I grew up in Hong Kong, which is a very, very homogeneous society. Probably 99% of the population are Cantonese-speaking, ethnic Chinese. It was a rare to see anyone whose skin color is different from mine. Occasionally, one would see Indians working as security guards, but they usually had been in Hong Kong for so long that they spoke Cantonese really well. Or, if you went to the more touristy areas like Tsimshatsui or Central, you would see a few more Cauasian faces. But that's about it.
As a result, when I was growing up, I never really grasp the real meaning of discrimination. Being traditional and busy as they are, my parents never explained or discussed this topic either. It's considered as too unimportant a topic to worth talking about. My world view has always been a rosy new world, waiting for me to go out and explore. Never would I ever worry that the Indians are being discriminated.
My first awakening was probably during my college years in Coventry, England. I had always been very busy rushing from lectures, to part-time work, to my homework and study. I remember one day, I walked by the bookshop, and there was some campaigning of the feminist movement, and the discrmination that women still suffer, in things like disparity in salary. I was hit right at the head, to realize that the rest of world really is so different from the place I grew up in.
Back in Hong Kong, no one would talk about feminist movement. There is no need to. Almost all jobs are equal opportunities to women and men alike, as long as s/he has the right qualifications. Women in Hong Kong tend to be very pragmatic as well, and they do not fight to get equal opportunities as a firefighters, for example, because women would have a natural physical disadvantage. So, women collective pick the well-worth battles to fight, and they are winning. There is no such things as glass ceiling. Perhaps, two things have also helped the women's cause, namely, education and the use of domestic maids from low-cost countries like Philippines. The fact that almost all parents, like my parents, value girls as much as boys, and both receive the same education, certainly helps.
So, that was the time when I realize that things that are considered norms in Hong Kong, might not look so normal; or rather, I'd taken for granted alot of natural advantages that I enjoy in Hong Kong could quite conceivably be viewed as something else. To say the least, no working woman in Hong Kong, who has employed domestic maid(s) at home, would have considered themselves discriminating, and even suppressing, their own kinds. There was once a saying, that the success of the career women in Hong Kong is built on the sweat and tears of the domestic maids that they have at home, freeing them from all domestic and even maternal/parental duties.
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What does that have to do with the demise of black middle class in Detroit, you would ask?
I moved to Boston some 12 years ago. Perhaps due to the fact that my husband and I live in areas that one might consider upper-middle class, I didn't get to see that many blacks. The blacks that I came to see more were those teens in downtown, when I was walking to work. This was during the economic boom times under Bill Clinton, and things were rosy. Filene's and Macy's were still solid anchors in downtown.
Perhaps I was too busy with my own life and thoughts, I was walking pass all these without too much observations; much like the time when I was in England, passing by all the campaigning and movements without much thoughts or even curiosity. When I was growing up, I didn't know much about all the racial riots and the unjustice down south in America. All those times, I thought, I'm nice to people, and I expect them to be nice to me.
But of course that doesn't happen that way all the time. Blacks are usually more aggressive and assertive than Asians. The stereotypical angry black male. Again, back then, I didn't consider stereotypes to be that bad a thing. Perhaps you can say I'm too innocent or naive. I just thought, that's the way things (or they) are, and I can take it at that.
As I spend more time in America, I have come to read more on all the history and backgrounds, and the appreciation of why things are or people behave in a certain. Perhaps I'm getting older and wiser too, and I've come to realize that alot of things that I thought or believe, when I was younger, really can be quite discriminating and narrow-minded.
So, when I was reading the New York Times article about the demise of the black middle class in Detroit, following the downward spiral that the Detroit Three goes, I have come to be more understanding and appreciative for their predicament and tough situations that they're in. The YouTube video brings the full impact of what urban decay one is talking about in Detroit.
Understanding and appreciation can be one thing; on the other hand, there are things that I often find it puzzling. In the article, we have a solid middle class parents who were fully committed to college education for both their boys, in the hopes that they would lead a better life than their own. Funds was not a problem, and both brothers got in to university. But neither of them was able to graduate, since they both dropped out, citing lack of focus. As a result, they wandered from jobs to jobs. Although one of the brothers aspired to be a TV anchor, he eventually settles to be an autoworker in one of the GM plants that is going to be closing in Oct 2009.
The wife of one of the brothers went through the same path. The interviews seem to indicate that she had determination not to be like her own mother, suffering through low paying jobs as a single mother.
The puzzling thing is, it's not like they couldn't get in the college, but they can't pull themselves together to at least graduate. The question is, Why?
Is the society, or their own parents set too low an expectation for them? For one, I could not have imagined how my parents would be like, if we (me and my siblings) tell them, we're going to drop out. Not only would they be devastated, but I'm quite certain they would absolutely forbid us to do so, unless they graduate from universities. As my mother used to say, they give us all they can, in the form of a good education. The rest is up to us.
The other puzzling thing to me, about the forever-sunny, optimistic outlook of this black autoworker in the article. Does anyone care to point it out to him that, sometimes favor alone is not enough? Even if God is delivering, you have to go out and seek. Is it perhaps true that no one wants to point out that cold, hard truth to him, lest it would break his spirit? Should they put their heads in the sand, and let tomorrow's worries be dealt with when tomorrow comes? Somehow, I find that strikingly similar attitude of alot of Americans who now find themselves deep in debt, because they keep spending, since they like spending, and they don't want to worry about the day when the bills would finally come.
I find that attitude unrealistic at best, and irresponsible.
Perhaps, it's been the centuries of slavery and oppression of the blacks, that this unrealistic attitude has become ingrained in them, as part of their survival mechanism. Interestingly, they display the exact same attitude towards Obama, proudly showcasing their pride and joy when the first historic black president won the election. It's quite safe to say that, give Obama four years, and one would realize that a black democratic president really isn't any different from a white democratic president like Hillary Clinton. At which point, I wonder what kind of excuses the blacks would come up with, to cover for any shortcomings that Obama might have displayed.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
On political hypocrisy, John Edwards, and John Ensign...
Granted that having thick skin and hypocritical being prerequisites of politicians, it still never ceases to amaze me, every time I see that in full display. In short order, we're seeing the two Johns - John Ensign and John Edwards - coming out doing their swings.
John Edwards, the two-time presidential hopeful (and loser), must have thought he's done enough apologizing. Afterall, what aftershocks are left, now that the scandal has been dug over in blow-by-blow details? Hell, the evidence is even on YouTube. Just the mouthful of it gets me tired already.
Americans in general have very short memory. Edwards must have thought that, after the initial denial, then partial admission (it's ended, but really not quite), then full apology, what more can anyone ask of him? He's come out looking remorseful, and speaking remorsefully. Afterall, isn't that supposed to be another prerequisite of politicians - to look and talk like something when you're not?!? For that, Edwards did quite well indeed.
But perhaps Edwards has not realized that, while Americans might look stupid and act stupidly, sometimes they're not as easily fooled. After his wife, Elizabeth Edwards, came out elaborating this some, writing about it, and talking some more in promoting god-knows herself or her book or both, Edwards must have sensed that the public is getting tired of showering more sympathy on this otherwise cancer-fighting-surviving wife of a presidential hopeful (or rather, a loser of presidential scale). Edwards must have gotten tired of his hang-dog look, and not having the chance to show off his $500 haircut some more in front of a camera. Now, he's coming out of the woodwork, to remind people that we the voters should not have forgotten that, thanks and due to him and him alone, he carries the issue of poverty on his lone shoulder. He must have thought that, for those great work of his, he should long be forgiven. He's telling us that he's moving on, and so should we.
I won't be so sure about the forgive-and-forget if I were you, Johnny. Apparently, I'm not alone - most who expressed opinion online would give him the variation of shove it, or go away.
I never have a very high opinion on Edwards. Now that I have a second look at his self-promotional webisode during the presidential campaign trail when the affair was going on, these videos are a powerful reminder of how fake he has always been, soaking himself so fully in self-aggrandizement. Honestly, he makes me sick in the stomach.
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And then, there is the other Johnny, one John Ensign. That's the self-important, self-righteous GOP rising star, who condemned Bill Clinton when Clinton was caught red-handed with Monica Lewinsky, and who has (surprise!) aspiration to run in 2012. The only thing that Ensign looks to be doing a little differently is that, he rushed out to admit the affair with one of his staffer while her husband remains his golfing buddy. Imagine that! The kind of double-life, double-face, double-talk, that Ensign is so perfect in would have made any normal person's head spin. But he did it so well, that most everyone was surprised at his admission, seemingly without anyone prompting him. But I never buy that kind of confession as admitting it, so he can be closer to God. It's more likely that someone might be blackmailing him, and he'd need to come clean. Afterall, there are still 3.5 years from 2012. The thinking goes, that if he admits early, maybe voters will forget his sins, forgive-and-forget perhaps? You know, the same fancy that Edwards must surely harbor now.
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These Johnnys make me want to spit at them in their face, or kick them in their groin, or something. Such sicko two-face.
John Edwards, the two-time presidential hopeful (and loser), must have thought he's done enough apologizing. Afterall, what aftershocks are left, now that the scandal has been dug over in blow-by-blow details? Hell, the evidence is even on YouTube. Just the mouthful of it gets me tired already.
Americans in general have very short memory. Edwards must have thought that, after the initial denial, then partial admission (it's ended, but really not quite), then full apology, what more can anyone ask of him? He's come out looking remorseful, and speaking remorsefully. Afterall, isn't that supposed to be another prerequisite of politicians - to look and talk like something when you're not?!? For that, Edwards did quite well indeed.
But perhaps Edwards has not realized that, while Americans might look stupid and act stupidly, sometimes they're not as easily fooled. After his wife, Elizabeth Edwards, came out elaborating this some, writing about it, and talking some more in promoting god-knows herself or her book or both, Edwards must have sensed that the public is getting tired of showering more sympathy on this otherwise cancer-fighting-surviving wife of a presidential hopeful (or rather, a loser of presidential scale). Edwards must have gotten tired of his hang-dog look, and not having the chance to show off his $500 haircut some more in front of a camera. Now, he's coming out of the woodwork, to remind people that we the voters should not have forgotten that, thanks and due to him and him alone, he carries the issue of poverty on his lone shoulder. He must have thought that, for those great work of his, he should long be forgiven. He's telling us that he's moving on, and so should we.
I won't be so sure about the forgive-and-forget if I were you, Johnny. Apparently, I'm not alone - most who expressed opinion online would give him the variation of shove it, or go away.
I never have a very high opinion on Edwards. Now that I have a second look at his self-promotional webisode during the presidential campaign trail when the affair was going on, these videos are a powerful reminder of how fake he has always been, soaking himself so fully in self-aggrandizement. Honestly, he makes me sick in the stomach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And then, there is the other Johnny, one John Ensign. That's the self-important, self-righteous GOP rising star, who condemned Bill Clinton when Clinton was caught red-handed with Monica Lewinsky, and who has (surprise!) aspiration to run in 2012. The only thing that Ensign looks to be doing a little differently is that, he rushed out to admit the affair with one of his staffer while her husband remains his golfing buddy. Imagine that! The kind of double-life, double-face, double-talk, that Ensign is so perfect in would have made any normal person's head spin. But he did it so well, that most everyone was surprised at his admission, seemingly without anyone prompting him. But I never buy that kind of confession as admitting it, so he can be closer to God. It's more likely that someone might be blackmailing him, and he'd need to come clean. Afterall, there are still 3.5 years from 2012. The thinking goes, that if he admits early, maybe voters will forget his sins, forgive-and-forget perhaps? You know, the same fancy that Edwards must surely harbor now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These Johnnys make me want to spit at them in their face, or kick them in their groin, or something. Such sicko two-face.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
More on anecdotal marriage to gweilo...
Now that I think of it some more, there are other marriages to gweilo that come to mind, so here goes (continuing on from previous posting):
(e) When I was at school back then in Hong Kong, I would sometimes skip school to work on exhibitions. I liked to try different things, meet new people, see different perspectives. In one of the trade shows, I met this woman in her early 40s who worked the temp job in the same show. We talked a bit, and she told me her story.
She got married when she's in her 30s. She said she was a bit desperate, but she also wanted to be picky. So, a friend of hers introduced her to a British guy who went to Hong Kong to take up the position as a superintendent (or some such) in the Royal Hong Kong Police Force. (Yes, there's a Royal prefix, because Hong Kong was still under British rule.) As a gweilo, it's a cushy job. Being a civil servant and an expat Brit, he had very generous benefits, including housing and salary. But he's a shy guy, and she chose him. As she told it, she was candid enough to admit that to me that she had high hopes that he would introduce her into some expat circle. While I don't like that attitude of hers, I reserve that comments to myself. She was rather sorely disappointed that, given how shy he was, he didn't like partying, and rarely went out with her at all, since he didn't like missing with crowds, even with his own fellow Brits (perhaps, particularly with his own kind, I sometimes wonder). Still, stayed with him, she did; but she set out to beat her own path; hence, her working temp jobs in trade shows and exhibitions to see new people. I never met her again, but I doubt she'll ever leave him. She liked too much the status that he could afford her, as an expat's wife. I sometimes wonder though, how she's going to handle the dreary weather in Britain, after his retirement from RHKPF and they went back to England.
(f) Given all the "bad press" about these social climbing women, or clueless airhead girls with pretty face, there are cases when inter-racial marriage does not have to start and end badly. Stella is a friend of my other sisters, who married a French guy when she's close to her 40s and he's working towards his retirement. She's a bit of a romantic-at-heart, but never found the right guy. After a long courtship with this French, they finally decided to tie the knot in a small church in France. She's not the showy type, and always very down-to-earth. In fact, she has even bought term life coverage to herself, so that the proceeds will benefits charity organizations.
(e) When I was at school back then in Hong Kong, I would sometimes skip school to work on exhibitions. I liked to try different things, meet new people, see different perspectives. In one of the trade shows, I met this woman in her early 40s who worked the temp job in the same show. We talked a bit, and she told me her story.
She got married when she's in her 30s. She said she was a bit desperate, but she also wanted to be picky. So, a friend of hers introduced her to a British guy who went to Hong Kong to take up the position as a superintendent (or some such) in the Royal Hong Kong Police Force. (Yes, there's a Royal prefix, because Hong Kong was still under British rule.) As a gweilo, it's a cushy job. Being a civil servant and an expat Brit, he had very generous benefits, including housing and salary. But he's a shy guy, and she chose him. As she told it, she was candid enough to admit that to me that she had high hopes that he would introduce her into some expat circle. While I don't like that attitude of hers, I reserve that comments to myself. She was rather sorely disappointed that, given how shy he was, he didn't like partying, and rarely went out with her at all, since he didn't like missing with crowds, even with his own fellow Brits (perhaps, particularly with his own kind, I sometimes wonder). Still, stayed with him, she did; but she set out to beat her own path; hence, her working temp jobs in trade shows and exhibitions to see new people. I never met her again, but I doubt she'll ever leave him. She liked too much the status that he could afford her, as an expat's wife. I sometimes wonder though, how she's going to handle the dreary weather in Britain, after his retirement from RHKPF and they went back to England.
(f) Given all the "bad press" about these social climbing women, or clueless airhead girls with pretty face, there are cases when inter-racial marriage does not have to start and end badly. Stella is a friend of my other sisters, who married a French guy when she's close to her 40s and he's working towards his retirement. She's a bit of a romantic-at-heart, but never found the right guy. After a long courtship with this French, they finally decided to tie the knot in a small church in France. She's not the showy type, and always very down-to-earth. In fact, she has even bought term life coverage to herself, so that the proceeds will benefits charity organizations.
On marrying gweilo, Hong Kong, et al...
This morning when I was starting out my day at my desk, I was thinking of one of my sisters, some friends and acquaintance, and this whole idea of marrying a gweilo. So, when I sat down, I searched on the web, and found this very interesting essay on that, with particular reference to movies (and I love watching movies of all genres).
You see, I grew up in Hong Kong in the 1980s during boom time. Remember the big shoulder pads from Dallas and Dynasty? But honestly, I'm more a Six Million Dollar Man kinda gal than the shoulder pad bunch. Anecdotes aside, times were good, economy was booming, and tourists were everywhere. One has to understand that population in Hong Kong is 99.9999% ethnic Chinese. Most of those foreigners (caucasians, in particular) were either expatriates or tourists, meaning they have the means to spend, and they mostly live large, in the eyes of general populace.
...Back then, we liked to spend on the Hong Kong island side, since there're less people. They liked to hang out around the City Hall Library. I liked going up from Star Ferry, and have this expansive view of this quaint looking building in front of me, that I could stroll up to check its books. From the windows of City Hall Library, you could have a panoramic view of Tsimshatsui Ferry Pier on the Kowloon side. I always found it so peaceful and neat. I could sit by the window staring at the boats and ferries on the Victoria Harbor for hours over weekends. I would take a bus ride to the Peak with my friends, and spend hours walking around the peak too. We would chitchat about anything and everything. It's heavenly...
I remember a childhood friend of mine. Her name is Helen. (Well, her name was Helen, since she has it changed now to Const, as in Constance.) She looks a bit caucasian like, bigger eyes and all. One time, when we were walking around the Peak, she was gazing at one of those apartment buildings around the peak dreamily, blurting out her thoughts: "I wonder if my grandmother lives up there." Me and my friends were like, "what?" It turns out, she always has this belief that her grandmother is caucasian, since she obviously got her good-looking gene from his father, but whom never told her that her grandmother is (or was) indeed a foreigner. I remember one of my friends blurted back to Helen, telling her "stop dreaming, Helen."
What does that have to do with marrying gweilo, you'd ask. Well, because the underlying attitude of Helen, and her dream to look up to some caucasian as my escape, a rescue, a white knight in armor, if you will, to one's daily otherwise boring existence.
It should also suffix to say that, if one has a good command of English, one has a much better chance to get a good job in a foreign corporation. I remember my parents were telling stories about how this was particularly true right after and after the Second World War in Hong Kong.
So, for a woman to marry a gweilo, it meant she would (or should) speak English very well (read: good job). It would mean that she would be mixing in the expat circle (read: crowd with money). It would also mean that she would live nicely (read: mid-level or above, for example). For alot of people, it would be a dream come true. At least, these were true back then, in the 1980s and before.
Personally, I only know a few people from Hong Kong who marry gweilo:
(a) A high school classmate of my younger sister, named Joyce. She went to a secretarial school after graduation, and married a 21-year-old white aussie boy who's a postal worker. I think she's 22 at the time. I was somewhat surprised when my sis told me about Joyce. Afterall, she has high career ambition; at one point, she even wanted to be a model. It's not a common career choice back then, because most girls do not consider themselves pretty or tall enough. She's not tall, maybe 5'2", but she's proud of her limps. The reason I remember her sturdy arms and legs is because, they look kinda out of place, considering her very slim body. No matter, she's proud of them, and that's what counts. In the end, she chose a postal worker and stayed in Sydney.
(b) My best friend Anna has a friend who married a gweilo. I don't know her personally. The thing that stuck with me most, was her exclamation that her husband still could not understand why she would give pocket money to her parents periodically. He could never grasp the underlying meaning of that gesture to the elders from an Asian daughter.
(c) Yet another friend of Anna, who was a secretary at BoA at one point, and got hooked up with a married expat lawyer (American) at BoA as well. The affair was short-lived, lasting a few months, against her wish. To be sure, she's quite good looking, and a decent 5'4" to boot. She refused to accept that she was anything less than his wife (also American, and fellow lawyer, at BoA), long after the affair ended. One time, toward the end of the liaison, she even got Anna to go along with her, to station at the entrance of BA Tower, since she got wind that he's coming out with his wife, heading to the airport. She wanted to get a glimpse of how his wife looks like, so that she can compare herself to his wife. When she finally saw her, she exclaimed to Anna, "she's not that pretty afterall!"
Another time, when I was having dinner with Anna, she blurted a question to me, "what does it mean when someone has eyes like dead fish?" I said, "isn't that obvious what that means? Eyes of a dead fish?!" In any case, I asked her why she's asking the question. It turned out, it's one of the last comments the expat had, in the last dinner with her secretary colleague. She didn't understand him, but she didn't ask. I'm like, "if she didn't understand what he meant, why didn't she ask?" Natural response, right? As it turned out, she was a bit ashamed that, given her pride in her command of English, it's not good enough to understand him. That has haunted her, ever since the affair ended.
(d) One of my sisters is also married to an Australia. It's a decision of hers that still confounds the whole family (and extended families). It's quite obvious that the guy is a talker. I don't normally take to talkers. As Professor Randy Pausch's words to his toddler daughter in his last lecture series, don't listen to what a guy says to you, but watch what he does. My sis' marriage is another story of its own, that I'll tackle on another day. Long story short, don't marry someone simply because of someone's color of skin. As to my sis, I don't think she marries him simply because he's white, or any notion of some dreamy fancy life. But she likes challenges, and she doesn't like following crowds. She's had suitors all these years, but he's the ultimate challenge for her. What better challenge can there be, than to take on a completely different culture, speak a completely different language, for the rest of your life?!?
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With all those background details, we're ready to talk about that interesting essay which has references to most of the major/classic movies on miscegenation, like Sayonara, The World of Suzie Wong, Love Is A Many Splendered Thing, etc. I like classic movies, among other genres; and I watched them all, long ago.
When I was younger though, I never had the appreciation of how stereotypical Suzie Wong had been on all Asian women. Surely, as the article pointed out, Suzie had fed the fancy of generations of Western men, with the kind of Wanchai bar girl, whore in body but "virgin at her heart" submissive women that they have come to expect from Asian females. It's quite safe to say that, should they have come to Hong Kong since 1960s, when the economy and rising education have allowed generations of women in Hong Kong to rise even above alot of their men counterparts, they would realize that women from Hong Kong are not submissive at all.
Looking at it from a different perspective, the anecdotal marriages to gweilo that I cite above, bring forth to my mind, how that article has completely missed it from the other side of the table. Perhaps it's entirely due to the fact that the author was cataloging why Western men, himself included, fall for Asian women, mostly fatalistically, whose romances (at least in movies) often ended tragically.
For those women that I cite above, they have means (unlike Suzie Wong). But they chose gweilo as marriage partners, which I believe arise mostly out of this generational long-held belief of a better, wealthier life with an expat. (Perhaps with the exception of my sister who always likes to be an outsider looking in.)
Romance and courtship are one thing, but I do not endorse marriage based on sheer fantasy. With marriage, it's a life-long commitment that based on reality. As the essay rightly pointed out, at the end of the day, when Suzie and Lobert walked down the hill at the end of the movie, they would still need to choose what they have for dinner, or where they're going to stay, and more importantly, how they're going to make a living. Fantasy alone cannot sustain any of that.
As I commented to Anna, if her friend didn't even have guts or candor to ask her partner what he means, how are they going to have a real/proper conversation? Pretty face and fancy dress will only carry her so far. If she's such an airhead and/or total whimp, with eyes of a dead fish, I'm not surprised at all that the gweilo dumped her, to stay with his more intelligent and intelligble wife.
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PS: Since the handover of Hong Kong to China, there's been major shift in culture and attitude in Hong Kong. Likely amplified by the worldwide financial meltdown in 1997, the number of western tourists to Hong Kong have dropped substantially, replaced instead by the oft less civic-minded local tourists from mainland China, who spit without any care and squat in front of high class department stores while waiting for their tour bus. The number of expats has also declined markedly, alot of whom are now dispatched directly to Shanghai or Beijing to tackle the China market in the coming decade. These days, if you see a gweilo, there's higher chance that s/he might be working as a bartender in Wanchai, instead of being a banker in Central. The kind of "currency" (or fantasy, if you will) that people have these days, of some woman locking arms with a gweilo, is never quite the same anymore.
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PPS: By the way, for a long time now, contrary to the belief of some people who don't know much about Hong Kong, the term gweilo itself does not hold any derogatory connotation anymore. Whatever the terms one might use, it depends more on how it's used, and not just the term itself, that is more important.
You see, I grew up in Hong Kong in the 1980s during boom time. Remember the big shoulder pads from Dallas and Dynasty? But honestly, I'm more a Six Million Dollar Man kinda gal than the shoulder pad bunch. Anecdotes aside, times were good, economy was booming, and tourists were everywhere. One has to understand that population in Hong Kong is 99.9999% ethnic Chinese. Most of those foreigners (caucasians, in particular) were either expatriates or tourists, meaning they have the means to spend, and they mostly live large, in the eyes of general populace.
...Back then, we liked to spend on the Hong Kong island side, since there're less people. They liked to hang out around the City Hall Library. I liked going up from Star Ferry, and have this expansive view of this quaint looking building in front of me, that I could stroll up to check its books. From the windows of City Hall Library, you could have a panoramic view of Tsimshatsui Ferry Pier on the Kowloon side. I always found it so peaceful and neat. I could sit by the window staring at the boats and ferries on the Victoria Harbor for hours over weekends. I would take a bus ride to the Peak with my friends, and spend hours walking around the peak too. We would chitchat about anything and everything. It's heavenly...
I remember a childhood friend of mine. Her name is Helen. (Well, her name was Helen, since she has it changed now to Const, as in Constance.) She looks a bit caucasian like, bigger eyes and all. One time, when we were walking around the Peak, she was gazing at one of those apartment buildings around the peak dreamily, blurting out her thoughts: "I wonder if my grandmother lives up there." Me and my friends were like, "what?" It turns out, she always has this belief that her grandmother is caucasian, since she obviously got her good-looking gene from his father, but whom never told her that her grandmother is (or was) indeed a foreigner. I remember one of my friends blurted back to Helen, telling her "stop dreaming, Helen."
What does that have to do with marrying gweilo, you'd ask. Well, because the underlying attitude of Helen, and her dream to look up to some caucasian as my escape, a rescue, a white knight in armor, if you will, to one's daily otherwise boring existence.
It should also suffix to say that, if one has a good command of English, one has a much better chance to get a good job in a foreign corporation. I remember my parents were telling stories about how this was particularly true right after and after the Second World War in Hong Kong.
So, for a woman to marry a gweilo, it meant she would (or should) speak English very well (read: good job). It would mean that she would be mixing in the expat circle (read: crowd with money). It would also mean that she would live nicely (read: mid-level or above, for example). For alot of people, it would be a dream come true. At least, these were true back then, in the 1980s and before.
Personally, I only know a few people from Hong Kong who marry gweilo:
(a) A high school classmate of my younger sister, named Joyce. She went to a secretarial school after graduation, and married a 21-year-old white aussie boy who's a postal worker. I think she's 22 at the time. I was somewhat surprised when my sis told me about Joyce. Afterall, she has high career ambition; at one point, she even wanted to be a model. It's not a common career choice back then, because most girls do not consider themselves pretty or tall enough. She's not tall, maybe 5'2", but she's proud of her limps. The reason I remember her sturdy arms and legs is because, they look kinda out of place, considering her very slim body. No matter, she's proud of them, and that's what counts. In the end, she chose a postal worker and stayed in Sydney.
(b) My best friend Anna has a friend who married a gweilo. I don't know her personally. The thing that stuck with me most, was her exclamation that her husband still could not understand why she would give pocket money to her parents periodically. He could never grasp the underlying meaning of that gesture to the elders from an Asian daughter.
(c) Yet another friend of Anna, who was a secretary at BoA at one point, and got hooked up with a married expat lawyer (American) at BoA as well. The affair was short-lived, lasting a few months, against her wish. To be sure, she's quite good looking, and a decent 5'4" to boot. She refused to accept that she was anything less than his wife (also American, and fellow lawyer, at BoA), long after the affair ended. One time, toward the end of the liaison, she even got Anna to go along with her, to station at the entrance of BA Tower, since she got wind that he's coming out with his wife, heading to the airport. She wanted to get a glimpse of how his wife looks like, so that she can compare herself to his wife. When she finally saw her, she exclaimed to Anna, "she's not that pretty afterall!"
Another time, when I was having dinner with Anna, she blurted a question to me, "what does it mean when someone has eyes like dead fish?" I said, "isn't that obvious what that means? Eyes of a dead fish?!" In any case, I asked her why she's asking the question. It turned out, it's one of the last comments the expat had, in the last dinner with her secretary colleague. She didn't understand him, but she didn't ask. I'm like, "if she didn't understand what he meant, why didn't she ask?" Natural response, right? As it turned out, she was a bit ashamed that, given her pride in her command of English, it's not good enough to understand him. That has haunted her, ever since the affair ended.
(d) One of my sisters is also married to an Australia. It's a decision of hers that still confounds the whole family (and extended families). It's quite obvious that the guy is a talker. I don't normally take to talkers. As Professor Randy Pausch's words to his toddler daughter in his last lecture series, don't listen to what a guy says to you, but watch what he does. My sis' marriage is another story of its own, that I'll tackle on another day. Long story short, don't marry someone simply because of someone's color of skin. As to my sis, I don't think she marries him simply because he's white, or any notion of some dreamy fancy life. But she likes challenges, and she doesn't like following crowds. She's had suitors all these years, but he's the ultimate challenge for her. What better challenge can there be, than to take on a completely different culture, speak a completely different language, for the rest of your life?!?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With all those background details, we're ready to talk about that interesting essay which has references to most of the major/classic movies on miscegenation, like Sayonara, The World of Suzie Wong, Love Is A Many Splendered Thing, etc. I like classic movies, among other genres; and I watched them all, long ago.
When I was younger though, I never had the appreciation of how stereotypical Suzie Wong had been on all Asian women. Surely, as the article pointed out, Suzie had fed the fancy of generations of Western men, with the kind of Wanchai bar girl, whore in body but "virgin at her heart" submissive women that they have come to expect from Asian females. It's quite safe to say that, should they have come to Hong Kong since 1960s, when the economy and rising education have allowed generations of women in Hong Kong to rise even above alot of their men counterparts, they would realize that women from Hong Kong are not submissive at all.
Looking at it from a different perspective, the anecdotal marriages to gweilo that I cite above, bring forth to my mind, how that article has completely missed it from the other side of the table. Perhaps it's entirely due to the fact that the author was cataloging why Western men, himself included, fall for Asian women, mostly fatalistically, whose romances (at least in movies) often ended tragically.
For those women that I cite above, they have means (unlike Suzie Wong). But they chose gweilo as marriage partners, which I believe arise mostly out of this generational long-held belief of a better, wealthier life with an expat. (Perhaps with the exception of my sister who always likes to be an outsider looking in.)
Romance and courtship are one thing, but I do not endorse marriage based on sheer fantasy. With marriage, it's a life-long commitment that based on reality. As the essay rightly pointed out, at the end of the day, when Suzie and Lobert walked down the hill at the end of the movie, they would still need to choose what they have for dinner, or where they're going to stay, and more importantly, how they're going to make a living. Fantasy alone cannot sustain any of that.
As I commented to Anna, if her friend didn't even have guts or candor to ask her partner what he means, how are they going to have a real/proper conversation? Pretty face and fancy dress will only carry her so far. If she's such an airhead and/or total whimp, with eyes of a dead fish, I'm not surprised at all that the gweilo dumped her, to stay with his more intelligent and intelligble wife.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PS: Since the handover of Hong Kong to China, there's been major shift in culture and attitude in Hong Kong. Likely amplified by the worldwide financial meltdown in 1997, the number of western tourists to Hong Kong have dropped substantially, replaced instead by the oft less civic-minded local tourists from mainland China, who spit without any care and squat in front of high class department stores while waiting for their tour bus. The number of expats has also declined markedly, alot of whom are now dispatched directly to Shanghai or Beijing to tackle the China market in the coming decade. These days, if you see a gweilo, there's higher chance that s/he might be working as a bartender in Wanchai, instead of being a banker in Central. The kind of "currency" (or fantasy, if you will) that people have these days, of some woman locking arms with a gweilo, is never quite the same anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PPS: By the way, for a long time now, contrary to the belief of some people who don't know much about Hong Kong, the term gweilo itself does not hold any derogatory connotation anymore. Whatever the terms one might use, it depends more on how it's used, and not just the term itself, that is more important.
On inflight entertainment...
I find the article on the history of inflight entertainment a highly entertaining read.
Our family has an annual ritual, flying back to spend the summer in Hong Kong. It's a big family reunion every year. While I don't look forward to the hot and extremely humid weather, I always look forward to the flights themselves.
I don't like domestic in US, which reminds me mostly of a flying greyhound. There's no food, hardly any drinks that's worthy of the effort, and obviously, no entertainment. When airlines look for cuts in expenditure, they spare nothing. I recall that once, long time ago, when flying was such an exclusive and privileged experience. That's not true anymore. The airline industry has been on slow decline for a long time now. Recall also that, once upon a time, inflight entertainment used to be first-class luxury. Now everyone has it. But of course, something has to give. So, the food, the drinks, everything.
We normally travel by Continental. They probably have the best schedules, flying to Asia, out of New York. The departing flights are never too early, and the arriving flights to Hong Kong are never too late at night. Since they started flying over North Pole some two years ago, the flying time has cut by couple of hours too, which is even better. With young kids in tow, it's best to get on/off the planes as fast as you can.
But my husband never really like Continental much. His main complaints are, smaller seats and inflight entertainment. Maybe I'm not that big physically, so the smaller seats never bother me too much. For the rigidly scheduled movies of Continental's inflight entertainment, I must agree with him that it's not that ideal.
So, last year, when we flew with Cathy Pacific (CX), he immediately falls in love with it. The seats are arranged a bit differently, with seat pockets for magazines under your own seats, rather than in front of you. That's a good decision, since alot of seat pocket contents can get quite messy and unsightly with lots of trash after a long flight. They even have little hooks you can pull out to hang your clothes and some such. More importantly, the defining quality of CX is its inflight entertainment. Each seat can choose its own movies and programs, and can stop/start at any time. No longer would I have to stay up to watch for a movie on scheduled hours. The movies are quite current with what's showing in theater too, so I can watch a few movies, and delete them from my netflix queue when I arrive.
Interestingly, when we're flying this year, we find that Continental has upgraded its inflight entertainment system to be on par with CX. I guess, long-haul flights still pull in enough real money for airlines to put up a fight.
I wonder how long it might take, for long-haul flights to suffer the same cut-backs as domestic flights have suffered now in US. I hope that day won't come...
Our family has an annual ritual, flying back to spend the summer in Hong Kong. It's a big family reunion every year. While I don't look forward to the hot and extremely humid weather, I always look forward to the flights themselves.
I don't like domestic in US, which reminds me mostly of a flying greyhound. There's no food, hardly any drinks that's worthy of the effort, and obviously, no entertainment. When airlines look for cuts in expenditure, they spare nothing. I recall that once, long time ago, when flying was such an exclusive and privileged experience. That's not true anymore. The airline industry has been on slow decline for a long time now. Recall also that, once upon a time, inflight entertainment used to be first-class luxury. Now everyone has it. But of course, something has to give. So, the food, the drinks, everything.
We normally travel by Continental. They probably have the best schedules, flying to Asia, out of New York. The departing flights are never too early, and the arriving flights to Hong Kong are never too late at night. Since they started flying over North Pole some two years ago, the flying time has cut by couple of hours too, which is even better. With young kids in tow, it's best to get on/off the planes as fast as you can.
But my husband never really like Continental much. His main complaints are, smaller seats and inflight entertainment. Maybe I'm not that big physically, so the smaller seats never bother me too much. For the rigidly scheduled movies of Continental's inflight entertainment, I must agree with him that it's not that ideal.
So, last year, when we flew with Cathy Pacific (CX), he immediately falls in love with it. The seats are arranged a bit differently, with seat pockets for magazines under your own seats, rather than in front of you. That's a good decision, since alot of seat pocket contents can get quite messy and unsightly with lots of trash after a long flight. They even have little hooks you can pull out to hang your clothes and some such. More importantly, the defining quality of CX is its inflight entertainment. Each seat can choose its own movies and programs, and can stop/start at any time. No longer would I have to stay up to watch for a movie on scheduled hours. The movies are quite current with what's showing in theater too, so I can watch a few movies, and delete them from my netflix queue when I arrive.
Interestingly, when we're flying this year, we find that Continental has upgraded its inflight entertainment system to be on par with CX. I guess, long-haul flights still pull in enough real money for airlines to put up a fight.
I wonder how long it might take, for long-haul flights to suffer the same cut-backs as domestic flights have suffered now in US. I hope that day won't come...
Monday, June 15, 2009
On Microsoft's new Bing search engine and Google...
I don't normally have a very good impression of Microsoft. The quality of its products doesn't impress me much. It's releasing security patches so frequently to Windows that sometimes makes me wonder if they subject the patches to enough vigorous testing to patch security holes, or if the patches are making things worse.
I must give it credit though, for its perseverance and its execution. They did it with SQLServer after multiple tries, which now becomes a viable database option that is reasonably priced enough to take the lower end of the market. They did it with Xbox which is coming on fast, to challenge Wii.
Now, it looks like Microsoft could be set to do that again with online search. For a long time, Microsoft's search engine didn't amount to much. For goodness sake, MS even paid people to use their search engine, and it still won't catch on. But its latest search incarnation of Bing looks to change that.
Some years back, I started out with Yahoo (when it's still young). As Yahoo tagged on other stuffs to its page, but its search results were not that much more improved, I switched to Alta Vista. Around 1999, I switched to Google's search engine was still young, but it gave me more relevant results than others, including Northern Light. Google had proved itself to provide better (and more relevant) results than other search engines on the market at the time. And it has stayed that way for pretty much the past 10 years.
While Google has done some good work (eg. Gmail), but there's this worrisome trend that Google has become too big and almost monopolistic. It's outrageous that Google is even asking artist to provide work and content to them for free, in exchange for exposure. For a long time now, I've found the search results from Google to be getting more irrelevant, with more junk links. See, I need to search for technical stuffs, and I don't have time for white noise from search results.
When Bing came out couple of weeks ago, I gave it a go. Surprisingly, I found completely different set of search results from say, ClassNotFoundException, than what Google would find. You can't believe how happy I was. I thought out loud, that for once, I can find more results other than what Google can feed me. I've decided to use Bing, alongside Google, if not replacing it outright. I don't like monopoly afterall. It's always better to have more competition than none at all.
It is perhaps fitting, that Google is now getting worried, for the kind of good word of mouth of Bing. Google's founder is even assembling teams of specialist to study Bing. While the jury is still out, I find it good, that we have five different search engines, yielding different sets of results to me, instead of one.
And I'm happy the 700-pound gorilla of Google is getting scared. :)
I must give it credit though, for its perseverance and its execution. They did it with SQLServer after multiple tries, which now becomes a viable database option that is reasonably priced enough to take the lower end of the market. They did it with Xbox which is coming on fast, to challenge Wii.
Now, it looks like Microsoft could be set to do that again with online search. For a long time, Microsoft's search engine didn't amount to much. For goodness sake, MS even paid people to use their search engine, and it still won't catch on. But its latest search incarnation of Bing looks to change that.
Some years back, I started out with Yahoo (when it's still young). As Yahoo tagged on other stuffs to its page, but its search results were not that much more improved, I switched to Alta Vista. Around 1999, I switched to Google's search engine was still young, but it gave me more relevant results than others, including Northern Light. Google had proved itself to provide better (and more relevant) results than other search engines on the market at the time. And it has stayed that way for pretty much the past 10 years.
While Google has done some good work (eg. Gmail), but there's this worrisome trend that Google has become too big and almost monopolistic. It's outrageous that Google is even asking artist to provide work and content to them for free, in exchange for exposure. For a long time now, I've found the search results from Google to be getting more irrelevant, with more junk links. See, I need to search for technical stuffs, and I don't have time for white noise from search results.
When Bing came out couple of weeks ago, I gave it a go. Surprisingly, I found completely different set of search results from say, ClassNotFoundException, than what Google would find. You can't believe how happy I was. I thought out loud, that for once, I can find more results other than what Google can feed me. I've decided to use Bing, alongside Google, if not replacing it outright. I don't like monopoly afterall. It's always better to have more competition than none at all.
It is perhaps fitting, that Google is now getting worried, for the kind of good word of mouth of Bing. Google's founder is even assembling teams of specialist to study Bing. While the jury is still out, I find it good, that we have five different search engines, yielding different sets of results to me, instead of one.
And I'm happy the 700-pound gorilla of Google is getting scared. :)
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
On akoya pearls, Mikimoto, Stanley Market, et al...
I have always liked a decent sized strand of pearls. I've loved it since I was very small. A single strand, or double strands of pearls, is such a classic act. Nothing beats that, as a lady would. Amazingly, pearls go quite well with all sorts of apparel, even with jeans. With a strand of pearl, it's covert way of demanding respect from men.
Since I'm not a big person, 7.5mm to 8mm is optimal to me. I like that feeling of nice, lustrous pearls with different hues. I have a few different strands that have the lovely shines of rose, tinge of blues, and a couple others of yellow, and pink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I grew up in Hong Kong, and pearls, as it was in any other place in the world, were expensive. I remember tourists from around the world would crowd around the Stanley Market at Stanley beach, or Tsimshatsui, where there were lots and lots of jewelry stores and independent jewelry stores. They would have strands and strands of pearls of different colors, sizes, with different prices for tourists to choose. While locals never really shop at those places (too overpriced for the locals), I always and still find it fun to window-shop at those places. It's rowdy, and the pearls were so beautiful...at least as I remember it.
But my memory must have failed me. Last year when I went back, I took a trip to Stanley Market again, more for nostalgia. I have since regreted it. The beach itself is completely gone now. It's score one for nature, and zero for mankind, due to wave erosion. Instead, a man-made storm wall was put, right where the original beach started; hence, no more sand. The main street of old has shrunken into a small, short stretch of street that houses probably a dozen of so of eatery and pubs. That was one big disappointment.
The other disappointment is the Stanley Market itself. I've heard that these days, that the old mantra of Hong Kong being the "shopper's paradise" for tourists is no more. Instead, things have become so cheap in China everywhere. A walk down the Market confirms that reality. The Market itself has shrunken so much that it took me probably less than 15-20 minutes to stroll through all the shops. There are no more cheap things to be had.
What surprises me was the quality of the pearls that I found. I have fond memory browsing all those loose strands of beautiful pearls, with different shapes and sizes. What I found instead, was loose strands of pearls of such poor quality, with prices so high that you can probably buy a strand of second-hand Mikimoto on ebay.
The first thing that came to my mind was, how could these shops ever compete with the products coming from China? I also wonder out loud how long they can survive the global war of dumping of cheap pearls from China?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn't know much about pearls when I was little. I just like its roundness and lustrous shine. I still remember those pearl earrings of my mom, that would go with all kinds of clothing. You can easily dress up or dress down with it.
As I was growing up, I learn a bit more about akoya pearls, and Mikimoto. Akoya pearls from Japan still hold its dear place in most women's heart (as myself), and its value generally holds up pretty well. As the article in Reuters rightly points out, given the brutal competition that Japanese Akoya pearls has from freshwater pearls from China, much as those shops in Stanley Market, I've been wondering how long these Akoya farmers and the distribution channels can survive the onslaught.
I don't think that many people actually realize the differences between true Akoya pearls (that uses saltwater oysters which can produce at most 1-2 pearls at a time) and freshwater pearls from China (that uses freshwater mussels which can product up to 50 pearls at a time). Just the terms "cultured pearls" or "akoya pearls" are enough to confuse most people. (Every darn ebay sellers from China claims to be selling akoya pearl. Go figure.) Granted that the roundness, luster, and thickness of nacre will make a whole world of difference, most consumers simply don't care enough about it to pay 1000x times more for a Mikimoto strand, versus a cheap one from China.
To find out for myself, I bought a couple of strands from a few sellers (from China) on ebay. Most of those are less than subpar quality (I can't believe they can describe those pearls as "round" when they're more oblong, with odd shapes and all sorts of blemishes). But surprisingly, I also bought a couple of strands that are almost perfectly round, with very nice luster to boot and very few and minor blemishes. As the article points out, the Chinese have managed to grow freshwater pearls better everyday. All these, plus special order of 14k clasp for just $30, for a single 18" strand of 7.5-8mm AAA quality pearls. How could anyone beat that?
Those ebay purchases started me on some soul-searching. I was asking myself, do I buy the pearls as heirlooms (for my daughter and beyond), or do I simply want someone nice to wear? I have a few heirloom strands already. But with the price of one, I can buy myself 20-30 nice looking strands, with lots of change left over. I must admit, while I don't like the idea that the Chinese freshwater pearls dumping the market, thereby cheapening the image of pearls, I can't deny the mass market allure of such low price points that are very reachable to most everyone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just hope that Akoya pearls and Mikimoto will live on. I really do.
For now, I just can't see how. It looks like, for every market that the Chinese steps in, they manage to dump and flood the market, so much so that they kill everyone who care enough to produce quality goods with craftsmanship. For that, there will always be certain spite associated with the the Made In China label, however pretty the products might look.
Since I'm not a big person, 7.5mm to 8mm is optimal to me. I like that feeling of nice, lustrous pearls with different hues. I have a few different strands that have the lovely shines of rose, tinge of blues, and a couple others of yellow, and pink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I grew up in Hong Kong, and pearls, as it was in any other place in the world, were expensive. I remember tourists from around the world would crowd around the Stanley Market at Stanley beach, or Tsimshatsui, where there were lots and lots of jewelry stores and independent jewelry stores. They would have strands and strands of pearls of different colors, sizes, with different prices for tourists to choose. While locals never really shop at those places (too overpriced for the locals), I always and still find it fun to window-shop at those places. It's rowdy, and the pearls were so beautiful...at least as I remember it.
But my memory must have failed me. Last year when I went back, I took a trip to Stanley Market again, more for nostalgia. I have since regreted it. The beach itself is completely gone now. It's score one for nature, and zero for mankind, due to wave erosion. Instead, a man-made storm wall was put, right where the original beach started; hence, no more sand. The main street of old has shrunken into a small, short stretch of street that houses probably a dozen of so of eatery and pubs. That was one big disappointment.
The other disappointment is the Stanley Market itself. I've heard that these days, that the old mantra of Hong Kong being the "shopper's paradise" for tourists is no more. Instead, things have become so cheap in China everywhere. A walk down the Market confirms that reality. The Market itself has shrunken so much that it took me probably less than 15-20 minutes to stroll through all the shops. There are no more cheap things to be had.
What surprises me was the quality of the pearls that I found. I have fond memory browsing all those loose strands of beautiful pearls, with different shapes and sizes. What I found instead, was loose strands of pearls of such poor quality, with prices so high that you can probably buy a strand of second-hand Mikimoto on ebay.
The first thing that came to my mind was, how could these shops ever compete with the products coming from China? I also wonder out loud how long they can survive the global war of dumping of cheap pearls from China?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I didn't know much about pearls when I was little. I just like its roundness and lustrous shine. I still remember those pearl earrings of my mom, that would go with all kinds of clothing. You can easily dress up or dress down with it.
As I was growing up, I learn a bit more about akoya pearls, and Mikimoto. Akoya pearls from Japan still hold its dear place in most women's heart (as myself), and its value generally holds up pretty well. As the article in Reuters rightly points out, given the brutal competition that Japanese Akoya pearls has from freshwater pearls from China, much as those shops in Stanley Market, I've been wondering how long these Akoya farmers and the distribution channels can survive the onslaught.
I don't think that many people actually realize the differences between true Akoya pearls (that uses saltwater oysters which can produce at most 1-2 pearls at a time) and freshwater pearls from China (that uses freshwater mussels which can product up to 50 pearls at a time). Just the terms "cultured pearls" or "akoya pearls" are enough to confuse most people. (Every darn ebay sellers from China claims to be selling akoya pearl. Go figure.) Granted that the roundness, luster, and thickness of nacre will make a whole world of difference, most consumers simply don't care enough about it to pay 1000x times more for a Mikimoto strand, versus a cheap one from China.
To find out for myself, I bought a couple of strands from a few sellers (from China) on ebay. Most of those are less than subpar quality (I can't believe they can describe those pearls as "round" when they're more oblong, with odd shapes and all sorts of blemishes). But surprisingly, I also bought a couple of strands that are almost perfectly round, with very nice luster to boot and very few and minor blemishes. As the article points out, the Chinese have managed to grow freshwater pearls better everyday. All these, plus special order of 14k clasp for just $30, for a single 18" strand of 7.5-8mm AAA quality pearls. How could anyone beat that?
Those ebay purchases started me on some soul-searching. I was asking myself, do I buy the pearls as heirlooms (for my daughter and beyond), or do I simply want someone nice to wear? I have a few heirloom strands already. But with the price of one, I can buy myself 20-30 nice looking strands, with lots of change left over. I must admit, while I don't like the idea that the Chinese freshwater pearls dumping the market, thereby cheapening the image of pearls, I can't deny the mass market allure of such low price points that are very reachable to most everyone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just hope that Akoya pearls and Mikimoto will live on. I really do.
For now, I just can't see how. It looks like, for every market that the Chinese steps in, they manage to dump and flood the market, so much so that they kill everyone who care enough to produce quality goods with craftsmanship. For that, there will always be certain spite associated with the the Made In China label, however pretty the products might look.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
On more remembrance of June 4th...
I had meant to save this article for the 20th anniversary of June 4th. At least 150,000 other folks in Hong Kong still remember.
I wonder which fancy restaurant Chai Ling is dining tonight...
I wonder which fancy restaurant Chai Ling is dining tonight...
On remembrance of June 4th and Tiananmen...
There's always alot of talks, chatters, when June 4th comes around. That's, of course, due to what happened that night back in 1989 on Tiananmen Square.
I remember it quite well too. I was growing up in Hong Kong at the time. My dad had been following the news very closely for close to a month. Everyone did. The initial student protest for more open government and democracy, led eventually to the call of the downfall of Deng Xiaoping. When it started out, most everyone in Hong Kong supported the call for a more open government. Towards the end though, I don't think the students even know what they wanted or what to do. To the people in Hong Kong, Deng had not come across as a villain. Afterall, he was the one who pushed out The Gang Of Four, effectively ending the Cultural Revolution, opening up China with a new open door policy, unleashing decades long economic boom in China, and lifting the living standards of millions in China.
Of course, that does not justify Deng's sanctioning the military crush of the mass. But with student leaders like Chia Ling, who pushed drama and wished for climax, what should (and could) have been the logical outcome of students loitering at Tiananmen Square?
And I've always wondered, what did these students know or mean, when they said they wanted democracy? What is democracy to them anyways?
Towards the end, there was even news report of unruly students on the Square demanding free car ride and food when they flashed their student ID to the "average citizens." I remember thinking to myself, these students had no idea what they "change" they're calling for. In the end, they're calling for a change of leadership, but not systemic change. Without systemic change, anyone who goes to the top is going to get corrupted by power. Just look at these students, they are already demanding privileges from others, simply because of their status as students. They would have been no better than those who're heading the government now.
And so, on the night of June 4th, military rolled tanks in. There wasn't much news coming out, since it seemed everything was blacked out. There was much of the same news footage on the news, with reports of tanks, lots of people killed or hurt, and that's it.
And then, there's news of the students leaders, Chai Ling being one of the first. The first news of her was a mug shot-like picture, saying she was smuggled out of the country to America. But you know the most funny and ridiculous thing was about Chai Ling? The news had it that, she had to disguised herself after getting out of the country, so she got herself a double eyelid. Literally everyone laughed at how ridiculous and vain this woman was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty years on, it's probably sufficient time to recalibrate the June 4th incident. Actions speak louder than words, particularly empty, fancy words. Forget about China or democracy or whatever, Chai Ling is living her American Dream, married a foreigner, and making serious bucks. That's quite a good deal for chanting empty slogans, getting others killed, and rising above their blood. She is probably one of the student leaders I despise most. She's just another cheap, fake "human activist", if you could call her that.
Wang Dan remains committed. He's one of those who inspires the most, and remains an intellect who commands the most respect.
Wuerkaixi becomes something of a show biz guy, DJ in Taiwan, and what-have-you.
My question has always remained. How much commitment these so-called student leaders have, towards a goal higher than their personal comfort, but for the greater good of their fellow countrymen?
I don't think those like Chai Ling and Wuerkaixi even have anything near what it takes to start what they had called for, for changes in a country they supposedly professed love for. They really were no different than the students in this current younger generations in China and in other places like India, whose preoccupation is to make big and fast bucks. Hard politics can be left to other lesser fortunate souls.
Pigs.
I remember it quite well too. I was growing up in Hong Kong at the time. My dad had been following the news very closely for close to a month. Everyone did. The initial student protest for more open government and democracy, led eventually to the call of the downfall of Deng Xiaoping. When it started out, most everyone in Hong Kong supported the call for a more open government. Towards the end though, I don't think the students even know what they wanted or what to do. To the people in Hong Kong, Deng had not come across as a villain. Afterall, he was the one who pushed out The Gang Of Four, effectively ending the Cultural Revolution, opening up China with a new open door policy, unleashing decades long economic boom in China, and lifting the living standards of millions in China.
Of course, that does not justify Deng's sanctioning the military crush of the mass. But with student leaders like Chia Ling, who pushed drama and wished for climax, what should (and could) have been the logical outcome of students loitering at Tiananmen Square?
And I've always wondered, what did these students know or mean, when they said they wanted democracy? What is democracy to them anyways?
Towards the end, there was even news report of unruly students on the Square demanding free car ride and food when they flashed their student ID to the "average citizens." I remember thinking to myself, these students had no idea what they "change" they're calling for. In the end, they're calling for a change of leadership, but not systemic change. Without systemic change, anyone who goes to the top is going to get corrupted by power. Just look at these students, they are already demanding privileges from others, simply because of their status as students. They would have been no better than those who're heading the government now.
And so, on the night of June 4th, military rolled tanks in. There wasn't much news coming out, since it seemed everything was blacked out. There was much of the same news footage on the news, with reports of tanks, lots of people killed or hurt, and that's it.
And then, there's news of the students leaders, Chai Ling being one of the first. The first news of her was a mug shot-like picture, saying she was smuggled out of the country to America. But you know the most funny and ridiculous thing was about Chai Ling? The news had it that, she had to disguised herself after getting out of the country, so she got herself a double eyelid. Literally everyone laughed at how ridiculous and vain this woman was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty years on, it's probably sufficient time to recalibrate the June 4th incident. Actions speak louder than words, particularly empty, fancy words. Forget about China or democracy or whatever, Chai Ling is living her American Dream, married a foreigner, and making serious bucks. That's quite a good deal for chanting empty slogans, getting others killed, and rising above their blood. She is probably one of the student leaders I despise most. She's just another cheap, fake "human activist", if you could call her that.
Wang Dan remains committed. He's one of those who inspires the most, and remains an intellect who commands the most respect.
Wuerkaixi becomes something of a show biz guy, DJ in Taiwan, and what-have-you.
My question has always remained. How much commitment these so-called student leaders have, towards a goal higher than their personal comfort, but for the greater good of their fellow countrymen?
I don't think those like Chai Ling and Wuerkaixi even have anything near what it takes to start what they had called for, for changes in a country they supposedly professed love for. They really were no different than the students in this current younger generations in China and in other places like India, whose preoccupation is to make big and fast bucks. Hard politics can be left to other lesser fortunate souls.
Pigs.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
On the impending homeowner financial relief from Obama...
There's much talk about the mortgage relief program announced by Obama. For some people, the relief is yet to come.
I have always marveled at how quick and easy an entitlement mentality sets in. Obama's mortgage relief program will probably benefit the most, those who are in the deepest sh*t now, and who shouldn't have been a homeowner in the first place. For the rest of us homeowners, we're pretty much on our own. We pay our bills, we act responsibly, and we are left to fend for ourselves. That's the way it's always been, I suppose.
Why, then, would people think it's so different this time, that the government should come to our rescue, simply because we lose our jobs and can't pay our bills? I know I sound cold-hearted. There's a human dimension to it, that every lost home comes with a story and faces behind it, that should be examined on a case-by-case basis, so that I shouldn't have made blanket statement like that. Yet, I still wonder.
In a way, I can understand some of the arguments, that since Washington is willing to open taxpayers' wallets (*our wallets*!!!) to bail out the bad banks, insurance companies and automakers who made stupid mistakes for a very very long time, so every other guy/gal on the street should be entitled to a bailout too, one way or the other.
Do I blame them? Sure, I blame the clueless banks, myopic CEOs, reckless insurance companies, complacent automakers, even union-at-all-cost labor unions. But I blame those who are expecting handouts too. In a way, the bear-it-out generations who bear the blunt of the Great Depression, and those who hold it together after World War II, are the ones whose self-reliance and resourcefulness deserve honor and respect. I'm not sure if I can say the same to alot of those who's complaining now.
Like the woman in the article, who should have had a remaining mortgage loan balance of $77k, but piled on to it until it's doubled that size during the boom time. Now in her 60s, she's laid off, couldn't make the loan payment, and she's complaining the bank refuses to modify her loan??? Ok, let's say, her loan is modified, she's bailed out this time. Economy turns around, and property prices rise again. People like this woman is going to it all over again, because you know what, the next Obama, is going to be there to bail them again. That's the kind of slippery slope you're facing now.
I have always marveled at how quick and easy an entitlement mentality sets in. Obama's mortgage relief program will probably benefit the most, those who are in the deepest sh*t now, and who shouldn't have been a homeowner in the first place. For the rest of us homeowners, we're pretty much on our own. We pay our bills, we act responsibly, and we are left to fend for ourselves. That's the way it's always been, I suppose.
Why, then, would people think it's so different this time, that the government should come to our rescue, simply because we lose our jobs and can't pay our bills? I know I sound cold-hearted. There's a human dimension to it, that every lost home comes with a story and faces behind it, that should be examined on a case-by-case basis, so that I shouldn't have made blanket statement like that. Yet, I still wonder.
In a way, I can understand some of the arguments, that since Washington is willing to open taxpayers' wallets (*our wallets*!!!) to bail out the bad banks, insurance companies and automakers who made stupid mistakes for a very very long time, so every other guy/gal on the street should be entitled to a bailout too, one way or the other.
Do I blame them? Sure, I blame the clueless banks, myopic CEOs, reckless insurance companies, complacent automakers, even union-at-all-cost labor unions. But I blame those who are expecting handouts too. In a way, the bear-it-out generations who bear the blunt of the Great Depression, and those who hold it together after World War II, are the ones whose self-reliance and resourcefulness deserve honor and respect. I'm not sure if I can say the same to alot of those who's complaining now.
Like the woman in the article, who should have had a remaining mortgage loan balance of $77k, but piled on to it until it's doubled that size during the boom time. Now in her 60s, she's laid off, couldn't make the loan payment, and she's complaining the bank refuses to modify her loan??? Ok, let's say, her loan is modified, she's bailed out this time. Economy turns around, and property prices rise again. People like this woman is going to it all over again, because you know what, the next Obama, is going to be there to bail them again. That's the kind of slippery slope you're facing now.
On whether dogs feel regrets or remorse...
There's always been questions on whether animals like dogs or chimps feel regrets or remorse. I think they do, or at least dogs do.
When I was young, I had a dog named Carol. Since I was very small, I had always wanted a dog. So, when we finally got Carol, me and my siblings were overjoyed. I gave him the name too. Carol is a mixed breed, all white, with rather fluffy fur, white flappy ears, and a bushy tail like water from a fountain.
I don't think I know how to take very good care of it though. I remember the first couple of nights when he came to our home, he was feeling very sad, probably missing his mother. In response, my parents shut him in the bathroom, with no lights on. I felt sad too when I heard him whimpering in the dark room inside. I know now that, puppies are really like human babies, and they should feel loved instead of pushed away. But my parents never had any pets in their lives, and that's how they would have shut out any stray animals.
I would be the first to admit that I didn't know or never did show Carol discipline. So, Carol had always been on the wild side. He would growl and show his teeth if anyone went near his food bowl when he's eating. (Don't even think about touching his bowl, if you want to keep your hands and fingers intact.) I hugged him, kissed him, and did most everything with him on my side.
Maybe because I never showed him discipline or that I would get upset when he did anything wrong, he never respected (or was scared of) me as much as he would to my parents.
One time, I went into the living room, saw Carol on the sofa, and my first impression was to go there and give him a hug. Never did I realize that my brother had made him upset earlier on, and he was still growling. When I gave him the hug, he turned around and bit me instead. He bit me on my nose pretty hard. It came so fast and sudden that I didn't even have time to recoil or pull myself away. When those few flash seconds went by, Carol immediately whimpered and went hiding under the table. My brother and sisters rushed to check up on me. I couldn't feel my nose. In fact, I couldn't feel a good portion of my face. I went to check it in the mirror and saw the couple of bite marks on my nose, but there's nothing on my face. For the few weeks after that, my nose would swell to the size of a ping pong ball. We were so worried that we tried to hide it from my parents, since it's quite certain that my parents would send Carol away, and we didn't want to lose Carol. To us, he's part of our family.
It's thankful that I never got any infection from the bites. The scar is still visible on my nose, but nothing much else was damaged. That incident was one of the many that Carol had bitten me (mostly me, since I hugged him most). He had bitten me on my hands and feet. But one thing that I do know is that, Carol was capable of feeling regrets and remorse. Much like a human child, Carol would whimper and tentatively try to come back to me - his way of saying sorry. I have no doubts of that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'd always had dreams of playing with Carol on beach. He's a very playful dog, and I knew he'd have a very good time. I had even planned for the inevitable, that one day he would die, and I would have him cremated, so that his ash could stay with me all the time. That's probably pretty elaborate planning for a young child like me.
But Carol had come to a sad ending. He never got to grow very old with me. He was probably 8 or 9, and my parents sent him away. While my parents regarded him as our pets, and they would help caring for Carol, like bathing and playing, my parents have some kind of detachness to animals and pets. One day, we came back from school, we spent the afternoon busy doing homework. In the evening, when we realized we didn't hear any noise from Carol, we went looking all over the house, and found him missing. And then, my dad broke the news. He told us he sent him away, on some remote street quite far away. My sisters and I bursted into tears. That's why my dad felt remorseful about doing what he did. He promised he would go find him with us.
For two weeks, we went looking all over town. We reported Carol as the missing dog to the police, even though we knew police in Hong Kong hardly gives a damn about dogs. We posted missing-dog posters everywhere. We searched for Carol non-stop for two weeks straight near the street where my dad let him loose. We never found him.
In a way, we knew it's a lost cause. The area that dad let him loose was a rather lowly neighborhood, and people were known to eat dogs and cats. (That made me sick in my stomach.) We didn't even dare venturing into the dark alleys in those areas because even cops left those places alone. It's a place near Kowloon City where a long history reigns. (One of these days, I'll dig up its history and write it in the journal.)
After a while, when all my tears were dry, I perversely thought to myself, it's perhaps better be a fast and sudden death, than a slow and painful one. The slow descend into oblivion from living on the street is not a life I would have hoped for Carol, because I know, even to this day, that Carol could not have made it out of that area, from the gang's hands.
It's been more than 20 years now, since we lost Carol. I still miss him alot. I've promised Carol in my heart, and myself too, that I would never have a dog again, if I cannot take care of it, and show him discipline, and be able to keep him/her with me and grow old with me.
My kids have asked me for a pet, a puppy or kitten. But I know, with my busy schedule, I could not have fulfilled that silent promise that I made to Carol; and the kids are too young to understand the kind of responsibility that a pet will demand of them. I do not wish myself to turn cold-hearted towards our pets, because I don't have time for them. That would be too cruel and unfair to the animals.
Perhaps one day my kids will understand my thinking, when they read this journal.
When I was young, I had a dog named Carol. Since I was very small, I had always wanted a dog. So, when we finally got Carol, me and my siblings were overjoyed. I gave him the name too. Carol is a mixed breed, all white, with rather fluffy fur, white flappy ears, and a bushy tail like water from a fountain.
I don't think I know how to take very good care of it though. I remember the first couple of nights when he came to our home, he was feeling very sad, probably missing his mother. In response, my parents shut him in the bathroom, with no lights on. I felt sad too when I heard him whimpering in the dark room inside. I know now that, puppies are really like human babies, and they should feel loved instead of pushed away. But my parents never had any pets in their lives, and that's how they would have shut out any stray animals.
I would be the first to admit that I didn't know or never did show Carol discipline. So, Carol had always been on the wild side. He would growl and show his teeth if anyone went near his food bowl when he's eating. (Don't even think about touching his bowl, if you want to keep your hands and fingers intact.) I hugged him, kissed him, and did most everything with him on my side.
Maybe because I never showed him discipline or that I would get upset when he did anything wrong, he never respected (or was scared of) me as much as he would to my parents.
One time, I went into the living room, saw Carol on the sofa, and my first impression was to go there and give him a hug. Never did I realize that my brother had made him upset earlier on, and he was still growling. When I gave him the hug, he turned around and bit me instead. He bit me on my nose pretty hard. It came so fast and sudden that I didn't even have time to recoil or pull myself away. When those few flash seconds went by, Carol immediately whimpered and went hiding under the table. My brother and sisters rushed to check up on me. I couldn't feel my nose. In fact, I couldn't feel a good portion of my face. I went to check it in the mirror and saw the couple of bite marks on my nose, but there's nothing on my face. For the few weeks after that, my nose would swell to the size of a ping pong ball. We were so worried that we tried to hide it from my parents, since it's quite certain that my parents would send Carol away, and we didn't want to lose Carol. To us, he's part of our family.
It's thankful that I never got any infection from the bites. The scar is still visible on my nose, but nothing much else was damaged. That incident was one of the many that Carol had bitten me (mostly me, since I hugged him most). He had bitten me on my hands and feet. But one thing that I do know is that, Carol was capable of feeling regrets and remorse. Much like a human child, Carol would whimper and tentatively try to come back to me - his way of saying sorry. I have no doubts of that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'd always had dreams of playing with Carol on beach. He's a very playful dog, and I knew he'd have a very good time. I had even planned for the inevitable, that one day he would die, and I would have him cremated, so that his ash could stay with me all the time. That's probably pretty elaborate planning for a young child like me.
But Carol had come to a sad ending. He never got to grow very old with me. He was probably 8 or 9, and my parents sent him away. While my parents regarded him as our pets, and they would help caring for Carol, like bathing and playing, my parents have some kind of detachness to animals and pets. One day, we came back from school, we spent the afternoon busy doing homework. In the evening, when we realized we didn't hear any noise from Carol, we went looking all over the house, and found him missing. And then, my dad broke the news. He told us he sent him away, on some remote street quite far away. My sisters and I bursted into tears. That's why my dad felt remorseful about doing what he did. He promised he would go find him with us.
For two weeks, we went looking all over town. We reported Carol as the missing dog to the police, even though we knew police in Hong Kong hardly gives a damn about dogs. We posted missing-dog posters everywhere. We searched for Carol non-stop for two weeks straight near the street where my dad let him loose. We never found him.
In a way, we knew it's a lost cause. The area that dad let him loose was a rather lowly neighborhood, and people were known to eat dogs and cats. (That made me sick in my stomach.) We didn't even dare venturing into the dark alleys in those areas because even cops left those places alone. It's a place near Kowloon City where a long history reigns. (One of these days, I'll dig up its history and write it in the journal.)
After a while, when all my tears were dry, I perversely thought to myself, it's perhaps better be a fast and sudden death, than a slow and painful one. The slow descend into oblivion from living on the street is not a life I would have hoped for Carol, because I know, even to this day, that Carol could not have made it out of that area, from the gang's hands.
It's been more than 20 years now, since we lost Carol. I still miss him alot. I've promised Carol in my heart, and myself too, that I would never have a dog again, if I cannot take care of it, and show him discipline, and be able to keep him/her with me and grow old with me.
My kids have asked me for a pet, a puppy or kitten. But I know, with my busy schedule, I could not have fulfilled that silent promise that I made to Carol; and the kids are too young to understand the kind of responsibility that a pet will demand of them. I do not wish myself to turn cold-hearted towards our pets, because I don't have time for them. That would be too cruel and unfair to the animals.
Perhaps one day my kids will understand my thinking, when they read this journal.
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