I am currently in Bangkok, Thailand amidst the protests and political unrest that is in its seventh week yet I’m finding myself rather unaffected by it all. Sure, it’s bullshit, I find the entire situation very “un-Thai” and embarrassed for my own country. The amount of bad press and situation these protesters have put the nation in makes us all look like uncivilized barbarians. I can get into this further, but this short post is mainly about how I’m not recognized as a Thai here.
Since last time I visited Thailand, which was down to Phuket and Krabi last March, every person I spoke to here seem to think I am a foreigner. If I can get a dollar for every time someone asked if I was Japanese, I’d be able to buy a new laptop. Anyways, all I wanted to post to remember this moment by is yesterday while strolling with Nikesh down at Jatujak Weekend Market, a shop owner (of course) asks where I’m from and says I look Japanese. Nikesh then comments later on that the first time he noticed me, he also thought I was Japanese, to which I playfully threw a fit for being in “my house” and not recognizing I was Thai. But then …
“People if your own fucking country don’t even think you’re Thai!”
Never truer words.
It’s a little difficult to differentiate Thais from other Asians particularly because our ancestry is a mix of Chinese and Indian immigrants; combinations of both result in a variety of looks. I guess I must have mutated a bunch of the Chinese genes and mixed them with growing up in the states to equal Japanese.
Physical appearances are a funny thing. I sort of enjoy a look that’s rather ambiguous, but at the same time, it sucks a little to not be able to look like you’re from where you rep.
Dried fish in Tai O Village. Rawr.
For my mom’s visit, she requested to go to Lantau Island to see the Tian Tan Buddha, or more commonly known as the Big Buddha. I’ve previously visited at the end of January with some friends from the program, so I felt like an expert at getting my mom around and traveling HK like I’m totally a local.
We arrived to the Central Piers a bit after noon. A bit hungry, I bought a noodle soup from a street stand that costs 18 HKD ($2.37 USD) for your choice of noodle type and three condiments. I had rice noodle, fish balls, vegetables and shrimp balls. Made an absolutely delicious snack!
I find it silly how the Chinese pretty much puts anything in a noodle soup and call it a meal. So far, I’ve had pork chop, chicken wings, mini-hot dogs, fried egg, among other foods, in noodle soups as lunch or dinner. Noodle soups in general aren’t all that filling, but it’s just awkward to have these weird combinations of soup and things that shouldn’t be soupy, i.e. hot dogs. My mother used to throw random food like that in our food when I was growing up, but that was only because she wanted to get rid of the leftovers. I had no idea this is actually real food in restaurants in Hong Kong/China.
We took a ferry over to Lantau Island, or Mui Wo in Cantonese, — on my first visit, it was a beautiful sunny day so we all walked around the boat to catch some awesome views. This trip, however, was rainy and foggy, so I passed right out on the boat ride. About 40 minutes later, we arrived. The rest of the Lantau Island trip will go by my first visit because it was significantly more memorable.
On my first trip, we all decided to grab lunch first. Close to the pier, we found a small village with little restaurants overlooking the beach. Somehow, we left it to my roommate to choose a place, and she made a good call on a great seafood place that sold single dishes as cheap as 35 HKD ($4.45 USD) for one giant plate of fried rice with a choice of meat. The restaurant owner/staff were also very friendly and accommodating, and it helped that one of our friends spoke Cantonese. The boys ordered giant bottles of Heineken which came out icy cold — literally.
Everyone got their own dishes although we could have easily shared them family style. I happen to love family style eating; you get to sample a bit of a variety of dishes and don’t have to wait for your own plate while you salivate over your friends digging into theirs. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m usually always the last person to receive my dish. But anyhow, who was I to argue with seven other kids?
After a quick lunch, we took a bus over to Tai O, a little village on the other side of the island. We were given options to rent bicycles, but collectively decided there were not enough time to make the rent worth our money. Instead, we all walked around the village looking at fresh seafood squirming in water and local snacks sold on the street.
Afterward we decide to finally make it to the Big Buddha, and caught the last bus going over to Ngong Ping. The bus rides were extremely bumpy, which only made things more fun. I recall bouncing right off my seat several times through speed bumps and sharp turns, yet I was having a ball. We also got great views of the beach, farms, and waited for cows and buffalos to cross the street. Certainly was an interesting sight.
At the Ngong Ping area, we got lost figuring out where exactly Big Buddha was. It turns out, we were actually five feet away from where we stood to see it because views of the statue were blocked off by trees. Fail on our parts. We also took pit stops to check out more sceneries of the mountains and the monastery.
It’s crazy to say that only a few weeks before that, I’d been at the Great Wall, and I live less than an hour of travel away from the Statue of Liberty.
We hiked up the steps to the Big Buddha, steps which seemed miniscule to me compared to walking up the Great Wall of China. When we made it up, I felt super inappropriate. I had no idea the buddha was at Lantau Island, and mistakenly wore a mini tank top dress with shorts. In traditional Buddhist ideals, I might as well be wearing a midriff baring shirt and a mini skirt. It was in no way respectful and I felt embarrassed, but hey, I didn’t mean to do it on purpose nor did I know I was going to be at a spiritual place. I took this lesson for my second trip with mom and wore long jeans and t-shirt :)
I have a slightly odd obsession with jumping photos (something about the movements our eyes are often to slow to catch). Although this pic was a fail, it captures my “epic hair,” something my friends here have pointed out in most of my photos of the uncontrollable hair, and the mountain views were amazing.
Realizing that we had no time to catch any bus back to the pier, we decided to walk through the touristy section of Ngong Ping 360 to check out the cable car rides. We made it right before 6 pm, when they were selling the last tickets before closing down. After contemplating if 74 HKD ($9.61 USD) was worth the ride, we decided to go for it because there were no other ways to go home that we could readily figure out.
Let me know you, it totally was worth every penny. The eight of us was enough to get an entire cable car to ourselves, and minutes into the ride, we were so blown away by the sights that we’d completely forgotten the money we spent. Our timing was also perfect, the sun began to set as soon as we got on the car, and by the time we entered the Hong Kong island, it had gotten dark enough for the city to be lit up.
That night we ate at Temple Street across from our lodge. It was the first time having “pot rice,” which is simply rice and a choice of meat in a stone pot. You pour in soy sauce from old gatorade or plastic bottles and let the lid infuse the flavors a little more before digging in. It was inexpensive and tasty, but not enough for me to crave or eat it on a weekly basis. This thought was not shared by my friends who are in love with pot rices — the restaurants they sell them are open late and one order is only 18 HKD ($2.37 USD). Student budgeting for the win?
Although I’d spontaneously gone on the Lantau trip my first time and unexpectedly dropped a lot of money, I had absolutely no regrets. Some of the best things in life are done with no planning whatsoever, much of it is the case on my experiences abroad so far. I could never have expected half the things that has happened to occur, but I’m having the most beautiful time. I’m visiting wonderful places, meeting great people, and falling in love with life all over again. That, to me, is absolutely priceless.
Today marked a somewhat scary day: having to give a presentation on our business plan to bring a foreign company into Japan. As part of my International Business minor, I had to take this Global Management class as a required credit, and this was our final project.
The longer I study abroad, the more I discover who I am and my true passions. For example, I’m steadily realizing how little interest I have in business and more on social interactions and communications, and telling stories. Though I understood very little of the business material we spoke about in class, I fancied all the words spoken. While I came off nervous, which I was, bullshitting seemed to come naturally when my ass needed it. To add to seeming like I knew what was happening, I paid extra attention to other students’ presentations to ask inquisitive questions, though they were really simple.
During the half way coffee break, I was preparing to leave class so I can finish business and prepare for my mother’s visit in Hong Kong. Before walking out of class, the professor stops me to say, “You are very good at what you do, keep working at it.” I responded to this with a confused “What does that mean?” and he seemed to think I was fine. He just kept repeating that I think, speak and process information well and I should “keep working at it”. Still bewildered, I raised an eyebrow, half smiled and proceeded to going home.
I would say I’m the kind of person who can be decent at mostly anything I put my hands on, but I can be great at something for which I have a passion. Unfortunately, I’m finding out business or political studies are both equally uninteresting although all of my classes here are in those subjects. Meanwhile, I’ll still be blabbering, aka, blogging about the thought process of it all. What the professor said to me today was certainly odd, but a part of me is kind of glad he said it. He’s not my favorite professor, but it provided an ounce of affirmation that I’m not all too terrible at this, even if I hated it.
“Okay, I’m Asian, but not “Herrro!!” Asian” — Brownie, explaining how his half Asian side doesn’t make him Oriental.
The highlight of my stay in Shanghai, beside the fact that we rode on an awkward amusement park ride in the park across the street from our hotel, was definitely the acrobatic show. Many seemed to be amused since the peking duck dinner show in Beijing so shelling out the last of my yuans to see the show was all worth it for me.
We took the subway to the theater and saw a small, blind child walking through the train cars begging for money. At first I felt terrible enough, then I saw an older woman guiding him and realized this didn’t seem right. Our guide had warned us many times not to support panhandling, even if the situation tugs your hearts to do so. We began to speculate whether the child was purposely made blind as part of a gang to collect money from tourists, or what the intentions were for our donations.
I couldn’t stand it. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to confront the reality of it all. It’s a recurring theme of what it means to be happy in China, or how privileged I am despite everything. But for this, I felt helpless. I couldn’t do anything but look away and pretend to not acknowledge the poor boy and it killed me.
Anyhow, back to the show. After we exited the subway and I got my mind distracted from thinking about the child, I entered the theater and made my way to the best possible seat left. What was about to occur was just too amazing.
It started out normal enough: some prancing here, some jumping there, some flipping around. Then the children came out. Most of the acrobats/gymnasts looked as though they hadn’t even hit puberty yet and it made me wonder how they chose to pursue this profession. Was it by choice, or were they forced? What ever happened to school for them? It’s a stark difference between these children who, even if forced to enter the industry, were producing something proactive than panhandling using disability as the lure. Either way, it still bothers me how little choice some people have in China, so soon as when they start growing up.
One of the many reasons I loved this acrobatic show was the use of Star Wars music to supplement the acts. For a straw hat show, the Cantina song was played while the theme song was used for the final act. It was all too epic, but not as much as the Titanic act which everyone loved.
This act consisted of a “Jack” and “Rose” who supported each other, suspending around silk strips of fabric to “My Heart Will Go On.” 70% of those who sat around me sang along to the three loops of the song which was hilarious and entertaining. It also helped that the music video was projected along the sides of the stage to intensify the drama.
The Ball of Death, aka the final act, consisted of five motorcyclists in one circular cage, driving around and crossing each other’s paths. The fact that they drove around to the epic Star Wars music made me gleeful on the inside, but I did my best to keep my composure. By that, I mean I bopped my head around and hardcore smiled.
On the very last day of our mainland seminar, we were treated to a farewell dinner and allowed to walk around a touristy strip one last time. Marine, Chiwei and I decided to spend our last few yuans on Haagen Daaz ice cream which was so good that we left two hours later across the street from our hotel to get more. With our group of seven, we ordered an ice cream fondue set.
We had an option of several ice cream flavors, cheesecake, biscuits, and fruits dipped in either choice of white or milk chocolate. In honor of my Syracuse roommate, Noelia, I had to do a raspberry sorbet lathered in both.
Sweetest way to end such a crazy trip!
Our trip advisor, Philip Bruce, said from the beginning that “China stays in your blood” and certainly there have been a few moments that will stick with me forever. Even the first two weeks of the trip made me reminisce every so often, and I’ve no doubt this entire study abroad semester is going to last a lifetime.
In Krabi, Thailand. Can you guess who’s the Jew?
(Photo by Tom Boyles)
At the Water Village in Shanghai. Wish I knew what they didn’t want me to do?