Ode to the Old Sugar Factory Who Here Lies Dead

"If you're going to do something illegal, you might as well be smart about it, Right?" I said to Hans as we turned around in a gravel inlet by the Old Sugar Factory and headed back toward the street. He shrugged his shoulders and half agreed, but continued ahead without much thought. It was a lazy dreary Sunday afternoon and we'd decided to visit the factory one last time as we'd noticed most of it missing on a the drive by a couple minutes before. Strange to see what once was a vast factory laden with bricks and metal furnishings coming out its ears like a giant and ancient dog-eared book now just sort of missing...as if most of its pages had been suddenly ripped out leaving it naked and tattered. The factory I think has some special significance to Hans because he and is best friend had many adventures there, but also it was in a way the monument of the beginning of our relationship. In reality it was just the place where one hot June day we went to hang out and all the color drained from my face as the inevitable occurred and he expressed his feelings for me. I can't say either of us said anything memorable or intelligent that day...me least of all. Anyways, it was strange coming back to the place that now looked as different as we ourselves were different from the two people who walked the Sugar factory just five months before. I for one, was much less terrified, I had more color in my face and I didn't feel like running across the open field screaming "Get me out of this!" Instead of the place where the bulk of the building stood there was now a large slab of concrete bookended by two remnants of buildings, lots of wiry metal, scatterings of bricks and random factory looking objects. On the slab was a large frozen puddle that creaks and cracks when you step on it. Hans had a really good time with that. But, it was weird looking at a building with a floor sort of hanging out of a space like a blanket hanging out a window. We sort of just explored around the ruins of what used to be different looking ruins. The wrecking ball was surprisingly small compared to the vastness of the destruction and the space we had once wandered through like a maze. It was beautiful and fallen. We found the Men's room which was just a door sticking out of a wall two stories above us. We also found a monolith of sorts and resorted to our primitive primate state for a couple moments. We were suddenly incited to feelings of violence and hit the ground with sticks for a short time (if you haven't seen "Space Odyssey 2001" you won't get that joke).
But ape-like or not, here we were at the end of this era that had already ended a long time ago and was finally really dying. The factory had closed I think at least 70 years ago but still remained standing as a shelter for tagging and teenagers looking for a good time. But, something about that place sort of held our imagination in it's asbestos walls with wonderment. Seeing it made me feel more or less admonished, it held up for so long as an empty dangerous being hovering just out side of town but it never looked lonely, just well used. And, I thought, if this place could hold its emptiness for so long, our present lonely journey couldn't be that bad. I remember going into one room with these big steel vats and on the wall were these clocks and gauges that had stopped on their time and place so many years ago and had not moved since. At the time it felt like being in Star Trek and going boldly where no one had gone before... although people had gone there before.
We eventually climbed our way out of the ruins of what felt like an ancient city and I saw there on the ground, twisted and half gone, that same clock that used to hang in that big room there still lost in time. It was then that Hans said, "Good bye Sugar Factory we hardly knew you." And that was that, it felt like a eulogy of some sort and a saying good bye to an old era that we never really knew but effects us none the less. Someday perhaps, something new will be built there, a different factory perhaps, a day spa, a Golds Gym...ha not likely here on the Rez. But, I can dream can't I? Its strange to think of so much destruction paving the way for something fresh and new, but I guess that is one of those mysteries we'd like to know about so we search out places we're not supposed to go to like the Old Sugar Factory that here lies dead.

The Maddness of Thanx and Giving

Its kinda funny how the hardest thing for me to give up these days is my independence. But, when it comes down to it, alone or with others, my desire for self actualization is just one of those side quests that gets you distracted from the real journey. So, this last week I was sort of kicking myself for inviting my boyfriend to my Mom's for an early Turkey day, at my Uncle's house. I sort of tricked myself into it I think subconsciously, because I am weird enough to have one of those real voices of reason on one shoulder and the voice of dissension on the other. The the voice of reason wasn't speaking up, she must of got stuck in a locker or something by the other one. Anyways, I started to really get nervous, not about his feelings, or my Mom not liking him...they get along fine, but I was mostly feeling a little vulnerable at the thought of inviting someone else in to my crazy world of big family and the random quaint hippie-esk messy place I call home. The biggest "R" I was feeling wasn't regret, or relief, but regurgitation. Why the nervousness? What's the big deal? For some reason, Eugene-home has been an uncharacteristically hard place for me to be for some time now. I had always thought, if this or that improved things would be different...I was always looking around feeling this wave of regret, and sadness about my family, and all the while having an annoying impatience for my mom, mixed with lots of spiritual funk. I've realized for some time now my short fuse is not my mom's problem but mine. Still, I felt powerless to change.
So, having another observer in my little world didn't seem appealing to me at all. At the same time, inviting him along also felt like a needed stresser to ensue change. It is a five hour drive from where I live to my mom's house, and I sort of was avoiding myself, and the little ladies on my shoulders, most of the drive until a song sung by my Brother-in-Law came on my iPod. "Keep me alive, I'll never die, My soul sits and waits." The instant I heard his voice over the speakers sing those words my little heart stopped in its tracks and sang along. I touched down in that moment long enough to cry out to God, knowing my soul was waiting for a change of heart.
That night the change came, it was like a little room in my soul had been cleared out and a window created in just the right spot so I could sit inside and safely see out. Its sort of a longer tale, but the short version is after everyone went to bed, I prayed a bit and read some scripture. Hans(My Boyfriend) and I had just prayed for a girl we met who seemed in a dark place and I'd felt peace about that. As I sat there on the rocking chair in front of the hearth I'd played in front of and put many stockings on, my spirit was awake and not afraid, I wanted to fight for the good things I saw in my home instead of laying down under sadness and despair, being mad about the way things are now. Instead, I felt light and hopeful. Honestly, its hard to describe to you the difference I felt, but it has been a long time struggle between hoping and giving up on hope. The biggest sign to me that something in me was changing or shifting at least is that my attitude towards my mom had changed, I actually was being helpful and communicating semi-normally. Sometimes, letting someone else into our most vulnerable of places is a precursor for God being let in too. And that is something this year I feel Thanx and Giving about .

Cellofono blues

It was a week ago today, a friday, that I had a sort of negative revelation, I was beginning to feel trapped into service...cellphone service. Starting to question why exactly I was dreading talking to other people because i didn't want them to ask me to do anything for them...i was tired and grouchy, and well, at the end of some kind of rope. In moments like that, I think it best to stick with the negative feelings till better ones arrive. The trapped feelings came and went over the next week, and were magnified partly because I got sick, and still am a little.
Wed. came around and i woke up wanting to not get up at all, feeling tired heavey sick and with no ounce of energy to face my day of facilitating youth group without really my consent. The day had been thrown on me and again, the trapped feelings were rearing their ugly trapped heads. I said, "Lord, I have nothing to give to this day...so help, please." And there was this song that popped into the screen of my tired brain, almost like my subconscious was resuming even after waking. "Making miracles is hard work, most people give up before they happen, maybe that's something, maybe that's something more than nothing. You stretch out across a long table and without hesitation you say "I'm willing able."" It was that last line really got me, so what if i wasn't asked if I was willing to take over youth group for the night, if i was willing to give of myself, If I felt my job was a worth while task, then that was something more than nothing. The reality is that sometimes shit happens and sometimes all at once. But, I'd rather be cleaning up shit in the house of God than chillin' with the wicked. Not that playing games with youth kids is even close to as gross or unjoyable as cleaning feces. In fact youth group is mostly fun, and also dang hard work. Especially when the frozen turkey bowling goes crazy and the pins(pop bottles) decide to get broken on you. Its a long story. But, this is all to say, life is better when you give yourself to the good work instead of becoming Brenda Robot Duty girl. You can insert your name there if you'd like.

Harmony WHAT?

"The trees, the birds , the rivers and winds:
These had no choice but to follow the Way.
Man alone is given choice;
Man alone can follow or go his own way.
If he follows the Way, he will suffer with the pain of the world,
But He will find the Original Harmony.
If he follows his own way, he will suffer only with himself,
And within him will be chaos." (Christ the Eternal Tao, by Heirmonk Damscene)

So, it sort of sucks but I totally relate with the second scenario a lot more than I do with the first one. Dammit! This morning I woke up to a sound, it wasn't birds chirping, or rain hitting my roof, it was that dreaded sound...my cell phone. I ignored it hoping it would somehow go away, then fifteen minutes later there the sound was again. It was times like that in which I'd like to be able to make things explode with my mind powers...but unfortunately that only happens in "Heroes". For some reason the ringing this morning made me feel very trapped and angry, and within me was chaos.
I got up finally and turned off my cell phone and then slept uneasily for an hour or so dreaming of bugs (that was gross). The rest of the morning I tried to sit silently and pray, but still chaos reigned in my heart. At some point I began to realize this wasn't going to change by itself, but still I felt helpless.
My roomate/mentoree/friend and I had a meeting though, a meeting a felt equally unequipped for. But, I did one thing right and that was pray to begin. I'm not totally sure what happened after that, but in my giving of myself and time to another person I felt the Holy Spirit come and inside me i felt good again. Then it wasn't about my abilities or preparedness, but about the Everlasting God doing his thing and I wasn't as worried sick after that.
Most of the time I don't know what it means to follow "the Way"(Yeshua) and not my own way, but I think it has something to do with trust and love, something to do with giving and caring, something to do with good things happening in unexpected places. For me specifically, it has something to do with giving up my tendency to only see myself and what I can do and asking for help whether I think I need it or not.

When She Believes

In addition to being the title of a great song by Ben Harper, "when she believes" is the theme of this entry. Perhaps it is because it is so difficult to really believe, to against practicality and rational knowledge face life with undeterred belief that this phrase has captured me. I've recently been reminded to read Song of Songs by a friend. At first I was a bit thrown off to be told to read such a book from the bible. I can barely understand most of the book to tell you the truth. But, I thought i'd give it a try so I read the first two chapters today and the thing that caught my attention was one phrase. The Beloved says to the Shulamite girl that her eyes are a doves eyes. I recalled someone telling me that this was symbolic because doves mate for life, they only have one partner their entire existence. So to say someone has eyes like a dove is to say that they are only looking at one person, their vision isn't double or double minded, it is singularly focused. I had to sort of catch myself as i realized that this sort of devotion is not a strong point of mine. Its difficult to invest my heart in one place with certiantly or with the kind of devotion that says- "I am sick with love". In fact I kind of abhor this sort of thing, even if i admire it in others, I find "sick with love" undesirable. If only because it scares the living daylights out of me. Maybe its that thinking about being consumed by love or by anything is not that attractive when i really thing about it. But, You know what, I really want to be free enough to be blinded by love for God's sake. Is that weird or what? It's not the love part that is as attractive as the devotion, and the freedom to be out of sorts if the occasion presented itself.
When I was in Hong Kong I watched some weird TV special about this girl who grew up playing the violin well (surprise, every Chinese parent's dream). But she said one thing that struck me as well, "Every one should take the time to love at least one thing." That kinda makes sense doesn't it? Ok not a direct quote but she said something a long the lines of that. So anyways hurray for Song of Songs.

The Mid-Autumn Festival

Just before I left Hong Kong, there were these decorations that started to appear everywhere, a rabbit, some pink flowers, and lots of lanterns hanging about. I thought it felt exciting new, like seeing a Christmas tree for the first time, but to most people I'm sure it felt mundane the way we feel when you see turkeys every November. Tonight I was riding home from youth group a couple hours early, because I'm feeling a little under the weather, and I saw the reason for all the mid-autumn festival decorations, the huge moon above the horizon and the rabbit staring out at me. All of a sudden while humming down the dusty back roads of the reservation I was also in the bustling cramped city streets asking my cousin why there were rabbits everywhere. I was also thinking of all the kids in youth group, back there listening to today's lesson from Corey and I prayed they'd listen and have fun. The next few weeks it will be my turn and I thought as I often do, of what I'll say. But, more than what I hope to say, I really want to hope in the message I give, I want to give it with heart and spirit. The first talk I'll give is about getting free from "the hook" of temptation. As I felt the sun falling behind me and the moon was round in front of me, I felt a jump in my heart, a hope that we would be free from our junk. Somehow remembering that rabbit and the decorations in Hong Kong helped me fill up with something good, and it wasn't just nostalgia. Its just that Hong Kong often reminds me of how broken and scared I am, and at the same time how drastically and abundantly loved I am at the same time. Its a crazy world isn't it? A world with words like wurm and cacophony.

Back on Home Soil

When I first arrived back in the states, everyone seemed big and loud, I felt there was all the sudden and excess of space and an absence of noise. Waking up that first day in my little apartment in Toppenish Washington, I laid in my bed listening to the still late morning it was wonderful and disorienting. It took me a couple days to get back on my feet, and i must say returning home is much easier than arriving in a new world. It has suprised me how easily i can slip back into my normal way of speaking, living and doing. Still, I have changed and its hard to see how at times. I don't feel especially brave or learned, but there is a subtle change in my soul and way. Perhaps I've just grown up every so slightly.
Now that I've been back almost two weeks, I've been dreaming of Hong Kong. I had a dream that I was there and I was about to leave. So I took a walk with someone about the city one last time. The city was old and cobblestoned, very unlike the real Hong Kong, it was so beautiful and nostalgic that I cried and cried in the dream. I woke up feeling sad. But, I've returned to my little desert in the dry wilderness and am waiting and walking along. Hong Kong was like my Mt. Horeb, the place where the Israelites traveled to, to remember what Yehova spoke to their ancestors, a place they went to find Him themselves. And, indeed I did, I told a friend recently that one of the things I learned in Hong Kong was that I actually believe in God. This is because I met him there, and its good to know he really is omnipotent and present in all places.
Yakama is much as I left it, although the landscape of my life has changed and is continueing to change. In general I don't feel much prepared for my life, or for challenges ahead. Its kind of scary. Sometimes, in my moments of doubt I wonder if I should just go home and choose and easier life, one that others understand, a job that pays more and requires less of me. But, then God reminds me that I can trust Him, and that even if I am scared without the answers, he will still provide for me if I ask. His love is real, and so is He. It is good to be back on my home soil.

Two Days left ando9 I've skipped a lot

The last few days have felt like a whirlwind, there is so much I'm experiencing in such a short amount of time. Looking my last at certian places I just want to take it all in and make lots of memories that will last. Today I rode my last time on the Kowloon MTR line, the green one. And I like this ride a lot because the subway lifts its head out of the dark for about five or six stops so you can see the buildings and scenery around. There are more mountians and places not developed on the Kowloon side, in general there is much more space because...obviously its on the mainland and not part of Hong Kong isalnd. Kowloon is basically the city across the bay from Hong Kong and is part of Hong Kong's Specail Administrative Region in China. The SAR extends even further into what is called the New Territories as well. I like looking out and seeing all the buildings some look shabby on the outside, like they are just slowly curroding, there are even ones with big green plants sprouting out of their cracks. In most windows there is laundry hanging. There are always lots of billboards and advertisments too, this I find semi annoying but it ads to the artistic qualities of the city in a way, some of them are quite creative. I also finished my last class today, "American Slang". It was fun actually, and then made my way down ShawKeiWan road for the last time I'm sure for at least a couple years. I've gotten used to all the sights of that road that I walk Monday thru Friday, all the same shops and hawkers, the trollies humming and clanking down the middle of the road, and the traffic zooming by. I went to a baker I've grown to like, and got some dan taut (egg tarts) and bo lo bow (pinapple bun) and a mango juice box...all for eight HK dollars...which equals about a dollar US. I will miss the bakeries and the yum cha (dim sum) and the very yummy japanese desserts. There is a little store on the corner where my office building is, two of my student's parents own this shop full of household items. I'll miss everything cramped together, the dingy alleys and hidden black market shops. If it's possible even, I'll miss the nasty smells that at first were so poignant but now quite muted actually. Unless of course, I walk by a Chinese medicine cafe...then I always wrinkle my nose...those herbal chinese drinks, although very good for you, smell and taste horrible. It is sort of a saying I think that the worse a medicine tastes the better it is for you. I've been running around saying my good byes and having last dinners, giving and recieving gifts. Mostly, trying to say thank you and show gratitude to all the ppl who have made my stay wonderful and who have given me lots of care. Maybe its a Chinese thing, but there is sort of an idea that you are indebted to the older ppl that take care of you, and if you don't give something in return some balance is out of wack. I didn't realize I think that way until now, but I actually do. When its unhealthy I think ppl just try to save face and not look bad, when it's healthy ppl genuinly want to show gratitude and give to others. Hopefully I fall into the latter category, but honestly sometimes its a thin line.
My students at the kindergarden are precious, I'll miss their little faces giggling at me and looking up with such fresh curiosity. At the Shun On Kindergarden, I feel like a celebrety of sorts. Most of my time is spent looking nice and greeting kids and parents as they drop of their little bundles of joy. Most kids come in and the outgoing ones say Jo sun (good morning) to everyone: the cleaning/cooking ladies, the secretaries, the teachers, the principal, my grandma (the owner), me (Miss Brenda) etc. You sort of nod your head to everyone and bow a little, but not like in Japan where you really bow. its more like a nod, but the kids bow sometimes and so does Pau Pau (grandma). There is one little boy who comes in every day crying for his mom, and usually he doesn't stop for a while, its comical. Pau pau is soo cute, she touches the little kids faces and makes them say "Good morning Miss Brenda" to me or " Good morning Missy" or " Missy Jo Sun". When I shake their hands or look at the kids, they sort of squeal or laugh, and get really excited. Lots of times I'll walk down the hall and a little girl or boy will just yell "Good morning miss Brenda" or just "Miss Brenda" and then wave. How cute are they? HOnestly I don't do much in class accept read cards and get them to point at objects and say their english name. We sing songs and do little hand motions, its quite fun actually. They asked me to stay the whole year, but that seems a little much. I don't know how I'd do that at this point, although I do feel I'm just getting used to life here and wouldn't mind staying longer. I'm not frightend of HK anymore, and I feel more like an HK person these days accept that in general I'll nevery quite fit in which is a strange thing to know. But, I don't feel sad or bad about that, it is just the way things are in HK and in the US too, no chinese born person will ever feel totally accepted as an American because their look, same with me.
I do want to come back, but this expereince feels like a once in a lifetime thing, at least the living here for two months part. I may never get that chance again. And it has been a dream fulfilled, although I don't know what all the fruit of this expereince will be. Its like two years ago during the winder time, sitting in my apartment in Toppenish I prayed and asked God if it was possible for me to come here that he would make a way, and well he has. Its harder for ppl in HK to come visit me and that makes me sad, stupid exchange rate!!! The ticket alone to the US, is some HK ppl's months wage and its also my months wage around a thousand US dollars. This feels like a stream of lots of thoughts..and it is. But, that is the reality of me at the moment. Soon I'll be plunging back into my life in the US, and hopefully I'll take it easy so I don't get too stressed and forget all I've learned over the summer about taking time for solitude and the presence of God. When I'm not boxed in like i am here, sometimes I just run all over the place like a chicken with its head cut off. But, I hope i won't do that. I hope I'll be trusting and not get caught up again in all my strivings.
I skipped a lot of events, including the second part of my trip to China and a butt load of other stuff, perhaps I will catch up on some of that stuff later. For now bu bye.

Macau: Where have all the Taxis gone

This is a two installment entry because I took a little trip across the bay to Macau and then crossed the border from there into China. The Macau part is called "Where have all the Dicsees (Taxis) gone" because that was the main theme of our experience expecially on the first day. For some reason the small Island of Macau is home to 400,000 thousand people, a small number compared to HK's 7 mil. This formere Porteguese colony is like HK's euro-latin cousin. It seems that Macau is made up mostly of blue collar workers and has resently begun to import professionals and investors from overseas. Including American investors who have begun to build enourmous casinos that attract an influx of tourists from Hong Kong, China and all over the world. What this has meant for the local people, is that most young people try to work at the casinos because they pay the most money, leaving the local establisments at a loss. This perhaps is not that unlike the situations in Reservations where young people can usually only get jobs at the Casino or none. The investment in tourist industries has also meant that there is a sort of jetlag in the accomidation of transportation to meet the teeming swarms of visitors who have no idea where they are. This is why, a group of Hong Kong natives got lost in Macau, who are perhaps so used to a Taxi on every street corner and buses to everywhere. We spent most of the first day getting lost, but we found, after asking many strangers, a bus to a little shopping street. It was on one of the islands of Macau called Taipa, a portugese word that I think means "boy street" or something to do with a boy because the chinese character was boy on the sign. We ate at this littel portugese resturant...but I didn't eat anything but rolls. I had gastrocitis or something...honestly don't ask me what it means the doctor said that word and I asked, what does that mean. After five minutes of my cousin trying to tell me what it meant, I still was at a loss. Something to do with bad food and grease and my intestines. Anyways the cure is no eating anything but plain foods for two to three days. Unfortunately those three days were spent in Macau and Zhong San. I liked the euro-latin mix with chinese feel, it was fun to hear latin music and see chinese people. There are amazingly cute buidings, it really felt like Europe in some places, although I've never really been there.
After eating we went to the down town central square, which was gorgeous in the evening, with all the lights. All the streets were cobbled and many were black and white cobbles. The buildings were sweet. I took many pictures. There are these really old churches, that have huge flat colomed fronts with amazing doors. One had a yellow outside and green doors. Everthing looked like something out of a movie to me, with coulpes and old ladies sitting on the steps of beautiful buildings. We went up to see the ruins of an old church that had burnt down just leaving the front slab which is held up by steel bars. It is called "the ruins of St. Augustine's Church" I think. My little cousins and their friend Jordon, who is one of my students, bought some sparklers and we lit them by the ruins. I felt like a little kid, I haven't played with a sparkler since... I was 15 or something. It was fun to play. But, I was ever reminded that I'm usually thrown in with the kids even though I'm not. When I'm with family here everyone treats me like a BB...that is how they pronounce "Baby". After a while it gets sort of wearisome, although i'm grateful its nice to sometimes feel you can give something and are responsible enough to feed, clothe and wash yourself. Or maybe I just like being capable.
After that, yes we had a late night, we tried to find our way home and got lost again. but, this time it was kind of fun, it started to rain. And again, this was a down pour. the city was even prettier in the rain, with all the streets and signs blurred and glossy. With the rain making puddles and reflections coming down all over our maps and heads. Macau that evening was one of my favorite times on the trip, especially when it rained. We found sanctuary in a Casino and on the side of the casino. It took us over an hour to get to the house we stayed at, we were tired and foot sore, I was cranky. But, it was a good long day afterall.

ChrisDean

My big sis, just started a blog of her own, and her's is cooler looking than mine...Dang. Oh well, I might have to admit that Dean(Christine) has better taste in general than I do. I've been thinking of my big sis lately because she's just moved to San Mateo, California which has been a subject that I've thought much about here in HK. We each, deal with the distance in different ways, but we actually don't talk about it much with each other. Possibly because we know exactly what the other is really thinking, but not saying. This confirmed by our blogs, probably. Hehe. She, is shocked that I cannot follow here there, and I equally am stalled by the reality.
My Grandmother Leola, my mum's mum, once told me that she had always dreamed that her children would not just be siblings but that they'd actually be friends. Grandma reminds me a lot of Christine, some of her qualities skipped my mum like a river rock and hit Dean on the head. Not that my mum is not like either of them. I am not sure what it is, maybe just the mannerisms, and faith, maybe both of them are quiet firey women, who you can build things around because they will almost always be steady and tell you the truth. At the same time, you never want to dissapoint them, because they are matriarchs. My sister, being a pre-matriarch as she doesn't have kids yet. I realized a while back that my Dean is a rare lily. Gentle and kind as a kitten, sometimes overlooked, but a scary angry cat when she's cranky, or when protecting people she loves. Ha, I think Clint (her husband) likened her to a cat when I asked him about it for a game I did at her bridal shower.
Right now, it feels as if we both are being pushed to let each other go in some way. Being pushed out of the comfort of the companionship we've enjoyed for the last 24 years. No matter where we went, whether with mum, or dad, we were together. Even when she lived in Seattle and I in Yakama, we usually visited family together when we went. But, now it'll be me in the NW and her and the rest of my siblings in SoCal. Like my brother said, I guess we will see if we follow God's will together, although we are apart. He also said that he thinks we are given certian times to be with certian people. And it seems that that is true too. We don't know where the wind is going, or where it comes from, it moves on its own. So this is for my Dean, perhaps it is hard because God is distracting us while he grows something beautiful and precious in our midsts.

Snap Shots of a Rainy Sunday

Snap Shots of a Sunday
I.
I grab my over full purse and little plastic bag, that has been warped a little by my heavy Chinese-English bible, quickly slough of my yellow slippers, and open a big wooden door that leads out into a small hallway. Reaching into the cupboard I pick out my white converse shoes and throw them unceremoniously into the hallway closing the door behind me. I feel the outside of my bag to make sure I have the door key safely tucked in the outer pocket. Opposite me is another door with a metal gate over it, and I hear the piano playing a familiar classical tune as I push the lift button and rush to put on my shoes. The lift arrives with a little ding and the sound of the doors muffling open and closed, I breath a little taking in my reflection and then wincing…unfortunately I didn’t wake up as a supermodel today. Then I realize I didn’t want to be one anyways, I like being scruffy…yes that’s right who wants to be on a subway wall for goodness sake.

The doorman says jo sun and so do I, then off I go crossing the car garage to the main lobby elevator into the main lobby, saying hello to the other doorman, crossing the street and loading onto the yellow and green 14M shuttle bus that takes me wricketing down the hill to Yun Ping Road.

II.
Waiting on the corner of Yun Ping Road where I usually meet my cousin Anna to taxi pool to church, swing my hands impatiently. It is over cast and about 25 degrees celcius; the humidity is starting to make me sticky, but not enough to fog my glasses when I step outside. I give her a call and get her voicemail that speaks to me happily in Cantonese. I think she’s sleeping, drat. Five minutes later when I’m shopping around a nearby department store, Anna calls to say she’s woken up late and I’ll have to grab a taxi myself. Yikes. Never done that before.

I climb the escalator back to the street and find a nearby taxi stand, as I cross the street I can’t recall if Anna said to tell the driver, CRC, or CFC. I phone her again and she helps me memorize the name in Chinese. It stays in my head long enough to tell the driver, who nods and says, “Ho ah.” Yes!! Taxis are never smooth, but this guy is honking at every person who looks at him slyly. He calls at least three other taxi drivers, Chee-sheen (crazy!!), and then to a man pushing a full cart uphill he yells to in Chinese, “Hey you, run faster!” He looks over at me and talks in Chinese, I nod and say ho ah even though I’m not sure what he said and I hand him the 15 HK dollars saying m goi sai (thank you). I survived the taxi experience, it’s starting to rain big droplets and I cross the busy street playing chicken with the oncoming traffic.

III.
Greeted by a tall thin glass door and a man at the door I’ve never seen before says to me in a thick accent, “good morning,” I arrive to church fifteen minutes early. Paul, a regular attendee, introduces me to the doorman as “Sampson, our missionary.” Sampson tells me he just returned from Seattle, WA, and I ask what he was doing there. He replies that he’ll try to explain although his English is poor. Sampson is very kind and explains that he was trying to apply for a visa to immigrate to US. His daughter needs some better doctor care, but he feels nervous about his chances of making it over there. He has a high school education, he worked, and his family was poor. Three daughters, two of them twins, but he trusts even if it is impossible God will make a way.
Sampson invites me to go to China if I have a burden to share the gospel. Every Sunday he goes to church here and then goes to a bordering city in china to an underground church to preach. They are laborers too, who find it hard in the city, they are open and need more long term care. I feel elated to hear such news, to hear of people who live on the graces of God, and who risk imprisonment or “monkey business.” Sampson says police will make you pay them off if you are caught having an underground church meeting, this is “monkey business,” he says. Its nice to have a conversation with a missionary, Sampson has faith in his manner; I can see why people become Christians around him.

VI.
It is cold in the little restaurant, the narrow room that falls back from the road. But, Anna puts a colorful turquoise shall around the both of us. Her hands look so tiny… come to think of it…she’s so tiny. All 15 or so of us crowd on stools around three tables. We cannot put out our elbows, but people chat animatedly. I am not feeling socialable, not sure why. I want to talk around and be my silly self, its sort of hard to do that. I eat as much as I can, but my stomach starts to turn a little. Anna asks me what I want to drink, and even though I don’t really want anything I say ling cha (lemon tea). The tea makes my stomach feel worse. I like that six of us at the table are part of my family in one way or another, either by direct cousinhood, or by marriage or girlfriend status. Anna pays the bill and we all calculate how much we need to give her in our heads or on cell phones.

V.

There is an extra ticket to go to a worship concert, I am not sure if I will be able to understand any of it. But, my cousin Rita invites me, so I go. Until that point I was wondering if its better if I go home, I’m not feeling too hot and sort of being mopey. For some reason I say yes anyways. Rita is ecstatic; this is her husband’s favorite thing to do in the world. She joggles my head a little after I tell her she should stay in HK because in the states she’d feel like a midget. Still, I have to bend over in order for her to reach my head.

The concert is a group of ABCs (American Born Chinese) who are originally from Taiwan. They sing and write their own music, there are lots of Christians here who like them. We get there, and the place is swarming. On the stage is a band full of young stylish Chinese people, to the left an enormous choir, and filled in the front are about six lead singers jumping around and singing worship songs. Thankfully there is English translation on the screen for the song words. Sometimes I try in Mandarin when I get tired of trying that I sing in English. Sometimes I say nothing and just take in everything. It’s nice but overwhelming. A violin starts to play and I woman takes to lead mic. She says in English something about God exchanging our bad things for his good things: our sadness for joy, our anger for patience, and our loneliness for comfort. I feel loneliness well inside of me mixed with fear and uncertainty, I want an exchange, I want good things, and I ask for them. Next to me, my cousin Anna is crying too, she’s crying more than me and keeps crying. A couple times she doesn’t catch my eye, I don’t want to embarrass her so I don’t say anything. It is still raining outside when it ends and we walk back into it and off to some afternoon tea.

VI.
It is near seven o’clock when Anna and I arrive at her flat. In the doorway I sigh a big sigh. Anna goes to freshen up her face before dinner and I slump down on the sofa and lean my head back feeling very tired. I hear lots of washing sounds and open my eyes when some piano music comes on. At first, I think its Anna playing her piano that’s been covered in little things over time, but then I realize it’s a CD. The music fills me up a little as dusk starts to suck the light from the room down over the street, and the football fields, the skyscrapers, the ocean and starts to disappear, melting over the horizon. I want to ask Anna about today, but I can’t find an un-intrusive way to do it. Then she appears around the corner with a little shower cap covering the top part of her hair. “I don’t know if you could catch it, but Sampson said some things after the sermon. He said he was glad to see me going to the church because he’d been praying for me for a while to start coming regularly. Actually, I have been hesitating to go to this church for about a month.” She goes on to tell why she wasn’t sure about going, but that she had actually started joining the church on Sunday because of me at first. I ask her, not sure what to say rubbing my head on my arm tiredly, if she is glad she’s going now. She says, “Yes, I am glad you are here,” and disappears again around the corner to do some more freshening. It starts to smell clean and purfumey. I listen again to the music and smile to myself searching out the now darkened window. A couple of my tears fall down onto my lap but I slop them off with my hand. The sad Brenda has disappeared as thankfulness overcomes me. Its nice to know my coming to HK, was a small stone on a scale for Anna, the one that tipped it so it touched down and stayed. This is definitely a miracle, and more gracious than humanly possible. I have no need to ask about her teary day.

VII.
The mini bus shakes as it climbs back up the hill to Uncle Tony’s where dinner and family are waiting. The night sky his hidden by the clouds, but the city lights blink at me like little diamonds as I walk a little ways from the bus stop to the main lobby, back over the car-park, into building J, up the lift to the 25th floor, take off my white converse and step back in through the big wooden door, just in time for 7:30 dinner with the Chung family, some silly conversation and a football game.

Super Naughty Fat Boy

Today I got to go to the country side of HK to see my cousin Rita's place. I really liked it, you know me, I like the country and scenery stuff. It took maybe an hour to get there and the crew of younger cousins joined us, Billy, Vivien, Eric, Anna and I. By younger what I really mean is under fourty, because well most of them are my seniors by no less than ten years. Although I think ages are different in HK, these days people don't get married until maybe thirty or late twenties because of money I think. Its so expensive to by a house. Ok, so we went there and the streets are all bumpy and narrow. There are tropical trees on every side, with big ole leaves an such. And then we parked on the side of the "road", and a foot or so away is this little drop off into the tropicl forest or what not. It was wicked. Eric tried to convince me that it would be safe to jump down, but I thought I'd not try my luck. There wer also actual house looking houses. Most houses in HK are more like what we would call apartments really, but you buy them like condos. They were still in apartment form, close together, however there was little yards and the like and in general more space. Rita and Justin have a quaint little house that is pretty antique style inside.
We also met their sons, whose names elude me at the moment...but actually they are cats. One is knicknamed "super naughty fat boy", he is quite frisky although he is ho fei, that is very fat. And it was hilarious because Vivien is very afraid of cats and kept hiding behind Billy and squeeking every time one walked within a three foot radius of her. It was wierd the cats are sort of like dogs, and they sort of obey and sit...stuff like that.
I had a good time, just clowning around and hanging out, although they have a habit of talking in chinese so fastly and I can't understand very much anyways. Eric I think got so bored he fell asleep on the couch. The evening was fun for me, the busted out the piano and Rita and I sand some worship songs together, that was my favorite part. That part felt like home. Justin busted out his old out of tune guitar, which I tuned but it still sounded like a dying cat. I miss playing my guitar ah. Anna and Rita play the piano, but Anna totally busted out with these complicated memorized peices of piano music. I knew most of them because my eldest sister Vivian used to play them all the time. Wah, it was very impressive. Listening to her play felt like I was back in Portland sitting on our old couch and being a little kid with glasses half the size of her face.
Then they took me out for some dinner and the food was delicious, as usual, and I stuffed my face, as usual, and felt like a cow afterwards, as usual. Sometimes is difficult not knowing how to communicate or understand what people are saying. I found myself sort of fading into the noise of people slurping soup, and the sound of the AC, people's chopsticks clanking against the bowls and the general clamour of people laughing and talking in cantonese. I wanted to make a rule that they can only speak english for like ten minutes so I could feel more a part of what was going on...but then I'd feel sort of like I was in my classroom. At the same time, I felt very cared for, at least in the way they express it. I felt honored because all of this getting together and driving around and eating was for me. It was a treat designed to let me see more of HK, a treat of which I am most thankful. I'm glad I'm getting around to understanding that if I asked they would have abliged me, which is a comforting thought.

Typhoon Warning

So, I'd like to let you all know, that I hate touristy places. I've discovered this after because I went to the Avenue of the Stars yesterday, which is in Kowloon and its a street thingy on the bay that has star's hand prints and stuff. It was actually quite beautiful and I took some great shots, but there were these speakers everywhere that were playing horribly cheesy music. Yuck, and that was annoying, also, I wasn't smart enough to eat before I got there so...I grabbed some food. Just let me warn you, never eat at a touristy place because its overpriced and tastes like bogies. Literally. Now, just plan ahead and pack a lunch or get food at a real local joint. Actually, it was quite enjoyable I"m just over dramatizing the bad parts. Though it was a bit overwhelming with the music and the nasty food. On another note, there is grass in Hong Kong, dispite popular belief. i went to Kowloon park and found a little grassy place to sit on a bench...but there was a catch. it was dark but lit by street lights and I was sitting quietly sort of singing to myself and out of nowhere a rat ran infront of me and underneath my bench. He sort of scurried into some bushes, but later came out again which freaked me out a little. I kid you not, the little guy came within a foot of me. That was sort of strange, so I left after the second appearance. I guess he liked my singing or something.

Teaching has been much more of a joy this week, although I've been busy. I am getting to know my students better and how to handle them. This week I"m doing some lessons on American Slang, which is a fun topic for all of us. Plus, I'm teaching them how to play games like BS, you know the card came. They really enjoy that.

My cousin Eric, however, thinks that I won't have to go to work tomorrow because there is a Typhoon warning. I think a level one warning means that its not a bit deal, but he contests that if it gets to eight, we have no work. I asked him if we're going to die, he said, "You might, but i know I'm going to live." don't worry, its all a joke. For those of you worrying about my safety now, I really am quite safe. I am told Typhoon warnings occur in HK this time of year about five times a summer. I'll let you know if anything drastic happens.

Thanks Jack Johnson/ Lightning and Thunder

Late last night, as I was returning home from a wonderful meal with my aunt, uncle and three cousins, my ears were greeted with a delightful and familiar noise. My cousin Rita, who is so short she needs to put the car seat all the way to the front, drove me home last night with her usually bubbly candor, and to my delight Jack Johnson’s voice meet me on the road home. Somehow I thought that when I came to Hong Kong, I would just soak up the place like a sponge... I didn't know I would miss familiar sounds or voices. And it is strange, but I didn't want the car ride to end, riding through the windy roads watching the lights of the city and listening to Jack Johnson's scratchy acoustic sound was worlds together in my heart. Delightful. After which I went on a short stroll in the night air, which was balmy yet cool. It's been raining on and off for the last couple days and I'm told this is normal Hong Kong weather. It’s actually been one of the hottest summers in recollection for most native Hong Kong people. The rain is a welcomed treat, although I thought I knew the meaning of a downpour, being from Eugene. However, I've experienced a nuance of the word; it is more like torrential down pour here. In a moment you can get stuck in the rain and even with an umbrella, it is like someone poured a bucket of water on you. I realized this after I was on the bus and at first there were speckles on the window, then streams, then there was just water flowing down like a fountain. When I got back to Uncle Tony's flat, I shuffled off to bed, but I couldn't sleep for a long while due to the periodic flashes of lightning that overthrew my room. A flash would light the sky, then I would count…one...two...and a sound like God clapping his wet hands together unleashed rain and thunder. The thunder was unlike any I've experienced in my life, it was like the entire world was roaring from a deep pitted throat unleashing its wrathful noise. It was a bit scary. Especially when, at one point, there was no time to count to one between the flash and the clap and thunder. It was strange to look out of my window on the 25th floor at night and be surrounded by a grey cloud.

On another note, I've finally accomplished some touristy things. On Saturday, I went to Central Pier and took some pictures. There are many foreigners there, all speaking languages like French, Hindu, Tagalog, etc. I didn't feel as strange taking pictures, but it certainly felt touristy because it was not that crowded and it was pretty pristine. There were lots of cute old Chinese men fishing and sitting around the Pier though, and it was fun to watch them. There was actually a street guy playing a Chinese violin and a mouth harp thingy, and he was playing this song I used to know as a kid called “Red River Valley.” It seemed like such an inappropriate song for Hong Kong, but it was interesting nonetheless. The song is this old west country song. Anyways I took a little video clip of it because it made me laugh.

Little Diner

My days lately have been pretty full of classes, and preparing classes. But, it is really nice to have a set time for work and a set time for play. After work, the day sort of slips off your shoulders and lands back on the next day. Its actually been sort of a stressful week, mostly because there are lots of classes to teach and little monsters to attempt to control. My favorite part of my work day, besides the cute little monsters, is eating lunch. Anna EE, took me down to this little Diner very close to our work building. It is a very narrow, long room, when you first enter there is what looks like a kitchen on the right and the cash register on the left. The seats are brown, and there are drawers on the sides of the tabels which are full of utensils and napkins. In Hong Kong, many people eat lunch alone on their work break, and there isn't much room, so you usually sit across and next to people you don't know. It took me some time getting used to this concept. But, really after a while it doesn't seem strange, or like someone is in your space. Today I went down to the diner on my own, and although I couldn't read the menue I knew what I wanted. Some wonton mein and some dong lei cha, Wonton and egg noodles, and cold milk tea. It was a very scrumptious meal, and it felt good to be able to order my food, although that's about all know how to order. Sitting there in the little diner, I didn't feel lonely or out of place, but like for a while at least, I was part of the fabric of Hong Kong. Everything here seems to move like water down a stream. The constant flow of people who weave in and out of each other's way, and dodge buses, trams, carts and street cleaners, the constant flow of feet beating down the pavement and the incessant humm of voices pulsing through the dewy air. It is a wonder we don't all go crazy for some silence, but as i said before, I think there is a different kind of silence here if you can come by it. The closest I've found to silence was when it rained one night. I was in my room and happened to hear something soft beating the window. I looked and there was rain falling down, it was making little craters on the pavement below. The air felt a bit cooler and the water seemed to drown out everything else.

Living and Dying

Where should I start? Well, today began as many Sundays do, with waking up to go to church. I gave myself some time to get ready, take a shower, eat breakfast and then catch a few pages of a book Christine gave me to read while I’m in Hong Kong. “The Invitation to Solitude and Silence,” I read something that struck me, she said something about the best thing to do was to not just read about a good idea but just do it, like Nike says. It was something about letting God be in control of even my spiritual life, putting away my agenda. So I put down my book and sat there. A song has been in my head in the mornings, “Nothing but the Blood of Jesus,” so I let it play and I saw a flood of blood flowing over everything, down all the streets and washing out all the gunk, washing over me and everyone. Then I prayed out loud something I’ve never thought to pray before, “Good bye old Brenda, Good bye old ways, its time to be born again, Jesus make me new, its time to be born again, Jesus make me new.” After that I just breathed a sigh and walked out the door to grab a mini bus to meet cousin Anna for church. It is true that God can do things we cannot, like change people.
I went to Just Church again and after church we went to a sort of funeral, for a girl whose name was Queeny. She was 23 yrs old when she passed away from brain cancer. I didn’t know this until after. We sang a song for her as they put her white marble urn into a slot and then plastered her plaque, including picture name date of birth and death, written with gold looking paint engravement. The cemetery is crowded and intricate, just like everything else in Hong Kong and full of faces looking out at you from their gravestones and flowers. Not many people cried because I think the real funeral was over, this was just the last thing to do for her. But, I saw some people look away and hide behind their glasses, mostly the father of Queeny, a short kind looking Chinese man, directed the man plastering her headstone in place. He made sure it was done right, intently measuring out whether everything was level and clean. I looked at a young man across from me, who may have been a friend, he didn’t cry, but grief was written all over his face, in his stance, and behind his eyes. My eyes started to fill with water and memories of visiting graves in Hong Kong came into my mind. My Grandparents are buried here, and my brother’s late father too, I have many memories of visiting these places. We clean their faces, put fresh flowers and maybe things they might like and we face them and bow not knowing how else to keep them a part of whom we are. In Buddhist tradition they light incense and bow, as a prayer to the ancestors I guess, but as Christians we don’t do this…although I remember doing that as a little girl with my dad’s arms around me showing me what to do. Another one of Queeny’s friends gave out Li-se or lucky money packets. I think I want people to give all my money away in li-se packets at my funeral, that is, if I’m not leaving descendants behind in a rough spot without it.
We had some lunch western style although I have to admit, even what they call “western style” food tastes like Chinese food to me. Anyways, at 4 o’clock I went to some sort of super cut place to get my haircut. Anything worth doing, takes time and sometimes grueling effort. That’s what this haircut was like, the entire time I was feeling this nervousness it felt like a workout…I donno why. There were all these stages and funny looking stages too, worried stages, and there were so many parts of the process. It only took an hour, but it felt like three. All I have to say is, less hair equals your head feels three pounds lighter. It felt really really good to cut about four years of hair off. Sometimes when you change on the inside, it makes everything sort of shift into place when you change how you look on the outside. I asked Anna today if she remembered when my mom came to HK. She said, yes it was a long time ago, at that time I was a baby. How big was I? She said I was a small baby, so small she could hold me in one hand…I’m glad she didn’t drop me. I still feel that small at times.
My Dad came today at around 6:00pm; it was really good to see him. He looked tired but happy to see everyone. My entire family came to dinner to see him, their little brother who lives in America. I felt I could understand a little more of him now that there were people who outranked him at the table; people put food on his plate, and called him little brother. At 53 he is still little to them. It is the same with all of us, and I see that they treat me this way as well, maybe because they once held me in their arms and said, “Look its little Brenda.” It was good to see everyone; we fill up two huge round tables;: Dai goo ma and family, Yi goo ma and family, Sam goo ma and family, Uncle Tony and family, then my dad and I. We certainly are a strange bunch; we ate, talked loudly, laughed, ate some more, took a million pictures, ate dessert and then went on our separate ways home.

Last Day With Long Hair

Its hard to put my finger on things sometimes, every once in a great while there is a moment of clarity, of knowing who I am and why I’m here. Or maybe the moment is not knowing those things but being content not to quite know. I look back at the things I’ve done and I wonder if that was really me, or someone else. I’m letting down my hair, because this will be the last time in a while I will feel it crazily waving every which direction over my shoulders and covering my neck. Lately, although I like my hair, it has become very burdensome, a heavy awkward thing. My wavy hair is the style for HK this summer, but it feels sort of like a let down.
Six years ago, the last time I was in HK, I was still a kid barely out of High school full of insecurities and full of the drive to prove myself, yet terrified. It was a hard experience for me to be here, with my boyish haircut and figure everyone thought I was a guy. At first it didn’t bother me, I was more or less used to this, having had short hair on and off since I was eleven. But, eventually among the loneliness of being a foreigner and the angst of wanting to be at least recognized as a girl if not recognized as Chinese, I broke a little inside. I remember getting my hair cut in Hong Kong in 2001 and almost crying when the barber thought I was my dad’s son. I remember that year, my first year in College, feeling like I was two people, such a fractured little girl realizing how angry I’d been, realizing how proud and childish I was. It was sort of a monument, or milestone in my life to visit Hong Kong that year; I remember reflecting on the last time I’d been there and how much I’d changed since that time.
Ten years prior, when I was eight years old, going to Hong Kong changed my life. That time it was because we were going to christen my Dad’s marriage to my step-mom by having a Chinese marriage banquet. I can’t recall much of that time because it blurs together with all my other HK early childhood experiences. We essentially picked up some additions to our family. Being eight I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation and I didn’t realize till after Annie, Jackson and Vivian came with us that they were staying indefinitely. I remember Annie’s family crying at the airport, and Vivian and Jackson crying. I felt bad, I didn’t know how to feel, I felt almost guilty that I wasn’t the one to be moving away. An entire new life appeared before my eyes, a new family, and a new existence. Another ten years passed along, I got taller, adolescence happened and then I was back in Hong Kong. I was walking around as a young woman instead of a little girl, but still very childish. I didn’t know what to do with myself; I felt self conscious, and very masculine, very tall, very skinny and very white. I hadn’t yet come into an understanding of what it meant to be me, to be my Euro-Asian self, and so Hong Kong helped me to know my Dad’s history a little better, but it also made me wonder what else I didn’t know about who I was. When I got back from Hong Kong and started my second term at OSU, I decided to grow out my hair. It was time for a change, I wanted to explore my Chinese-ness and my hair came to be a symbol of that, a symbol of that experience in Hong Kong and the uncertainty it brought out in me. It was also a conscious choice to want to appear more feminine, which was a foreign concept to me until that time…yes I was a bit of a late bloomer at 18yrs old. I never put much stock in trying to look good. But, over time I softened a little, was a little less rough and tumble.
So coming to HK again with long hair in the summer, was a bit foolish. But it meant something to me. I wanted to be accepted, to be seen as who I am, but it was sort of silly. Because, well, how can a person be a hair cut? It’s just part of who we are not the “who we are” in itself. My hair was indeed the longest its been in six years when I arrived here, but I decided to get a trim, more just because it is hot here and I wanted it to be a bit less heavy. After two weeks though, I’ve gotten more and more sick of this mop on my head, it’s a bit of a hassle. More than that, I feel the need to make a choice to do something very Brenda Chung in Hong Kong. I used to think that people wanted me to be a certain way, to make choices that pleased them. I used to think that especially about Chinese people because they feel free to tell you if they think you look better in contacts, or tell you if you slouch etc. Actually it is that they just feel free to tell you those things, but I don’t think I could forgive myself if I change who I am based on these kinds of observations. I am probably the only one who expects myself to live up to everyone else’s expectations. So that is the long version of why I am cutting my hair short in Hong Kong again. Just to say something about who I am becoming, “Oh, here you are,” I want my hair to say, not to hide me, but to bring me out in the open. Tomorrow is the big day, wish me luck!!

The week at a glance

I'm sorry to say that I have been neglecting my blog this last week. Not that it was a particularly busy week although I have some lovely things to report. First, is that last saturday I went to a book fair with my Aunt where she made a fatal error by buying me a copy of the new Harry Potter book. In reflecting on where my last week went I have to confess that about three days of last week were spend simply reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Yes, I finished it in record time and I was not dissapointed. The middle of the book bogs down slightly but then picks up in time to keep you reading. I'll leave it at that so as to not spoil the book for those of you who care.
The second i that I think I'm starting to get into the swing of working. About midway through the week I was not particularly liking working, and I was to say the least...grumpy. Which also might explain my lack of blogging. Anyways, on Thursday I recieved a bit of criticism from a parent about my teaching. Whether or not it was completely founded in reality, there was some truth to the fact that, that day I was not excited about teaching and the quality probably showed. So, at first I felt discouraged, and then I felt pissed off, and then finally I decided to pray. It was exactly this that sort of kick started my enthusaism about teaching the little tikes. On the way to work, I was riding the shuttle bus that takes me down the hill to Yun Ping road where I walk two blocks to the MTR station. The driver seemed to drive especially catywampus and as usual I was holding on to the rail absentmindedly my mind on work. I realized that I needed some confidence, the ability to have something in mind to teach and impart it whether those kids were willing or not. I couldn't muster this confidence myself so I asked God for a little help.
So, when I got off the MTR platform at Sai Wan Ho and walked three blocks to the Wealthy Plaza, up the elevator to the 11th floor and into our little office I hoped that little prayer would pay off, and it did. The kids weren't all that different especially the pre-teens, who were sullen and reluctant as usual, but there was something more in me than before. I had something to give and I was going to impart it whether they liked it or not. That was refreshing for me, although my students may not have enjoyed me as much. HEHE.
The last and final report is that I can die happy now because I've seen, not one, but two live Premier League Footbal games (by footbal I mean soccer). Last night the Chung clan made their way to the Footbal pitch located just below our flat and sat in the sauna of Hong Kong along with 40,000 or so other HK residents and watched Liverpool Fooball Club and the HK club Portsmouth duke it out for the Barclay's Asia Primer Trophy. It wasn't quite heaven because I was sweaty sticky and uncomfortable, not to mention the smell of large pitchers of beer etc., but I'll never forget the sound of so many people saying things like, "Ho ball" (good ball), and "mo ball" (no ball), and "WAh" all together, or if someone did something bad "Yeeee", which is a term of disaroval of which I can't think of an equivalent english expression. Leaving the stadium was the most amazing part of it, there was literally a sea of people exiting into the streets which were closed for traffic from the stadium for about five blocks. People just walking in the street and fanning out to various destinations. There was like an endless expanse of black haired people all around. Sort of ridiculous, but fun.

Just Church

Today I attended my cousin's, Rita, Anna and William, Church. It is called Just Church. They meet in a little whole in the wall in Causway Bay. I had a marvelious time. Sitting there during worship singing along as best I could, a wave of emotion swept over me. All the sudden my lip started quivering and tears started to stream down my face. The worship was the kind that emitted Holy Spirit rays or something. It felt homey and simple, not about performance; full of genuine love. After the last weeks service being so big and scary, and feeling like the people in that ohter church sort of wanted me to join this and do that right away, it was refreshing to just be there and experience the presence of God without obligations arising already.
At Just Church there was the cutest baby and a little girl who was like me...EurAsian, as one woman asked me today. Although the girl was from Scotland, she looked like my little twin with dark brown hair and a little oval face. There is something very precious and endearing about a group of small people who are ernestly seeking God.
I think part of the reason I cried was, well because I'd felt a bit funky the day before, and because I think I really have been missing Chinese people a lot these last two years I've been in Yakama. Not just Chinese people, but my family and the part of me that comes more alive when I'm around them. It feels deep and unfathomable at times, like God, or the ocean, and at other times so simple, like holding the hand of a baby.
We are so strange, unsure and broken, yet somehow still manage to successfully communicate love if only in our little ways.
Today my cousin Anna showed me her flat and then we sat on her couch listening to classical music, a hymn and a whitney Houston song. We just sat and were comfortable and safe. The preacher at Just Church, was this cute old man who often laughed at his own jokes. Anna wrote me notes. But, he also made me feel very safe, the way my Dad makes me feel safe. Like when he's around I know I'll be taken care of. There was wisdom and laughter in his care worn face. Little things can sometimes open up into large places in our souls. When we were worshiping today, I think I heard God clearly say, "I love you this much, don't know I love you this much?" In a stil small voice that seemed to echo in my mind. After that, I started to breath little easier and, at least for a little while, I tried to take a hold of that truth with stunned admiration.

Getting Lost

I finally got lost for reals, two times today. First when I got off on a different exit from Causeway bay. To explain, in each MTR station (subway), there are at least 4 different places they spit you out at. They are indicated by letters and in Causeway bay there are letters up to F. What I realized today is that if you get off at E, it is really difficult to make your way back to F if you try to walk on your own. I realized later, this was because E and F exits are separated by a very busy street. I wanted to go see Victoria park, and I will, but unfortunately I got a little lost and had to trace my steps back to the MTR station and down into the maze of people and then spit myself out at the correct exit.
The second time was a bit more frustrating, I wanted to go…wait no, I was shamed into going to this church group thingy at the church I visited on Sunday. It is an English speaking church full of mostly 1.5 generation Canadian or US immigrants who’ve returned to HK and immigrants from different countries. There are quite a few South East Asians, British, and Phillipina immigrants in Hong Kong. However, the Phillipina immigrants are almost all contracted maids for Chinese households.
Perhaps one of the legacies of the British colonization of Hong Kong was the appropriation of this practice. Also, the only way for HK people to actually work and have kids is to have maid to take care of them and do household chores. My Auntie Anita for this reason doesn’t know how to cook. Cost of living requires usually two household incomes, if not more, and work hours vary but usually consist of six-day workweeks and a lot of overtime. My Anna EE works from 9am to 7 or 8 pm M-Sa. She runs her own business sooo, no one is making her do this. I think she’s an extreme case but it’s not that uncommon. Mostly people who work in the financial district work on Sat. because on Sat. it is still Friday in the US. My cousin Anna worked from probably 10 am – 9pm today…with a two-hour lunch I presume. I came home at ten thirty today and the MTR was totally packed, HK people like to stay out late and work late. Working is water here, although I don’t think its very pure healthy water. Some is necessity; some is that the atmosphere is to over work then over play non-stop. Most people here exercise too, I’ve not seen a fat person yet. My Uncle for instance who is maybe in his late fifties and his wife play badminton at least twice a week. And I don’t mean badminton like you and your cousins on the lawn with jumbo rackets. I mean competitive Chinese style. If you want to know the difference just, play ping-pong with an American, then play ping-pong with a Chinese person. You’ll get the picture.
I was talking about something…oh getting lost. I also got lost trying to get to this church small group thingy. I have to give it to these churchy people they have a great strategy. They are so nice and welcoming that you feel so guilty not attending their stuff, even if you’re not so sure about it. Only the Chinese way will make you feel like this, if work is our water, shame is our bread. Really the Chinese ladies at this church have been very persistent, I got an email that was a mass email welcoming me to the church etc. I thought dang it, now I have to come or forever feel like I have to avoid these people for the rest of my time in Hong Kong and feel very bad for not going. But really later I felt I really did want to see what their group was like. So I got lost getting there and felt retarded looking at a map on the street. After some walking and my hair frizzing out in the night air, I found it.

I was skeptical of the medium they used, a video based on a book called “the life you always wanted” sounded like a cross between a self-help book and “the purpose driven life”. But, the author had a good point at the end about confession. He basically said, confession to friends about deep secrets and sins is about knowing the measure to which you are loved. We all probably hear people say they love us, but somewhere inside we are thinking, oh if they only knew this about me they wouldn’t say that. He had confessed all his dark secrets to a friend, afterward he felt very vulnerable and his friend said to him, “ Right now, I have never loved you more than I do know.” Wah, so powerful.
The discussion was ok, I had a disagreement on a point with one very animated lady, and it seemed to me she sort of drew the group to herself and was quite opinionated. She said she didn’t want a life without sin because it would be boring, and she didn’t think you could appreciate goodness without knowing the badness. Of course I don’t agree with that at all. In the Garden of Eden God walked among them and they weren’t afraid. This represents to me the deepest longing in life, to be able to actually be with God and not be afraid, and not just in the spiritual sense. But, to actually be in his physical presence, in all the Grandness and beauty, and the awesome power, the Holiness and not be afraid of Him or ashamed before Him. If I could ever get there, to that closeness that wipes away the ickiness, I think that would be paradise. I believe you can feel pain without ickiness, the ickiness is the sin, pain I don’t think is an always a direct result of sin. There are two kinds in this world, pain for following Jesus and pain because our own stupidity. The distinction is important. I had to hold my tongue a little and not get on the soapbox to try and prove I was right and she wasn’t. If that’s not prime example of sin, and why we need Jesus I don’t know what is.
People shared honestly though, and sometimes talked about really random not related things. That’s normal. We got in groups of three and prayed at the end. That was the best part. I got to talk to this lady Tina, and another lady whose name started with a V. Anyways, it was good to share honestly about how I struggle to trust God with someone other than this computer. Trust specifically around money and generosity. Tina shared that she too had been tight on money for the last couple years. She put her sister through college and now she can finally save some money. But, church takes up her time and she wants to spend more time with family. I wanted to suggest not doing as much in church. Her mom and sister are not Christians but not apposed to it. She said she wanted to show them she loved them, she didn’t want to loose touch with them. “In Chinese culture we rarely say ‘I love you’ so I try to show them I love them in other ways.” At that time she started to tear up. She really loves her family. I realized that what she said was true. Intimacy with Chinese people does have to do with showing affection very much, or saying things like ‘I love you’. It has to do with doing things together, like eating, and just being around even if we’re not doing anything special. Loyalty might be the word. Work is water, shame is bread, loyalty is air. I enjoyed getting to know those two ladies.
Ok la, ngoh fun gau a.(ok I am going to bed, good night)
Jo tau

Today was so much better than yesterday. I went to work and prayed that somehow today I would be able to do better and feel less out of my element and frustrating. Waiting for the MTR to Chai Wan I already felt a little different. There are so many reflective things in Hong Kong and you can always look at yourself in the MTR window or in the elevator wall, etc. Lately have taken to avoiding my reflection, like you would a guy friend you don’t want to give the wrong idea. You just pretend not to notice but really you notice.

My class was, so so, but what made today much better than yesterday was my conversation with Anna EE (my aunt on my step-mom’s side who is employing me for the summer). First she told me to slow down and speak up. So I did. Then after class we went to lunch at this HK style restaurant, meaning a little café with crowded tables full of clamor and smells of food. All the menus were in Chinese. They had HK Chinese food and HK style western food. She asked me about the kids and gave me advice, and then she was fascinated with my dad’s “Devotion to Christianity”. My Dad will be in Macau, which is an island close to Hong Kong on a mission trip with church. ON his way back he’ll be stopping by HK for like a day. It was cool to talk about that, and about why how I started getting interested in God. Her son Liam, who is ten and in one of my classes seems to adore me at the moment. He wants to see Harry Potter with me, and asks his mom every day, today he called me in the office just to talk. Anna EE and I went for a walk and she showed me a good place to shop for food and to eat Wonton Mein(noodle soup with dumplings)…which I love. She bought me a shirt; she is very sweet. The rest of the day went great. I worked on lesson plans which I feel apt at now, and answered phones although its very impractical for me to answer phones considering I have no I idea what people are saying to me 80% of the time. I loved it, talked to some parents, one of whom wanted to know if I’d stay in HK for longer to keep teaching. One parent of a particularly troublesome son, Michael, who is a pill in every class, called me Lao Shi (teacher in Mandarin). It felt weird, but honoring to have a woman older than me call me teacher.
I came home feeling like a working girl, and then ate dinner with Auntie Anita, their part time maid, who speaks little English and cooks phenomenally, and Eric. After dinner I finally broke the speaking barrier…that is, the barrier in my mind. I told Antie Anita in Cantonese that I was very full. Then I complimented the maid, whose name I can’t remember cause its hard for me to pronounce, that her food was very good and satisfying. She asked me in Cantonese something about my mom (Ma-mi) and I answered in Cantonese. Then it hit me…I could show her some pictures of my family and I could explain most of it in my broken Cantonese. It was a hit; she understood me and even helped me learn some vocabulary. Jie fu, is sister’s husband. I even managed to say in Cantonese that I didn’t have any pictures of my Ma-mi, although I’m sure my grammar was atrocious. After I said that, she squeezed my arm very maternally, or grandmotherly and laughed nodding her head. That felt very good, we had connected and I suddenly felt very safe. I showed Auntie Anita too, and she enjoyed it very much, she knew more English and we laughed at a video of my dad and step mom playing Nintendo Wii. She said thank you afterward and her words felt very soft and amused. Yes….I finally crossed, or at least waded across, the threshold. Thank you Jesus.

First Day of Classes

For a first day, it was a good one, but actually at first I didn’t feel so great about it. As all first days go I made some rookie mistakes and felt dumb for it. Its harder too if you don’t really know all the rules. But, I guess that’s how you learn them, first you trip over them and fall on your face. That way you never do the same thing again. For the first time today after class I didn't want to engage with Hong Kong or Hong Kong yun (people). I all the sudden felt tired of everybody around me and the city felt like a warm suffocating blanket. Like a mother hovering and fussing over you, all you want to do is escape somehow. I wanted to see the ocean, walk in a park, or at the least not be so freaking sticky and sweaty. It's normal to feel a bit of culture shock and I guess that is what I feel, a bit homesick for normal things. At the same time, I don't really want to be in America or back in my apartment with my friends although I miss them. I am just finding it difficult to engage with all this newness right now. When faced with a challenge I love to rise to it, when faced with criticism I get angry and want to disengage my heart. This is also the first day I had over five hours of sleep so my body feels much better but my spirits are a bit low.
It hasn’t gone my way at all today. I went to Wan Chai, one stop past mine on the MTR (subway) to have a look around and find some solace. But it was hot and everything felt pretty threatening and ugly. I went to a “park” but it was just people playing soccer on asphalt. There was a woman laying on the group looking sickly with a bowl in front of her. I couldn’t get out of my funk enough to give her money. I felt petty and self conscious like everyone was watching me thinking, “that foreigner, taking pictures and walking around looking lost.” When I got home flustered I tried to eat some cookies and couldn't get them out of the packaging without throwing them everywhere which I only didn’t do because its not my house. Eric (my cousin) ordered pizza so I was excited for something familiar…like cheese. Unfortunately Pizza Hut in Hong Kong doesn’t serve pizza the same is in the US. My search for familiarity was thwarted. I watched the world news and got depressed; I don’t think I need to elaborate on that. Eric showed me a picture and asked if I knew what happened, I said an earthquake. He said no, I five year old girl had fallen out of an 8 story window. The picture is of the medics attending the girl on the ground, the mother is kneeling, her face contorted in a wailing scream to the sky with a man holding her arm. Apparently the girl was looking for her mother who'd gone down stairs for five minutes and the girl fell. My heart ached and then I started to think maybe I needed to pray.
So I did. I realized I need help, and lots of it to carry me through this experience with an untainted and not hard heart. I am a bit hopeless about me ever speaking Cantonese, and maybe that's my problem, hope. And maybe that's why it’s hard to try. I'm so scared and self conscious...and there is this little girl named Jo Jo who does exactly what I do when I ask her questions in English as I do when people ask me in Cantonese. I want to tell her not to be afraid, its ok to be in the process of learning, but you just have to try your best. I should practice that myself.
In this state I searched for a place to connect and be still and not feel frumpy or pissed off. Searching my uncle's flat I found the terrace going out like a half moon from the living room. At first I hesitated because I didn't want to be found and thought strange for staring out into the city lights 25 floors up. But, I opened the latch with a click, still self-conscious and moved out into the breezy night. This was the first time I felt wind since I’ve arrived in Hong Kong, and the coldest I've felt the air outside. The wind howled, moving things around, moving things around in me. I realize in that moment, a short moment that I was searching into the night for something comforting and familiar. Something I didn’t have to try and understand or get others to understand. I stood looking out and down feeling the warm and cool wind and I heard it. Among the fervent piping of the cities clanks and hums, out of the night there was the chirping of crickets carried around on the warmish wind to my ears. Even here they find me, in this congested city the crickets still chirp. All the sudden I remembered the house I lived at in the country this last year, and that the crickets were so loud I couldn't sleep. I wanted to exterminate them. But, here these little crickets sent by God were my comfort, a message from on high that things were going to be ok if I'd just relax and trust Him. So I prayed and cried a little, asking for lots of help and receiving it all at once. I sleep well for the first time since I've arrived here, I slept through the night without waking and woke up at six o clock without an alarm even though I don't have to go to work till ten thirty. For me it was sleeping in because I've woken up at four every morning till now, and sometimes I went back to sleep. Thank you God, for two more hours of sleep. I still feel unsettled and nervous about teaching, and making lesson plans, but thankful. I sat down and read Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamontt today, and I finished it. I've been reading this book about traveling mercies and about faith all throughout my traveling here. Reading in Airports, buses, and subways. The last chapter is about her son Sam, at the end of which she writes to her son, “Thank you. Thank you”. I remembered the preface had a poem, a repetitive wave like poem about saying thank you and I read it again. The poem reminded me of Hong Kong, full of meaning and ordinariness, of heat and bustle, it reminded me of looking out over Hong Kong last night searching and finding and feeling thankful. It is by WS Merwin and it goes a little something like this:

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food looking at the sky
and saying thank you
we are standing by the water looking out in different directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the back so cars and elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and beatings on the stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
or lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

In so many ways this poem captures my experience here so far, not that I’ve been mugged, but the mix of brokenness and beauty. I realized too that in Cantonese the most common word I use and the only one I feel comfortable really saying is, "mm goi" which means thank you, and sometimes excuse me. I am always saying thank you to everyone all the time. Maybe that is encouraging because it is a start of saying something more and the hope of building on the one good thing you can say.

Thats All

I realized today that Uncle Tony is definitely my father's brother, he's always humming, but he hums Chinese Opera instead of Worship songs. And he always just drives me around with him and wants to make sure I have every physical need met. We went to the market place today and then he drove me around to see Clear Water Bay. At the market he kept asking me if I wanted this or that, he would not leave until I picked at least one thing out. I want to go back and see Clear Water Bay sometime when I can stop and have a look around; there is a little beach there. The bay is the bottom of a bowl made by the surrounding low rising mountains and then the ocean. There was this old rickety looking boat in the bay, and a little beach.
Honestly I don't have much insights today, I went to work with Anna EE, she helped me prep for my classes tomorrow, which will be like tutoring little kids two or three at a time. I’m nervous and excited, I don't know how to prepare myself so I figure I'll just go with it when I get there. I walked around and shopped a bit in the crevices of Causeway Bay. You could miss it totally but there is a free air market just in between these building and it's so small and crowded and you can't try anything on, but stuff is like so cheap, a shirt for two dollars US, and a skirt for 5 dollars US. I didn't buy much, just window shopped, got used to the area a little, tomorrow I'll remember to bring my camera cause it's messy and beautiful. And I saw some fruit stands that made me so happy, but I was embarrassed to buy the fruit, even though I've been looking forward to eating tropical fruits and stuff so much. I need to get over this insecurity stuff. Honestly, as I've been here I've realized how shallow I really am. I always want to do good, and then I get hesitant and unsure of myself and then I go to great lengths to try and hide. At some point I just have to slap myself a little and say "Chung, Yin-lai you are being ridiculous, who cares if you buy fruit or not.”
In this setting, where you’re at the mercy of a culture of hospitality, I find it is best to just say yes to whatever anyone offers anything to you. Unless you are eating and really full already, then you say yes and take as many small bites as you can without going too fast, or too slow so they don't try to offer you more. I feel like “Yes” girl, oh well.
Auntie Anita has warmed up quite a bit, we ate breakfast together and she communicated with me, I wanted to say some Cantonese to her but was still hesitant and shy. One of these days I'll just get over it, but it is really harder than it should be...maybe I should pray about it.
That’s all.
Amen.

Sik Gong Guandong Wa/Speak Cantonese

My Waaahhh, today was such a full day and I have had little sleep, and jet lag still. Anna took me to an English speaking church and they were all very very nice...almost too nice but it was quite fun anyways. I am already starting to speak English with Chinese grammar, and leaving out stuff like Hong Kong people speak adding in bits of Chinese. Its funny how when people leave any where there are waves of bu bye, drawn out on the bye and lots of actual waving. The ladies at church, we met one from Shanghai and this other lady who is a friend of Rita, they more like forced prayer on us but it was very sweet and it was good to be prayed for even if it was a little weird at first. I realized later that it was a big blessing to be prayed for and invited in to their group so rigorously. I need to learn more Cantonese. Anyways, then we went to sik yum cha with Sam goo ma, sam goo Jurng, Rita and Justin, William and of course, Anna. Other wise known as the Mok clan, although Rita is married now. I enjoy their company a lot, Sam goo ma dressed up nice in her American bought dress, and Rita is bubbly and warm as ever, also she is funnier when paired with Anna. They are different styles but both very strong personalities, later Anna commented that she follows after her Dad and Rita follows after her mom. Anna and I are a lot alike; maybe that is why we get along. Strong headed, independent, maybe having a sensibility more of a man in some ways. We walked all around Time Square and then Causeway Bay, it was very hot and humid but still many times she'd grab my hand. Perhaps because she was afraid she'd loose me, but anyways she would steer me around like a mother would an overgrown child. And it was nice to follow after her, as her long shadow so to speak. I pampered myself a little buying some white shoes, up until this point I've never bought white shoes before...only black. This is certainly a change. I think she knows like every shop owner at every store we visited, and then she dragged me around until we got to the hair dresser. In Hong Kong everything is just stuck in a corner, in an odd looking place from the outside, but it is nice on the inside. Everything begins with a dirty hallway with some doors that look like people live there and then ending with the destination. Brian was the hair dresser and everyone there spoke some English. Staring at myself in the mirror though I felt very self conscious and pretty insecure about how I look. But, then I prayed and counted to five, letting the fear in and then pushing it out again with the Holy Spirit. I got my hair washed by this wonderful man, who had amazing hands...oh man I wanted to marry him right their just so he could wash my hair every week. He was deft at washing my hair and massaging out all the little bits of stress from my head. I almost feel asleep to the rocky motion and the flowing water. The water was reminding me of the springs of living water that I want to wash over me and get in all those dirty crevices. I felt pampered and healthy, like...this is what its like to be ok buying yourself a nice haircut, with a fancy barber with torn up jeans.
Oooh yeah and then Anna and I had a heart to heart about men, dating and her possibly moving to the states in a couple years if her mom can get her a visa. It takes three to five years she said. Her mom is also worried about her not being married, but I told her I thought it was better to be alone and wait for the right one, than settle for less and not really be in a relationship we like. I also think it is better to wait for the right one than put your heart on the chopping block for some chump who will be a jerk to you when the going gets tough. Anna became a Christian 16 years ago, she said in college, then Rita and William followed along. They have been praying for their parents for some time now and I think it is not long before Sam goo ma is a Christian. At first her parents were very apposed to her being a Christian because of the Buddhist mentality, and because they wanted her to be with family on Sunday to sik yumm cha(eat dim summ)...turns out yum cha is still on, but they pray before they eat. Eating together is much better than even the poem by li young lee. It was clear though between the two of us that the issue with dating when you want to be serious about it is that, it's hard to risk it when you've been burned before. The pain of hard break ups is like nothing I've ever experienced; it is like having an eagle fly by and pick you up by your heart and dropping you to the ground. You have to still walk and go through life because of survival; you can't wait around for him to sweep down and attack again. And they are flesh wounds that sometimes heal on the outside but get bacteria inside that cause infections and could kill you if you don't get the right medicine. The right medicine being, God coming into your life and heart and healing, and some combination of listening and obeying when you are faced with your own brokenness.
I also went to church with Auntie Anita who is some what of a dilemia to me at the moment. Its clear to me she's a little wary of me because she speaks about as much English as I do Cantonese. And she's a little embarrassed to try and speak to me and vise versa. So I went to Cantonese catholic church to maybe show some good will and get to know her on her turf...unfortunately we didn't get to sit together. I was so tired I almost fell asleep listening to the Cantonese liturgy which was beautiful as the acoustics were astounding. I closed my eyes and let the words fade into the ocean of my mind and it was like a lullaby. I could only understand a few words, God, Jehovah, Jesus, Beginning, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, heaven, Amen. That was the sermon I heard and the worship I could muster. I liked it a lot. I think I'll try to get over my shyness with Anita, it seems like that is the way to go, to show her I care. Eric told her to speak English to me and she said, speak Guangdong wa. So I guess that is my challenge... to walk forward, without hesitation, and to speak loudly crossing the barrier with fear and trembling, but with faith..