vrijdag 26 maart 2010
The Great China Journey
Tomorrow I will start again what I do best, I will dive into the hearth of this continent. My 24 hour train ride from Hong Kong to the capital Beijing will cross all of China , heading up north where modernity and tradition clash, where revolutions were once held, dynasties were overruled and tough political regimes still reign. I decided to pamper myself and booked a soft-sleeper compartment for this new journey. The newly-acquired Nikon is fully charged. A few enthusiasts want to spend a night at the Great Chinese Wall.. I guess not exactly on the Wall but somewhere around it. I am voting yes in any case. The backpack is waiting patiently for the new adventure and I will be present in the virtual domain in about two weeks. So says Big Mother China.
Elegantly wasted
Trying to do the Øye-dance on the piano-staircase in Hong Kong.That's not me singing btw!
A quiet protest
Ooo there is a little bit of me inside you, there is a little bit of you in everyone...
Two years ago was the last time I went to a decent big concert of somebody I adore. Two years until last night at around 10pm when The Kings of Convenience shook my soul. With the exception of a couple of really small gigs, this was the first acoustic concert I have been to and it was so different. I remember when the first song started, My ship isn't pretty from the new Declaration of Dependence.. I swear I wanted to jump and scream and do a moshing around me. Of course you cannot really do that with this soulful music and in a Chinese crowd. I think it is useless to say how incredible those boys are... and there music made me feel so at home, European and silly proud that I value such music. The last one year was spent on continents that no matter what I do I will not understand any time soon. No matter how adaptive you are and immerse your thoughts into this culture and lifestyle, you remain a foreigner. Until those two Norwegians come, sing a couple of slow songs and there you are in some unique state of continuous mental multiorgasm. Nothing really matters after that, the homesickness, the lost sense of belonging, or the coincidence that brought you (and them) to Hong Kong. Nothing. Just us and the ocean of music around us.
Sheer simplicity.
Two years ago was the last time I went to a decent big concert of somebody I adore. Two years until last night at around 10pm when The Kings of Convenience shook my soul. With the exception of a couple of really small gigs, this was the first acoustic concert I have been to and it was so different. I remember when the first song started, My ship isn't pretty from the new Declaration of Dependence.. I swear I wanted to jump and scream and do a moshing around me. Of course you cannot really do that with this soulful music and in a Chinese crowd. I think it is useless to say how incredible those boys are... and there music made me feel so at home, European and silly proud that I value such music. The last one year was spent on continents that no matter what I do I will not understand any time soon. No matter how adaptive you are and immerse your thoughts into this culture and lifestyle, you remain a foreigner. Until those two Norwegians come, sing a couple of slow songs and there you are in some unique state of continuous mental multiorgasm. Nothing really matters after that, the homesickness, the lost sense of belonging, or the coincidence that brought you (and them) to Hong Kong. Nothing. Just us and the ocean of music around us.
Sheer simplicity.
vrijdag 19 maart 2010
woensdag 17 maart 2010
The bloody strike
When we Europeans strike nowadays we march on the main streets, refuse to go to work/school, shout out phrases learned by hearth and sometimes throw stones or light Christmas trees on fire. But what I've read just now shocked me with its honest brutality. The anti-government protests in Bangkok turned into a bloody mess yesterday when 300 liters of blood were literally poured out in front of the administration. 300 liters of blood were voluntarily donated by fervent protesters and spilled all over the place. Now this is what I call commitment to the Red Party.
Link
Link
Bonk
Bonk made me lough, many times! Hysterically. Mary Roach has this flair for hilarious comparisons and examples that make the book an excellent read. Especially, if the subject is the science of sex. When the theorization of orgasms, impotence, sex-toys and sex research is offered as a fresh insight into what is going on under the sheets, humor makes the topic more accessible for even those of us who would dismiss the possible coupling of sex and science.
“The paper does not provide the exact number of penises eaten by ducks, but the author says there have been enough over the years to prompt the coining of a popular saying: 'I better get home or the ducks will have something to eat."
“That's what primate sex hormones do: “They make individuals perceive other individuals as more attractive than they'd normally perceive them”. Hormones are nature's three bottles of beer”
dinsdag 16 maart 2010
The Cove
Once again the cruelty of human beings was professionally and touchingly documented. It even won an Academy Award. I understand it's brutal to kill whales and dolphins. I understand the cause of these people and the millions factors that make the cause impossible and the situation fairly hopeless. But after watching the whole documentary and after having watched many other similar films, I cannot help but ask the question. How is the killing of dolphins worse than and immoral compared to the killing of cows and chicken? Why is the slaughtering of dolphins brutal and inhuman, but the slaughtering of pigs, bulls, lambs is alright? It's acceptable, we all do it, it falls within the limits of tolerable murder (!?). Because dolphins are perceived cute, intelligent, graceful and etc. their killing is beyond comprehension. How about the other may be not so cute and graceful fish and other animals? They deserve it because they do not understand sign language?
I hope I am not the only one seeing a problem with this. Of course the whole thing is a problem, our rationality is the problem, but this emotional attachement to certain species and the indifference toward others makes the whole animal rights movement somewhat grotesque.
maandag 15 maart 2010
vrijdag 12 maart 2010
The Kings
“Hey Cam, do you know where I could book tickets for gigs in Hong Kong”
“Ugh... online”
“It's not working out. I have been trying to find a ticket to this awesome band, but I can't”
“What band?”
“Kings of Convenience”
“What what what.. the Kings are coming to Hong Kong?”
“Yeah, man, on the 25 March”
“Ok let me check these tickets then..”
The King's first show in Asia is conveniently located next door.The tour continues to Seoul, Manila, Bangkok and Tokyo. Imagine my surprise, I honestly cannot come up with 10 people from my friends' circle who know the Kings of Convenience and yet they are coming to Lady-Gaga-stricken Asia. I imagine expats, exchange students and some really alternative Hong Kong-nese. But who cares, tickets are purchased (online) and I will be in a state of utter euphony, since this will be the first time for 10 months that I will publicly listen to something different that pop-crap. If it is small gig, even better (hope it is actually :D but who knows who knows!!!!!). Declare Dependence on the streets of Hong Kong.
“Ugh... online”
“It's not working out. I have been trying to find a ticket to this awesome band, but I can't”
“What band?”
“Kings of Convenience”
“What what what.. the Kings are coming to Hong Kong?”
“Yeah, man, on the 25 March”
“Ok let me check these tickets then..”
The King's first show in Asia is conveniently located next door.The tour continues to Seoul, Manila, Bangkok and Tokyo. Imagine my surprise, I honestly cannot come up with 10 people from my friends' circle who know the Kings of Convenience and yet they are coming to Lady-Gaga-stricken Asia. I imagine expats, exchange students and some really alternative Hong Kong-nese. But who cares, tickets are purchased (online) and I will be in a state of utter euphony, since this will be the first time for 10 months that I will publicly listen to something different that pop-crap. If it is small gig, even better (hope it is actually :D but who knows who knows!!!!!). Declare Dependence on the streets of Hong Kong.
maandag 8 maart 2010
Macau bus(ted)
“Ngoi, ngoi, ngoi” screams the lady behind me, pushing a bony, sharp elbow into my body. Cold-bloodily she smacks my foot with her wooden shoe and dashes to the open bus door. As the vehicle proceeds through the narrow streets I wonder how a creature, the age of my grandmother, two heads shorter than me (which of course makes her size almost minuscule) could be able to produce such vigorous pain-afflicting movements. Senior Asians are surprisingly vital. My aching body is swaying under the unsynchronized movements of the bus. I am standing upright for 40 minutes every day, on the same bus, even though "standing upright" is not the correct way of describing the comic maneuvers necessary to prevent me from rolling on the floor. Driving skills are beyond belief. More than once I found myself face-on-the window (or more embarrassingly face-on-woman's-breasts-in-front-of-me) because the driver suddenly pushed the brakes in the middle of the street. Just so he could clear his throat. And while I am flying around the bus, cursing driver's incompetence in various languages, the passengers around me seem to be cursing my own incompetence in bus-balancing. I always wonder, is it the dried meat they eat all the time that makes them so impressively good at managing the hectic bus movements? Or may be the steamed duck blood? Who knows. I certainly should try those if I want to keep face on the bus.
Before the bus reaches the next destination we get into a roundabout. We look like sardines squashed at one side of the bus for a couple of shameful seconds, followed by sudden (but this time expected) push of the brakes. Everybody is checking their hairs and faces just in case something (earrings, bandannas, eyes) went missing during the roundabout action. Again, a couple of elbows reach for my stomach, ribs and the left kidney, a pair of heavy boots squeeze my humble culture-shocked Converse and the doors are shut again. In the meantime, the bus gets filled up with new passengers from the other door and while I am checking the wholeness of my decompressed right foot, I am slowly being denied my right of space on the buss. Just in a couple of seconds, the body space disappeared and I am standing on one foot, holding the bars with both hands, pressed by people from all sides. “Haya, hayaaaaa” the driver keeps shouting at us, he wants us to move to the back of the bus, so that the people in front will not be right next to his face. Yeah, Asian buses have no carrying capacity. You can always fit another one, and another one, until someone gets annoyed and gets off (normally this someone is one of us- the foreigners).
Just a couple of more minutes and I will be out of here. First the bridge. It connects Taipa, the island where my school is, with Macau, where the rest of my life is. It's the only complete minute on that bus when I am not swaying sideways. Sometimes when its foggy, you cannot see the other side of the bridge, you cannot see anything else but pure plain white color all over the place. Nothing truly exist visibly in that minute. As if the bus and the bridge are sketches in somebody's A4 drawing and you are waiting for the artist's arm to appear and draw the rest of the bridge and whatever follows on the other side. It hasn't appeared yet. May be one day it will, when I least expect it to.
We, smashed like canned chop-sew, arrive in Macau safe and sound. I am stoically withstanding any urges to leave the bus before I reach my final destination. The bus zig-zags around tiny red-lantern streets downtown, between casino alleys and under skytunnels (fewer in Macau than in Hong Kong. Once I managed to walk for half an hour around Hong Kong island without setting food on the street outside and only on the skytunnes or whatever they are called. The opposite of subways. Upways?). I am glad the windows are closed, the noise and air pollution unbearable in peak hours. One, two, three, four stops.. and here I am finally in de buur. Strangely, it feels like home. The sushi place, the barber's shop, the Loi Loi supermarket, the Portugese restaurant. And there is my house – old, yellow, somewhat classy and charming among the 50-story apartment buildings. What else is there to do, than grab a bottle of wine, call a couple of mates and call it a day on the rooftop, surrounded by the night lights of our city-country-home. Some nights I marvel at the complete absence of stars on the polluted sky above Macau. Other nights I wonder, how different the sky is here in Asia than in Europe. You'd see different constellations (of course if you could see any), lower and faster clouds, bigger moons. “Kami, stop daydreaming, Bitte sehr, and pass me your glass”, says somebody from the crew and I surrender to reality.
Before the bus reaches the next destination we get into a roundabout. We look like sardines squashed at one side of the bus for a couple of shameful seconds, followed by sudden (but this time expected) push of the brakes. Everybody is checking their hairs and faces just in case something (earrings, bandannas, eyes) went missing during the roundabout action. Again, a couple of elbows reach for my stomach, ribs and the left kidney, a pair of heavy boots squeeze my humble culture-shocked Converse and the doors are shut again. In the meantime, the bus gets filled up with new passengers from the other door and while I am checking the wholeness of my decompressed right foot, I am slowly being denied my right of space on the buss. Just in a couple of seconds, the body space disappeared and I am standing on one foot, holding the bars with both hands, pressed by people from all sides. “Haya, hayaaaaa” the driver keeps shouting at us, he wants us to move to the back of the bus, so that the people in front will not be right next to his face. Yeah, Asian buses have no carrying capacity. You can always fit another one, and another one, until someone gets annoyed and gets off (normally this someone is one of us- the foreigners).
Just a couple of more minutes and I will be out of here. First the bridge. It connects Taipa, the island where my school is, with Macau, where the rest of my life is. It's the only complete minute on that bus when I am not swaying sideways. Sometimes when its foggy, you cannot see the other side of the bridge, you cannot see anything else but pure plain white color all over the place. Nothing truly exist visibly in that minute. As if the bus and the bridge are sketches in somebody's A4 drawing and you are waiting for the artist's arm to appear and draw the rest of the bridge and whatever follows on the other side. It hasn't appeared yet. May be one day it will, when I least expect it to.
We, smashed like canned chop-sew, arrive in Macau safe and sound. I am stoically withstanding any urges to leave the bus before I reach my final destination. The bus zig-zags around tiny red-lantern streets downtown, between casino alleys and under skytunnels (fewer in Macau than in Hong Kong. Once I managed to walk for half an hour around Hong Kong island without setting food on the street outside and only on the skytunnes or whatever they are called. The opposite of subways. Upways?). I am glad the windows are closed, the noise and air pollution unbearable in peak hours. One, two, three, four stops.. and here I am finally in de buur. Strangely, it feels like home. The sushi place, the barber's shop, the Loi Loi supermarket, the Portugese restaurant. And there is my house – old, yellow, somewhat classy and charming among the 50-story apartment buildings. What else is there to do, than grab a bottle of wine, call a couple of mates and call it a day on the rooftop, surrounded by the night lights of our city-country-home. Some nights I marvel at the complete absence of stars on the polluted sky above Macau. Other nights I wonder, how different the sky is here in Asia than in Europe. You'd see different constellations (of course if you could see any), lower and faster clouds, bigger moons. “Kami, stop daydreaming, Bitte sehr, and pass me your glass”, says somebody from the crew and I surrender to reality.
zaterdag 6 maart 2010
Climate attack
What happens when the humidity of the air reaches 97%? Not only your lungs, skin and hair suffer immensely, but so do cameras, lap tops and flat screen Tvs. They suffer quietly and eventually shut down. Sometimes forever. When this happens not only lungs, skin and hair get upset, but the whole of the human being, especially, when the shutting down does not save your pics, documents and other (non)humanly valuables. I would say global warming took it personally on me again and since February 2010 was the wettest month in 15-20 years in Macau, I do not know who else the blame. Suddenly, my 2009-acquired notebook could not start up. Considering costs, counting each penny, weighting pro's and con's I finally decided to join the Apple family. Here I stand now with my 13-inch MacBook, like a child with a new toy. Four fingers slide upwards, 3 fingers on the mousepad slide sideways.... cannot get enough yet!
Even though the weather is a trivial and boring topic, I could not restrain myself from complaining at least a little bit. How could I, since one day its -5 Celsius and the day after you wake up in sweat and stick in 35 Celsius. The climate is going nuts. Last Saturday, there was a slight panic attack around here – earthquake in Chile, earthquake in Japan, tsunami hitting the Philippines and the entire South Pacific (believe it or not I was going to isolate myself with a bottle of wine on the rooftop, waiting and watching the climatic conditions). Who would have known that the two earthquakes would counterbalance each other and prevent the next weather tragedy? Lucky we are, indeed! For now.
Even though the weather is a trivial and boring topic, I could not restrain myself from complaining at least a little bit. How could I, since one day its -5 Celsius and the day after you wake up in sweat and stick in 35 Celsius. The climate is going nuts. Last Saturday, there was a slight panic attack around here – earthquake in Chile, earthquake in Japan, tsunami hitting the Philippines and the entire South Pacific (believe it or not I was going to isolate myself with a bottle of wine on the rooftop, waiting and watching the climatic conditions). Who would have known that the two earthquakes would counterbalance each other and prevent the next weather tragedy? Lucky we are, indeed! For now.
dinsdag 2 maart 2010
2010
Indeed, this blog has seen better days! Days when I, alone in my thoughts, introverted and asocial, could find meaningful expression only through my New Slang-ing. However, now things have changed. It’s the beginning of the third month of 2010 and let me tell what is going on:
- the beginning of January 2010 was marked by extraordinary news – my graduation thesis will be published in an academic journal. Of course after some serious trimming – out of 100 pages I (I am saying I but in fact there is a strict and demanding researcher looking over my shoulder day and night) need to cut it down to 10. The first academic research ever published on the Environmental state of Macau in the Context of Tourism. And me ... the proud author (of course after the name of demanding researcher).
- in that same beginning of January 2010 something else happened, something of gigantic proportions (or at least it seems so now). Yes, there it is. In about six months I will have to leave my current whereabouts (and all other locations) and settle on the Island. Congratulate me, my friends, for even the impossible mission has become possible and I will be a Master’s student in Edinburgh the coming fall. My new home will be the city that inspired Harry Potter and Trainspotting and the new endeavor - Environmental and Ecological Sciences. The only obstacle – the scholarship! Application has been sent and the waiting more painful that ever! But victory is sweet!
- while all this was happening a new inspiration entered my already overloaded head. Freelance Journalism and Travel Writing had been on my mind since I have started college, but now for he first time I realized that if don’t do it now, if I don’t use the enormous stimulus that Asia is giving me, if I do not act out of pure intuition and sign up for a course... well I may really miss out on something that will turn my life around (for the better). So... London School of Journalism is the name of my college and I am taking part in a distant course. The good news is that I will get a British Honors Degree in Journalism, and if it turns out well I may get published while doing the course. There are a couple of publications that I am currently considering. But little by little.
- and the weirdest of all .. I am teaching freaking English to Chinese high-school students. IELTS levels (????@?@?) No further comment on that one.
That’s why time is scarce. Social-networking has been limited to almost none.
And I am homesick like never before.
- the beginning of January 2010 was marked by extraordinary news – my graduation thesis will be published in an academic journal. Of course after some serious trimming – out of 100 pages I (I am saying I but in fact there is a strict and demanding researcher looking over my shoulder day and night) need to cut it down to 10. The first academic research ever published on the Environmental state of Macau in the Context of Tourism. And me ... the proud author (of course after the name of demanding researcher).
- in that same beginning of January 2010 something else happened, something of gigantic proportions (or at least it seems so now). Yes, there it is. In about six months I will have to leave my current whereabouts (and all other locations) and settle on the Island. Congratulate me, my friends, for even the impossible mission has become possible and I will be a Master’s student in Edinburgh the coming fall. My new home will be the city that inspired Harry Potter and Trainspotting and the new endeavor - Environmental and Ecological Sciences. The only obstacle – the scholarship! Application has been sent and the waiting more painful that ever! But victory is sweet!
- while all this was happening a new inspiration entered my already overloaded head. Freelance Journalism and Travel Writing had been on my mind since I have started college, but now for he first time I realized that if don’t do it now, if I don’t use the enormous stimulus that Asia is giving me, if I do not act out of pure intuition and sign up for a course... well I may really miss out on something that will turn my life around (for the better). So... London School of Journalism is the name of my college and I am taking part in a distant course. The good news is that I will get a British Honors Degree in Journalism, and if it turns out well I may get published while doing the course. There are a couple of publications that I am currently considering. But little by little.
- and the weirdest of all .. I am teaching freaking English to Chinese high-school students. IELTS levels (????@?@?) No further comment on that one.
That’s why time is scarce. Social-networking has been limited to almost none.
And I am homesick like never before.
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