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Discovering Hong Kong...and wanting to share...
February 02 Discovering Qingdao Now...Goodness it's been a while since I've been on this. Dropped off the face of the earth for a while, folks, sorry about that. Facebook is all the craze --- recommend friending me there as I use that much more often as a sort of personal blog.
Decided to skip over to the mainland for the next few months to see about picking up Mandarin as a second language. Not expecting it to be easy, but am anticipating it to be a worthwhile experience.
I left for Qingdao last week and have already had some hilarious experiences. I know very little Mandarin, and I'm surrounded by very little English speakers. Qingdao is a city of about 7 million on the Shangdong peninsula, southeast of Beijing. It is a former German colony and obviously has fantastic beer (Tsingtao). Anyhow --- hope you enjoy the stories to come. I'm posting two of the last passages that I posted on facebook this week, and will update more regularly, promise!!!
FIRST STORY: Qingdao: Day 4: Breasts and Uncomfortable I Love You Notes. (January 29th, 2008)
Since arriving in Qingdao four days ago, I've been able to grunt or baby talk my way around most things. In Hong Kong, that style of communication worked great for me at 3am after copious amounts of sangria and sheeshas, so why not here, eh? Take for example my successful attempt to buy a space heater today. I could have asked my Mandarin tutor for the translation "space heater" before I ventured outside my cold as all hell apartment to Jusco. But I thought, why not be a bit adventurous. You know some simple words --- see where that gets you first. I ended up telling the worker, "my house is very cold. I want to buy electric." And then after a few attempts of me blowing air and moving my hands in a goblin scary-story style way --- she got it. Yay me.
The only reason I wrote that story above was to let y'all know that I'm surviving. Far more funnier story, but wanted to give myself an A+ for the day before I have y'all laughing your asses off at me over last night's very very *uncomfortable* situation. It's been a while since I've been at a complete loss of words --- even with my little knowledge of Mandarin. Last night was the first in a very long time. Before I get into it, need to veer off for one second, back to Japan in 2004, when I horrified my family during a very nice dinner. I wanted another glass of milk. I thought I asked my family "Can I have some more milk?" But apparently, if you mess up just one little letter --- the whole meaning changes. Soo --- in front of my great uncles, aunts, and family members that had just met me for the first time, I asked, politely of course, "Can I have some more breasts please?" There was a measure of silence that will never, ever be matched. First --- because most family members were horrified. More importantly--- because I'm sure there had to be at least one family member that thought "That greedy little bitch..." This next one is a close second on my most uncomfortable experiences... I've been sneaking off to a hotel that is about a three minute walk from my flat. It has a restaurant with decently priced food, and more importantly is warm. I sit by myself, studying my Mandarin, order one dish, and maybe a beer. Last night, I showed up after a six hour study lesson, and was exhausted. My hair was disheveled, and I was ridiculously cold, so I kept my funny looking red-balled hat on for warmth (check facebook profile for image). The waiter I had was also the same who served me the night before, so I was really friendly with him and a bit eager to talk with him. Asked him how to say things in Mandarin, etc. After a while, I began practicing my Chinese writing. Earlier, I had learned "I" and "You", and my tutor decided to also teach me "Love", as "I love you" is obviously fairly popular in Chinese calligraphy. I began practicing. Over and over again. For about a half hour, perhaps. Was really getting it. Yay for me. Just as I was about to wrap up, the waiter came by. I'm not sure how long he was standing there, but when I looked up, he was staring at an *entire* page filled with.... "I love you. You I love. I I I I love you. You you you love me. I love you. I love you. I love you." You get the point. The expression on his face --- verrry disconcerting. Eye brows raised and grunting a sort of "huh?" I felt very much at that moment like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. I motioned for the check and called it a night. That's all from coldest China. Let's see what the rest of the week has in store.... Hugs ~n@ SECOND STORY: Qingdao: Week One: Glenn Close at Her Very, Very Best (February 2nd, 2008)
Some experiences are worth recording for posterity's sake --- to remember things best not forgotten. The birth of a baby, a wedding, a silly going away video depicting two years worth of debauchery in Hong Kong, etc. You get the point. Other experiences, however, are worth recording simply because it would be an injustice to not give someone else a chance to laugh along with you. To those who missed out on my first Qingdao note, I highly recommend you stop reading now, and review the incidents of my first couple days in this city. To all others --- let's continue. I've decided, after this week's event in the hotel restaurant, to name our lucky server Charlie, as I am without a doubt entirely too embarrassed to introduce myself at this point. Particularly after last night's experience. If you think that my "I Love You" note sufficed in making Charlie squirm, you clearly have not even begun to understand what I am capable of under duress. Last night, after six hours of Mandarin study, I returned to the restaurant, having built up enough confidence to make friends with Charlie and explain to him that I am practicing Chinese, hence the character practice during dinner. I had spent a part of the day at the market, asking the sellers questions such as "is work busy today?" Earlier in the day, I was doing well. But by the evening, following hours of repeating sounds/phrases with my teachers, I was exhausted. When I arrived at the restaurant, Charlie saw me immediately, which is not hard considering I am dressed like Ralphie's younger brother in the 1983 flick "A Christmas Story." People in Qingdao seem to manage this cold weather with a few layers of clothing, and an occasional hat. I, on the other hand, have covered myself with so many down-feathered items that I am worried about falling over and not being able to say in Mandarin "can you please pick me up, I am stuck." I sit down, and he comes over to hand me the menu. I think to myself, "okay, here's your chance to explain that you are studying Mandarin --- go on --- just start a simple conversation..." He is waiting for me to order, and so I pick out a dish, hand him the menu, look around the empty restaurant, and say to him, "So is your work busy tonight?" I was smiling too --- a real nice one with teef and everything. I thought I would get a response out of him, but instead, his eyes got really wide and he shuffled away quickly. I was entirely confused, thinking, well now *that's* rude. Here you are trying to talk a bit to clear the air, and he goes running like a scared kid. I went through in my head what I said to him, and it hit me. Frick, frick, frick, frick frick. I forgot to say "work". It appears at this point that I may have unknowingly asked Charlie out. "Sooo....are you busy tonight?" I'm thinking the only thing left to do is to take a picture of him next time I'm there so that ya'll can appreciate this even more. But I'm afraid that may very well land me in jail on charges of stalking. It's moments like these that truly make me appreciate my inability to communicate with others here. What better way to learn a language than to make a complete ass out of yourself within seven days of living in Qingdao, at the only restaurant that has a picture pop-up menu within the walking vicinity of your flat. Slightly similar situation with my teacher --- who has made it a point of telling me every day that my character writing is extremely, extremely ugly. I'm not disputing it --- penmanship in English isn't my strong suit either. And neither, it seems, is my level of patience with her remarks. I was writing the word "guan" yesterday, which means "to close." Conversation as follows... Haley: You write like sheep. Naomi: Well, technically, sheep can't write, so I actually write better than a sheep. So if you want to be mean about it, you should maybe find another example. Haley: No. I mean you write like sheep. Turns out the way I was writing "guan" was nearly the same as the character for "sheep." Frick, frick frick. Definitely, definitely stories worth recording. April 03 ...Expeditions......I've discovered the value of a few days off work...
In 1985, when I was around six years old, I forced my neighbor to help me put together a time capsule. In a brown cardboard shoe box, we collected our valuables. From him, some G.I. Joe's, some baseball cards, and a few other odds and ends. From me, a blond haired, fully clothed barbie doll, a few dinosaur figurines and a cassette tape of George Michael's "WHAM!" We dug the hole in my neighbors backyard, said our goodbyes, and vowed not to open it for 20 years.
I dug the box out 10 minutes later.
Why the nostalgic story? Mmm, I think it describes me fairly well; curious about the unknown, adventurous about everything else, abnormally impatient, and unwilling to part with that which I adore.
The story also highlights a valuable lesson; George Michael's music should never ever be buried, even if it is for posterity's sake.
Sorry for the long delay, folks. Been gallivanting around the last few months.
In late January, four guys a girl (that'd be me) took arctic trip to the cold that is Harbin, China. Chicago peeps, Syracuse peeps, what we experienced is luke warm bath water compared to the temps there. Minus 20 C at night, on a good night. Try going to an outhouse in that weather. Not...very...comfortable.. :p
For those who have not had the pleasure of traveling to or learning about Harbin, the city has for years put on an annual ice and snow festival --- absolutely spectacular. Imagine an amusement park the size of a university campus, made entirely out of ice. Every building, every sculpture, is ice. No kidding. The Great Wall is actually a 300 meter ice luge you can slide down at 40 kph. The boys picked themselves up laughing and ran back in line. I cried. First sign that things were a bit off, was when they gave us plastic trays to slide down the ice --- and they were ALL broken in half.
That was the ice festival --- next door --- the snow festival. In the wise words of my fellow-Harbin trekker --- these folks made all the silly little snowmen of our youth look like, well, the silly little snowmen they were.
Final amusement - Siberian Tiger Park. Let it never be said that feeding live chickens (and a friggin cow!!) to tigers is not incredibly fun. Weee! I know, I know. I thought I would hate it. Instead, I captured the deed on video:) Take a looksy....And yes, that IS me screaming along with the chicken.
Moving On. In mid-February me and a handful of rowdy friends took off for a week in Thailand. We began the trip in Bangkok, where the nights were spent drinking ourselves into oblivion and dancing, and the days were spent discovering the sights and sounds of a city that is all too majestic.
We spent the latter days of our week in Koh Phangan, a small island right next to Koh Samui. Very hippie-like, and just the sort of cool down we desperately needed after three nights in Bangkok. Spent my time there hiking, four-wheel driving down to some of the most beautiful beaches and sunsets I've seen to date, snorkeling and the like.
Short video of Bangkok Days available at...
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=2018427408
And that'd be all folks. Let's talk soon.
~Kisses Across the Globe
P.S. Pics are all available, obviously. December 12 ...Christmas Memento... ...I've rediscovered memories of holidays past ...
I'm reminded of a freshly baked gingerbread house generously doused in white frosting, candies and licorice. The smell of ginger and cinnamon seeping into our bedrooms, where my siblings and I spent much time trying to find ways to taunt each other, and occasionally call momentary truces.
I remember our Ben Franklin stove in the corner of our basement, its black ironed body and curvaceous chimney. The crackling of burning wood and paper, and the drowsy heat lightly pampering us on those snow-blanketed evenings. What a daunting challenge it was for me, Adria and Eric to edge our backs as close to the heated stove doors. Who would last longest? I believe I rarely won.
And oh how I miss the music. Jumping into bed after listening to the Beatle's "Good Night" song from the White Album, a family classic. And watching my father dance to the "Twisted Christmas" album while making homemade clam chowder. That was always my favorite.
I once decided to go to sleep at 7pm on a Christmas Eve. My logic behind the decision was simple --- sooner you fall asleep, sooner you wake up on Christmas morning.
Our yearly visits to the McCormick Place in Chicago to watch the Nutcracker. The excitement of putting on a pretty dress; of watching my mother take out her good shoes; of hearing Eric moan that he has to sit through another boring ballet; and of falling asleep on those late, chilled evenings, with songs of sugar plum ferries in my head. My ex-boyfriend once bought me tickets to the Nutcracker for Christmas. It remains one of the most touching presents I have ever received.
Sadly, these very, very affectionate memories of mine seem to have aged faster than I have! A lifetime ago, for many. I'm embarrassed to admit, actually, that there was an extended time in my life when I went years without remembering them. They aged faster than I did, I suppose, because I allowed myself to grow up without them.
These days --- I have reclaimed them.
When the days shorten, and the early moon brings with it the crisp ache of winter's first layer of snow... when the smell of pine needles sweep through the corners of frosted sidewalks...when crimson and gold line the windows of every department store...I find myself a happy child again.
This Christmas, I'll be traveling back to the United States for a brief five-day visit. I promised in last year's holiday entry that I would return home for the 2007 holidays. This is the first holiday in more than two years that my family will be together for Christmas. We are making a gingerbread house to mark the occasion. I'm going to repeat a toast I made in the 2006 holiday entry, a personal favorite of mine.
...To the Martig's...
"May you never forget what is worth remembering"
It's an Irish Toast...and the second half says "or remember what is best forgotten", but I think in light of the Christmas Season, I'll just toast to the first part:)
xoxo
~n
P.S. "Close your eyes and I'll close mine. Good night. Sleep Tight." Beatles, White Album October 02 ...The Battle...and Beauty...of the "X" Word......I've discovered what French writers Edmond and Jules de Goncourt meant when they wrote...
"Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence."
In mid-September I returned from a two-week visit to the United States, my first trip home in more than one year. And despite my immediate urge to focus this entry on the excitement of seeing my family and spending time with friends back home, I'm going to focus on one aspect of the trip that is a journey of its own kind.
James Wesley Pindell, kindly referred by his close friends and family as "JW, JDub(s), or Dubbers," and his fiance, Amy Sheridan, were married in Maine on September 3rd, 2006. JDubs and I first met while freshman at Drake University, in Des Moines, Iowa. He was, and still is, an amazing person in my life. I was lucky enough to be one of his groom attendants during the wedding.
I have always found it amazing when I see people cry at weddings. To feel such joy in your life that it actually brings you to tears, is a rare thing, don't you think? Let's look at this for a moment. Your boss tells you that you've been promoted to your dream job. Tears? Probably not. You find out that you won a free trip to a tropical island of your choice. Tears? Doubt it. You find out anything about your life that genuinely brings about extreme doses of happiness, and tears are usually not part of the equation.
So what is it about weddings that causes the tear ducts of most women, and a good number of sensitive-admitted men, to let loose Hoover Dam style?
My own opinion? But of course:) It's because of that word. The one that most people spend a good portion of their young adult life desperately avoiding. The one that many of us try, over and over again, to deny ourselves. And yet yearn for unconditionally. We hear it religiously in sappy pappy X songs. In the United States, we hear it used so often in short-lived relationships...to the extent that its true meaning becomes completely diluted.
But it's not actually hearing that word that I think brings people to tears. We already know what it sounds like -- and that certainly is not powerful enough to bring out our most vulnerable emotions. So what is?
It's seeing a glimpse of it --- that small, sweet, innocent birth of what it actually stands for.
That's what I saw on September 3rd. And that, my friends, is why I cried my eyes out for most of the ceremony. To be lucky enough to witness the explosion of that word, is a great rarity in this world.
...And the slight shadow of fear, for some of us perhaps, that we may not be able to experience it ourselves....
I had a friend read through this entry before I posted it, and his first reaction was to tell me "sounds to me like you are quite pessimistic about love." And that, despite my respect for his opinion, could not be further from the truth. I *love* being in *love*! But I also know that experiencing its purest form should not be confused with a fake or ripoff version. It is too beautiful a thing. Falling in love is not something I will ever fight for. Ever. It either happens, or it doesn't. It should not be difficult or heartbreaking, or forced. It simply exists, or it doesn't. The worthy battle, however, begins once you have it. Once you can feel it breathing inside you. And that is a battle, my friends, that I am wholeheartedly willing to fight to the ends of this earth to hold onto.
Until then, I suppose I'll just continue to cry at weddings:)
And in the meantime, a toast to all you wonderful people! May we find the secret passions that bring tears to the eyes of even the strongest of men!
xoxo
Naomi
June 30 ...A Case of Serendipity...I've discovered that my world is better off left in the hands of serendipity.
Had I been born just a few years ago, I'm certain that my mother would have invested in several child-leashes. As a child, I was notorious for getting lost, wandering off, and all the while not having a thought in mind about what would happen if I stayed gone forever. I think I easily knocked about 10-years off my mother's life during those years.
I never cried. I was never afraid of not knowing my surroundings, or what was around the corner. The idea of not having control of a situation never entered my mind. I never actually felt lost, and the idea of being lost, of not knowing, was okay.
But somewhere down the road, it changed. Call it adolescence if you will, but I woke up years later no longer able to accept the idea that I could not influence or control the events in my life. Getting lost, was unacceptable, and moreover indescribably frightening. My father's best friend once told me that if the world was going to end, he would want to be standing next to me, because I would find a way to make sure I survived. A comforting thought for him...but nevertheless...a very inaccurate way of how the events in my life panned out...something I've only now begun to realize.
Perhaps there is something fishy in the water supply in Hong Kong, or perhaps I'm going through a mental growth spurt. Or perhaps I just ate way too much chocolate today and had an epiphany while watching a cheesy commercial about life insurance policies. But I think, that after years of believing I had the ability to hold my world together with my own two hands, I've given up. I'm slowly succumbing to the idea, rather, that most of the goals I've strived for throughout the years have been accomplished through a chain of fortunate mistakes. Mishaps. Ooops.
At one point that idea would have suffocated me. Panic Attack Central. But these days, I'm quite comforted by it. I'm sure the moment will pass:), and I'll return to my usual obsessive compulsive needs. But for now, I'll pat myself on the back, for momentarily understanding that some of the greatest mistakes I've made have turned into my most valued treasures.
A grain of sand in the center of a pearl, if you will.
As the one-year anniversary of my time in Hong Kong approaches, I have obviously spent much time reflecting on my experiences in the last 12-months. I have missed home terribly. I have yearned for the comfort of knowing what lies behind every corner. And I have certainly missed the people who have, throughout the years, become such an intricate and irreplaceable part of my life.
But the relationships I have created here are indescribable. And the experiences, both good and bad, are beyond exceptional. I have discovered the excitement of not knowing. And have realized, and this is a first for me, the importance of deciding not to fight for something you desperately want. There's a certain beauty to bowing out of a race. Totally uncharacteristic of me, I know. And really really difficult to do!
That said, I have decided to be graced with Hong Kong's presence for another year. In so many ways, I still have more adventures to embark on, many more lessons to learn, and even more mistakes to make.
With those pearls of wisdom, I shall put an end to this rather philosophically-doused entry.
~Kisses across the globe~
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