Local Visitors

Showing some locals skin on the MacLehose trail in Sai Kung park.  Both Evan and Ryan love hiking, that's why they're super stoked; you can tell by their faces. Ryan is even showing the back of his index finger, which in Sai Kung is a popular way of saying, "This is wholesome fun" (in Chinese of course). 

Don't think that because these three guys are business majors that they aren't ready to join the Occupy Hong Kong crowd. You can see Evan feels right at home with these counter beat Cantonese campers chilling
under the HSBC building. 

Pearl Sea (Zhuhai) 珠海

Lance looks at a scale model of Zhuhai. 

Last weekend I met up with a couple friends from college, Lance and Ryan, in China. Technically Hong Kong is part of China, but it depends in what context you make reference. Usually the Hong Kongers refer to everything else in China as "Mainland."

Zhuhai is the name of the city where we met up. It's a relatively new city in the Canton province, nestled on top of Macau, the Las Vegas of China. Over the past ten years this city has been exploding with growth. There are all sorts of new divisions and developments going in, one of which is supposed to a miniature replica of Shanghai.  It's alive with cranes and concrete. I got the feeling that if I threw a pole on the ground it would grow into a lamp, or if tossed a piece of trash on the sidewalk, a 7-Eleven would appear––it was similar to Narnia in this sense, when Narnia was being created in The Magicians Nephew. (And yes, there were plenty of minotaurs and dwarves running around, at least, enough to make you on edge).

Ryan's dad works in Hong Kong and he treated us teachers like kings. We spent most of the weekend eating or getting our bodies massaged, or in Lance's case, both at the same time.

Pumpkin Bars in the Parking Lot

Mom sent some ingredients from home (thanks mom); with a few more exports from New Zealand,
Australia, and America, all the goods were good to go.  

Ovens are a commodity in Hong Kong. Thankfully, Mrs. White graciously provided.  

The frosting, now doubt thanks to the New Zealand butter,
was yellow instead of white.

We poured the dough thick so the pumpkin bars became more of a pumpkin cake. Gorrila As cooks
see little mistakes like this (or forgetting salt, or mixing up salt and sugar) as opportunity for discovery.
We went with it, and even wrote with thanksgiving. 

The campus is meat free. Thankfully this turkey was a vegetarian.  

We met and gave thanks in the staff housing parking lot. 

Sometimes thanksgiving hits us like a table full of pie and pumpkin cake.  Shania saw
no use fighting it, she just stopped and took a moment to appreciate it all.  

Lessons and Desks

Structure and content don't always match. They can send mixed messages. For example, screaming "I love you," with a gnarled face and two middle fingers waving is mixed (well, in most families and friend groups). The body is saying one thing and the words another. Another example, chow mien in a corn tortilla. The contents don't match the casing. 

As a student, I was ticked because this sort of mixed communication seemed to be built in the school system.  

On one side the teacher says, "We want you to lead, and learn, and be creative, and get As." But the form of the classroom would be, "Sit at your desk. Be quiet. Don't talk. Learn what I'm telling you. Do what you're told. Learn at my pace. Do all your work. More work. Stress. Stress. Control. Stress." As a student it's hard to hear the content over the structure; the lessons get lost in the desks. 

As a teacher, it's challenging to make structure and content team up. It's hard to make the information I'm teaching, and the way I'm teaching it, dance without stepping on each other's toes. I wonder how much of my lectures get lost in my students desks. I'm tripping over the same stuff as a teacher that I was as a student, except I'm the bad guy now.  

Last week we had outdoor school. Two of the days we were led by a professional outdoor education program nearby. I was talking with the operations manager, Rob. He has served as a dean of students, a school counselor, a social worker, an expedition leader with several different outdoor education programs in places such as the Caribbean, Mexico, Canada, the PNW, and now Hong Kong. He has some experience I guess. 

He had some great things to say about teaching and learning, but he wasn't very fond of the traditional school system. He said school is a lot about fear and control, not so much about teaching students as it is about separating the weak from the strong using stress. I've had similar conversations about education with friends in college, but this time it was different. Now I'm an employee of the system, not a victim of it. 

Rob, in a very kind and gentle way, was calling me as a teacher, 'the man;' which puts me in queue with the likes of (insert least favorite disciplinarian #1 here) (insert # 2 here) (insert corrupt politician here) (insert government philosophy you don't like here) (insert Stalin here, and CaPD here). 

But I'm staying positive on this one. I imagine myself more like 'the bullet' than 'the man' on this one,
more like 'the bull' than 'the rider' on this one. And it may take me more than eight seconds on this one,
but I'm gonna buck these mixed-messaged desks and lectures if its the last thing I do.  

More than a Machine

Somewhere beneath this 

oil stained skin 

runs something stronger than

the underground

trains and fast fueled bones

of steel and nerves

strung by the hands of man, 

beating with the breath of God,

set in 

motion with the rest

of us

stronger than hope.

Teaching

I'm reading a book called "Creative Bible Teaching." It says, "Most human endeavors require planning."

"Oh yeah?" I think. "Well, I'm a natural planner. Tell me more."

It continues, "As a general principle, things done right are done with a plan."

"Uh huh, uh huh."

"Generals need battle plans, coaches need game plans, and teachers need lesson plans."

"Way ahead of you."

Tomorrow's lesson is "WINNING!!!!!": "Class has started, take your seats please. Today I want you to WINNN!!! MAKE IT HAPPEN KIDS!! Do winners ask questions Jared? NO! PUT YOUR HAND DOWN!"

Growing

Last week I was shooting free-throws on the outdoor court between the church and the ad building. I almost had to stop, because I suddenly felt that we only live once.

This week I got a message from home. There had been an accident, and my nephew almost died. Thankfully he's home now, recovering, living, growing.

When in Hong Kong...

... do as the Hong Kongers.

Stoping the sickness dead in my face. 

Clean and Unclean?

Meat is on the cutting edge at HKAC. In the past, the school posted a "NO MEATS" policy on campus. Students having their cup o' noodles thrown down in the cafeteria because of their fleshy/fishy content wasn't unheard of, even as recent as last year. Many students struggled with this policy. Those who couldn't find vege coup o' noodles (not sure if they exist in HK), or stomach cafe food, elected to fast until supper. Some of them even skipped breakfast, which meant their one and only meal was supper.  Granted, this isn't due to poverty, mostly lack of creativity, or laziness, still, a challenge.

This year, the ad com committee voted to quietly do away with the eleventh commandment (no meat), on the grounds that it's impossible to enforce.  Today in staff meeting, the 'decision' was communicated to the staff, creating a small uproar.

Dean of Students: "... so we have decided that we can't enforce the 'no meat' policy any longer." 
Low murmur
Staff 1: "What?!?"
Staff 2: "You mean we're allowing animal flesh here, on campus?"
Staff 3: "I don't know. What happens if someone brings pork inside the cafeteria? We're just supposed to let them eat it?"
Dean of Students: "Yep."

Tonight in the weight room, discussing carnivorism with another teacher, I told him about my discussion with Donni the night before.

Me: "Yeah man, rules about meat eating can be funny sometimes. Last night, Donni asked me if it was okay to eat horse, so I showed him Leviticus and had to explain to him that horses don't chew their cud..."
Luis: "Horses chew their cud."
Me: "What?"
Luis: "Yeah, man. They're just like a cow."
Me: "Noway. Are you sure?" 
Luis: "I'm sure. They're unclean because their hoofs aren't split."
Me: "That makes so much sense." 

Look! I don't even know why I eat what I eat. Am I then going to fault the local 'heathens' for having two grocery isles of cup o' noodles with a plethora of mystery meats? Or Donni for wanting to eat a horse? Or the local Adventists for having a "NO MEATS" policy?

Do pink dolphins like bubble tea?

__________

A joke I heard a few weeks ago, pertaining to the topic.

"How do you know Adam and Eve weren't Chinese?" ... "They would have eaten the snake." 

Which offers some interesting theological what ifs.

Clean and Unclean

Donni: "Teacher?"

Me: "Yeah?"

Donni: "The Bible says its okay to eat horse?"

Me: "No."

Donni: "But the horse and cow are same?"

Me: "Here, look." (pointing to Leviticus 11) "See, the animal must have split hooves and chew its cud."

Donni: "So we can eat horse?"

Me: "I don't think so." (google "Does a horse chew its cud?" ...)

The horse's (non-ruminant herbivore) gastrointestinal tract differs from that of cattle (ruminant). The horse's soft palate closes after it swallows food, trapping the food in the larynx. In addition, the horse has muscular contractions in the esophagus that only go in a downward direction. Unlike cattle, the horse cannot reverse the direction of esophageal contractions. The cardiac sphincter muscle closes tightly when food enters the stomach and does not release, trapping food in the stomach. Therefore, horses cannot regurgitate their food and chew it again like cattle can.

Donni: "So we can eat horse?"

Me: (... finishing reading) "No, a horse doesn't chew its cud."

Donni: "What is chew cud?"

Me: (I thought about laying it out, "Well Donni, the non-ruminent herbivore horse gastrointestinal tract differs from that of ruminant herbivore cow, you see? .... Instead I just opened my English-Chinese Ap and searched "chew cud.")

Donni: "Oh, I know, I know."

Light

God said,

“Let there be light.”

John said, 

the light became

bone and blood and 

settled on planet earth

Jesus said, 

“You are the light of the world.”

They say,

incandescents are 

10 percent light,

90 percent hot air

But they can be

thrown away

The crew beneath the Foot

In the 1990 film, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, there's a group of youth who work as an organized crime gang run by their Darth-Vader-wanna-be leader, "Shredder." The gang that was beneath the Foot –– less karate more petty crime. This crew was the regular country crop of juvenile delinquents, who likely grew up fertilized with neglect and no discipline resulting in emotional instability, anger management issues, poor relationship skills, a strong anti-authority disposition, and an addiction to cigarettes.  At the end of the movie, the group is discovered and disbanded by the humanoid fighting-turtle team, but I'm pretty sure a few escaped, moved to China, got rich, procreated, raised their kids in the same tradition, and then sent them to Hong Kong Adventist Academy.

Ask me what I'd give for four turtles, a backpack of plutonium, and a roll of duct tape...

A lot.

Peanut Butter Surprise

After the stir. 

It came to the point last year, at the West Whitman Estate, where I didn't bother picking the ants out of my cereal. They wore us down. Relentless. Alban actually declared Jihad during the first quarter, but we were too cheap to seek a permanent fix, and by spring I was used to the occasional sour-burst in my Raison Bran. I even started looking forward to it.

Joy jumped me after I opened the peanut butter jar and found that the ants had invaded.



I hesitated. (It was the last of my peanut butter. I was hungry.)



Grabbing my knife, I moved in to scoop-flank some of the dark-invaders, but they had claimed to much turf, so I decided mid move, like a frugal truck-stop diner, to stir and serve.

Gorilla As tea-time special: Peanut Butter Banana Ant-Sprinkle Sandwich. 

Quiet Heart

PHOTO: A city of trees in Hong Kong Park. 

My Sins

“I have long feared that my sins would return to visit me, 
and the cost is more than I can bear.”

I haven’t killed anyone, but I lived in a dorm once. While there, I made some decisions, decisions some people might even label: ‘POOR DECISIONS.’ But who didn’t, right? I mean, the world was different back then, window-screens weren’t locked as much and construction signs were a dime a dozen.  

In those days, when I was scheming, I didn’t always have my deans in mind. Well, I did in a sense –– where they’d be and how they might react if they caught me –– but I wasn’t as concerned with their well being –– how my actions might affect their emotional health, sleep cycles, and overall life expectancy.  

I hoped my sins were forgotten, but whether by some action/reaction law of nature, or by some sort of divine justice, I’m a dean now. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,I’MM SAW-HA-HA-HAR-REE-Y (sobs and kosher expletives).

Western Eats

Friends form Walla Walla, Lance Davis and Andrew Corson, came down from Guangzhou this weekend (Guangzhou is inMainland China, two hour train-sit from HK). We saw some stuff, did some stuff, yadayadayada. But one of our primary objectives was to seek and destroy some western eats.

The weekend menu included falafel (not really "western" but the middle east is further west than HK, sometimes), burritos (graded on a curve with the WW T-Wag I'd give them a C+), a Texan/Wild-West BBQ-like joint called Anthony's Ranch (the food and decorating were definitely Texany, but they were broadcasting a rugby match on the big screen), and Paisonos.

Paisonos is a pizza joint established Brooklyn expat. The slices are big, greasy, and cheap. Lance went for it. He went for it all the way. And he couldn't quite finish all of it.

This is a picture of Lance holding two pieces of pizza.

Hong Kong Philharmonic

A couple weekends ago, a few of us from the school went to the symphony. It was kind of like the Walla Walla Symphony, only different. 

Afterwards we took the Star Ferry across the harbor. 

The ones who used to sit

They came looking for 

me last night while 

I was traveling,

the ones who used to 

sit in my living space and 

breathe the same air as me

I saw them in familiar stations 

reading books under dim lamps

and cranking 

ice-cream on scarred linoleum

They sat in desaturated colors

on two long couches, speaking

in simple, unforced, conversation.

I don’t remember anything they said,

but they would smile when they spoke, 

even though they never 

looked up from what 

they were doing, busy.

The Hong Kongan Road

War is nothing like what happens on the roads of Hong Kong. Well, at least not compared to Honduras. Well, maybe Hong Kong is more like a British war, pre American Revolution, back when war was sport. I mean, I don’t know much about pre-American Revolution British war strategy, except what I’ve learned from Mel Gibson, BUT I DO KNOW THIS! People in England drive on the left side of the road, and so do people in Hong Kong –– one of the British Empire’s many gifts to this Chinese peninsula. And I don’t want to be culturally incentive or anything, but if you’re not driving on the right side of the road, what side are you driving on? Hm?

Traffic in Hang Hau, a suburb of Hong Kong.

Driving to the school from the airport, I was surprised with how civilized the traffic was. Roads weaved, bridged, and tunneled through densely populated hills and islands, still drivers respected lane markers, went a decent speed, and didn’t ride their horns.  

One thing did surprise me though, Hong Kong has some STINKING wealthy people, and luxury cars is commonplace. The road by the school leads to one of the few golf courses in HK and  it’s not uncommon to see Lamborghinis, Bentlys, and Masaratis rumble past. 

The intersection just outside the school gate. That's not a Lamborghini. 

They come on campus too. One Sunday, I came back from a grocery run in Hang Hau and the school driveway was lined with fully stacked Land Rovers. They looked ready for the Sahara, with water exhausts, and spare tires. (No, there is no need for a Land Rovers in HK). On another Sunday, the “Hong Kong Smart Car Club” had a meeting on campus. There were all different breeds of Smart Cars, some combining two of Hong Kong’s passions, cars and Crazy Birds.  

The Smart Car Club. Notice the second one with Crazy Birds on the hood.  

Mid-Autumn Festival

Lanterns at the church party.

A week and a half ago was the Chinese harvest festival. Since the Chinese calendar is lunar, this holiday always falls on a full moon. Several people shared with me different legends associated with this holiday. I don't think I got it all, but one was about a couple: a pretty lady and an intergalactic archer who had a neighbor with bad intentions. In the end the pretty lady drinks a special potion, becomes immortal, and then flies up to the moon. She's still there, and I could never find out what happened to her bow bending hubby. I'm not sure what that legend has to do with the festival, other than the fact that Chinese see a woman in the moon, and a rabbit –– still not sure how he got there.

Dorm Party in the gymnaz. Each lantern had a riddle under it. One was, "what animal starts walking with four legs, followed by two legs, and finally three?"

The festival has three main elements: family, lanterns, and moon cake. Family is celebrated with the full moon; just like the moon is complete, the family should be too on Mid-Autumn Festival –– maybe something like Thanksgiving. Besides family, everyone has lanterns. All different kinds of lanterns.

Toy Story and Angry Birds are traditional characters in Chinese mythology, older than the dragon. 

Another important part of Mid-Atumn Festival is moon cake. It's sort-of like fruit cake: it's a festive dish, it's cake-ish, and it's dense. There are some differences though: moon cake doesn't have any fruit, and people actually like it.  It comes in personal pan sizes, about the size of a horse shoe and a similar weight. The cake is made of a semi-sweet sesame seed paste with hardened goose-egg yokes inside. Oh, and another similarity to fruit cake, moon cakes are recycleable. If it doesn't get eaten on the first go around,  it can be stored in the pantry and gifted to someone next season.

I got to celebrate this holiday three times: a dorm party the week before, a church party on Saturday evening, and then downtown on the night of. There was a "Fire Dragon" dance in Victoria Park.

The Fire Dragon was a 100' weave filled with incense sticks. A string of people held it above their heads with poles and made it live. This is a picture of the head. 

The Hunger of a New Place

The stomach is a kind of travel barometer. The way your stomach is handling food can gauge the climate of your trip. Now, that’s not always true. One time, my stomach-meter was indicating that lighting could strike at any moment, but my trip was still going well. And thanks to the patchy english of a Jordanian pharmacist, things were back to normal in a couple of days. Another story I heard from Lance Davis involved a trip to Mongolia. Mongolia was apparently his favorite stop during his adventure, but it’s also the place where he had his worst food experience. It involved a yurt and some mystery meat; he actually spit the food out before it got to his stomach, and he spit it out in front of the cook on accident, but the point is he still remembers Mongolia favorably. So a bad digestion or bad food doesn't have to spoil a trip. Still, much of the time, if your stomach goes to pot, you’ll go to one too, a lot, and that affects your traveling.  

Another aspect of the traveling-stomach-barometer theory is this: not only does your stomach gauge a trip, it becomes more active when traveling, or when in a new place. There are so many new combinations and concoctions to try. Like walking a dog in a new park, the stomach has a lot to sniff out. The stomach is more active with a sense of adventure, but it's also more active with a sense of necessity. When the usual feeding grounds aren’t there, the stomach has to work harder to find food. When I moved to UCA, and then Sittner, and then the West Whitman Estate, I was hungry for the first few weeks at each place. It’s not that there isn’t enough food, it just takes some time to find what tastes good and comes at a good price. Last year in Walla Walla, I found that combination. My diet was Gorilla As®  smoothies, Alban’s granola, Jordan’s left overs, and the Taco Wagon.  (In Walla Walla one night, I shared one of my smoothies with Alban. It had fruit, soy milk, peanut butter, nuts, and it might have even had some chocolate syrup. He told me, "Oh man, this tastes like ... gorilla ... *poop." He then started referring to all my cooking as "Gorilla As," as in, as gorilla tasting as a gorilla would like.  And now I’m trademarking it: Gorilla As®. (Cody and David, make that official for me when you get a chance, class project or something.))

I’m still hunting for the magic combo of good taste and good price here in Hong Kong. The options are there. One of the local grocery stores, “Taste,” has all kinds of imports from Australia, New Zealand, USA, the UK, and other places. There are also “wet markets,” which have wet stuff like produce and meats and extra-terrestrial looking bits. Finding food in Hong Kong isn’t a problem, I even ran across a little store in the train station that sells Kirkland Signature nuts grains and other American pantry stockers. Unfortunately I haven’t found an Alban, Jordan, or a Taco Wagon, but don’t think I’ve given up.  

Until I find them, or a knockoff at the Temple Street night market, or if, worst case scenario, I don’t find either, Gorilla As® will find a way...

This little doozy I call, "The Tofu Sampler Surprise." Tribute to the Sampler himself. 

Act-shee-own!

The campus landscaping and old-school brick buildings are a rebellious haven in the Hong Kong Concrete-Skyscraper Empire. Underground rebels wielding cameras and big lights gather here on the weekends to take advantage of picturesque backgrounds.  Actually, one of the rebellion hideouts, the Jackie Chan Film Studios, is right next door. Here are some photos of one of their meetings.

Dragon Poem 1

I want to find a dragon’s tooth, 

a dragon’s tooth, 

a dragon’s tooth,

and put it in my room. 

I want to keep it there as proof,

there as proof, 

there as proof

and show it to my friends. 

“How will you find a dragon’s tooth,” 

a dragon’s tooth,

a dragon’s tooth,

you probably would ask. 

I’ll chase him with a donkey’s hoof,

a donkey’s hoof, 

a donkey’s hoof, 

and hit him in the mouth,

hoping that a dragon's tooth,

a dragon's tooth,

a dragon's tooth,

is all that will fly out. 

The Lay of the Land (Part ii)

The day before I flew to Hong Kong my family went to a Sze Chuan restaurant near Portland. The owner was from Canton province, just north of Hong Kong, and he told me I would have "no space" where I was going to live. He said, "Hong Kong is tiny and there are so many people." He was write about Hong Kong having a lot of people in a small area, but he was wrong about me not having much space.

This is my home. (Left: girls, Right: boys).

My apartment is on the ground floor. This is the view from my front door. It's the living room/family room/dinning room/yoga room. That window has a nice view of the vegetation.  

From the main room there is a hall going back to the other areas. That door on the right is another room I did not photograph. It's a bedroom, 12'x8'.

Kitchen.

Two in one, washer and dryer (though my clothes never come out dry) also in the kitchen. First door on the left. 

Toilet room. Second door on the left.

Other bed room. At the end of the hall.

Other bed room view two. 

The Lay of the Land (Part i)

A few photos of the school. The grounds at Hong Kong Adventist College/Academy (HKAC/HKAA) are stunning. It's not uncommon for movies, commercials, wedding photos, and things of the like, to be shot here on campus. I guess big green lawns and old brick buildings aren't that common in the city jungle of Hong Kong.

Map courtesy of the school's website.

The view just inside the black steel gate entrance. In the background is the HKAA Primary building.

A concrete road circles inside the campus. It's a nice exercise track, almost a quarter mile.

This is the primary school. Grades 1-6. Number 11 on the first map.

Directly behind the primary is the college building. It is also the administration building for the whole campus. Number 1 on the first map.

Another shot of the administration building, one of the few survivors, as far as buildings go, of WWII.

Behind the ad. building is the church. It's called the Bay View Church, and yes there's a view of the bay.  Number 3 on the first map.

A shot looking back at the ad. building. The soccer and basketball courts are number 2 on the first map. 

And here is the tennis/volleyball/badminton court. Not on the map.

Ode to Jon

We all saw it, but we never knew it ... until now. We saw him sit in an apple's glow, cuddled in the corner of that old cabin by the creek. The foundation was made of concrete and the walls had begun looking like stories. They were covered in letters, photographs and cd's, Tibetan prayer flags, hats and legends of the fall. In the half-light of a monitor, it was hard to tell where the wall ended and he started to talk in his sleep.

"IT'S NOT FINIshedrrr, till the WHOLE THING ISrrrr ... Runn ... (Snore/snort, exhale)".

He wasn't acting, he was real. Not that he couldn't act if he wanted to, we'd all seen it before. Give him a mic and a stage and he was more capable than a pirate with a beer and a buccaneer. His mom even told us to check his bed for booty. We didn't though, because we all knew what we'd find. And who cares about high-end lemonade bottles and Theraflu packets? He said they put him to sleep, we didn't say anything. We just watched him in the blue glow of his computer screen with his iPhone hanging from his mouth like a high-tech pop-tart.

"Jon, are you a vampire?"

We all thought it, but we never asked it. He probably would have answered,

"Are you a ... fingers ... phizers?"

...

"Of course I'm a vampire."


We all knew it, but we never saw it, until now. The computer wasn't glowing, his insides were.

Hong Kong International

By 7:00 Thursday morning I was standing in the immigration line at the Hong Kong International Airport. I was worried because I flew in on a one-way ticket without having my work visa fully processed. The flight clerk who checked me in back home was sure to warn me; "Hong Kong reserves the right to refuse entry to anyone without a return ticket or a visa." I was fairly confident I could use my words to wiggle into the country on a tourist visa, but I wasn't totally confidnet. (A tourist visa lasts 90 days, a work visa lasts for 12 months).

"I'm hoping to do some tourism and visit some friends in the New Territories."
"I'm going to see a few sights and spend some money in your beautiful country, sir."

I practiced answers in my head, sure they would ask, "What is the purpose of your visit to Hong Kong Mr. Poole?" I wanted to answer honestly but ambiguously, not telling them too much, but just enough to get in. And I had to do it without sounding like I was hiding something. (Flying El Al out of Israel changes the way you think of flying).

The line I was standing in looked like a spade coop, a fresh mix of fleshy tones. Pakistani families, Indians, Korean workers, Chinese businessmen, British, Australian students, Americans, all waiting to enter Hong Kong. A flat screen hung in a place where the line could watch. It was a feature about the airport, a man-made island on the coast of Lantou. When you run out of land in Hong Kong you just build on the sea.

"I'm coming to visit some friends at a local school."
"I don't have a return ticket because I'm not sure which way I'm leaving."

With only a few people in front of me I began to case the immigration officers. I hoped I might be called to one of the kinder looking ones, but they were all doing a good job at looking, well, like immigration officers.

"Next."

With only one family in head of me, things slowed down because, a Pakistani family got held up at one of the stations. I was thinking, "they must be traveling on a one-way ticket."

"Next."

I walk up to the station and slide my passport under the window. Fifteen seconds later ... she begins stamping my passport. "Welcome," she said, and that was it.

I'm in.

Dragons

The Mandarine Pine, a Chinese restaurant in Lewiston I used to visit, had the Chinese Zodiac on their disposable place-mats. My family used to argue about which animal is best, but there's really no point. The answer is so clear it's dangerous: the dragon.

I'm a dragon. That means I was born in the year of the dragon, and I am most compatible with monkeys and rats.

Next year is the year of the dragon. Since I'll be in Hong Kong for eight months, I'm going to try and catch one. This blog is set up to document my attempts.

I think my chances are good. In Hong Kong dragons don't live in computers, they live in the mountains. Dragons are so rampant there's even a building there, between the mountains and the water, with a dragon-door — a doggy-door for dragons. Apparently a local fung shui expert was consulted before the building was built; he said there was a dragon living in the mountains that came down and watered in the cove. In order to accommodate, they built a large whole in the center of the building so the dragon could drink and wash unhindered.

So now I know where to start looking.