I have stopped writing the blog again!!! This time is like for the entire life!! Not really.... In fact, I have only stopped writing for a few months. A few things I have done in the past few months: I have got myself a boyfriend, which is good and uplifting because he is quite a good catch (LOL), at least in my opinion. I went back to London to show my second chapter to my supervisor, and it turned out not bad. I have also managed to produce a paper for a Feminist and Geography conference, which is organized by RASPAS of ANU and the Delhi University. I wrote on self-reflexivity in feminist research. And it was so unexpectely good. Because I found out a few things about myself and about India.
I went to India once and that was ages ago and I didn't spend much time hanging out as I was just visiting the Delhi bureau. This time is the same: I went there arrving Tuesday night and left on Wednesday night (blah!!). That was a really awful experience as the plane left not until 23:00pm, which is 1:30am in the morning!!! So, again, I didn't get a chance to see Delhi myself.
But then along the way to the university, I saw camp after camp along the construction site for the commonwealth game. At first I thought that was for the construction only. But then later on I saw naked kids running around the camps and when I asked about what that is. An Indian student told me the poor lived there at night. And the construction site is for building better electicity network for the commonwealth game. Upon arrival at the university international residence, I was so shocked as I saw electricity didn't run as freely as in the cities I have visited in the past. They still required a generator to regulate the electricity we used. I thought that happened ages ago and should have been better. Well, obviously, there is lots of room for improvement.
The conference was great. The Indian students are efficient, smart and hospitable. I had a great time there meeting people from different places and getting a sense of what my future would be like. Going to conference after conference and trying to get my papers and books published. Well, not bad. It's scintillating and it's absolutely necessary if I don't want to get alzheimer when I am old. (I hope not frail :P).
And about myself: My Indian counterparts told me that I actually look like an Indian, which is all too greek to me. I have been told I look like: Indonesian, Filipino (you have our faces), Nepalese, Thai, Vietnamese, Burmese and now one more: Indian from the north-eastern province. I guess this is good to work as a journalist with such a trans-regional face. Now, I am no longer a journalist but an ethnographer, perhaps I will test how this could work for me in the future when I conduct fieldwork outside my own place. It could be lots of fun. At least, I am keeping my fingers crossed.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The cost of my PhD - stress, nothing but stress
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.
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.
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.
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