This is my third year and hopefully, marching slowly but surely towards completing my entire thesis of 100,000 words. Well, the cause of writing never did run smooth. I just came back from London, with my first chapter done, at least for the moment. But then when I think of the five remaining chapters ahead. I cannot help but shiver. After all, those are demanding chapters that require absolutely meticulous details. Since I am doing gender studies/anthrpology research, I am already in an area where writing and carving out chapters requires sweat and blood. What does it mean? Writing thesis on discipline such as communication is demanding in terms of the research process but then chapterwise they are standardized. Whereas for what I am doing, I may end up moving my chapters a lot and that's my worst fear. I can see what the stress has done to me. To be fair, it's more both my work and my study are give me stress. More from work though as my superboss is a bit....eh.... mad at the moment for whatever reasons. When someone is unreasonable, it's a plague, it affects everyone.
Coming back to my study. Why then do I want to do a PhD? For practical reason, I need it to have a job in the academia. As for others, I think it's a challenge to one's stamina and intellect, as well as perseverance. I have always thrived on stress. Whenever there is a deadline, I produce stuff that of absolutely sensational quality. You may think three to four years is a helluva time. But I tell you the truth (haha. this is what i have picked up from bible study. Whenever Jesus wants to make his case, he will always start with "I tell you the truth"). If you are really aiming at doing a thorough, rigorous research, three to four years is a pretty short time. And I have already passed the second and marching towards the third time. The clock is ticking and I am still quivering at the very idea of handing in my work in Mid-September. What to do? What to do? I don't know.
Well, I guess from now on I will need to change my strategy. Instead of thinking how I thrive on stress, I will just write whatever comes to my head to make enough words at least for the full draft next September so that I can buy one more year to fact-check and edit the entire piece. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will be able to do it.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Celebrating the advent of power 40? really?
Have stopped writing the blog for a month because I need to finish my first chapter of my PhD thesis. It's quite an agonizing but also exhilarating experience as it's like giving birth to my baby. Once the first chapter is done, it's like I have got my first baby out and am waiting to see if it turns out to be with mild defects or, seriously impaired. Await Judgement from my supervisor.
To me, stages of Life mean trials after trials. In the past three years, I have been through a lot: my mother's death on the day I left for London for my study, and then my divorce, two months after my mother's death, and then my return to Hong Kong for fieldwork and moved to the village. Then, my father's death and now will need to move back to London for six months, next year.
Another thing that haunts most of the people, I guess more to women, is aging. It reminds me that I am coming to another stage when I have to act like a sophisticated, cool, well-educated lady. I try, but, believe me, it's not really what I am in person. Unlike other women who are very concerned about the age thing, I have never felt this threat until I see my hair turning grey, strand after strand. It's a genetic thing. But it also tells me that my doll face would perhaps need to be more well taken of.
This is shared by my friends who were with me since high school. We were celebrating the 10th wedding anniversary of one of our great high school friends. And then during the buffet lunch, we lamented at how time flies. And how we were marching close to 40, with one already passed that. And Mine is coming soon. I wasn't too worried about that. Perhaps because I really didn't change that much. But I guess it's more to do with the consolation from those women magazines. I recently read two articles from two women magazines (well... one women and one tabloid). The quintessential Vogue age issue was talking about Christy Turlington and how she has reinvented herself as an activist from a model and of course, with her perennial good look, one couldn't deny that you can still look good and graceful and even more powerful at 40 because of your experience and intelligence.
And then across the Atlantic, there is Hello!, which features the fab bodies at 40 with Cindy Crawford, Carla Bruni (aka Carla Sakozy), Jennifer Lopez,Nicollete Sheridan (who looks the least desperate with her killer body). It's certainly a boost to an ordinary woman like me who is aspiring to be close to one of them, even not one of them, by exercising rigorous regimen (healthy diet; sports and regular exercising)
eh...em.. But to be honest, Even though I love to look pretty and young, I love myself more. Believe me, I will try to keep up. But life is more than just looking good, I want to have fun and I want to be happy. So, I will still exercise because I love sports, but for food..... well... sometimes, occasionally, I want to feel good by savoring a delectable meal. Well, you know how Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden? It's because of an apple, again, food!!! And coming to age (forty), I would love to have more fun than just winning the jealous eyes of men and women. Vanity, thy name is no women, at least not me.
To me, stages of Life mean trials after trials. In the past three years, I have been through a lot: my mother's death on the day I left for London for my study, and then my divorce, two months after my mother's death, and then my return to Hong Kong for fieldwork and moved to the village. Then, my father's death and now will need to move back to London for six months, next year.
Another thing that haunts most of the people, I guess more to women, is aging. It reminds me that I am coming to another stage when I have to act like a sophisticated, cool, well-educated lady. I try, but, believe me, it's not really what I am in person. Unlike other women who are very concerned about the age thing, I have never felt this threat until I see my hair turning grey, strand after strand. It's a genetic thing. But it also tells me that my doll face would perhaps need to be more well taken of.
This is shared by my friends who were with me since high school. We were celebrating the 10th wedding anniversary of one of our great high school friends. And then during the buffet lunch, we lamented at how time flies. And how we were marching close to 40, with one already passed that. And Mine is coming soon. I wasn't too worried about that. Perhaps because I really didn't change that much. But I guess it's more to do with the consolation from those women magazines. I recently read two articles from two women magazines (well... one women and one tabloid). The quintessential Vogue age issue was talking about Christy Turlington and how she has reinvented herself as an activist from a model and of course, with her perennial good look, one couldn't deny that you can still look good and graceful and even more powerful at 40 because of your experience and intelligence.
And then across the Atlantic, there is Hello!, which features the fab bodies at 40 with Cindy Crawford, Carla Bruni (aka Carla Sakozy), Jennifer Lopez,Nicollete Sheridan (who looks the least desperate with her killer body). It's certainly a boost to an ordinary woman like me who is aspiring to be close to one of them, even not one of them, by exercising rigorous regimen (healthy diet; sports and regular exercising)
eh...em.. But to be honest, Even though I love to look pretty and young, I love myself more. Believe me, I will try to keep up. But life is more than just looking good, I want to have fun and I want to be happy. So, I will still exercise because I love sports, but for food..... well... sometimes, occasionally, I want to feel good by savoring a delectable meal. Well, you know how Adam and Eve were kicked out of the Garden of Eden? It's because of an apple, again, food!!! And coming to age (forty), I would love to have more fun than just winning the jealous eyes of men and women. Vanity, thy name is no women, at least not me.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
And God created my mum and Morton's
I always love Morton's, the mecca of steak-house in Hong Kong. (This is personal opinion only. No tomatoes and eggs please, thank you). But this is only the second time I went there. The first time was quite a while ago. I remember I only ordered the mignon. I wasn't that into food outside before my mum died. I always love my mother's cooking. She is a loving and wonderful cook. She cooks so well that I never found eating out a pleasure.It is more a social occasion for friends to catch up rather than a pure experience. And I hate going to Chinese eateries for dinner because it seems so much a disrespect and betrayal to my mother. In fact, even though I ate out on average three times a week before my mum died, I always went home and had an extra meal of her food. Her food is tasty and with lots of love. Don't want you to get goose bumps and I am not talking about sentimental crap here. I am trying to tell you how much my mum loves us by memorizing our favorites and make sure we can all have healthy and loving food. My sticky-rice dumplings were always tailor-made for me, with lots of fatty pork and dried scallops and dried mushroom. You may bet to differ judging from the ingredients of the dumplings. But this only happens once a year and the dumplings memory so etched in my mind that I couldn't bear the dragon boat festival because it reminds me so much of my mother.
Now, Morton's. What does Morton's share with my mother? My mother cooks domestic food and here at Morton's it does fine-dining cum Chicago grill cum steakhouse. Well, to start with, its food evokes in me a feeling of love. That has never happened to me on any kinds of food, except dim sum (at home, not in the restaurant, please). But its tuna tartare and especially its souffle, sent me right away to heaven, as if I really know what heaven means. It gives the pleasure that for whatever price, it's worth it. The souffle is huge and fluffy. With the cream to go with, you almost ready to die in the syrupy concentric circle and with every bite I took it sent me to vertigo. I shared with my friend and I kept digging and digging and telling him how much I felt I was in love. I never love sweets. But souffle is my soft spot. And souffle at Morton's? You can't beat it.
Food goes beyond mere palate-pleasing affair. It carries an implication of what you go for in a relationship. And how far one can go. Food means a lot to me. Not that I am a food critic. But my love of certain food shows my identity and I relate myself so much to it that I won't be able to spend my entire life with someone who carries the kind of cuisine I could never fall for. I still have that criterion of making sure that the nationality of my boyfriend or my husband should be one of my favourite cuisines. I can never imagine saying something like this to a guy, "I love you. But I don't love your food." It's such an insult to that person, and it's an insult to me. Better be safe than sorry. There is only one kind of cuisine that I can't really bring myself to try again. And only one, so guys, come hither - to the food of love.
Now, Morton's. What does Morton's share with my mother? My mother cooks domestic food and here at Morton's it does fine-dining cum Chicago grill cum steakhouse. Well, to start with, its food evokes in me a feeling of love. That has never happened to me on any kinds of food, except dim sum (at home, not in the restaurant, please). But its tuna tartare and especially its souffle, sent me right away to heaven, as if I really know what heaven means. It gives the pleasure that for whatever price, it's worth it. The souffle is huge and fluffy. With the cream to go with, you almost ready to die in the syrupy concentric circle and with every bite I took it sent me to vertigo. I shared with my friend and I kept digging and digging and telling him how much I felt I was in love. I never love sweets. But souffle is my soft spot. And souffle at Morton's? You can't beat it.
Food goes beyond mere palate-pleasing affair. It carries an implication of what you go for in a relationship. And how far one can go. Food means a lot to me. Not that I am a food critic. But my love of certain food shows my identity and I relate myself so much to it that I won't be able to spend my entire life with someone who carries the kind of cuisine I could never fall for. I still have that criterion of making sure that the nationality of my boyfriend or my husband should be one of my favourite cuisines. I can never imagine saying something like this to a guy, "I love you. But I don't love your food." It's such an insult to that person, and it's an insult to me. Better be safe than sorry. There is only one kind of cuisine that I can't really bring myself to try again. And only one, so guys, come hither - to the food of love.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
typhoon epiphany - A night without electricity and what a job it is to be a fireman!!!
I have never been scared of anything, literally, not that I can think of. Well, maybe a few: Snakes, their sights are abominable. I once saw a small one at the village while I was conducting research and I couldn't help screaming so loud that the poor snake glided away...;Sickness (I was once diagnosed with CIN II and III (Cervical Dysplasia) so I had a small LOOP operation and the worst fear at that point to me was whether I could have babies. Well, that was quite a no-brainer and I learnt from then that I should try to read more on the web to understand my own problems. Anyway, I was scared because of my prospect of pregnancy; I was scared because when I was in the freezing operation room, I was wide awake when my doctor was screaming at the nurses for not getting the equipment quickly. I was so nervous that I could virtually hear my own pounding heartbeat rate without realizing it. It was until I asked the nurse why the beeping sound went so fast that I knew it was because of my heartbeat. Oops.
Now, there was another incident happened two weeks ago that raised my heartbeat and there came to my realization of the wonder of modernization. I was out at a tea buffet when a friend of mine called me. He is a fireman and he asked me to be careful because a strong typhoon signal would be raised on that night. He suggested me not going back to the village. As usual, I paid no heed to any crisis. Well, it has been like this since God knows when. So, I just laughed and dismissed it, again. When I left the hotel, typhoon signal No. 3 had already been hoisted and then news came that a higher signal could possibly be hoisted late at night.
So, I hurried back to my home in the village. Everything was very fine and I just couldn't think of what could happen since I had experienced several typhoons in the village and I was always safe and sound.
But then at around 2am, while I was deep asleep, I heard some wee sound coming from somewhere close to me. I was woken by the flashing of some lights and the wee sound, I searched around and couldn't find anything. Then, suddenly, I spotted my landline phone was flashing and the sound was coming from there. I didn't know what to do. So, I unplugged everything. And then I found that everything came to a halt. No air-conditioner, no fan. I thought there must be something wrong with the main switch. So, I went out to check, nothing. O, no. No electricity. Well, I was back to the stone age. And it's worse than living in a cave because all the windows were shut and it was stuffy and it was hot and I was scared. I kept drinking water and it made the matter worse because I kept going to the toilet. I finally had to admit defeat. So, I texted my friend to tell him that he was right and he immediately called me to check if I was OK while he was in the fire-engine on his way to do his work. I was very touched but also worried for him. I heard banging sound and I asked him what happened. He said, "O, it's just the gargbage bin being blown up and hitting on the car. Nothing serious." NOTHING SERIOUS!! That's not what it is. It's so dangerous out there. And he was still talking to me on the phone and I was so stupid to think that with technology, we could avoid being destroyed by natural disaster. (Well, global warming has already proved me wrong....) And now, my friend would need to brave the storm to save lives while I was panting because of being in a temporary discomfortable situation.
Well, two things: I love modernization and I respect fireman. I salute them for their work. But I know I don't want to marry them because I don't want to have sleepless nights worrying about them without being able to complain because of their admirable jobs. I love my rights to complain. It's a woman's right. But with someone who is doing such a lofty mission, it dwarfs you and makes you feel bad if all you care about is your sleep.
Now, there was another incident happened two weeks ago that raised my heartbeat and there came to my realization of the wonder of modernization. I was out at a tea buffet when a friend of mine called me. He is a fireman and he asked me to be careful because a strong typhoon signal would be raised on that night. He suggested me not going back to the village. As usual, I paid no heed to any crisis. Well, it has been like this since God knows when. So, I just laughed and dismissed it, again. When I left the hotel, typhoon signal No. 3 had already been hoisted and then news came that a higher signal could possibly be hoisted late at night.
So, I hurried back to my home in the village. Everything was very fine and I just couldn't think of what could happen since I had experienced several typhoons in the village and I was always safe and sound.
But then at around 2am, while I was deep asleep, I heard some wee sound coming from somewhere close to me. I was woken by the flashing of some lights and the wee sound, I searched around and couldn't find anything. Then, suddenly, I spotted my landline phone was flashing and the sound was coming from there. I didn't know what to do. So, I unplugged everything. And then I found that everything came to a halt. No air-conditioner, no fan. I thought there must be something wrong with the main switch. So, I went out to check, nothing. O, no. No electricity. Well, I was back to the stone age. And it's worse than living in a cave because all the windows were shut and it was stuffy and it was hot and I was scared. I kept drinking water and it made the matter worse because I kept going to the toilet. I finally had to admit defeat. So, I texted my friend to tell him that he was right and he immediately called me to check if I was OK while he was in the fire-engine on his way to do his work. I was very touched but also worried for him. I heard banging sound and I asked him what happened. He said, "O, it's just the gargbage bin being blown up and hitting on the car. Nothing serious." NOTHING SERIOUS!! That's not what it is. It's so dangerous out there. And he was still talking to me on the phone and I was so stupid to think that with technology, we could avoid being destroyed by natural disaster. (Well, global warming has already proved me wrong....) And now, my friend would need to brave the storm to save lives while I was panting because of being in a temporary discomfortable situation.
Well, two things: I love modernization and I respect fireman. I salute them for their work. But I know I don't want to marry them because I don't want to have sleepless nights worrying about them without being able to complain because of their admirable jobs. I love my rights to complain. It's a woman's right. But with someone who is doing such a lofty mission, it dwarfs you and makes you feel bad if all you care about is your sleep.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
US swine flu scare - Dear Lovely Yankees!! Please be responsible, OK? A plague not made in China but manufactured authentically in America...
I got back from my US trip for a month already. I should have started writing about this as soon as I returned from the trip but I was just too scared - scared about the flu, scared about being a carrier, scared about spreading the flu to anyone should I happen to be a carrier. How could I not be scared, especially when I discovered that the country that has currently the most swine flu cases has chosen to turn a blind eye on the whole thing. Now, it has contaminated the whole world and people just have to put up with that because of perhaps for the political prowess, their economic might (which I believe is dwindling). I don't know. But I could share with you some of the anecdotes of this trip, hope whoever read this blog would find this enlightening and to those who happen to be Americans, not offensive but thought-provoking.
I went to Chicago virtually for an annual communication conference. My friend and I had an academic paper accepted so I was already planning the trip in February when the flu was still contained in Mexico and the Americans were still thinking themselves innocuous of the flu. I was hoping for a wonderful trip because of my extended stay in New York and it would be wonderful after not visiting one of my favorite shopping mecca for so long. I was really hoping.... to fill my wardrobe with wonderful clothes and shoes from Anthropologie, Gap, Banana Republic, Dolce Vita and Abercrombie and Fitch and last but not least, J.Crew.
Now, you may call me a material girl, but as soon as I realize that that swine flu has become extremely dire in America I was thinking of canceling the trip. I msned my friend and told him I would not come because of the flu. He could not believe his eyes and asked how come I was so paranoid about it. He explained to me that this would be a bit crazy to stop coming just because of the flu plus his supervisor would think I am a bit...um.... irresponsible not to come for the presentation. I didn't want to get my friend into trouble. So, I plucked up my courage and packed my suitcases and off I went, hoping that I would be lucky enough not to catch the flu. Just for your information: I packed sixty face masks and sixty packs of alchohol tissue paper for my six-day trip to make sure everything was sanitized when on the plane. And I kept praying that God would spare me from catching that.
As soon as I arrived at Newark, I could see lines after lines of visitors. How come people still go to America, I wondered. When it was my turn to pass through the immigration, I told the officer my purpose was to visit my friend to save my time and breath. (I had nightmarish experience in dealing with immigration officer in US. I still remembered they interrogated me while I was trying to pass through the immigration in LA, only when my ex (An Australian) told the guy that "I was with him" did they let me go. How humiliating!!!) So, they asked me how long I stayed and I told them I was just staying for six days because of the swine flu. I cut short my trip. The guy scowled and shocked that I did that, he shook his head and said, "It's nothing. Frankly, it's really nothing!" Well, not really, according to the New York Times, when schools in New York had to be closed and kids could run around the streets.
Anyway, I had a good time shopping and hanging out with my friends but the food was bad, crazy salty and super oily. Choices are not many and it was until I went to Arlington with my friend could I have some decent food. Can't believe that.
This is not a piece on the appalling American cuisine, nor my flu scare but rather a lament on how double-standard the Americans are. They pay no heed on the flu when their homeland has become the incubus of viral plague and pointed their fingers at the Mexicans when the flu broke out there. TVs and newspapers in Chicago were all about barbecues and their memorial celebration instead of warning people about the flu. How amazing when a flu was spreading so quickly could be totally unnoticed by the Americans themselves. They could have died without realizing the reason of their death.
Sometimes, you can't blame people outside America resenting Americans, for the sheer fact that when I arrived in Hong Kong and the territory was trying at all cost to prevent an outbreak by measuring passengers' temperature, one of them started screaming at the airport staff, calling Hong Kong "insane" by taking measures to curb the flu. I believe anyone who has some senses would take extra precaution after the SARS scare. I guess the insensitive and haughty attitude of the Americans could best explain why they are not really welcome by people um...I guess it's no good when one is too in love with oneself.
I went to Chicago virtually for an annual communication conference. My friend and I had an academic paper accepted so I was already planning the trip in February when the flu was still contained in Mexico and the Americans were still thinking themselves innocuous of the flu. I was hoping for a wonderful trip because of my extended stay in New York and it would be wonderful after not visiting one of my favorite shopping mecca for so long. I was really hoping.... to fill my wardrobe with wonderful clothes and shoes from Anthropologie, Gap, Banana Republic, Dolce Vita and Abercrombie and Fitch and last but not least, J.Crew.
Now, you may call me a material girl, but as soon as I realize that that swine flu has become extremely dire in America I was thinking of canceling the trip. I msned my friend and told him I would not come because of the flu. He could not believe his eyes and asked how come I was so paranoid about it. He explained to me that this would be a bit crazy to stop coming just because of the flu plus his supervisor would think I am a bit...um.... irresponsible not to come for the presentation. I didn't want to get my friend into trouble. So, I plucked up my courage and packed my suitcases and off I went, hoping that I would be lucky enough not to catch the flu. Just for your information: I packed sixty face masks and sixty packs of alchohol tissue paper for my six-day trip to make sure everything was sanitized when on the plane. And I kept praying that God would spare me from catching that.
As soon as I arrived at Newark, I could see lines after lines of visitors. How come people still go to America, I wondered. When it was my turn to pass through the immigration, I told the officer my purpose was to visit my friend to save my time and breath. (I had nightmarish experience in dealing with immigration officer in US. I still remembered they interrogated me while I was trying to pass through the immigration in LA, only when my ex (An Australian) told the guy that "I was with him" did they let me go. How humiliating!!!) So, they asked me how long I stayed and I told them I was just staying for six days because of the swine flu. I cut short my trip. The guy scowled and shocked that I did that, he shook his head and said, "It's nothing. Frankly, it's really nothing!" Well, not really, according to the New York Times, when schools in New York had to be closed and kids could run around the streets.
Anyway, I had a good time shopping and hanging out with my friends but the food was bad, crazy salty and super oily. Choices are not many and it was until I went to Arlington with my friend could I have some decent food. Can't believe that.
This is not a piece on the appalling American cuisine, nor my flu scare but rather a lament on how double-standard the Americans are. They pay no heed on the flu when their homeland has become the incubus of viral plague and pointed their fingers at the Mexicans when the flu broke out there. TVs and newspapers in Chicago were all about barbecues and their memorial celebration instead of warning people about the flu. How amazing when a flu was spreading so quickly could be totally unnoticed by the Americans themselves. They could have died without realizing the reason of their death.
Sometimes, you can't blame people outside America resenting Americans, for the sheer fact that when I arrived in Hong Kong and the territory was trying at all cost to prevent an outbreak by measuring passengers' temperature, one of them started screaming at the airport staff, calling Hong Kong "insane" by taking measures to curb the flu. I believe anyone who has some senses would take extra precaution after the SARS scare. I guess the insensitive and haughty attitude of the Americans could best explain why they are not really welcome by people um...I guess it's no good when one is too in love with oneself.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Trip to Thailand Part 2 - Rendezvous with red-shirters!! Sawadee Ka! Man Ben Kong Thai!! Ben Kong Hong Kong!! Lemme have my chips!! Kapunka!
OK!! What does the red-shirters have to do with the chips? And why are chips so important? And why am I making a big fuss out of chips? It's a long story. So, I will try to make the long story short:
Chips are our past time. It's a girly past time. Especially when we want to return to our puberty time and enjoy those silly conversations about classmates (now ex-classmates or colleagues), school (now work), boys (now husbands or boyfriends). We have planned our whole trip around chips because 1) Thailand has perhaps the most variety of chips 2) We can consume all different kinds of chips and be nostalgic about the good old days.
Unfortunately, there is something in my body that stops me from enjoying chips to their fullest. If I eat too much, I will have fever. I am not kidding you. I only found that out when I became a full-grown adult. (By which I mean when I was 25) haha! This was also the time when I realized that I couldn't drink alcohol (I had alcohol poisoning once when I studied in London. And the doc (bear in mind that he is a caucasian) had to tell me that I should refrain from any alcoholic drinks.
Anyway, I still lingered to the dreams of enjoying one or two pieces of chips even to see my friends having such a wonderful time is good enough for me (How nice I am...) So, we have planned to go to the supermarket on Sunday for Sunday night will be our last night in Bangkok.
We went different ways to do our last shopping and agreed to meet at the food court at Parragon so that we could invade the gigantic food mall there. We ate our lunch and got ourselves ready to march to the snacks counter when suddenly we were stopped by the security guard at the entrance.
We were all shocked and I asked the security guard why we couldn't get in. She just said "EMERGENCY". And then I asked, "What kind of emergency to stop us from shopping and what's going on?" She then whispered into her supervisor's ears and afterwards with a nod from him, she told me "MOB! MOB outside". And we were sure that it must be the red-shirters. Luckily, we had learnt the shortcut so we left quickly and returned to our hotel in no time.
By then, I saw my cell had several missed calls. Four from my two brothers. Two text messages from my colleagues and friends. And I called them up to tell them we were very safe. Mortified, my brothers refused to believe me and thought I lied to them. I had to tell them this is not a voice mail to calm them down. Only when I returned to Hong Kong did I realize that what's shown on TV terrified the Hong Kong people. How powerful media can be!!
In fact, the only scary episode of the whole drama was that we saw the tank..... from our hotel. And apart from that, we were really safe. Shops and supermarkets were closed to avoid looting. But restaurants were still open and that's why we could enjoy C'est Bon (the French restaurant chain). Since there were no shops open, we were so desperate that we had to kill time at Intercontinental's ripping-off-tourists shop.
The street was not so dead quiet. There were still quite a few hawkers selling jewels and dodgy-looking hotpants. Still clinging on the dreams of a chips party, my friends asked one another if there were any 7/11s around Intercontinental. I couldn't believe my ears. Amidst the possible danger of riots, they were still thinking about...chips. How amazing! Other friends were already looking at those dodgy-looking pants and raved about how nicely they look on their butts and how thrilled their husbands would be when they saw them wearing those pants (One is a black one with a lot of cherries on as far as I could recall). I kept rolling my eyes as I guess cherries would expand to appalling shapes once they are on a human butt.... But... beauty on the eyes of a beholder. So, I shut my mouth.
We did have a great party sans chips. We did talk a lot about our lives together and we did ride the waves, for better or worse. Kapunka, Bangkok.
Chips are our past time. It's a girly past time. Especially when we want to return to our puberty time and enjoy those silly conversations about classmates (now ex-classmates or colleagues), school (now work), boys (now husbands or boyfriends). We have planned our whole trip around chips because 1) Thailand has perhaps the most variety of chips 2) We can consume all different kinds of chips and be nostalgic about the good old days.
Unfortunately, there is something in my body that stops me from enjoying chips to their fullest. If I eat too much, I will have fever. I am not kidding you. I only found that out when I became a full-grown adult. (By which I mean when I was 25) haha! This was also the time when I realized that I couldn't drink alcohol (I had alcohol poisoning once when I studied in London. And the doc (bear in mind that he is a caucasian) had to tell me that I should refrain from any alcoholic drinks.
Anyway, I still lingered to the dreams of enjoying one or two pieces of chips even to see my friends having such a wonderful time is good enough for me (How nice I am...) So, we have planned to go to the supermarket on Sunday for Sunday night will be our last night in Bangkok.
We went different ways to do our last shopping and agreed to meet at the food court at Parragon so that we could invade the gigantic food mall there. We ate our lunch and got ourselves ready to march to the snacks counter when suddenly we were stopped by the security guard at the entrance.
We were all shocked and I asked the security guard why we couldn't get in. She just said "EMERGENCY". And then I asked, "What kind of emergency to stop us from shopping and what's going on?" She then whispered into her supervisor's ears and afterwards with a nod from him, she told me "MOB! MOB outside". And we were sure that it must be the red-shirters. Luckily, we had learnt the shortcut so we left quickly and returned to our hotel in no time.
By then, I saw my cell had several missed calls. Four from my two brothers. Two text messages from my colleagues and friends. And I called them up to tell them we were very safe. Mortified, my brothers refused to believe me and thought I lied to them. I had to tell them this is not a voice mail to calm them down. Only when I returned to Hong Kong did I realize that what's shown on TV terrified the Hong Kong people. How powerful media can be!!
In fact, the only scary episode of the whole drama was that we saw the tank..... from our hotel. And apart from that, we were really safe. Shops and supermarkets were closed to avoid looting. But restaurants were still open and that's why we could enjoy C'est Bon (the French restaurant chain). Since there were no shops open, we were so desperate that we had to kill time at Intercontinental's ripping-off-tourists shop.
The street was not so dead quiet. There were still quite a few hawkers selling jewels and dodgy-looking hotpants. Still clinging on the dreams of a chips party, my friends asked one another if there were any 7/11s around Intercontinental. I couldn't believe my ears. Amidst the possible danger of riots, they were still thinking about...chips. How amazing! Other friends were already looking at those dodgy-looking pants and raved about how nicely they look on their butts and how thrilled their husbands would be when they saw them wearing those pants (One is a black one with a lot of cherries on as far as I could recall). I kept rolling my eyes as I guess cherries would expand to appalling shapes once they are on a human butt.... But... beauty on the eyes of a beholder. So, I shut my mouth.
We did have a great party sans chips. We did talk a lot about our lives together and we did ride the waves, for better or worse. Kapunka, Bangkok.
Tsoi Yuen Village - sacrifice for the greater good? To hell with the greater good!
I was supposed to continue talking about the red-shirters debacle on my Part II Trip to Thailand. But as there are something I believe it's more urgent to address, I skip my trifle and here discuss a more dire issue before I go back to my whining and dining (ahem. I don't drink while I dine. But I whine whenever I have time, so...)
I am now a researcher working on two projects: one is my thesis on the Hong Kong indigenous women. The other project I am working on is the railway dispute between the government and the Tsoi Yuen village. I happen to have the privilege working on this project because the village was just a doorstep away. Because of my research, I have moved from my home in the urban area to the village close to Tsoi yuen a year ago and I heard the whole dispute from the villagers in my village. Out of curiosity and a fervent encouragement by my supervisor, I began to work on this project as a paper.
I wasn't very familiar with the village. To be honest, I am not familiar with the rural part of Hong Kong at all. People living in the city thought they are self-sufficient and thus, very often, do not find the need to go to the countryside. If they do, it's more because of leisure. For me, I did the same. Why bother to go to the countryside if I can find everything in the city.
Working on the ethnographic research about the village and the railway dispute teaches me what self-sufficiency really means. It means you grow your own food and you eat your own food. During the economic downturn, if you can't sell your vegetables, you eat them. You eat your rice. You mix your own honey with water and the drink is absolutely refreshing. And this is such a novel experience to an urbanite like me.
However, the government has planned to build a new rail connecting Hong Kong, Shenzhen and Guangzhou that will shorten the time of commute to one hour.
I have no objection whatsover to the building of a railway. After all, I enjoy traveling by train and it's always more fun to travel by land than by air.
But, if this is built on somebody's soil and homes will be wrecked and families be destroyed. What should we do?
Well, I guess a responsible and considerate government will first look into the case and see how it could help to rebuild the homes of the affected. In such a way that villagers could still maintain their own ways of living, if the choice of the villagers' invaluable land becomes inevitable. In short, the government would uphold quality living for their people as top priority and minimize the disturbance done to the villagers.
Usually, before undertaking this sort of huge project, a responsible, civilized and considerate will widely consult the public, and then conduct an environmental assessment report, before discussing and negotiating with the affected parties.
Unfortunately, our government, in order to appease the Chinese government,jumps the queue. That's to say, they copy down and conduct spot check of each household in the village before even the local district body knows.
The upshot: I have been witnessing hubbubs and confusion and crying in the village. I could hear laments, roars of frustration. I could see tears weltering in the eyes of grannies. I could hear sobbing about the loss of their farm. I have heard loads and loads of stories about their 50 years tying to the soil.
I heard one story from Tang Gun tai's mother, who is 70 something. I bumped into her one time near the market and we took the minibus together. I asked how she was doing. Looking frightful, she was shaking when she told me how scared she was if she had to leave the village. "I spent 50 years with the soil of Tsoi Yuen village. I built my own house, my own farm. Now, I spend my time at my home growing and selling my own vegetables. I don't know what I can do if I remove my house. I don't want to live in the public housing estate. This is my entire life!!. Where else can I go? I know no one. I have my kids of course. But the soil is my life. It has always been my entire life! I am very scared!!" Her eyes were red and full of tears.
As a researcher, I have to stay as objective and independent as possible. But at the same time, I can't help feeling the dread, the unwillingness, the frustration, the anger of those people. It moves me. Despite the differences among the villagers. Despite the different concerns between the so called "indigenous" and
"non-indigenous" villagers, I feel the same concern, the same bewilderment among them. Why take my home? Why don't you care that this is my home? Does it matter whether I am not the "indigenous" or "non-indigenous" when this has been my home since God knows when?
Well, I guess there is still a long road for Hong Kong to pride herself a modernized and civilized society if she could just ignore and marginalize those who are not in power..... Power to the people, by the people? It's now up to the Legislative council to prove itself it's not a rubber stamp.
I am now a researcher working on two projects: one is my thesis on the Hong Kong indigenous women. The other project I am working on is the railway dispute between the government and the Tsoi Yuen village. I happen to have the privilege working on this project because the village was just a doorstep away. Because of my research, I have moved from my home in the urban area to the village close to Tsoi yuen a year ago and I heard the whole dispute from the villagers in my village. Out of curiosity and a fervent encouragement by my supervisor, I began to work on this project as a paper.
I wasn't very familiar with the village. To be honest, I am not familiar with the rural part of Hong Kong at all. People living in the city thought they are self-sufficient and thus, very often, do not find the need to go to the countryside. If they do, it's more because of leisure. For me, I did the same. Why bother to go to the countryside if I can find everything in the city.
Working on the ethnographic research about the village and the railway dispute teaches me what self-sufficiency really means. It means you grow your own food and you eat your own food. During the economic downturn, if you can't sell your vegetables, you eat them. You eat your rice. You mix your own honey with water and the drink is absolutely refreshing. And this is such a novel experience to an urbanite like me.
However, the government has planned to build a new rail connecting Hong Kong, Shenzhen and Guangzhou that will shorten the time of commute to one hour.
I have no objection whatsover to the building of a railway. After all, I enjoy traveling by train and it's always more fun to travel by land than by air.
But, if this is built on somebody's soil and homes will be wrecked and families be destroyed. What should we do?
Well, I guess a responsible and considerate government will first look into the case and see how it could help to rebuild the homes of the affected. In such a way that villagers could still maintain their own ways of living, if the choice of the villagers' invaluable land becomes inevitable. In short, the government would uphold quality living for their people as top priority and minimize the disturbance done to the villagers.
Usually, before undertaking this sort of huge project, a responsible, civilized and considerate will widely consult the public, and then conduct an environmental assessment report, before discussing and negotiating with the affected parties.
Unfortunately, our government, in order to appease the Chinese government,jumps the queue. That's to say, they copy down and conduct spot check of each household in the village before even the local district body knows.
The upshot: I have been witnessing hubbubs and confusion and crying in the village. I could hear laments, roars of frustration. I could see tears weltering in the eyes of grannies. I could hear sobbing about the loss of their farm. I have heard loads and loads of stories about their 50 years tying to the soil.
I heard one story from Tang Gun tai's mother, who is 70 something. I bumped into her one time near the market and we took the minibus together. I asked how she was doing. Looking frightful, she was shaking when she told me how scared she was if she had to leave the village. "I spent 50 years with the soil of Tsoi Yuen village. I built my own house, my own farm. Now, I spend my time at my home growing and selling my own vegetables. I don't know what I can do if I remove my house. I don't want to live in the public housing estate. This is my entire life!!. Where else can I go? I know no one. I have my kids of course. But the soil is my life. It has always been my entire life! I am very scared!!" Her eyes were red and full of tears.
As a researcher, I have to stay as objective and independent as possible. But at the same time, I can't help feeling the dread, the unwillingness, the frustration, the anger of those people. It moves me. Despite the differences among the villagers. Despite the different concerns between the so called "indigenous" and
"non-indigenous" villagers, I feel the same concern, the same bewilderment among them. Why take my home? Why don't you care that this is my home? Does it matter whether I am not the "indigenous" or "non-indigenous" when this has been my home since God knows when?
Well, I guess there is still a long road for Hong Kong to pride herself a modernized and civilized society if she could just ignore and marginalize those who are not in power..... Power to the people, by the people? It's now up to the Legislative council to prove itself it's not a rubber stamp.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Trip to Thailand - Part 1- Nutty cab driver - Sawadee Ka ! Ma Pood Thai! Leave me alone!!
How wonderful when you realized that at the age of 40 (well, almost), you still have a gang of buddies who are ready to have some juvenile fun with you. Even though sprout after sprout of grey hair is now visible on your scalp and almost all of your friends are happily married, even with kids. Family is a big concern when you are planning a big 4 day trip with your uni buddies. And every 10 years, we have this, and it's such a big deal to all of us. As I wrote on my facebook, a triumph of sisterhood.
This time, I still live up to my name of rabble-rouser. My main role is to provide entertainment and laughter for my folks. I am never a good organizer of a trip so I leave it to my friends to deal with it. Anyway, we had loads of fun. We went back to where we belong: Eat,shop and be merry. Lots of horrendous laughter every five to ten minutes (I think in some ways it's pretty much what happened to girls from Catholic girls school- totally unrestrained when it comes to expresing their joy). I squeeze time to enjoy the sun by the pool while my dear friends cook their way out and smell with chilly and curry from buttering up their culinary skills in a Thai cooking school.
The first two days were rather peaceful even though my brothers were on the verge of dying when they heard that I would be going to Bangkok. "I can't believe you did that to us. Don't you know there are those red-shirters. Why are you that carefree? I want to die." I still can't understand why men are prone to heart attack. Or perhaps that only happens to those men around me. Sorry!
We couldn't sense how serious the situation was because at the heart of Bangkok, it was business as usual. We only knew that the red-shirters were going nuts and wrecking the ASEAN conference in Pattaya. Only in Pattaya. So, we kept laughing like crazy, shopping till we dropped, massaging here and there and most importantly eating whereever and whenever we could.
Not quite carefree... indeed the night before the red-shirters returned, we were already in trouble - with taxi-driver. We had dinner at China town and afterwards we split into two groups and got on taxis. As usual, I began with a seemingly proficient "Sawadee ka" and then before they started talking to me in a language that I barely understood, I flaunted the hotel address (in Thai of course) to direct the driver to the hotel, the next thing was that he spoke to me in Thai and squinted his eyes. Right away, I suspected that he probably didn't know where to go. He kept talking to me in Thai, with me telling him "Ma Pood Thai" which means "I don't speak Thai." Perhaps my thai friend taught me the wrong phrase. Because the more I told him "Ma pood Thai", the more Thai he spoke. I was so scared. And then while he kept speaking to me, he missed a turn and we went all the way to a one way road. We almost wanted to kill ourselves. He kept turning round and round. My friends were feeling sorry for him because apparently he didn't know where to go. In fact, he was freaking out. I, the merciless one, was in full rage and at the end, I made my frustration verbally known to my friends. "I am really pissed. You know." Once I said that, they stopped talking and I bellowed at the driver, "STOOOOP!!!". He was so scared that he dropped us off at the middle of the road and cars just screeched by. We rushed across the road and quickly walked 5 minutes down to Parragon.
We took another cab at Parragon. This time, we wanted to make sure the cab driver understood English, and didn't take me as one of them. So, I switched to English and he perfectly understood and he spoke perfect English. As soon as we fastened our seatbelt and thinking of the jacuzzi in our rooms,he, the sneaky driver, took us to a big detour. My friends and I, who just did the round and round the rosie, quickly realized that was wrong again. But the driver just hummed song and kept saying, "solly.Oh solly!! I am solly!!" Now we know he is cheating. I went so berserk that anything came out from my mouth was God knows what as vulgar as possible in English and I screamed the hell out of him. I told him i would take him to the police station (and coincidentally, a police car was just in front of us). And my friends at the back were screaming"NO BULLSHIT!! GET YOUR DAMN CAR TO OUR HOTEL!!" And I kept saying the f--- word in Cantonese with a mix of the English f---,without realizing that i was doing it.( I was notified by my friend that I was the epitome of a psychopath). Probably that scared the driver, he immediately said, "OK!OK! Free meter." And at the end, I stormed out of the car, without paying a penny, of course.
Well, "Never underestimate the power of a woman" but better, 'Never underestimate the power of rage to a woman'.
This time, I still live up to my name of rabble-rouser. My main role is to provide entertainment and laughter for my folks. I am never a good organizer of a trip so I leave it to my friends to deal with it. Anyway, we had loads of fun. We went back to where we belong: Eat,shop and be merry. Lots of horrendous laughter every five to ten minutes (I think in some ways it's pretty much what happened to girls from Catholic girls school- totally unrestrained when it comes to expresing their joy). I squeeze time to enjoy the sun by the pool while my dear friends cook their way out and smell with chilly and curry from buttering up their culinary skills in a Thai cooking school.
The first two days were rather peaceful even though my brothers were on the verge of dying when they heard that I would be going to Bangkok. "I can't believe you did that to us. Don't you know there are those red-shirters. Why are you that carefree? I want to die." I still can't understand why men are prone to heart attack. Or perhaps that only happens to those men around me. Sorry!
We couldn't sense how serious the situation was because at the heart of Bangkok, it was business as usual. We only knew that the red-shirters were going nuts and wrecking the ASEAN conference in Pattaya. Only in Pattaya. So, we kept laughing like crazy, shopping till we dropped, massaging here and there and most importantly eating whereever and whenever we could.
Not quite carefree... indeed the night before the red-shirters returned, we were already in trouble - with taxi-driver. We had dinner at China town and afterwards we split into two groups and got on taxis. As usual, I began with a seemingly proficient "Sawadee ka" and then before they started talking to me in a language that I barely understood, I flaunted the hotel address (in Thai of course) to direct the driver to the hotel, the next thing was that he spoke to me in Thai and squinted his eyes. Right away, I suspected that he probably didn't know where to go. He kept talking to me in Thai, with me telling him "Ma Pood Thai" which means "I don't speak Thai." Perhaps my thai friend taught me the wrong phrase. Because the more I told him "Ma pood Thai", the more Thai he spoke. I was so scared. And then while he kept speaking to me, he missed a turn and we went all the way to a one way road. We almost wanted to kill ourselves. He kept turning round and round. My friends were feeling sorry for him because apparently he didn't know where to go. In fact, he was freaking out. I, the merciless one, was in full rage and at the end, I made my frustration verbally known to my friends. "I am really pissed. You know." Once I said that, they stopped talking and I bellowed at the driver, "STOOOOP!!!". He was so scared that he dropped us off at the middle of the road and cars just screeched by. We rushed across the road and quickly walked 5 minutes down to Parragon.
We took another cab at Parragon. This time, we wanted to make sure the cab driver understood English, and didn't take me as one of them. So, I switched to English and he perfectly understood and he spoke perfect English. As soon as we fastened our seatbelt and thinking of the jacuzzi in our rooms,he, the sneaky driver, took us to a big detour. My friends and I, who just did the round and round the rosie, quickly realized that was wrong again. But the driver just hummed song and kept saying, "solly.Oh solly!! I am solly!!" Now we know he is cheating. I went so berserk that anything came out from my mouth was God knows what as vulgar as possible in English and I screamed the hell out of him. I told him i would take him to the police station (and coincidentally, a police car was just in front of us). And my friends at the back were screaming"NO BULLSHIT!! GET YOUR DAMN CAR TO OUR HOTEL!!" And I kept saying the f--- word in Cantonese with a mix of the English f---,without realizing that i was doing it.( I was notified by my friend that I was the epitome of a psychopath). Probably that scared the driver, he immediately said, "OK!OK! Free meter." And at the end, I stormed out of the car, without paying a penny, of course.
Well, "Never underestimate the power of a woman" but better, 'Never underestimate the power of rage to a woman'.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
I am really BACK!! "You are such a writing girl. But too rational!!" "Yes, I am a rational writing girl"
Helloooo,
I got a facebook message from my first love, who hasn't been in touch with me for 15 something years. It was like this: I checked my gmail account, (in fact, every single account for like,... every two hours...) and there popped up a name that sounded too unfamiliar. Isn't it pathetic to say that? But that was how I felt. I was wondering who the hell was that guy shooting me a message on facebook and I would swear not let him be my friend. And then, you know from gmail, that you can see the first line... and it goes like "Its(sic) nearly 20 years, got a feeling that I could find you in FB.Been hesitating to send this message..............
Throughout all these years , always want to say "sorry" to you."
Now, after I received his facebook message, a few things came to my mind (nothing romantic,no butterflies in my stomach, OK? I have no romantic feelings whatsoever. He is no longer my cup of tea! Just to set the record straight!!):
1) Facebook is really powerful!
2) Facebook is really damn powerful!!
3) Facebook is so damn powerful that it scares me!!
Of course, one of the reasons I joined facebook has nothing to do with its power. To be honest, I was too dumb to even realize why on earth people need this thing when we have emails and msn already. Anyway, my flatmates Kate and Janit wanted to keep in touch with me in the facebookish way after I left for fieldwork and so I nodded and joined and got addicted and pretty much now a facebook junkie checking it like every one or two hours. At first, I found the idea quite repulsive as I would need to update my stuff and upload my photos on my page. But then, I managed to find some of my long lost friends in the college who are now miles away in their hometown and then some of my ex-colleagues and I began to think that this is not such a bad idea to be able to share your updates without paying the phonebills calling tonnes of people. How smart!!
And then, along came my ex, who shared how he felt about me and what he has suffered (and achieved) of course for the past, I guess, if I remember correctly, 15 years (we broke up when I was 24 and we went out for 6 years). And then we exchanged 22 messages of which they are all long and intense (not romantic at all, please don't think otherwise.) emails of life and I turned into Aunt Agony and finally, I got a compliment (at least that's how I take it). "You are really a writing girl! But too rational!" And I replied: "Yes, I am really a writing girl. I am really a rational writing girl! That's what keeps me afloat." Yes, he is right. I am a writing girl. But I am not sure whether that floating part from my response is true. I guess I am floating, at least, for the moment.
Well, how can I not love facebook! Anything can happen in this virtual world. I guess something bizarre may happen again in no time. Facebook, I love you. And I am a writing girl; and you are one of my muses.
I got a facebook message from my first love, who hasn't been in touch with me for 15 something years. It was like this: I checked my gmail account, (in fact, every single account for like,... every two hours...) and there popped up a name that sounded too unfamiliar. Isn't it pathetic to say that? But that was how I felt. I was wondering who the hell was that guy shooting me a message on facebook and I would swear not let him be my friend. And then, you know from gmail, that you can see the first line... and it goes like "Its(sic) nearly 20 years, got a feeling that I could find you in FB.Been hesitating to send this message..............
Throughout all these years , always want to say "sorry" to you."
Now, after I received his facebook message, a few things came to my mind (nothing romantic,no butterflies in my stomach, OK? I have no romantic feelings whatsoever. He is no longer my cup of tea! Just to set the record straight!!):
1) Facebook is really powerful!
2) Facebook is really damn powerful!!
3) Facebook is so damn powerful that it scares me!!
Of course, one of the reasons I joined facebook has nothing to do with its power. To be honest, I was too dumb to even realize why on earth people need this thing when we have emails and msn already. Anyway, my flatmates Kate and Janit wanted to keep in touch with me in the facebookish way after I left for fieldwork and so I nodded and joined and got addicted and pretty much now a facebook junkie checking it like every one or two hours. At first, I found the idea quite repulsive as I would need to update my stuff and upload my photos on my page. But then, I managed to find some of my long lost friends in the college who are now miles away in their hometown and then some of my ex-colleagues and I began to think that this is not such a bad idea to be able to share your updates without paying the phonebills calling tonnes of people. How smart!!
And then, along came my ex, who shared how he felt about me and what he has suffered (and achieved) of course for the past, I guess, if I remember correctly, 15 years (we broke up when I was 24 and we went out for 6 years). And then we exchanged 22 messages of which they are all long and intense (not romantic at all, please don't think otherwise.) emails of life and I turned into Aunt Agony and finally, I got a compliment (at least that's how I take it). "You are really a writing girl! But too rational!" And I replied: "Yes, I am really a writing girl. I am really a rational writing girl! That's what keeps me afloat." Yes, he is right. I am a writing girl. But I am not sure whether that floating part from my response is true. I guess I am floating, at least, for the moment.
Well, how can I not love facebook! Anything can happen in this virtual world. I guess something bizarre may happen again in no time. Facebook, I love you. And I am a writing girl; and you are one of my muses.
Why I have disappeared for such a long time? um....
Ok, There is a list of reasons why I have disappeared from my blog for such a ruddy long time:
-Lazy, lazy and lazy!!
-Too much work!! Trust me!! It's not an oxymoron from what I just said. My work at school and my research at another school drove me into a crazy woman constantly dreaming about my bed with my teddy bear bedsheet (my late mother bought it for me before she died as she wanted to think of me as still her little daughter....a bit perverse and the cause of my peter pan syndrome... )Perennially deprived of sleep. I need to be lazy because I need to escape from the cruel reality of neverending work. I need a break.... from everything. The first thing I could give myself a break is to... stop writing my blog.
-Too much traveling in the past few months - closely related to the above two. Just finished my trip to Thailand (for fun) and Beijing (for work) and now coming up - with the trip to the States (for work, again!!). I love traveling but constant traveling means that I would need to give something up and then... well... my blog writing stops.
-Too many excuses.....
-All of the above
I think it's time that I should start coming back to my blog because 1) I have got tonnes of things to write; 2) I have to use this to reorganize my thoughts for my research 3) all of the above.
Let the writing begin, again!!
Good night and see you later!!!
-Lazy, lazy and lazy!!
-Too much work!! Trust me!! It's not an oxymoron from what I just said. My work at school and my research at another school drove me into a crazy woman constantly dreaming about my bed with my teddy bear bedsheet (my late mother bought it for me before she died as she wanted to think of me as still her little daughter....a bit perverse and the cause of my peter pan syndrome... )Perennially deprived of sleep. I need to be lazy because I need to escape from the cruel reality of neverending work. I need a break.... from everything. The first thing I could give myself a break is to... stop writing my blog.
-Too much traveling in the past few months - closely related to the above two. Just finished my trip to Thailand (for fun) and Beijing (for work) and now coming up - with the trip to the States (for work, again!!). I love traveling but constant traveling means that I would need to give something up and then... well... my blog writing stops.
-Too many excuses.....
-All of the above
I think it's time that I should start coming back to my blog because 1) I have got tonnes of things to write; 2) I have to use this to reorganize my thoughts for my research 3) all of the above.
Let the writing begin, again!!
Good night and see you later!!!
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