Week Nine: Is This Real Life?

I'm on the downward slope of my time here, and I feel like I can relate a lot to this little guy at this point in my life:

I fell in love with this video over the summer for several reasons. Obviously, for starters, the kid is adorable- as an aunt to two nieces and two nephews, I have a soft spot for cute kids. Second, and probably more significantly, I practically grew up in a dentist chair. I was on the receiving end of more unfortunate dental injuries than I'd care to list; I remember that feeling of confusion and disorientation a little too well. Finally, though- and here's the kicker- this video cracks me up because I'm privy to some knowledge that young David wasn't aware of: it's all temporary. He probably went home, took a nap, and woke up completely aware of his surroundings again. He'll probably watch this video when he's older and laugh just as much as I did (assuming, of course, that he doesn't develop some kind of complex that skews how child Youtube stars view their own funny moments further down the road).

The point is- and I promise this is all going somewhere- I've realized this week just how temporary this whole experience really is. For 2 1/2 months now, everything has looked different. I wake up in the morning to different views, different ways of seeing the world around me. It all seems similar enough to what I know that I can recognize it more or less, but I still find myself wondering, is this real life? And is everyone watching me, smiling, maybe even chuckling, waiting for me to grow up enough to see how adorably, naively silly I look?

The temporality of my Asian pseudo-life isn't the only factor in this internal questioning, though. I think my awareness of the finite aspect of my time here is heightened by the fact that I just registered for my final semester at Stetson the other night. Why did I ever think that four months here would pass any slower than the blink of the past three years? Further, who was I kidding when I thought that coming here would distract me from the fact that I'm graduating in 6 1/2 months? I can't just coast through this semester on dreams of spring break and summer. I have to find an internship, write my senior research paper, and figure out what I'm going to do with my life once Pomp & Circumstance stops playing.

Don't get me wrong- I'm genuinely excited about testing the waters of journalism outside of The Reporter and this humble little blog of mine. My perennial independence streak is looking forward to life after college. I'm even looking forward to senior research (which might be further proof that I really am on some kind of mind-altering plane of existence, like our gap-toothed friend). For now, though, I can't reconcile what I know, what I see, and how I feel. I feel funny, and no matter how many people say "it's ok, buddy," I can't fully grasp what being ok looks like in comparison to what I see all around me.

David dealt with everything by screaming. I guess this post counts as my equivalent. I'll look back on this and laugh.

...right?

Week Eight: Ocean Park, Lamma Island, and Beginner's Luck

One thing I've learned from my college experience is how to lead parallel lives. Up until now, I've managed to juggle two pretty well. There's the first one that I've had since June 1, 1998, the day our family minivan chugged across the Florida border and into Jacksonville. Over the eleven years since then, I developed what I'll refer to as my 'main' life- the one that includes my family, friends from high school, teenage jobs, dirt roads and small town gossip. It's colored with starry nights on my front porch and a sleepy, reliable sense that nothing will ever change much.

Then there's my 'Stetson' life, the one I started in August of 2006. Though it also takes place in a small town, its rhythm is completely different. The characters in this life have shifted with every season, from the professors who have evolved into friends to the sorority sisters who have long since graduated. This life is one marked by early mornings printing out assignments in The Reporter office, afternoons spent reading in the quad with a blanket and a drink from the Starbucks kiosk, and nights spent in the chapter room of Sorority House 1 and the hallways of various fraternities. It's a life that's both blessed and cursed with constant change, where summers only served to make the distance between May and August seem further, where you overhear stories of heartbreak, midterm stress, and freshman gossip from strangers in the cafeteria.

The one thing that unites these lives is that neither one seems to be fully real. They're mutually exclusive, and though at times they resonate the same themes, their orbits never cross. I'm not fully invested in either, nor both; geographically, they take place far enough apart to cement their uniqueness, yet close enough to escape from one to the other when I need to. After six semesters of moving back and forth between the two, literally and figuratively, I learned how to balance them almost perfectly.

This year, though, I've added another life to the mix with my decision to study here in Hong Kong. I've had to fully invest myself into my life here, because being 8,000 miles away from everything I've ever known doesn't offer any other option. That being said, I was interested in seeing how my mother's visit, marking the mixture of my life here with my main life from home, would play out.

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Last Friday, my mother and her boyfriend, Denis, arrived at Hong Kong International Airport for a ten-day visit. While I was waiting in the arrival gate for them to claim their bags and go through their customs check, I realized that their visit would be a real test of how well I've managed to acclimate myself to Hong Kong. They were coming in with virtually no knowledge of the customs, social norms, and layout of the city, leaving their enjoyment (not to mention basic survival) to me. Luckily, I had been filling my planner with possible day trips and night activities for them, and I included some Hong Kong hot spots that I hadn't experienced yet so that we could share the fun.

On Tuesday, I decided to skip my only class and take my visitors to Ocean Park. It's one of the two major amusement parks in HK, the other being Disneyland (which doesn't seem like an appealing option at all, considering Stetson is within an hour of Disneyworld and I haven't bothered going since I was nine years old).

An aerial view of Ocean Park

A lot of local students and other exchange friends had told me it was a fun way to spend an afternoon, so we checked it out. It's pretty similar to Sea World in Orlando- its main attractions include a show that features trained water animals (dolphins, seals, etc) performing tricks with their trainers, a few rides, overpriced souvenirs, you get the idea.

Dolphins at play at the Ocean Theatre

The most exciting part of the day, though, was the live panda exhibit. When we walked through the panda habitat the first time, both were asleep; but before we left, I insisted that we should walk through one more time to see if they were awake. Sure enough, both were not only awake, but moving around, too! If you want to see exactly what they were doing, watch my video from last week's post.

Panda!

Unfortunately, I had to focus on my classes and homework for most of Wednesday and Thursday, but we made up for it by spending all of Friday on Lamma Island, one of the many outlying islands of Hong Kong that is famous for its fresh seafood. After taking the ferry to the Yung Shue Wan village, we spent the afternoon walking around the quiet paths that lead through the village's downtown area lined with shops and restaurants to the peaceful beach.

The beautiful shore of Lamma Island

For dinner, we stopped at Man Fung Seafood Restaurant, located right on the water by the pier. The fare was so fresh it was still alive- literally. Their seafood catches are kept alive in tanks, and we were allowed to pick what we'd like to eat and how it would be prepared. My mother, a Baltimore native who was raised on blue crabs, was overwhelmed with the size of the captives and insisted on having one steamed and brought to our table.

Mom: "Oh, she's beautiful!"

Me: "Could you not say something like that about our dinner, considering 'she' was alive about ten minutes ago?"

We also ordered stir fried vegetables, fresh steamed rice, and fried prawns. All of the food was unbelievably delicious- it was definitely one of my favorite meals so far in Hong Kong, and I was happy to have my mother and Denis there to share it with.

The largest prawns I've ever seen in my life.

A few weeks ago, I went to Macau and came back home without stopping at any of its famous casinos to try my luck with gambling- so, on Saturday, I suggested a day trip so that they could see the sights and I could try to make friends with ol' Lady Luck. Upon arrival, we hired a tour guide who offered to show us the same major tourist stops I saw with my friends. Before we went anywhere, though, we stopped at a charming local restaurant called Praia Grande, which offered a delicious array of Portuguese-style dishes (Macau was a Portuguese colony for several hundred years before being handed over to the People's Republic of China). We feasted on tapas (including breaded stuffed mussels, samosas, baked sardines, fresh bread with roasted garlic, and Portuguese sausages), spicy African chicken, and Macanese chicken which was served with fresh rice and a creamy coconut sauce.

After our meal, we proceeded on to the tour. Surprisingly, I actually really enjoyed seeing the same sights again- I think my mother's excitement rubbed off on me. Plus, the weather was absolutely gorgeous (I've been waiting for sweater weather to hit Hong Kong for months now, and it's finally beginning to cool off). We asked our guide to drop us off at The Venetian at the end of our tour so we could find our fortunes.

I wanted to show my mom the Canal Shops, located on the floors just above the casino, so we looked around for a bit. Unfortunately, I have a very difficult time walking past 'Sale!' signs for certain stores, Lacoste being one of them. Ten minutes and $295 later, I walked out with a pair of pink and white shoes. We hadn't even started gambling yet and I was already down almost $300 (though I justified the purchase with the fact that I genuinely 'needed' a good pair of walking shoes, and mom and Denis hadn't really let me pay for anything all week).

After grabbing a quick dinner at McDonalds, we proceeded downstairs to the casino (cue the 'typical Americans' eyeroll all you want, the ones here are cheaper and are of a significantly better quality). I've never been to Vegas, and the only times I've ever bet were with my brother's high school friends when they would take over our living room with the poker table on Friday nights, and that one time at Happy Valley; so it was kind of exciting to walk into the throes of bright lights, free beer, and shuffling cards. We tracked down one of the free-beer waitresses and set up shop at the slot machines.

I watched mom and Denis for about fifteen minutes, taking mental notes of what they were doing and the tips that mom was throwing my way before I found an empty seat to try my hand at winning money. To put it simply, I lost $50 a little quicker than I intended to. I should probably mention that I was on the $1 slot machines, too.

To my left, I saw a game called Jade Monkey that was advertised as "$0.05 per bet." I quickly relocated, and inserted a $100 bill- I mean, for .05 a bet, why not? With 2,000 credits to my name, I started playing. The first few rounds consisted of me failing miserably while I figured out how the game worked; once I got the hang of it, though, I did pretty well. Before I knew it, my credit count was over 3,000- within a half hour, I had already earned half of what I started with. Mom came over to watch and cheer me on.

Time went by, and before I even realized it, mom was tapping me on the shoulder with a concerned look on her face. "Honey, we need to go buy our ferry tickets to go back to Hong Kong- it's already 9:30."

"One more minute, mom... If I get back around 3,000 I'll cash out and we can go." I was hovering around 3,500 credits as I spoke.

A few minutes later, she returned to nudge me again. I had 2,750 credits. "What happened to 3,000 credits, Natalie....?"

"One more round. Just give me five more minutes, I want to try to get the bonus round one more time before we go."

Within a minute, I managed to get a bonus round, and with bated breath I watched as the game took 15 spins for me. With each spin, I gained 40 credits (my current bet, which the machine matched for every round if I didn't win more). Suddenly, though, one of the rolls caused my machine to light up, and the numbers started spinning faster than I could follow with my wide, excited eyes.

The final credit count was over 6,000. I hit the 'collect' button and hurried to the collection counter with my winning ticket. My payout was $295.50- just 0.50 more than what I had paid earlier for my shoes. If that isn't fate rewarding me for my purchase, I don't know what is.

My Lacoste receipt and my winning ticket- I'm richer by $0.50!

My rewards from the day: new shoes and almost $300!

My mom left yesterday morning, and is safely back home. As for me, I'm busy studying for midterms (read: blogging instead of reading), looking up internships for next semester (read: trying to remain calm and hoping I'll find something), and trying not to focus on the fact that I'm leaving in two months (read: reeling in shock that I'm already halfway through my time here). I miss both of my other lives, but I'm having too much fun living this one to let it go yet.

With love from this life to everyone in my others,

Natalie

Week Seven: ...will just have to wait.

Me, with my mom and her boyfriend, Denis, at Victoria Peak

Sorry to do this, but I'm going to roll this past week's updates into next week's post- because my mom and her boyfriend, Denis, are here!

I also have a lot of things to do in the next few days, so I'll wait until I have a bit more time to give all of you a post worth reading.

In the meantime, feel free to check out this fun video of a panda I saw at Ocean Park yesterday- consider it my truce offering.

See you next week :)

Panda dump. from Natalie Wearstler on Vimeo.

Week Six: National Day of the PRC and Night Hiking on Lantau Island

I really, really like fireworks.

Apparently, so does the People's Republic of China.

This past Thursday (October 1) was the PRC National Day, and a celebratory fireworks show was scheduled for that night at the harbor. My friends and I, of course, didn't hesitate to hop on the MTR and join the mass of people at the Tsim Sha Tsui exit to witness the impressive display of fire and color set against the gorgeous skyline. Unfortunately, my camera couldn't quite capture any quality images, but here's a short video of what we saw. The show was absolutely incredible; it put the annual fireworks show at The Jacksonville Landing to shame.

Victoria Harbor, after the PRC National Day fireworks show

Photo credit: Jemelyn Yadao

After the show, we proceeded to celebrate with other exchange students and locals alike at Lan Kwai Fong, which is always a popular Thursday night hot spot for its ladies night specials. Rest assured, a great night was had by all (especially your humble narrator).

Since most weekends start off with the aforementioned debauchery in LKF, I suspected that the rest of the weekend would follow in suit: a nice, easy, class-free Friday that would include happy hour in SoHo, maybe some more socializing on Saturday night, and perhaps a trip to the beach or a part of the city that I hadn't seen yet on Sunday. I couldn't have been more wrong.

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"The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago..."

-Jack Kerouac, from The Dharma Bums

Photo credit: Victor Lcte

Here, I feel the need to give you some personal context, just so you can appreciate the rest of this story. I like the feeling of being outside and getting in touch with nature, but I'm not exactly what you would call an overly outdoors-y person. I was in Girl Scouts for all of two weeks when I was younger, so it's not like I'm particularly knowledgeable about trekking into the wilderness. 'Camping' in my family meant setting up shop at a KOA (and 'roughing it' entailed renting an RV if all of the Kamping Kabins were already booked). When I was four, I was interviewed during one of our many KOA trips by a local newscaster, and I told her that my favorite part of camping was 'swimming and playing basketball and s'mores.' The last time I went hiking was two years ago in New Mexico, and one wrong choice at a path turned into a 12-mile journey that spanned over 8 hours. My brushes with nature tend to be few and far between.

That being said, though, I felt the need to break out of the concrete jungle on Saturday. I decided to go hiking with my friends Gabriela, Victor, Aymeric, and Robert. We decided to check out a trail in Lantau Island that Aymeric had researched. It seemed tame enough; however, the boys wanted to make a 3-day trip out of completing it. Gabriela and I decided that we'd go for the day, but then come back that night.

Unfortunately, we didn't start our journey until about 3:30 PM. By the time we walked to the MTR station, unloaded at Central piers, hopped on a ferry, and landed at the island, it was already 5:30. With only an hour of daylight ahead of us, we were forced to change our plan (which didn't really exist).

Our first idea was to rent a hotel room, sleep for a few hours, then get up around 2:00 AM to start hiking, putting us at the top of Lantau Peak just in time for the sunrise. Unfortunately, we had forgotten that the Mid-Autumn Festival was taking place, and there wasn't a single spare room on the island. After a few minutes of discussing our options, we decided to just start hiking anyway- after all, that night happened to have the brightest full moon of the year, and several locals reassured us that we didn't need to worry about any dangerous animals attacking us in the woods. Our plan having been decided, we stopped at a local grocery store to pick up some provisions- more water, granola bars for breakfast, and bread, cheese, grapes, and wine for our dinner (I should probably mention that Victor and Aymeric are French). Having packed our bags, we asked a local resident to take our picture before we departed for the trail's beginning.

Me, Robert, Gabriela, Victor, and Aymeric at the start of our adventure

Photo credit: Aymeric De Guerre

The walk to the trail afforded us the opportunity to witness what the locals do to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival. We noticed a music festival taking place on one of the beaches, and several people were relaxing on the beach, lighting traditional candles and enjoying the company of friends and family as the sounds of Chinese music and Red Hot Chili Peppers cover songs alike filled the air.

Local residents lit candles in celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival

Photo credit: Aymeric De Guerre

After walking through several villages, we finally found the start of the trail. To be honest, my nerves were already on edge; as we embarked deeper and deeper into the darkness of the island, away from all the lights and music and candles (and people), I felt a relentless twinge of panic that I tried (unsuccessfully) to repress. I was convinced that we were setting ourselves up for a low-budget horror film fate. Surely, our story of naive adventure and untimely death by ravenous Asian beasts and/or gangsters would make its way into the hands of some indie-film director and we'd be the subjects of next year's Sundance Film Festival 'Grand Jury Prize: Documentary' award.

We were standing at the edge of the trail, and Aymeric couldn't contain his excitement. 'This is going to be legendary!'

I really wanted to believe him, but then I saw this guy. I wasn't so sure.

I told the boys that if they saw anything scary (like spiders) to either kill them or don't tell me. Of course, they disregarded my request within the first five minutes.

Photo credit: Victor Lcte

It was too late to turn back now, though. I kept telling myself that there was no reason to be afraid. After all, the earth is exactly the same at night as it is during the day; it's just darker (and scarier, and more foreboding, and slightly apocalyptic-looking...). With each step forward, though, I began to relax. We all did. The miles and hours passed in no time, as we shared stories about our childhoods, our families, our first drinking experiences, our first kisses, and other such necessary bonding tales. Despite how different our backgrounds and cultures were, we found that we had more in common than the breathtaking views of the island that we were seeing together in the light of the full moon.

Around 1 AM or so, we stumbled upon some seemingly abandoned houses on the side of the mountain. A couple was camped out on one of the porches, and greeted us as we passed by. We stopped to chat with them for a few minutes, and they told us that the houses were all locked, but that we were welcome to sleep on one of the other porches. The house we ended up finding didn't have a porch, but it at least offered a wall that would 'protect' us from the wind.

To put it lightly, we were miserably underprepared for the next several hours. Luckily, we had brought our ponchos that HKBU provided us with, so we unsnapped them and laid them out as a barrier between us and the ground, broke out the food and wine, and proceeded to eat while we continued to laugh and enjoy each other's company and the view. Our plan was to then get a few hours of sleep, wake up for the sunrise, and trek down the mountain in the morning.

Unfortunately, that 'few hours of sleep' idea never came to fruition. None of us had considered how cold and windy it would be. Between the five of us, we had three full size towels and a hand towel. After a few minutes, we added one of the ponchos to our meager excuses for blankets, though it did little besides block the wind. We huddled together for warmth, but it didn't help much. Aymeric kept saying things like "If you fall asleep, it means you're dying, and you're getting hypothermia, and remember in Titanic? Everyone fell asleep before they died." I don't think his logic was quite on par with the reality of the situation, but nonetheless, no one really slept for more than fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.

I made the observation that we looked like refugees. Notice the poncho blanket, backpack pillow, and hand towel leg warmers.

Photo credit: Aymeric De Guerre

Around 6:30 AM, the first rays of sun begin to form on the horizon, and we all more-or-less shook ourselves into some semblance of alertness in hopes that the rising sun would bring some relief from the bitter cold.

The first trace of sunlight rising over Lantau Peak

Photo credit: Aymeric De Guerre

The sunrise was absolutely stunning. Despite my stiff limbs, fatigue, and general disdain for the ungodly hour we were currently awake for, I felt incredibly happy. Watching the sun rise over the mountains of Lantau Island was a sight I'll never forget.

Packed and ready to hike down the mountain, circa 7:00 AM

We packed up our makeshift camp and started down the mountain towards the main road, where we caught a bus to the MTR station. After feasting on a nice, hot breakfast, Gabriela, Robert and I headed back to HKBU while Aymeric and Victor stayed behind, insistent on finishing the trail we started.

I came back to my room and slept in my nice, warm bed, with my nice, soft pillows, in my nice, warm room. I'd successfully managed to see the other side of the concrete jungle, and lived to tell the story. And I'd actually enjoyed every second of it- even the ones spent shivering under a poncho.

Maybe there's hope for me becoming an outdoors-y person, yet.

Week Five: Happy Valley, Goodies From Home, and Macau

Taken on the observation deck of the Macau Tower, home of the highest bungee jump in the world; this might be my new life motto.

Sorry for the delay in this week's post- it's been a busy week, filled with readings I had little interest in, the assignment of a group project, and yet another typhoon (insert obligatory eye roll). In other words, classes are actually starting to demand at least a little bit of attention. As usual, though, I found some time (read: procrastinated) to explore more of Hong Kong life.

On Wednesday night, some friends and I decided to check out Happy Valley, the local horse racing course. I've never been to a horse race; to be completely honest, I've never even taken an inkling of interest in horses. I didn't even want a pony when I was a little girl. Nothing against them- my first college roommate was a dedicated equestrian, so I'm fully aware of the amount of dedication that horses require. To be honest, though, the only horses I ever really cared about can be found on poles, moving around in circles to happy childhood melodies.

That being said, I was a bit skeptical about how much fun I would actually be able to have at this place- but everyone else was going, and I didn't really have anything else to do that night, so I tagged along for the experience. When we arrived, I made two major observations. First, the spectators were predominantly Western- I think I saw a sum total of maybe 20 locals amidst the several hundred patrons. My second observation was the area in front of the track known as the Beer Garden, which featured several tents selling beer by the pint or the pitcher. Being an American, and thus being of the opinion that beer makes everything better, my skepticism waned.

The main attraction of the horse race is, of course, the betting aspect. The only gambling I've ever done was in the form of poker games with my brother's friends in high school and those scratch-off lottery cards that my grandmother used to send us for Christmas (I have what you might refer to as a 'progressive' family). We arrived at the course in time for the 5th of 9 races that night, so I grabbed a card and decided to bet $20HKD on the crowd favorite to place in the top three. My friends and I lined up by the fence to watch and see if we would gain untold riches from our four-legged friends.

Come on, #9!

Unfortunately, the horse that I had bet on didn't place. Disappointed and dejected, I decided to place my next bet on something that wouldn't let me down- a pint of Tsingtao beer. It turned out to be a better investment.

Drinks with friends > betting on horses

The rest of the week was pretty uneventful until Saturday. I mentioned in last week's post that I'd fallen victim to an upper respiratory infection, and my mother told me she was sending me a care package with some little goodies from home to help me feel better- soup packets, dried fruits and nuts, multivitamins, etc.

On Saturday afternoon, I received an email from the student mail office, informing me that my package had arrived. To put it plainly, 'little' is not at all the right word to describe the box I picked up. When I returned to my room and opened the box, I couldn't believe the contents: my mom had packed it full of not only the aforementioned goodies, but also some preserved packs of fish, Triscuits, granola bars, chocolates, even Pop Tarts!

I never thought I would ever become emotional over a box of Pop Tarts, but there's a first time for everything, I guess (I should probably mention that they're impossible to find here). I've successfully managed to deal with my spurts of homesickness since I've been here, but to receive a box filled with all my favorite treats made me realize just how wonderful and supportive of a family I have. I set up all of my new goodies on the shelf above my desk, and they've been serving me well for those times when I just don't want to trek all 15 floors down for food. I almost included a picture of my shelf so that you all could appreciate its splendor, too- but then I realized that would be a little too American of me ('Look at all my food! Be as happy as I am about it!').

On Sunday, some friends and I decided to go visit Macau, a nearby Special Administrative Region. After traveling to the ferry terminal, buying our round-trip tickets ($310HKD- not exactly cheap, but considering we were technically going to a different country, not so terrible), and enduring an hour-long ferry ride, we landed in Macau. At the ferry station, we found a tour guide who offered to take all seven of us to the major tourist spots for $100HKD each. We talked him down to $500HKD for all of us, and followed him to his minivan (looking back now, the situation was a tad on the sketchy side). First stop: the Macau tower.

Inside the Macau Tower main lobby, posed next to a replica made completely of noodles.

At 338 meters high, the Macau Tower is among the tallest architectural achievements in the world. The main observation deck is only 223 meters up, but it still offers incredible views (not to mention the opportunity to sign up for the tallest bungee jump in the world; I'm trying to convince my mom's boyfriend to do it when they come to visit next week).

The Macau skyline as seen from the Tower

Macau is most famous for its casinos (MGM, Sands, and the Venetian), but since we were only there for the day (and maybe because none of us were particularly lucky at the race course earlier in the week), we decided to forego the gambling for the historical landmarks. After visiting the Tower, we ventured on to a few more hot spots- St. Lawrence's Church, the A Ma Temple, the ruins of St. Paul's Cathedral, and the city center.

We took this on the deck outside of St. Lawrence Church: that's the tower behind us.

The entry to the A Ma Temple, one of the oldest temples in the region.

The steps to the St. Paul's Cathedral ruins, which are all that's left from the fire that burnt down the rest of the cathedral in 1835.

The center of the city, decorated to celebrate International Tourism Day.

The group with our tour guide, David, and his minivan.

Overall, this week was another great one in Hong Kong- I might have lost $20HKD on that disappointingly slow horse, but that hardly matters in comparison to receiving a box full of love from home and getting some fresh stamps in my passport.

Week Four: Typhoons, the Virtues of Soup, and Boating

"...Didn't have a camera by my side this time / 

Hoping I would see the world through both my eyes..."

-John Mayer, "3x5"

For the first time in my life, I'm actually thankful for the eleven hurricane seasons I've lived through as a Florida resident.  Allow me to explain.

Here in Hong Kong, we don't get hurricanes.  We get typhoons.  Some basic Googling on my part led me to the knowledge that basically, typhoons are hurricanes, but for some reason or another, they're just called something different here.  Anyway- the point is, I was expecting something like a hurricane when classes were cancelled on Tuesday, the typhoon warning level was raised to 8, and HKBU sent out urgent emails warning everyone to stay inside, take cover, kick out visitors, contact our families to say goodbye, seek religious salvation, etc, etc.

I might have taken liberties with those last two, but only slight ones.  For all the warnings, precautions, and exaggerated efforts on the part of school officials to make sure we all knew how dangerous the weather would be, you'd think we were actually at some sort of risk.  I was having flashbacks of the 2004 hurricane season, flooded roads, and week-long school cancellations.  I'm a Floridian, and when you tell me I need to be worried about the weather, I tend to think worst-case-scenario because that's normally what comes our way.  Suffice it to say, then, that I was more than a little condescendingly surprised by the little, tiny rainstorm that ensued.  No lightning, no thunder, no prolonged precipitation- I've taken power naps that lasted longer than this 'typhoon' thing.  

While all of the typhoon nonsense was going on, I became acutely aware that I didn't feel quite well.  I had a slight case of the sneezes, an incessant cough had been lingering on me for a day or two, and I didn't even feel like I had the energy to run a single mile at the gym, much less my usual 2-4.  I decided to visit the on-campus clinic since that big, scary storm had knocked out all of the other options for how to spend my day. 

Maybe it's just easy to say this because I'm used to sitting in waiting rooms for an hour, but the clinic system here in Hong Kong makes so much more sense than anything I've experienced back home.  Basically, when you walk in, you're asked to fill out your information on a (single) form (as opposed to several), and rather than sending you to an empty room to wait for the doctor, the receptionist directs you right to the doctor's individual office when it's your turn.

After waiting for maybe five minutes, I was called back to a clean, organized office where a pleasant looking woman with a mask was waiting.  I explained to her my ailments and let her witness my pathetic, miserable coughing.  She took a quick look at my ears, nose, and throat, and diagnosed me with an upper respiratory infection.  

The whole visit took maybe fifteen minutes- it took me longer to walk from my room to the clinic than it did for me to sign in, fill out my paperwork, see the doctor, and walk away with three days' worth of four different medicines in individual little baggies.  I felt like I'd just walked away from one of those movie-style drug deals, where the dealer menacingly says something like "I've got just what you need to feel better," gives a big (albeit somewhat creepy) smile, and procures a tiny plastic bag.  

Upon returning to my room, I managed to catch up with my roommate, Vera.  She was going to get lunch with some of her friends, so I decided to join her.  The only thing I could think of that sounded at all appetizing was soup, and I was in luck- the soup of the day was 'American Vegetable.'  Thankful for the small miracle, I hurried to pay for my bowl and grab it.  Unfortunately, the steaming bowl that was placed into my hands looked nothing like any vegetable soup I've ever seen.  It was basically just tomato liquid, carrots, onions, and cabbage.  No mushrooms, no peas, no beans, no tomatoes... the scarcity of substantial vegetables here never fails to surprise me.

I sat down and started diving into my soup.  It was a far cry from my mom's oxtail soup, but even though it was watery and had miniscule nutritional value, each spoonful made me feel a little bit better.  After a few moments, though, that blissful comfort was compromised by my roommate's staring eyes.

I shot her an inquisitive arched eyebrow (but didn't stop eating- nothing comes between me and my soup). 

"You're just eating.... soup?  That's it?"

Luckily, I didn't say the first thought that came to my mind, which was something along the lines of "Yes, damn it, that's what you do when you're sick, everybody knows that."  After all, I'm the outcast here, so it really isn't my place to imply that my actions are totally justified to someone who's only acclimated to the local culture.  So, I finished my spoonful and explained to her that in the States, it's customary to eat soup when you're sick because the warmth helps soothe your sinuses, it's easy on your stomach, it doesn't require any work besides heating it up, pretty much everyone likes it, and it just makes good common sense, obviously.

Apparently that's not the case here.  She was just shaking her head in disagreement.

"We eat sandwiches here.  Don't you want a sandwich?"

No.  Just soup.  Is that so wrong/weird/blatantly American?

My morning ritual.  Yes, I really did make a smiley face out of my various medicines.

I have no idea what the names of the pills in this picture are, but one was a decongestant, one was for pain, another was for my sore throat, and one just knocked me out for about 18/24 hours for the rest of the week.  By Friday night, I had attended one class, lost seven pounds, and convinced myself that a sniper was trying to kill me in the middle of the night (turns out, the blinking red light that I thought was a laser aiming device was my roommate's cell phone charger- nonetheless, I'm blaming the hour I spent ducking into the corner of my bed on the cocktail of drugs I'd been given).

Luckily, I was feeling much better by Saturday morning.  I was ready to get out of my room, have some fun, and reacquaint myself with sunlight- you know, all those things you take for granted when you're not miserably fighting with rogue sinuses that decide to stop working properly.  One of the French exchange students turned 21 earlier this week, so about 30 of us celebrated with him.  We boarded a private boat at Central Pier, loaded up with all the supplies we would need to eat, drink, and be merry all afternoon as we cruised around the islands surrounding Hong Kong.

I cruised around Hong Kong with 30 friends from around the world, what did you do this weekend?

We docked the ship close to one of the islands, and we noticed this little inlet with a natural waterfall.  This zoomed-in picture doesn't really do it justice, as we were a pretty decent swimming distance away; but here's a quick peak at it. 

Since the boat couldn't take us much further, those of us that wanted to explore it had to jump off of the ship and swim over to it (which, again, was much further than this picture would lead you to believe).  As I walked to the edge of the top platform, I was struck by a moment's hesitation as I looked down at the plunge I was about to take.  What if there were sharks?  What if there was a current?  What if one of us got tired, would the little canoe on the back of the ship make it out to us before we drowned?

My worries were interrupted by the constant splashing of my friends jumping in.  One deep breath and two seconds later, I had joined them.  It's almost funny how some of the greatest moments of my life tend to follow that unmatchable adrenaline rush of letting go, and that afternoon was no exception.  After I reached the rocky shore of the island, I found a cave just past the waterfall and explored.  I don't think I could ever fully describe what I saw through those scattered drops of falling water as I sat in silence with people who had only been strangers to me a mere month ago, but whom I now saw as friends; and as I think about it now, I'm glad I didn't have my camera with me.  There are some things that just shouldn't be cheapened by pixelated reproductions, and I'm happy to leave that moment as pure and untouched as the island itself.  

Hanging on to the tranquility of the islands with a little on-deck meditating.  And/or wine drinking, in my case.

We swam back to the boat for more eating, drinking, merry-making, and one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen.  

It's hard to believe that I've already been here for almost a month (the exact anniversary will be on Wednesday).  I'll be coming home three months from tomorrow, 93 days to be exact.  All of my friends who have studied abroad warned me to savor every moment, because the time flies by so quickly in the rush and excitement of everything.  I like to think that I've always lived that way, but it took flying across the world for me to really grasp that concept.  Life's too short to hold back and not jump in.

Unfortunately, it's back to reality this week, now that I'm back to normal health.  I might be going to the Philippines next weekend, and my mom and her boyfriend are coming to visit in about 2 1/2 weeks, so stay tuned for more exciting updates as I keep exploring Asia and eventually play tour guide for about a week.  As always, all my love to everyone back home- especially today (Happy birthday, Jack!).  

Livin' the expat dream,

Natalie xox

Week Three: The First Sign of Homesickness, Temple Street, and the Discovery Bay Beach Party

Confession: I've always been a little cocky when people try to warn me about anything.  

It's not that I have an invincibility complex or anything- my myriad of injuries acquired as a child and my far-from-perfect driving record have kept me fully aware of man's limits.  However, I think growing up as the youngest of three children instilled a certain identifiable sense of indignation in my personality that I probably couldn't fight if I tried to.  

That being said, I always scoffed just a little bit when friends, family, and Stetson personnel told me that I'd probably experience homesickness during my stay here in Hong Kong.  I mean, I always knew that those who were issuing the warning meant well, but to be quite honest, I never thought it applied to me.  I was raised in a military family- up until I was 10 years old, I didn't even live anywhere long enough to feel like I had a home to be sick for.  When I left for college three years ago, I was more than ready to watch Middleburg fade out of my rearview window.  My independent streak has always served me well.

It came as a shock, then, when September 9 rolled around and I found myself desperately wishing I could hop on a plane, endure that 16 hour flight, and come home.  I didn't want to leave my room.  I didn't want to sit through any more classes where I was the only exchange student.  I had no interest in talking with my friends, much less going out of my way to make new ones.  

After a solid two days of lethargic misery, I had to admit that the impossible had happened: I was homesick.  My desire to prove something to myself by being here took a backseat to my desire to go back to the life I knew this summer.  I wanted to share a glass of wine with my mom, hold my boyfriend's hand, and joke around with my sister and her family.  Most of all, though, I wanted to tell my brother 'Happy Birthday' in person instead of over a Skype call.  Despite all the ways technology has made staying in touch easier than ever, I felt more alone when I disconnected the call than when I had dialed his number.  

My brush with discontent left me feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.  I began to identify with Michael Buble's song "Home" more than I'd actually care to admit (though now, of course, I can laugh at the image of me sulking in my room to the yuppiest singer in my iTunes library).  Slowly though, after several encouraging conversations with my support system from home (and after repeating aforementioned song an embarrassing number of times), I snapped out of it.  The proverbial fog lifted, ol' Mikey started to sound annoyingly whiny instead of brilliant, and even the rice down at Fiesta stopped tasting so damn bland.

Feeling refreshed, I finished the week more determined than ever to really throw myself into the culture of Hong Kong and to get to know as many people as possible while I'm here.  On Thursday night, I joined a group of students from the European Studies department for a trip to Temple Street, a popular night market known for its local cuisine and abundance of fortune tellers.  

Our first stop was a restaurant that, to put it lightly, I would probably never set foot inside of back in the States.  I forced myself to stop trying to count the number of health code violations I was subjecting myself to, and instead focused on making friends with the people at my table.

Loki, Me, Andy, Joey, Tonny, and Manuel

As with most 'authentic' restaurants I've visited since my arrival, the food selection had to be ordered by someone who spoke Mandarin.  Luckily, we had Andy at our table, and he took the responsibility of ordering food for our table.  The food was delicious, though I'm glad that I'd already finished eating when I saw a bug crawl across the banner behind Tonny.  Maybe it's the American in me showing itself, but I probably won't go back there.

Once everyone finished their dinner, we proceeded to explore the Temple Street night market.  I didn't really see anything that caught my eye until we rounded the corner and saw booths offering mystic direction for reasonable prices.  I don't necessarily buy into everything that fortune tellers say, but I think it's interesting that so many cultures embrace the art of tarot, palm reading, and numerology.  I've had two readings done in Cassadaga, so it should come as no surprise that I insisted on finding someone who could tell me my fortune by the end of the night.

I convinced my friend Craig (another American) to join me, and we enlisted the help of two local students to translate.  Since we couldn't read any of the signs that hung above the individual booths, we chose the mystic who looked the most authentic:

Check out that beard! 

This guy spoke absolutely no English, but we figured his gray hair, black shirt, and impressive facial hair lent him enough credibility to earn our money.  I decided to go first, and for $200HKD, this is what I learned:

• My current boyfriend is too strong for me (sorry, Jack).  My husband will have to be less intelligent than me, emotionally weaker, slightly feminine, and he must have a receding hairline.
• I'm going to get a job after I graduate (which is good news), but it will be in law, architecture, or finance.  Obviously, that English degree I'm finishing this year will serve me well.
• I need to have children between 2013-2018.  Considering I told the man my birth date and I'll turn 30 in 2018, that didn't strike me as a major revelation of any kind.
• I'll be very lucky until I'm 56.  No elaboration was given as to why things will change for me in 2044.
• I'll make a lot of money (call me materialistic, but this one made me feel a little better about the prospect of marrying a sissy boy).
• Apparently all of my major organs are going to go rogue- like my liver, kidney, and heart- and I should look into Chinese medicine when they start turning on me.
• I'm going to weigh 200 kilograms at some point in my life (translation: 400+ pounds).  Interestingly, though, he followed this with the advice to avoid wearing black because it will hinder my chances for having children.  Sorry, bud- if I'm going to be that big, you better believe I'll be wearing black from head to toe.
• I'm aggressive in personality (true) and really pessimistic (false).  
• I should wear only red and yellow.  Again, maybe it's the American in me, but I refuse to limit myself to that color combination.  I'll take my chances with black

After we left Temple Street, Craig, Tonny and I were invited to experience a crash course in local desserts.  Having never turned down an offer for chocolate/ice cream/sugar in my life, I gladly joined (and if it's in my fate to weigh over 400 pounds, then saying no wouldn't have helped, anyway).  Most of the treats we sampled were delicious, but there was one in particular that I remember vehemently hating.  Basically, it consisted of some kind of black, runny sesame seed liquid which hid these flour dough balls filled with sesame seeds.  Two words: never again.

If you're ever offered something that looks like the bowl in the middle of the table that's overflowing with black liquid, say no.  There's a reason that bowl is still full and every other one is empty.

The final highlight of the week was an 80's Beach Party that took place at Discovery Bay.  About 30 of us exchange students decided to check it out together.  We set out for the shore armed with our towels, wayfarers, and desire to obtain the promised free drinks that were allegedly waiting for us.

When we arrived at the beach, though, free alcohol was nowhere to be found.  Instead, there was an overabundance of small children, foreigners (but not party-people foreigners like us), and groups with matching ugly t-shirts.  Apparently, the only party taking place by the water was a Cricket tournament.  We'd been duped.

Or so we thought- until we found an energetic local who pointed us towards a deck that was practically overflowing with free margaritas and Carlsbergs.  I don't know what it was like when Moses and his wanderers finally saw the Promised Land after 40 years of wandering in the desert, but I imagine it to be something like the overwhelming sense of relief we experienced after wandering around sober for ten minutes.  

The day was more fun than should be allowed, and that's putting it lightly.  I think one of my favorite things about the exchange students I've met is that we all at least have a basic desire to let loose while we're here, and let loose we did.  There was more laughter, silliness, and tequila packed into the few hours we spent on the deck than I've experienced in quite a while.  It's funny how those three things tend to show up together.

Laughter- the universal language

This weekend was by far the best cure for homesickness I could have asked for.  I'm looking forward to three more months of moments like these.

Love, hugs, and happiness,

Natalie xox