Back From Beijing

This past week was the Chinese National Day holiday, a holiday that mostly involves an obscene display of military power in Mainland China and nothing in Hong Kong except a massive influx of Mainland Chinese tourists.  I, instead of staying here, however, decided to flock, along with the rest of China, to Beijing for the holiday.

In mainland China, there are hardly any public holidays.  Instead, they get a week off in the fall around the National Day holiday and it's called "golden week".  Hong Kong people just get National Day off.  When I told my Chinese tutor that I was thinking of going to Beijing during this aforementioned "golden week" she looked at me like I had suggested I'd saw my left arm off there and then and asked me why in the world I would want to go there during that time. But, go I did.

Before I even left, I was in doubt that the trip would actually work out.  To start off my trip, I got detained at Hong Kong airport because of a visa problem (I got released, obviously, and that experience will be a whole other blog post) but finally made my flight.  But backing up, I couldn't get a Chinese visa (a must for Americans) because of this same visa problem.  So I found a way to circumvent the problem by taking advantage of the 72 hour transit visa that is offered to tourists landing in select Chinese cities.  It's awesome, actually, because you save yourself a BUM LOAD of money and don't have to go through the process of applying for the visa, but it's only for 72 hours.  Give and take, I say.

If you're wondering how this works, here's the skinny:

You must be transiting from one country to China to a third country to take advantage.  (Hong Kong --> Korea --> Beijing for example is okay.  United States --> Beijing --> United States wouldn't work, because the beginning and ending countries are the same. Savvy?

You must have a passport from a certain country.  Here's the list, it's too long to type.  http://www.travelchinaguide.com/embassy/visa/free-72hour/

You must really know what you're talking about.  I had trouble explaining this to every gate agent I checked in with from Hong Kong to Seoul.  People just aren't aware of the policy and really don't want to let you fly to China if you don't have a visa.  The first time I landed in China and used this policy (back in August) even the Chinese immigration officers didn't know what this policy was.  They were better this time.

When in doubt, here's a picture I took at the Beijing airport, for proof.  

 

I'm not making this stuff up!

  
Anyway.  With that done, I managed to get into Beijing with no problem.  My friend Heather who had arrived a day before me came to pick me up and we went into the city on the Airport Express (Which I highly recommend.  It's fast and cheap, which is a pretty good combo in my opinion). 

Once you get into the city, it's pretty easy to transfer to one of the regular Metro lines.  I was surprised at how much the Metro felt like the Hong Kong metro until I realized that the MTR corporation (owner of the HK metro) also owns the Beijing one.  So there ya go.  At our transfer station, Dongzhimen, there were THRONGS of people.  It also didn't help that we got there right at rush hour.  Exhibit A:

From there, my intrepid friend, Heather, easily navigated us to the exit for my friend's apartment at which point, I quickly unloaded my stuff and then we went to dinner.  What did we have, you ask?
This, friends.  

 Some of you might be judging me right now.  You might be thinking, Texas Barbeque? Can't you get that at home? Why didn't you eat Beijing food?! Well, the answer here is clear - there's never a wrong time for Texas Barbeque and there certainly isn't one of these in Hong Kong.  And the over the top Texan decor in the restaurant and blaring country tunes drew me in like a beam to an alien ship.  So there.


After that, we all headed back to my friend's place for a good night's sleep before heading out the next day.  We had planned to do the great wall that day, because we had heard that the Forbidden City and Tiananmen square were going to be absolutely nutso.  Unfortunately, when we woke up the next day, it was lightning and POURING rain outside.  Nowhere anybody wanted to be.  So we hung out at the apartment and at about 11:30 decided to go out for some lunch.  Right as we exited the building, the most gorgeous blue skies opened up, a cool breeze was blowing and the day became perfect.  We could not have asked for better weather.

It was already much too late to go the great wall, so we decided to head over to the Forbidden City and take our chances with the crowds.  We decided to climb to the top of the hill at Jingshan Park, where this is this gorgeous view looking South over the Forbidden City and the rest of Beijing.  I'd visited here when I was in Beijing in August, but I could see hardly anything because of the horrible smog.  Here's another picture for comparison's sake...

After that, we had planned to walk right across the street and into the North Entrance to the Forbidden City.  But when we got there, we discovered that the gate was being used as an exit only for the sake of crowd control.  We then walked ALL the way around the Forbidden City to the South Gate where we were then allowed in.  There are really no words to describe how awesome this place is.  It's the largest group of preserved wooden structures in the world.  And to think that all of this has been around for hundreds of years is totally mind-blowing.  The sheer scale of the Forbidden City is enough to make you completely awestruck, but the ornate detail is what really caught my eye.  Here's the corner of one of the buildings...

We were so lucky to have blue skies...

 After we finished at the Forbidden City, we headed out the North Gate and realized that unfortunately, Tiananmen Square, our next destination was again on the South side of the Forbidden City.  Noticing that the crowds had thickened, we decided to just hail whatever form of transportation we could.  The first guy that stopped for us was not a taxi but a sort of rickshaw that looked like a chrome refrigerator on the back of a bicycle with windows in it.  We sat in the refrigerator portion as our rickshaw man smoked and hummed happily to himself as he darted in and out of cars, buses, and all sorts of street vendors.  I will say that I'm glad we didn't walk.  My feet were TOTALLY dead by this point.

In the refrigerator rickshaw

Lots of random traffic all around the Forbidden City

We arrived at Tiananmen square after taking a wrong turn and almost getting on the Metro instead.  We made a little bit of a scene when after a lady in line started touching my hair and talking about me to her friend in Mandarin I tried to politely ask her to please not touch my hair anymore and she went NUTS that I spoke Mandarin. She was screaming out "This foreigner speaks Mandarin! This foreigner speaks Mandarin!" It was a little much for me, to be honest. But fortunately, she was then really inclined to help me figure out where we needed to go, which was not in the line we were waiting in.  So all's well that ends well... As we arrived at Tiananmen square, we could see just people upon people upon people.  I read in the South China Morning post today that there were over 110,000 people in the square.  It felt like it!

So many soldiers.  And our cell phones mysteriously had NO signal the whole time were there...

Loads of people coming out of the MTR into the square. 

By that point, we were more or less done with all of that craziness.  We decided to head away from the square in hopes of catching a taxi, which we never managed to do.  We did manage to hail another motorbike/rickshaw and asked the driver to take us to a place Heather and Kenny had been on her first night in Beijing.  I showed the driver the address and he nodded and said he could take us there for the low price of 60 Kuai (about $10US).  It was a good deal so we went.

Somewhere about 45 minutes later, we were driving around aimlessly and the driver stopped about every block or two to try and ask directions.  I hadn't been there, so I was almost useless in helping us find our way.  At one point, he turned to go onto one of the ring roads which was a terrible idea, so I told him so.  He then veered to the left into ONCOMING TRAFFIC! Luckily at that point it was just a bike lane.  The strangest part is that the people who were going the right way didn't seem bothered or uncomfortable at all with the fact that this rickshaw man was going the wrong direction.

Later, however, we started driving on the wrong side of the road in earnest with cars, bikes, and motorcycles zipping past us like salmon swimming upstream.  It was terrifying to say the least but I couldn't stop laughing for some reason.  Finally I was able to describe to our rickshaw man where we needed to go and he got us within a few blocks of our destination.  He wanted more money, but I told him that it certainly wasn't our fault that he didn't know where he was going! He laughed and gave me a kindly pat on the shoulder and off we went.  Unfortunately, my jacket also went off with the rickshaw man to live a new life somewhere in Beijing.

We had a great dinner at a small restaurant next to a huge commercial outdoor mall space that was actually awesome. Since my jacket had left me and the weather was hovering in the fifties, I had to get a new one.  I decided to just bite the bullet and get a North Face shell, which I had been thinking about for a long time. So I'm now the proud owner of an awesome teal North Face jacket which has a lot of good memories attached.

The next day, we got up early and headed out to the Great Wall. We went through a lot of debate about which section to visit (there are about 8 sections within driving distance of Beijing, each with pros and cons) but we decided to visit Mutianyu, a less touristy section than the oh-so-popular Badaling section. Mutianyu also has a cable car to take you to the top of the Great Wall which was awesome since the Great Wall runs along the ridgeline of well, a mountain. 

We decided to hire a taxi to get there because we couldn't figure out how to get there on a bus without it taking a million years.  We hailed a driver who quoted us 600kuai (about 100usd) to take us the 2ish hours up, wait a few hours and then drive us back.  It was a good deal.

Beijing traffic is no fun

We headed North and got stuck in the oh-so-famous Beijing traffic.  Eventually, though, we broke through it all and saw the mountains rising up quickly before us.  We would our way through mountain roads and finally made it to the base of the cable car area.  Heather and I grabbed a quick lunch that was actually decent, considering we were in the middle of an area overrun with tourists in the middle of nowhere.

We bought our cable car tickets, trekked up a hill and tried to get on, only to discover that we also needed a ticket for the Great Wall itself.  Not very efficient, but whatever.  So we went back down, bought our Great Wall tickets and then went up again.  As our car rose above the tree tops, we could really see the wall for the first time and it was SPECTACULAR.  It was one of those moments that I will never forget.

We got out of the cable car and turned right to explore some of the wall.  It was incredible to think that these stones were hauled up the very large mountain we'd just ascended in a matter of minutes.  We took loads of pictures and had loads of pictures taken of us.  We even had several people come up to us and ask to take pictures with us which of course we obliged.

It was surreal to be standing on this wall, looking out over the most beautiful mountains and to think about how incredible it must have been to stand on that wall when it was originally built.  History geek out, for sure.


Here are some of the best shots that I took.  My friend Heather is a professional photographer, so hers are lightyears better than mine.  Maybe I'll post some of those when I get a chance.

That night, we met up again with Kenny and had dinner at a Chinese restaurant where I ate, among other things Crawfish in a spicy oily sauce, Chicken Hearts and Lamb fat.  I can now check those off the list and assure you that I don't think I'll need to eat those again for some time.

We then went to some of the Hutongs (alleys) in Northeastern Beijing and explored some great local bars, shops and just took in the local culture.  At the first place we went, we had a couple of local girls come up to us and ask for our phone numbers.  They were so excited to talk to us and asked if we could keep in contact.  Kenny joked with us that if we wanted to go meet some Chinese men we'd have no problem, since even girls were asking for our phone numbers!  We went to another place that was super cozy and we all sat around catching up.  I love good conversations about real things, so that was an awesome time for me.  Heather and I rounded out the night at a Jazz place while Kenny went home because he had to be at an event early the next morning.

Early the next day, Heather had to leave, so I got her off to the airport, tidied up the apartment and headed to the silk market to do a little bit of shopping.  I'd say what I got but then my family wouldn't be surprised, so you'll just have to wait and see!

Phew.  There's a whirlwind 71 hours in Beijing for you!

Til next time,

The Adventurer

(Even China has chinglish!)

Socialized Medicine

It was bound to happen...

I just got home from my first hospital visit.

Now (Mom) before you panic, let me explain.  I would surmise my case to be much less than acute - but I did need to get my foot looked at by a doctor.  For the last two-ish weeks, I've had a dull pain in my left foot in my Metatarsal area (those bones that eventually extend into the toe region).  After activity it hurts like a mother, then goes away.  After sitting with my feet up and getting up to walk, it hurts again in short bursts.  Nothing terrible, just an annoyance.  And when you walk several miles every single day to do the simplest of tasks, not to mention the fact that I've taken up running lately, well, you can see the trouble.

So, I texted one of our youth group parents who is my go-to medical consultant to ask what I should do.  (She's a doctor here in HK).  She recommended that I go to the ER.  At first, I was like, whaaa? The ER? I'm certainly not dire enough for the ER.  But she encouraged me to go anyway and that it would be much cheaper than going private.  And I'm all about cheap.

So up to Queen Mary Hospital I went.

Not my photo, but here it is...

This hospital is known for being one of the nicer public hospitals in Hong Kong and as luck would have it, it is the closest hospital to where I'm currently housesitting.  (And is serviced by about 12,978 buses, so it's incredibly easy to get to).  Now that I think of it, I have no idea where the closest hospital is to my apartment in Wanchai. Perhaps I should check that out...

In any case, I walked into the waiting area of the ER and things seemed pretty standard.  There was a large waiting room of chairs and a registration counter.  I waited behind an Indian couple with a very, very sick Sikh grandpa who was vomiting profusely into a plastic bag in front of me.  Needless to say, his triage number was much higher than my own.  But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

I registered with the window after briefly explaining to the admit nurse in as many ways as possible that no, I hadn't just  injured my ankle that, yes, I know I am walking on it, but I think I need an X-Ray, and that I thought it was a Stress Fracture at worst, but that I just wanted to have it X-Rayed to be sure.  Maybe they just aren't used to people taking their care into their own hands?  If I had to guess this would be an example of how many Chinese people defer to the authority, and the Doctor is certainly the authority.  All I knew is that I needed an X-Ray.

The offending left foot and the waiting area

After surrendering my Hong Kong ID, and forking over 100 Hong Kong dollars, I was told to go have a seat and that my number would be called. I wasn't sure what the procedure was from this point on.  Fortunately, I expected some wait, and brought along Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, an amazing and very engrossing ER-read.  I highly recommend it even if you aren't amongst the bloodied and phlegmatic.  I briefly looked around the room to assess the situation and observed several old people with face masks, a son with a bandage taped to his head with his mother, about 6 people in wheelchairs that were so inanimate that I wasn't sure for quite some time if they were, in fact, still alive (they were), and four Mainland Chinese businessmen, one with a bloody bandage on his cheek.  In between Outliers,  I tried to think of all the things that could have caused the bloodied Chinese man, but could only come up with flying cutlery at a business lunch gone wrong or else a fight over the latest Prada bag.

I waited and waited, knowing that surely my very minor possible stress fracture was lower in priority than almost everyone else in the room.

Finally, my name was called, last name first, of course, and I was instructed to visit the triage nurse.  I did so, and after again explaining the nature of my "injury" she gave me a triage number.  I learned several things about HK healthcare this evening.  There are 5 numbers in triage. 1 is the highest, or worst.  This pretty much means you're dead or dying from what I could tell, and 5 is basically the triage nurse's way of suggesting passive-aggressively that you might consider going home because it might be at least several weeks before a doctor could see you, that's how insignificant your case is.

I was rated a 4, or in HK Healthcare speak, Semi-Urgent.

Semi-Urgent.  This seems like an oxymoron, but I didn't want to moralize on grammar right there in the ER...

 Clutching my paper and having already waited for about an hour and 15 minutes, I headed back to my seat.  It was at this point that a loud voice began to announce "Resuscitation In Progress...wait times might be higher." Ad nauseum.  I guess if you're the resuscitee, this might not be so strange, since you're focused on, to put it bluntly, not dying, but sitting in the waiting area knowing someone was in the next room getting resuscitated was pretty strange.  Also, this is the only ER I've ever been to where the public and ambulance entrance are in the same area. As I sat there, we could see people being brought in via ambulance.  Very interesting, indeed. 

They also nicely (or weirdly?) put up a sign under the updated waiting times.  Yep, folks, that's a whopping 195 minutes for Semi Urgent cases and 150 minutes for Urgent Cases.  Fortunately, when I walked in, the wait time for Semi-Urgent cases was only 135 minutes.  But by the time I came back from the triage nurse a whole lot more people had shown up.

About 15 minutes later, I was called back to meet with a doctor in an again, very standard ER examining cubicle.  I went through the rigamarole again of the "injury" and she agreed that we should X-Ray it.  She pointed me down a long hallway and I turned in a paper she gave me to the X-Ray people, got my foot X-Rayed and was ushered back into the waiting room. 

I can see how going from the American system to a more "socialized" system can be really jarring for Americans.  We are really used to a warm and fuzzy type of health care where the doctor "really cares about you as a patient" and wants to make you feel like your needs are being met.  But in the ER here, my true and one goal was to make sure my foot wasn't broken and if it was to get on treating it as soon as possible.  I didn't need a doctor to whisper sweet assurances in my ear - and so I was completely satisfied with my level of care. 

The entire cost of my visit? $12.82 in USD.

After I was X-Rayed I waited about another 30 minutes until my name was called again.  I visited with the doctor, she read the X-Ray and said my foot wasn't broken, told me to ice it and take it easy.  2.5 hours after arriving, I was on my merry way.

And let me mention to you that the cost for this entire ER visit?  US $12.82 or $100 HKD.  That's it.  Including the X-Rays and consult, well, and 2.5 hours of my life. 

Suffice it to say, this experience did not change my views on Socialized Medicine and its virtues.  I'm not extremely interested in getting into a debate about how this could/will/won't work in the US, because it's a completely different context.  But what I can say is that I am very grateful to have this medical system that is good, affordable, and accessible. 

And also thankful that my foot isn't broken, because let's be honest, I can't think of anything more miserable than being on crutches.  In Hong Kong.  In the Summer.

Well, that's all folks!

Til Next Time,

-The Adventurer

Saw this sign the other day and though it is neither Chinese nor grammatically incorrect, it cracked me up.

Siargao, Philippines

I always have these grand, master plans that I'll do a seven part installment on my vacations and things that I find interesting, but they never seem to pan out. So for better or worse, I'm going to cram all of my Philippines vacation into this one post.

About a month and a half ago, I went with 9 friends to Siargao Island, Philippines.  This is one of the rare vacations where I was not the trip planner, so it was a double blessing for me.  I almost literally showed up at the airport having no idea where we were really staying or what we were really doing.  It's a good thing I trust my friends!

One of the greatest parts of this vacation was getting to see some friends that I don't get to see too often, making new ones, and really enjoying hanging out with a lot of great people.

Okay. So the trip.  If you're looking for an awesome, adventure-packed trip, I would highly suggest our itinerary.  Every day was packed full of possibilities and we totally utilized them! We flew from Hong Kong to Cebu on a miserable 1am flight (the only flight available).  Then, we had a long connection in Cebu from about 4am to 10am. Fortunately, my traveling companions booked a room at the adjacent hotel and we all got a few hours of sleep (and those hours of sleep even on the floor were SO NECESSARY).  After that, we headed to Siargao on a short one hour flight.  Things were pretty uneventful, though one of the stranger parts was sitting in a seat that faced backwards.  Takeoff and landing were definitely a strange experience. 

Awkward Backward Facing Seats.  Definitely not an experience I think I need again...

We arrived on the island and I was personally really blown away.  It is completely off the beaten path - and not very developed at all, which I love.  There is hardly any commercialization on the island and it showed.  The airport was a one terminal building.  We were picked up from the airport by the manager at our bungalows and off we went!

Jeepney to the Bungalows

The next few days were a blur of awesome activities and total relaxation.  It really was the perfect combo in that respect.  Additionally, it was awesome to have everything we needed at the bungalow.  The girls in the kitchen were so awesome and made fantastic and tasty breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day (even before we went fishing at 6am!)

The first full day we were there, I decided to try to learn how to surf.  For a really, really reasonable price, I could have a 2 hour surfing lesson and rent a board, so I thought, why not?!  The surfing part wasn't so bad, but the paddling killed me.  I at one point felt like I was going to die in the arm region.  It was a good wake up call about how pathetically out of shape I am.  After wiping out over and over, discovering that I was in fact a goofy surfer after about 30 minutes (right leg in front) and ingesting about 3 gallons of seawater, I decided to head back to dry land.  Frustrated and sore, I vowed to do better the next time.  (I'm not a perfectionist or anything...)

I did eventually get hang of the surfing, and let me tell you, the moment I stood up on the board was one of the most amazing moments.  (No hyperbole)  Surfing definitely did not come easily for me and it was awesome to finally stand up and be able to ride a wave! I caught about 10 more waves that day before giving it a rest (and nursing my at the time unrealized sunburn of the century on my legs...)

We're on a boat.  I spent almost as much time in this boat as I did on dry land.  And I loved it!

One morning, bright and early (6:00am) we all got up and went on a fishing trip.  I secretly love to fish and had never been deep sea fishing before, so again, since everything was so cheap and accessible, I thought why the heck not?!  We piled into the boat, pointed out to sea and trolled around FOREVER with nothing happening.  At one point, with the sun beating down on us, the fumes from the tiny lawnmower sized engine on the boat and the seas rolling a bit, I started to feel REALLY seasick.  I was doing moderately okay until we stopped because we hooked a fish.  At that point, my body's last remaining equilibrium gave out and I got extremely sick.  While my friend was reeling in the fish on one side of the boat, I threw up off the other side.  My witty friend thanked me for chumming the water.  It didn't make me feel better, though now I can appreciate his humor. I spent the rest of the morning laying down in the only area wide and long enough to lie down on the boat and slept it off while alternatively throwing up over the side.  Not the most comfortable or attractive of moments for me, but hey, that's life. 

Very, Very seasick.

I learned my lesson quickly, though, and ate something the moment we got back on land and immediately took Dramamine for the afternoon of trolling.  I am happy to say that I didn't do any more throwing up after that.  In happy news, my friends hooked two ginormous fish, a Wahu and a Mahi Mahi, both of which we Sashimi-ed and grilled for dinner that night.  Definitely some of the freshest and most delicious fish I've ever had!

Lawrence caught a huge Wahu!

Fresh Mahi Mahi.  I think it looks like an Alien, but it tastes AMAZING.

For the rest of the week, we went on a motorbike drive around the island one morning, headed out on a boat to a surfing break about an hour away from our bungalows and hung out.  One of my favorite days was when we went to the rock pools about an hour and a half from the bungalows.  They're only good at low tide when the ocean recedes and leaves a 10-20 foot deep rock pool full of fish that you can explore.  There is also a huge rock that you can jump or dive off of.  I love jumping from high places, so this was heaven for me. 

Other events of note: One of the guys on the trip, Kyle, played his guitar at an open mic night at one of the local bars and it was great to get to see some of the locals and other people on holiday there.  We also played lots of frisbee, got to meet some of the local kids and played games with them and just did a lot of hanging out and eating.

Making sand castles with local kids

This trip was everything I didn't know I needed - there were many moments where I looked out over the ocean at the rising moon, or the crazy smattering of stars and realized how little time I take to be in nature in Hong Kong.  It is amazing how much this has affected my spiritual life, too.   I really am an outdoorsy person, and I think I let my aversion to hot weather overpower my desire to be outside a lot of the time.  Shortly after I got back, my boss was paraphrasing a talk he heard at the Passion Conference - the speaker was saying that she felt God's presence more by watching a surfing competition out at Mavericks in California than she did in 10 quiet times.  And I totally resonated with that.  This week filled me up more than so many of my artificially induced "quiet times" in HK.  I was actually just out in God's creation, totally in awed, and totally filled with His presence.  It was pretty awesome.

It was a fantastic week and I would highly recommend it if you are looking for a great holiday to just escape for a little while.  Go while you can, though, because I doubt this island will be a secret for long! One of the problems with an upwardly mobile traveling Asian population armed and ready with passports and money to spend...

Until next time,

The Adventurer

Chingish o' the day (Tagalog-ish?)

9 Month Curse

If you're wanting to read a post about how I love my life and how everything is perfect in paradise, you might want to skip this one.  Most of the time I am happy, loving life, and completely awed at the amazing life I get to live.  But I'm going to take one minute and immortalize this moment in my life - the one where I got hacked off and wondered why I moved to Hong Kong in the first place.

After this, we all will go back to normal, thank heavens, and I will be back loving life again.  If you're still with me, read on.  And if you're considering moving abroad,  you might want to take note of this post. You might not remember it now, but you will later...

Okay, let's get started!  I have, for the last couple of weeks, been in a horrendous funk.

Let me preface by saying that I before I moved to Hong Kong I probably heard enough advice to fill a smallish Harry Potter book.  Or at least a mass-market paperback.  Most of this advice I promptly forgot.  Not because I wanted to, per se, but because with moving and trying to figure out how to leave my old life and start a new one, I had no bandwidth whatsoever to commit these things to memory.  I could barely handle basic tasks what with my simultaneous crying and feelings of euphoria.

But, some of this advice has been sneakily making its way to my consciousness lately.  Like today, for example.  I remember vividly chatting with my at the time future boss and his wife in the Galleria in Houston last August.  They said many wise things which I know I forgot, but one of the things that spontaneously regurgitated itself today was this:  Everything will be wonderful for the first 8 months.  And at month 9, you will begin to wonder what in the world you were thinking.

That pretty much sums it up.

I've been in a funk lately - I am frustrated at every turn with the smallest things, like people standing on the wrong side of the escalator, people taking too long with their Octopus card, people walking too slowly on the streets and people running too fast out of the MTR.  I am frustrated with all of the grumpy people and with the people with those silly grins on their faces and those creepy tourists from unnamed countries who look at me like I'm a tasty Ribeye.  I am frustrated by all of the typos and grammatical errors on posters, I am frustrated that people don't know how to use an ATM and that I always end up behind this person while 17 other HSBC customers sail through the ATM next to me.  I am frustrated at just about everything.  I am in the expat funk.  In the midst of the dreaded 9 month curse.  

Okay, okay, now before we get too fatalistic here, let me say that I'm moving through this bump in the road.  And regrettably, there were several factors that pushed me not over but near the edge recently.

Consider, for example, these recent contributing factors:

I went on a fabulous trip to the Philippines (I can feel your sympathy dissipating by the second) where I had no responsibility for a week beyond eating and sleeping and hanging out with some of the best people I know.  So, coming back home to Hong Kong where one must constantly be on their guard to do something as simple as getting from your front door to the MTR entrance was quite a shock to the system.

Additionally, the temperature somehow skyrocketed from the day I left to the day I returned by about 7,000 degrees Celsius.  The day before I left, I was wearing a jacket and the day I returned, I almost suffered spontaneous combustion on the Jetway.

I've not made it a secret that I dislike loathe hot weather, and so far Hong Kong hasn't done too poorly.  But coming back from my breeze-abundant tropical paradise where all I had to do was sip cold beverages all day to the bustling, hot, humid, windless, smoggy reality that is my life here was no good.

Additionally, and I think this is Universal for expat HK-dwellers from time to time, I have become fed. up. with the culture here.  At first it all seems so new and exotic.  Why, look, there's Chinese all over! Look at all of the strange and wonderful foods! That smell is simply irresistible! I once said.  (Okay, lying about the last one.  I am sure HK is not known for its pleasant smell, though through the myriad of wet markets and smog there is the occasional tea shop or waffle stand wafting smelly goodness).

But now it's a whole new ball game. In the MTR, people with fishy smelling body odor want to stand thisclose to you, though there is plenty of room to spare.  Or, when you get off the MTR, people rush past you like the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona while maddeningly walking at a GLACIAL pace once hitting the pavement above ground.  These small things are just that - small, but if you don't have a good attitude about them (I'll confess, my attitude has been POOR lately) then there are plenty of infractions to get you riled up. 

So that's that.  I almost feel better already, like I've just done a strange catharsis. 

Because here's the truth.  I do love Hong Kong.  My friends and I all had a whinging session a couple of weeks ago (that's British slang for complaining, by the way) where we all lamented our vacation and the fact that we were no longer on it.  We complained about many of the things I've just listed out for you. And after I left, I felt bad.  Almost like I had gossiped about my friend.  Yes, she might be annoying and a little smelly at times, but I chose her.  I chose Hong Kong.  I could have stayed in Houston forever, happily living my life.  But I didn't.  God called me to leave, and I followed willingly, no dragging required.

So, here's the happy news.  Perspective means a lot and I've gotten some over the past few days.  I went to my grocery store tonight and bought 5 fruits I had never heard of before moving here.  I took a Chinese lesson last week with my teacher where we laughed and laughed at all the strange new vocabulary I've picked up.  I rode a bus, the MTR and a tram today and didn't have to think once about how I was getting from A to B.  Every single person I know here I didn't know a year ago, and we've become closer than people I've known for years.  

And Hong Kong is my place.  Not because I'm here involuntarily, but because I chose it.  And I do love my life here 98% of the time, which is pretty darn impressive.

So, to you, new expat, don't be surprised when out of the clear blue sky (or grey smoky sky if you find yourself in Hong Kong) you start questioning your sanity and ability to make good life decisions.  We've all been there and we'll all get through it.  Or at least that's what they tell me... 

:o)

Til next time,

The Adventurer

India 1

Let me just start this blog post by saying that I have no idea how many installments it will take to cover my India trip.  Simply that much happened.  I am finally in a place where I have processed what happened and I think I can recap it in a couple of posts, but we’ll see where this takes me! 

This trip was by far one of the most amazing mission trips, not to mention trips of any kind, that I have ever been on.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  This trip was a work trip, one of those that makes me stop and think to myself, “I get paid to do this?!?”  Indeed, yes, somehow miraculously, I do get paid to do this kind of thing.   

This whole trip started as an effort between my co-Director, Julie, and I to figure out where we wanted to take kids on our Easter Break Mission Trip (or more importantly, where God wanted us to go).  We had some destinations in mind ranging from the Philippines to Mongolia and Nepal, but everything worked out perfectly for India to happen.  
 

We have a couple in our church that work at a local ministry that serves the South Asian community in Hong Kong (primarily Nepalese immigrants).  This couple is extremely knowledgeable about the region as they are both from Northern India, so we set up a meeting to talk about the possibility of taking a group to Nepal.  During the meeting it became clear to all of us that Nepal would be a great adventure, but what might be really incredible would be to go serve at the Children’s Home that Tryfina (the wife of the couple)’s parents established more than 30 years ago in India.

And so it began.  We took this idea to our boss, and I honestly expected him to laugh when I told him we wanted to take kids to India.  But he didn’t.  He asked us about logistics and safety and asked us if this is where we felt God was calling us to go, and we were able to provide satisfactory answers to enough of his questions that he agreed.  We publicized the trip to our students and parents.  

On the day that sign ups were due, I had a minor panic attack when I got in the office and we had received only one signup.  Julie, my co-Director and I, decided that in order for the trip to be feasible we needed at least 5 students.  So 5 was our goal.  I sweated it out as the hours ticked on but as we got more and more responses, it became clear that we were going to meet the minimum.  

The preparations were different than lots of mission trips I’ve been involved in as we weren’t working with any type of mission trip organization, per se.  We coordinated the flights, the ground transportation, the projects, everything was basically worked out between us and the children’s home.  So, I became the travel agent as Julie started working on the content during the trip and things began to come together.  We booked flights, fundraised, applied for visas, prayed a lot, had team meetings, got supplies together, were commissioned as a team, prayed some more, and finally we were off. 

And in that moment it was like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I didn’t really realize in the beginning how crazy it would be to coordinate travel for 12 people AND to work out the details to make the trip safe and well communicated to parents.  But somehow we pulled it off.  The moment the wheels left the tarmac, I just had this feeling that all of the work we put into the preparations were going to be totally worth it.

So Many Supplies.

And they were.

India is a very diverse country – in fact, probably one of the most diverse countries on Earth.  There are so many dialects spoken in India I couldn’t even begin to name them, the terrain varies from beaches to deserts to the highest reaches of the Himalayas, and the people, culture and lifestyle can vary significantly from region to region.  Our trip took us to West Bengal, a long and skinny state in the Eastern part of India that encompasses all of the climates I named above.  It is, in and of itself, extremely diverse.  After connecting for just under 12 hours in New Delhi, we took off for our final (airport) destination at Siliguri.  Siliguri is a small town in Northern West Bengal and is the closest airport to the Children’s Home at about 3 hours drive away by Jeep. 

As we landed and breathed in the scorchingly dry air, I felt almost like I was home again in New Mexico.  I immediately wondered what I had been thinking when I packed long skirts and long sleeved shirts! The airport is really basic – something like a small local airport in the US is.  Crowded when flights are in, but only servicing a few flights a day.   After collecting our luggage, we headed to the Jeeps that would take us up the mountain.  They were older models, but sturdy with luggage racks on the roof.  Our drivers deftly scaled the Jeep and began tying down the luggage to the top of the Jeep.  Just a few moments later, we were off, radio blaring Indian music and bumping down a half-paved road.  

Indian Traffic is CRAY CRAY

As we turned on the main road that would lead us out of Siliguri, it was like a complete sensory overload.  Cars everywhere were honking, the smell of exhaust wafted in through the windows, and larger cars roared around smaller cars and bikes without any regard for oncoming traffic.  There were stalls all along the side of the road selling everything from electronics to hand carved headboards.  We even passed several cows right in the middle of the road, seemingly oblivious to the racket going on around them, safely protected by Hindu custom. 

Very Large River

Women walked down the road in ornate saris, kids rode bikes two and three per bike and I looked out the windows wide-eyed.  There are very few things anymore that truly astound me, but this was one.  As our driver pulled a “veer into oncoming traffic to pass a slow car” maneuver for the first time, I grabbed my bag a little tighter, but somehow, we all made it through.  As we shot out of the density of the city, we entered into a military base that was tree-lined and natural.  It was such a strange transition from the city.  Of course, there were still ample cars to be passed, honking all the while, and I noticed for the first time a jeep that must have been packed with at least 15 people including lots of babies and kids.  

Monkeys!

We wound up increasingly steep hills until we saw a large river off to the right of our vehicle.  As we ascended the mountain, the river kept getting larger and larger, and the cliffs that dropped off the right side of the car kept getting steeper and steeper.  I thought to myself on several occasions that surely the drivers wouldn’t do the veer into oncoming traffic move in the middle of a narrow, windy roadway with a sheer drop off on one side and no guardrails, but I was definitely mistaken.  The rules of the road apparently prevail everywhere. 

On the journey up we saw wild monkeys that were at least the size of a 5 or 6 year old (human), passed through small towns with Tibetan Buddhist flags strung over the road, and went through a larger city, Kalimpong, on the way to Pedong, our final destination. 


 Arriving at the Children’s Home seemed at first like a bit of an anti-climactic moment.  One minute we were driving, and the other we were pulled over on the side of the road.  But as I peered out the windows behind me, I noticed many small shadows (it was dark outside at this point) with smiles and eager hands.  We got out of the Jeep and already our bags were being unloaded off of the roof and into these little hands.  Before I could say “We can get them” the kids had turned up a hill and into darkness with bags that must have weighed at least what they did.  

As we followed some of the older kids with flashlights, I truly understood for the first time what Tryfina meant when she said “pack lightly, the home is a 15 minute walk uphill”.  I don’t know what I was picturing, but the walk uphill is a steep walk, with uneven stairs and grassy patches and roots all intertwined at places.  When I saw it in the light, I marveled that nobody in our group had broken a leg (nobody meaning me.)

Going down the hill (in daylight!)

As we saw the warm lights glowing from the home, I stopped to catch my breath and put my backpack down.  Everyone was a little bit awkward – the kids wanted to be with us, and we wanted to be with them, but none of us were really quite sure how to start.  After a few minutes, we were introduced to everyone at the home and we got some time to talk with Pastor Jonathan and Usha, the couple who run the home.  They had prepared a beautiful dinner for us that was so welcomed and appreciated

 Our kids reluctantly headed to bed with the promise that we would have plenty of time to get to know the kids the next day, and elated at the possibility of what the week would hold.

There is so much more to share and I will definitely do so, so check back for the next installment! 

(Photos are mostly mine but a few also belong to our amazing team photographer, Dennis!)

Hug a Church Worker Day

I've decided that today is International Hug a Church Worker Day.

So many of my church working friends both near and far are having rough weeks - rough months, even.  And so, churchgoing folk, I encourage you to show them a little bit of love.  Not because they preached a great sermon or loved your smelly middle schooler or because they sat with your dying parent or grandparent last weekend.  But just because you love them.  Or maybe they're not a hugger.  Maybe chocolate is the language that fuels them up.  I have no idea, really, but show them some love. 

Working in a church is tricky business.  It can be both, at the same time, the most wonderful, fulfilling, life-giving enterprise and yet the most discouraging, frustrating, problematic, tension-fraught experience of your life.  Perhaps this is why the tenure for youth directors lasts an overwhelming 18 months.  After 18 months, many youth directors have simply decided that it's too hard.  Perhaps the statistic is higher for ordained pastors because let's face it - after 4 years of undergrad and a grueling 3+ years of seminary, you've gotta stick with it for at least a few years, if only to pay off your student loans.

I don't mean to be cynical because I know many "lifers" both in youth ministry and in pulpit ministry (and indeed in children's, missions, outreach, and executive ministry as well).  What I do know, however, is that for the average churchgoer, many of the day to day things that church staff members deal with are largely unseen.  Many average churchgoers that I talk with describe dreamily a so-called "perfect" work environment where everyone prays all day long, never gets in fights, and where people don't mess up.  I'm often sorry to have to tell these dreamers that the truth is that real people work in churches.  Thus, real sins are in churches.  Thus, mess-ups, fights, wrong decisions, lack of spiritual growth, ulterior motives, politics and frustrations are, consequently, a very real part of working in a church. 

Now, are we better off spiritually than corporations?  I'd hope so.  I do pray in my current and did pray in my past workplace every. single. day.  Even if only to ask God to help me hold my tongue so I don't fall prey to any of the aforementioned sins.  But the truth is that we are all broken. Everyone from the Senior Pastor to the choir director (and even Youth Director!) are broken people.  We're struggling with what it means to live a life of faith - and what it means to be real and authentic while doing it.  We also cope with the tension between being real and being too real.  We cope with the gray areas, the manual-less areas, the situations where we have no idea how to proceed forward.  Because we're people.  Yes, we work for Jesus, but we're not Him.  I fall short every single day.  Every day.  Many times per day, even.  But for whatever reason, God calls us broken individuals to partner with Him.  He calls us to love people in His name and get paid for it.  Which most days is a pretty sweet job. 

But there are days where we, or someone else in our office falls short.  And things get messy.  Egos get in the way.  Triangulation or gossip take over.  Politics win over truth.  And the church can be a very weary place indeed.  Because I believe, that in all of us church-working people, that we're not so different from you, average church-goer.  We expect the church to be different, too.  We expect people to be better, less sinful, and more loving.  And when someone lets us down, it is an incredible disappointment. 

The church is the only job I can think of (and I've been thinking for a long time about this) where your personal and professional lives are so inextricably linked.  Faith is deeply personal - and without personal faith you cannot lead a church.  But, faith is corporate, too.  We live out our very personal faith corporately, just like everyone else.  But things get complicated because it's not just about faith.  If churches only hired the people with the best faith, me and probably many people I know would be out of a job, because many days, I struggle.

We are also called to be gifted in certain areas.  This can mean anything from being a good counselor to knowing how to operate Adobe Photoshop or give a good sermon.  Our gifts and talents lend themselves to the job.  And so, we're living out our personal faith in the middle of a group environment where we are both the shepherd and the servant.  Not to mention the various social aspects of the church.  I know next to nobody in Hong Kong that I didn't meet through a church event.  In fact, I know nobody in Hong Kong that I didn't meet through church.  Wrap that up in a neat package and what you see is an immense tension.

Imagine if, at the end of the day, you've had some struggle at work.  Perhaps you dial up your friends (who you may have met at church, maybe at your place or work, or anywhere else for that matter) and you tell your friend about it.  For church people, this isn't always possible or recommended.  For who wants to talk negatively about a work (church) situation to their friends?  Any responsible church worker will likely shy away from these discussions with their  non-church working friends.  Why? Because the burden is too great! How can you listen to the Senior Pastor and accept his or her authority if you heard about an explosive argument they had with the Missions Director?  How can you trust the Family Ministry Director if you heard what their leadership style is really like? 

So church-working people keep it to themselves, if they're like many in ministry.  Or if they're lucky they talk about it with their church-working friends.  And this can be a daily tension.  Not all churches are healthy or going well all the time.  And even in the healthiest of churches, there are conflicts and problems and people don't always live like Jesus did.  And many church workers shoulder this burden very much alone. 

I am happy to say that I write this article out of a place of immense contentment with my job.  My church isn't perfect, of course, but it is healthy.  My supervisor is excellent and I trust my co-workers.  I feel as though the balance between personal and professional is more balanced here than in any church I've ever worked in.  I belong to a network of over 30 youth directors that I can (and have) talked with about my struggles, both personally and professionally.  But I am acutely aware of how much of a rarity this luxury is. 

So the moral of the story is this:
Hug your church worker.  Or bring them chocolate.  Or invite them over for dinner.  Or send them a card.

Or just let them know that you love them.  Because they love you. For many people that is the entire reason they stay in hard positions in dying or frustrating churches.  Or why they tolerate a non-supportive supervisor or micromanaging committee.  Because if anything, church workers LOVE their people.

So, you may never hear your church working friend unload about the pastor or the flower committee or the choir director.  But that doesn't mean that it isn't hard.  And a little bit of love, you know, goes a long way.

Til Next Time,

The Adventurer

Asian Friends

One of the things I love most about my life here in Hong Kong is that I feel like I have a much more local experience than many of my expat friends.  How so, you say?  I'll tell you.

First and foremost, I live in a building where my roommates and I are the only white people.  The only ones.  So that makes us a) a spectacle and b) memorable.  What this also does is forces me to use Mandarin on a daily basis with our doormen.  This is good for a few reasons.  They love us, mostly because we are willing to take the time and effort to actually talk with them in a mutually understood language (neither of them speak any English whatsoever), and also because I feel that we are probably the first white people to live here.  I have even struck up elevator-smiling friendships with some of the grandmas that live on the floors below me. 

One particular anecdote stands out.  During Chinese New Year, the traditional greeting is Gung Hay Fat Choi.  I learned this early on in the 15 day period of Chinese New Year, and started employing it in my conversations regularly.  Towards the end of Chinese New Year, one of the elderly couples in my building held the elevator for me as I ran towards it and when I got in, I mumbled a quick mmmmgoiiii (Thank You).  The couple smiled and laughed at what I presume was my horrible pronunciation.  As they were getting off the elevator, I managed a Gung Hay Fat Choi to them and the strangest thing happened.  The husband's face lit up and they began bowing and saying it back to me.  Both of them were beaming.  And I realized in that moment that this particular experience wouldn't have happened just anywhere.  If they had spoken English, we might have just gone along in our day, but the (extremely small) effort I took made a huge difference to them.

This is why I moved to another country.  Not to have a convenient experience, not to feel good about my efforts or to build my career.  I moved to another country because I love learning about other cultures and other languages.  And I have definitely received far more than I have been able to give.

The other blessing I've had while living in Hong Kong is that the majority of my friends, the people in my church and the kids in my youth group are Asian.  I love this about my life here.  Now, this might seem a little strange to you.  You might be thinking, well, duh Whitney, you live in Asia.  Of course you know a lot of Asians.  But surprisingly, this is not the experience a lot of expats have.  It would probably be extremely possible to only have white friends.  Especially in corporate jobs.  I know people who work in divisions entirely staffed by expats, or worse, entirely staffed by people from the US.  So, it would be possible to go all day not interacting with Asian people.  Compounding this is the fact that many expats who make decent money move to the "expat ghettos" in Mid-Levels or Pokfulam.  I don't mean this to be derogatory - I just mean to say that many expats are attracted to these areas.  And of course they are.  They have more conveniences, grocery stores that carry more western products, nicer flats, and are convenient.  If I had kids, I might just consider living in one of these areas.  So, many people who live here and who don't care about interacting with locals, frankly, might never do it.

I'm glad I've gotten connected with my church and another young adult group where I am in the minority.  I have so many Asian friends here, and I learn something new from every time I see them.  No exaggeration. 

I've learned about Asian family structure and the idea of revering ones' parents and elders.  I've talked and debated with my friends about the value of taking care of your parents, and how this ideal is completely flipped from the values I grew up with.  I've heard how many of my friends live with their parents all the way until they're married, and that this is considered model behavior from a good son or daughter.  I've talked with my friends about the pressures that growing up in a traditional Asian family can bring and how for many of my friends there were only three job choices available to them growing up - Doctor, Lawyer or Banker, in that order.  I've picked up random Cantonese and even got a lesson on how the gospel message can be portrayed through Chinese characters.  And this just scratches the surface.  But I can surely say that this is an experience that I never would have had if I didn't have Asian friends.

I've been reflecting a lot about my time in Denmark lately.  I loved that time probably more than any other in my life.  And for the longest time I couldn't figure out why.  But I think I finally have the answer.  I developed good, solid friendships with Danes there.  I learned and lived the culture.  I tried the language out.  I learned to make Danish food and celebrate Danish holidays and it made my experience there extremely rich.  And that is what Hong Kong is becoming for me.  I love the new things I am experiencing.  I love that I never know what to expect when I gather with my Asian friends.  I love that I am constantly amazed by just how different yet similar we all are. 

So, Asian friends, thanks for befriending this Gweilo.  I love and appreciate you all more than I can say!

Til Next Time,

The Adventurer