that.

I came out a winner after the 5th race, having only placed one other bet, this time on a horse that came in dead last - actually I don't think it even finished. It must have gotten an injury as it seemed to fade into racing oblivion. While I enjoyed leaving that night with a couple of hundred dollars burning a whole in my pocket, I was most pleased with the experience of the races. It was not any easy thing to get there. Information for tourists on the races is really lacking. Websites are horrible and there are almost no signs in English, but I made it. I was successful, and able to walk off like a cowboy without a horse into the haloed light that must have enveloped me as I was backlit against the track.

Perceptions

This is a bit of a philosophical post, but it's something that has been on my mind. I am reading a new book, Foreign Babes in Beijing, which is an account of an American woman who moved to Beijing in the mid-90s. One of the things which the author brings up in the first couple of chapters is how important perceptions are, and more importantly how important what we think others perceive about us can be to reality, and that it is perhaps more important than our own actual perceptions.

The example that she uses is the American perception of the Chinese. From her experiences, the Chinese think that Americans have a perception that they are a lazy people and as such the Chinese rebel against this stereotype. The author, and I would agree, points out that she as an American has never heard of a perception or stereotype like this about the Chinese, but in the end this doesn't matter. The perception is real in the mind of the Chinese and causes consequences.

This is a pretty powerful statement about international relations and human relations. Many times we get caught up trying to correct perceptions about ourselves while in the end perhaps the perceptions would be better broken if we didn't address them specifically and worked with them towards positive goals. I'm still contemplating this a bit, but one thing that I do think is important is to understand the perceptions that others think we have of them. More and more, it is the easy path to shield oneself of the way in which "the other" - Republican/Democrat, liberal/conservative, etc. - thinks and perceives. This has a tendency to lead towards entrenchment, fighting, and general misunderstanding. I know that I have felt myself retreating more and more and have seen information in the press that would seem to indicate larger trends. Long-term, this is a trend that I think we must fight.

Some food for thought.

Test Your Knowledge

Business etiquette is a tricky thing, especially as you deal with new and different cultures. The Economist is offering a little quiz I thought some might enjoy taking.

http://www.economist.com/diversions/quiz.cfm/citiesetiquettequiz

I'm afraid I scored poorly with just 3 out of 10 correct. I hope you know more than I do.

It's the alchemy that makes HK possible

To me there is nothing more amazing than the modern engineering magic that can take a piece of water and turn it into a skyscraper. No water bound city would be what it is today if not for the advances that we've seen in our ability to reclaim land over the centuries. While villages used to be built on the water in Mexico, floating on lakes if I remember correctly, today a 50-75 story skyscraper can be built in the matter of months upon a site naturally would be holding thousands of gallons of water.



In HK, there is an offiicial land reclamation plan - a plan for how far the harbor can be whiddled down and still be usable for shipping. In the above picture you can see where the waterline is being pushed out another couple hundred yards for a new downtown building. Amazing. Trucks, dirt, concrete and really big braces are what allow things so tall to be built on sandy soil.

I am not an engineer, but I sure do admire those that can come up with things like this and make it work.


The International Finance Center is a land reclamation monument.

I promise, the end of Portugal

OK. I think this is it, the last of the Portugal photos, but I couldn't resist.



This is from Lisbon.

Watch out for the ICY machines

Eric and I were out on Friday night in Causeway Bay (area of HK) at Times Square (big mall), and Eric captured this great site. From the front, things look fairly normal, right? It's one of those icy machines that you see at 7-eleven...



But when the smell hits you, you know something is different.



Yum. Egg drop soup. Practical...yes. Disgusting...yes. And, no, we did not partake.

The Cool Comfort of a Coconut

Crack it open and stick a straw in it! The all natural coconut drink.



I had never had a coconut like this before last weekend. It was slightly sweet, really cool, and downright refreshing on a sunny afternoon at a Thai restaurant in Stanley. On an aside, I have no idea what those lines are on my hands. I am wrinking but not like that.

Uphill Climb

I wouldn't consider myself out of shape, but the inclines and heat of HK can be a struggle sometimes. It's usually about the time that these things start to get to me as I am walking back home that I get humbled.



This humbling can come in many forms, but usually it is delivered by a person standing half my size, width, or both.

Half my size. Hunched over from osteoporosis, trudging up the side of the street pulling a little cart, little old ladies can be a force with which to be reckoned. Heads down, direction set, taxis regularly steer clear of these street obstacles. Anyone with a cart uses the street in an effort to avoid the many stairs that occupy the sidewalks, and thus speed their transit. I am saddened and amazed when I come by one of these women; saddened for the deformity that has struck them and amazed for the vigor with which they attack the world anyway.

Half my width. The sticklike figures that are the backbone of HK daily life include trash men, water delivery people, and a horde of other cart and satchel-clad personnel. For hours on end, they tote things up and down the streets, hallways, stairs, and elevators of HK, and are often the first people out in the morning. With none of the protective gear visible that has become the standard for such laborious activities in the U.S., these literal backbones of the society attack their activities with a conviction that will hopefully be matched with increased safety protections and time off in the future.

There is No Logic

Move around the world.

3 story house to...
a 2 bedroom apartment.

You'd be amazed at the silly things that would strike you as being logical to make the trip.

Cases in point.


This antique mahagony chest of drawers miraculously arrived in one piece and with only a small amount of damage. It weighs several hundred pounds and was brought down the hill to our apartment on a little four-wheel scooter resembling the toys that I used to ride in gym class - turtles, I think we called them.


I shipped paper boxes, empty, wrapped in newspaper and packed inside moving boxes. You know, the boxes that fold out to make storage containers. That makes so little sense it's even hard to describe. When the mover was unpacking us, he opened the box and said, "Now that's funny."

Weiner Dogs and Chinese Warriors

Something about this scene just caught me as funny. I was always looking for that one store that sold weiner dog and Chinese warrior statues! My search is over!



This post goes out to my good friend, Justin, who is a bit of weiner dog fanatic.

Shaking Leg Syndrome

I am a shaker. Leg that is. Always have been, and likely always will be. You know what I am talking about. Some call it nervous energy; other just call it annoying. But whatever it is, apparently in HK, shaking the leg is not considered polite.

I learned this by way of one of my friends, Kim, who recently started a new job here in HK after relocating from Chicago. For the past several weeks, we've been getting updates from Kim on her new work environment. After one of Kim's co-workers "talked" to her about her problem, Kim initially thought, because of language barriers, that it was just bad to wear white pants, but nope, it was her leg shaking that was causing offense. Apparently, leg shaking can be taken as a sign that you are showing off wealth because as you shake your leg, coins might be in your pocket and make noise. While Kim had no coins in her pockets, the unrealized gesture still had hidden cultural meaning for her coworker. Luckily, this was all cleared up so Kim's white capris are in the free and clear.

I don't know when this assoication began in Hong Kong, but it's not one that surprises me. HK, like most other countries that I've visited around the world, seems to be much more heavily reliant upon the coin rather than the paper bill. Penny, nickel, dime, and quarter make up the orchestrated jingle-jangle of the U.S. pocket (most commonly) while here in HK, we have $10, $5, $2, $1, 50c, 20c, and 10c coins with paper notes for $1,000, $500, $100, $50, $20, $10. All of these denominations are common and have been in my pocket since arriving.

So here they are in all their splendor - a sampling of HK's currency.













A couple of interesting items of note:

• US$1 = ~HK$7.8
  
• Credit cards work here just like in the U.S., and in fact, credit cards are the easiest means of transactions internationally (when accepted). There are no special charges, like when converting money, and can be paid easily through U.S. banks.
• A cash-less society seems closer here than anywhere I have been. The Octopus, HK's electronic transportation pass, is accepted at almost all convenience type settings around the city.
• HK and China still maintain separate currencies.