Crossing Boundaries, whatever that means

Yummy yummy, happy happy

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.

“Those kids are all single digit aged…”

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.

Shanghai Minutes

Our method of transportation from Beijing to Shanghai was an overnight bullet train that allowed four persons to each cabin. The little rooms were fine, nice even, except the air on the top bunk was dry, dusty and I was coughing all night. Combined with some other student drama with sharing cabins, I promptly closed my door, shut the lights and did my best to get as much sleep as possible — in a face mask.

By morning, I woke up anticipating warmer weather and less sickness. Both wishes granted. Although I’d miss walking around the train and hanging out with other students overnight, getting well was worth it because Shanghai took a lot of energy. Upon arrival, we meet our last tour guide, Rainy. She named herself that because she was born on a rainy day (and not because she likes the Korean artist, Rain. For shame). Almost immediately, the boys were infatuated.

Our hotel was located in a prime location — between high end shops, restaurants and walking distance from museums. Yet after checking in we were still traveling by bus which probably took longer than it needed. I always took the front row seat so I can watch the driver swiftly manage his way through traffic and almost hitting pedestrians every other half hour. It’s a crowded city, or rather, country.

(Photo by Andrew Duch)

The Shanghai Expo 2010 is coming up soon and the entire city is going under renovation in preparation. We visited an urban planning museum to see the just how the city was looking to change. Shanghai is a modern and commercial city, which was much more different than the lifestyles we were shown in Beijing and Xi’an. We also met a blue mascot creature named Haibao who was all over Shanghai.

Still, I’m a lot more adorable. Ha!

Our next stop was another Shanghai museum that I was bored with within minutes. I generally love museums and art galleries, but I don’t know what happened with my tastes in China. Looking at hundreds of old coins, potteries and furniture just didn’t cut it for me. Instead, we had fun by having our friend Henry pretend to tour us around the galleries which was inappropriate, but passed time.

That night, we were given an optional tour to walk around the Bund. By this time, I was extremely tired — we arrived to Shanghai early morning and walked all day. The Bund also took two minutes to drive around, but the view was underwhelming because of all the construction for Shanghai Expo blocking the scenery. After those two short minutes, Rainy said we could either take a 15 minute walk back through the busy streets or stayed on the bus for home. I planted my butt right back on the seat but minutes later, everyone was “made” to exit the vehicle. So there we were, dumped by the waters in Shanghai and made to walk home. Arg!

By the time we made it back, Henry recommended dinner at a dumping shop behind our hotel. Rainy also told us a little about this famous shanghai style dumplings. Four large dumplings was 4.50 yuans ($0.65 USD). Before digging in, Henry warned me that it’s going to be extremely hot and I should carefully “poke” a hole in the dumpling, “suck the juices” then eat the rest. Confused, I slowly tried consuming.

(Photo by Annie Yung)

The flour part of the dumpling pretty much acted as an edible bowl. Inside was a delicious broth which you had to drink before making it inside to the pork chunk. All together, it was like having a delicious meal made into a little ball of joy. These dumplings were so cheap and tasty that I probably had it every night we were in Shanghai. Not to mention I was also running out of renminbi, but either way, I’m economical :)

That night after a much needed rest, a group of students wanted to see the nightlife in Shanghai. Not bothered to dress up, I wore the same thing I had on the whole day (Foo Fighters t-shirt and black jeans) to Club Muse, a two story lounge with a tiny dance floor. Inside was cigarette smoky, not my cup of tea. However, dancing was, so after gathering enough energy to make it to the dance floor, us American kids began to freak the locals out some more.

After an hour or two, I was exhausted. I saw two other students looking like they were about to nod off so I gathered them both for a cab ride home. In the car with Chad and Brandon, we talked about how hungry we were. I explained that at this hour of the day, you can still get fast food delivered to you in Bangkok. Brandon seemed excited by this thought and said he’d be down to get some food after. I was looking to sleep. Little did I know that a few minutes after we departed at the hotel, Brandon was put in a dangerous situation that involved weapons and robberies. I don’t know the whole story, but it was scary to think that it all happened within minutes after I’d just seen him. From that night on, I was rather terrified of Shanghai and didn’t go out late much after. If someone can be robbed right by our hotel in this city of bright lights, I’d rather stay my safe ass indoors.

Party v. Party

During one of our Beijing lectures, we were split into three groups to talk to local students about their lives in China. My particular group spoke to a 25-year-old girl who lives in a tiny apartment with three other roommates. Their electricity shuts off at 11 pm which forces them to finish homework early and go to bed. In their free time, they go shopping, watch television or go to KTV’s. The most important part of her message to us was how jealous she was of our freedom. She sees us as carefree beings, allowed to do what we want when we want. Although I wouldn’t say the very case applies to me, I can see why she would think that compared to her strict lifestyle. A friend of mine here mentioned the student in his group understands partying as “political parties” and not social outings.

I spent about equally half my life growing up in Bangkok and New York, so my moral is comprised of both Western and Eastern beliefs. While “partying” is not exactly something Asians like to endorse, I think every once in a while, it’s nice to lose control. Weeks after weeks, we learn about how hard life is for students in China; everything is all work and no play. I personally couldn’t develop intellectually if I did not have a social aspect to life, something to offset how hard I have to work. I would want to have a few moments to not worry about anything and be free.

Anyways, I guess my point here is I couldn’t go to school in mainland China. My “city that never sleeps” lifestyle would never work here academically.

That night 95% of our student group went out to a bar. It was the night where I really began to know everyone and was in a casual and comfortable enough place to start speaking to the rest of the abroad group. Never having many (or any) bar experiences back in the states, I have to say that I had a positive time at Shooters. All the shots were 10 yuans ($1.29 USD) which comprised of fruit syrup and some sort of alcohol. Basically, everyone was buying little candy bars. I think as Americans, our partying style definitely freaked out locals. There were so many that just kept staring at all of us either in amazement, confusion or disgust. But of course, no one cared. We were there to celebrate just what our local student said of our lives — ones that were carefree and unrestricted. This is the first time I’m traveling on my own without family and allowed to do whatever I want. In a way, I feel like I am living the fantasies of the local Chinese students. Every day I wake up and wonder if this is all a dream.

Walk like poetry

Beijing is a lot of walking in the deep freeze. Our director Joffre said during orientation that the Chinese way is similar to Sour Patch Kids — first they’re sour then sweet. Instead of giving us all the luxury first, we’re made to do most things ourselves, that is, giving ourselves tours by feet and making us find our own food. Which would have been fine if we were at least taught how to say “Chicken” in Mandarin.

Our hotel was situated between a lot of shops and restaurants. My favorite food place was literally five doors down, a noodle shop where the dough is cut right into the pot as soon as the chefs receive your order. Not knowing how to order, I chose the picture of the food item that looked least like beef (I do not consume beef,) waved wildly at an employee, pointed at the picture then to the chefs. She didn’t really smile, apparently Chinese people keep very straight faces most times, but she did successfully help me order so I was happy and smiled for both of us. That’s the Thai way!

The delicious spicy pork soup, cooked along with mushrooms, bok choy and of course, chewy, fresh noodles only cost 10 yuan ($1.45). I never once finished the entire bowl because of how filling it was.

The next day we were taken to a rickshaw tour of more villages (walk first, ride later! Thanks, Joffre.) The rickshaws resembled much of the Central Park tricycle rides; each couple were given pillows and a blanket as the driver drove us through the narrow roads. We took several pit stops to various sites. The first was the drum tower, which in ancient times was used to notify time. More walking up the 69 steep steps got us to the top where we watched a performance.

After trying not to stumble back down the steps, I took a stop at a local grocery shop to buy a cup of instant hot chocolate to warm up. When I turned around, my group was gone and I ran around in circles looking for any sign of Josh’s blue flag. Returning the same way we walked in, I found my rickshaw-mate freaking out for me and hugging me when I arrived. Getting lost in China is nothing new to me, but it was nice to know I had friends that cared.

Our other significant stop was at a local family where we were treated lunch. The food reminded me much of how I used to eat back when I grew up in Bangkok, where there were plates of various dishes and everyone took from the middle. Coke was also abundant; I’d never drank so much soda in a day but it is served with almost every meal here.

The woman who cooked us food told us a little about her life. She was youthful and happy, and said she doesn’t usually get young students as her guests. Her tiny living room somehow accommodated about 25 of us. Although the village itself is not nearly as poor looking as the one in Xi’an, it wasn’t amazing. Still, her home was equipped with a large HDTV (full 1080P no less!) and air conditioning for the summer. Our totally opposite vision of what constitutes a rich and privileged life never cease to amaze me.

Beijing? Peking? Peaking? Pee King?

No one in the group could get over how amazing Beijing was. While it was the most fun city out of the three we visited (Xi’an, Beijing and Shanghai,) it was definitely the coldest. Those who know me know my mood is unfortunately easily affected by the weather, and combined with the fact that I managed to misplace my camera twice during the five-day stay, I suppose I had an interesting week.

Let me start by saying we began out arrival to Beijing by losing a student group member after picking up our checked baggage in the airport. Apparently, he told someone he’d be using the bathroom, that other someone said okay and just left him. The bus took off for a bit before anyone realized our little friend never made it back. Fortunately, the other bus stopped and waited for him, but ours took off haha. I’ll continue this by saying we also had the coolest tour guide ever, Joshua. He was adorable, hilarious, and added R’s to almost every word that ends with A’s. And he told jokes. Win.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a trip to Beijing without visiting Tian’namen Square. Everyone’s initial thought of the weather was “Hey, this isn’t so bad!” but after walking through the enormous Forbidden City, even crossing the street to look for our bus made people want to cry (by people, I mean me).

Joshua ran for his life with his blue tour flag to get entry tickets by 3:30 pm. Apparently we were a few minutes off and they’d close the credit card machine but Josh convinced them to let us in after running to get cash. I’m actually pretty glad we just made it, could you imagine how packed this place would be during peak hours?

The Forbidden City was full of stories, each section we walked into requires a new tale of what has happened in the rooms. My favorite was the evil lady who poisons her own sons to advance in power. Chinese bitches be crazy.

Unfortunate for me (again) my feet were starting to die on me. One, we were not given enough time to unpack so I couldn’t change out of my heeled boots which I had to wear onto the plane since it didn’t fit into my luggage. Second, I was wearing a thin, sleepwear pants that did my legs no justice to fashion or the icy wind. The Forbidden City felt endless, I couldn’t imagine being an Emperor (or an Empress) and calling this my home. At the same time, I did hope he was adequately dressed and allowed to snuggle back into his somewhat warmer bed when he’s starting to lose sensitivity in his toes.

I wish I had my camera to capture in photos the magnificent garden of the Forbidden City. It felt so peaceful. When it comes to nature, I’m a bit of a hippie, and I could have stayed there for hours (given a blanket, of course). The stone structures with its carvings, the twisted branches of each trees. Simply put, I felt like Mulan back in her home at the end of the movie.

After hours of striding through the ancient city, we were sent back to the hotel for an hour of rest before going out for traditional Peking Duck dinner. For the record, I have no idea how to pronounce “Peking” and feel quite terrible. I’ve heard so many people say it in so many ways, so I’m just going to pretend they know what I mean when I say “Pecking Duck”.

We were hyped up about this dinner a lot, but I’ve had peking duck before so I was pretty indifferent. However, I didn’t have a clue about the art of cutting peking duck. There are actual cooking schools that teach you the proper way to slice the meat into even and exact amounts of pieces alloted in a single duck. The waitress showed me how to assemble my little peking duck roll, but doing it on my own failed a lot more so I ended up just stuffing each component into my mouth and just chewed. Worked just as effectively.

The dinner show was actually where all the boys left their hearts. While everyone sat around chit-chatting, two Chinese gymnasts make their way to the stage and begin to perform mind blowing contortions.

There’s an ongoing joke here within our group about how people of certain ethnicities or races are just naturally good at something. As a Thai native, people just assume I give kickass massages (which I do,) and that I must know Muay Thai. Well, we all just generalized that Chinese people are awesome at gymnastics and ice skating. I mean, it’s kind of not nice (or politically correct?) but they are! The boys’ favorite gymnast’s pose, was of course …

Imagine this, not only was she holding herself up by inserting a thick bar into her mouth, she used all four limbs to spin some weird circle rugs. Also, that flower bush beneath her started to spin 360 degrees. I had to try to keep the guy sitting next to me down, or he might have lost his pants.

The rest of the show was also quite entertaining. We saw an adorable puppet love story, jingju (Beijing Opera) and a guy in a duck mascot running around. Can you say awesome? By this time, I don’t think anyone gave a shit about peking duck anymore and just waited for more performances. When the show ended, I can safely assume everyone had a great first day in Beijing coming out of smoky city into a bigger city. Only more excitement awaited …

(Photos in this entry by Millie Fung, Annie Yung and Shirley Wong)