It's my third f*cking typhoon since I got to Hong Kong. I'm tired of this sh*t.f

I heard about a guy, a single father, who blogs about his life and makes more money than he ever made in any of his jobs in his previous life. He says he's astounded that, by writing about his life as a single dad, he would be paid as much as he gets. I imagine he is more consistent about his blogging than I am... I imagine that if he blogged the way I do, he would be currently unemployed and on the dole.

For anyone who still bothers to check this blog for the infrequent updates, you recall (amongst the passings of Ted Kennedy and Michael Jackson and whatever other remarkable events in world history that I have missed because I have been apartment hunting and trying--and failing--to register for classes) that I wanted to write about the differences between Hong Kong and Taiwan. I thought I would start with the most blatantly obvious one: the language.

I spent one month learning the official spoken language of the Republic of China/Taiwan, the People's Republic of China, and one of four state languages in Singapore. Then I wanted to come to Hong Kong. Ooops. There are vast differences between Mandarin, the "official language", and Cantonese, the dialect spoken in Hong Kong as well as some other places--I think Guangzhou province and Malaysia. The two dialects are usually unintelligible to other Chinese language speakers, but for outsiders, the difference is overwhelming.

The reason is because all Chinese dialects depend on tones to convey, not just meaning, but vocabulary. There is a HUGE difference between the word "ma?" which means "what" or "huh" and "Ma!" which means someone is getting yelled at. It's important to hear and identify pitch dynamics made by the speaker. And this is where the dialects become tricky. There are roughly four ways to say "Ma" in Mandarin, but Cantonese has twice as many tones; so to me, it's the difference between a four piece band and a nine piece orchestra—much more difficult to pick out the individual parts.

But I find that I'm still able to communicate in this nine-tone land. Unlike Taiwan, Hong Kong has English as one of the two official languages (although perhaps for not much longer; some believe that era has passed). Public transportation, signs and information is all in English. Serviceworkers, scholars and young people generally all speak good basic English. So I can get by. Luckily, my summer term learning Mandarin can be put to use too. Many people living in Hong Kong are mainlanders who speak the national language. Also, for those Hong Kong Chinese who learned a second language, Mandarin is much easier to learn than English. With what I learned this summer, I can generally order food and complain about the weather to anyone who cares to listen. Chinese of both Taiwan and Hong Kong are usually quite pleased to find a westerner who cares enough to learn their language, but are not too patient to teach you or wait for you to figure out what you're trying to say yourself, so they generally either speak in English or gesture that it's time for you to be on your way. At least my classes will be taught in English.

So why did you spend a month learning a language you can't even use at study abroad, you ask? To that I say, shuddup. Just so you know, Mandarin is the most spoken first language in the world (according to my newcomers' briefing at the college). Anyways, I didn't just learn the spoken language...I also learned maybe 100 or so characters...roughly 3 percent of what I need to know to be what's considered literate. Whatever, it's good for one month of study. So shuddup.

Knowing some of the written language has actually helped me a lot in ordering food. I can read enough of a menu to know the difference between rice gruel and rice noodles. To me, a registered gourmand (read P.I.G.--hog) this bears significant and pragmatic applications to my daily life. I could talk extensively about the menu, but I'll leave that for another day.

I got a place! Nice tidy little room above a property agency, at the bottom of a hill where trucks outside my window downshift to make the climb. It's a short walk to the U, too. It's awesome!

It's funny how it turned out. Since I got to Hong Kong, I've been looking for a place. I've seen maybe 30 rooms/flats. There was a misunderstanding about this one...I saw a sign that said it was about $300 USD a month, but when I went inside, they said $400. What? $300 for a two-year lease. So I left. Two days later, I was strolling about when I ran into the property manager right outside her shop. She pulled me inside and said "$2,500," or approx $320 a month. The price is right, Mr. Bob Doubalina!

This one was a favorite because it was cheap and close to the Uni (as they say here in HK). It's incredibly small, and has a shared kitchen and bathroom...BUT, it's cheaper and has more privacy than a hostel, and it's got wood floors!

Coming Soon: Hong Kong and Taiwan

Here in Hong Kong.

I got here Tuesday. My flight from Taiwan was delayed because of the typhoon. Since I got here, I've been staying in hostels--spending my days trying to find a computer, a cell phone and an apartment. Right now, I'm typing on my new netbook and I've got my celly in meh pocket. I've yet to find a place tho. That's okay. The hostels are cheap, and the one I'm in is on top of the island.

Eventually, I'll write up a piece on my experience at NCU as my first time studying abroad, as well as one on Taiwan. Then I can get down to brass tacks about Hong Kong.

The thing about a typhoon is...

The one that hit Taiwan Friday was unlike any seen in 50 years, according to a newspaper I picked up yesterday. Or more true to how it happened, according to a polyglot who had glanced over my shoulder to view the image of destruction on the front page and the headline which I could not read except for the roman numerals 5 and 0.

I suppose what made this one so terrible was the erosion. The winds weren't relatively fast since it was a low grade storm, but the system hovered over the island as if stuck on the mountain ridge that runs along the length of Taiwan. It dumped an enourmous amount of rain, which ran down the mountains as it gathered more water, soil and speed. From my water management class this semester I know one of nature's most destructive forces is fast-moving mud. It scours out vast gouges in water channels and tears down anything standing in its path. I saw a video of a 6-story hotel that leaned over the bank after the mud flow had undercut the foundation. The foundation continued to be swept away, and once the tipping point had been reached, and the entire building toppled over into the raging current.

Lucky for me, the part of the island where I am seemed to escape the worst of it. We hung around in the eye of the storm on Saturday, when the the air was still and dry, and nearly all scheduled flights departed from the airport. Except mine, and that granted me three more days in Taiwan, which would have been great if there hadn't been a typhoon.

I bought an ice cream, and found on the wrapper the following endorsement:

"THE SUMMER DAY is surprised"
"Yogurt & fresh fruit juice take to you the fine ice cream heaven"
"Stimulates the frantic desire which is unable to reist and that is the
extreme acheivement of elegant tasty ice cream"
"The vision needs some colors to make it inviting"
"A color party becomes a game that keeps rolling and rolling"
"It is a cool and dazzling taste, making you full of blast"
"The taste of Yogurt makes the fruit fragrance copious"

I apologize for not writing more in this blog, but after enjoying the cool and dazzling taste of my mango + Lactate + Cranberry + muskmelon popsicle, I have been filled with blast.

Taiwan... the history, the cuisine, the climate and (like any other nation) the political controversy. Where do I begin?

Well, how about a week from last Sunday. That's when I flew in, after a 19-plus-hour journey. My first impression was that this was a community not unlike Japan. Everything is clean, everyone is industrious and everywhere there are printed words that I cannot read. Turns out I landed in the nice terminal. One of my classmates confided in me the other terminal is rather run-down. But that's hearsay. My terminal was brilliantly modern and stocked with people who speak better English than I speak Chinese. When I found my bus which would take me to the school (which was easily done) I noticed that the roads are not quite the same as the ones in Japan. In fact, I saw two gas-guzzling sport utility vehicles idling next to a bus the size of a U.S. tour bus--not to mention vehicles in Taiwan drive on the right side of the road. Looking only at the highways, the place looks exactly like any road in the United States. Except when you see road workers--it's interesting to notice that they all seemed to be working. It's not just one busy guy with four or five shmoes standing around watching like I've come to expect on U.S. roadways. Also is a noticeable absence of their country's flag, with which to flaunt patriotic nationalism, to be found weathered to shreds on the overpasses, or silkscreened on the rear windows of souped-up fuel hog, six-wheeled 4x4 pick-up trucks, which also happen to be conspicuously missing. In their places are all the scooters in the world, each with one, two, sometimes three people bustling about from here to there. In spite of the high humidity and sauna-quality atmosphere, many scooter-riders wear oven mitts and jackets worn backwards; I understand this is to protect from the sun, as fair skin is quite esteemed here. Also, many riders wear surgical masks. Picture seeing someone in a surgeon mask, a brightly colored helmet, oven mitts and a backwards shirt. It reminds me of Benny and Joon. But who am I to judge?

So here I am, standing at the bus terminal, contemplating the sticky air that's already about 80 degrees Fahrenheit at 6:30 in the morning, when the strangest thing happened. A pair of airport workers pass me pushing a train of baggage carts--you know, the kind you pay a dollar in quarters for so you can borrow it in the airport. The guy in front starts to point at me and says something in Chinese, I don't know what. With one hand pushing the carts, he gestures to me with the other rather urgently. From this hand flies something toward me. I see a cellophane wrapper break away. Reaching out, I catch this something and discover a green candy, naked without it's wrapper. At first I was confused and quite suspicious. But I realized there was no harm in it, and so discovered it tasted exactly like a Halls cough drop. It was an interesting experience for me, because it exposed to me my habitual tendency to distrust, which I want to change. (DISCLAIMER: this is NOT an endorsement to accept candy from strangers; do not try this at home.)

This random act of generosity is just one example of the positive nature of my first experiences in Taiwan. The people are friendly and helpful, and they know more English than I know Chinese. One bus driver helped me find my first bus, then another service agent walked me through the steps to find my second. A misunderstanding led to me spending time in the bus terminal (think of the Tom Hanks movie "The Terminal" for an idea.) So hours later, the agent kindly put me on the right bus, with wonderful air conditioning. The driver was a jolly sort of man with betel nut-stained red teeth and an easy smile to display them. He knew the English words New York and National Central University... just about the only things he seemed to want to know. I looked out the window of the bus and took in the parades of scooters with their strangely dressed riders; the square-shaped markets with odd and unfamiliar wares; old fruit trees and broad leaf palms; and brightly-colored and elaborately ornamented temples. This is a place to see.

As the bus passed through a gate and into the National Central University, I found my home for the next four weeks (of course, that was almost two weeks ago). As I hopped off the bus and into the steamy air, I tried to use some Chinese to tell the driver I thought his city is beautiful, but he replied with "I don't know", as in, I don't understand you. Ah well. When this month-long class of learning Chinese language and culture is over, maybe I'll try again.

In the time it takes to drive from Tucson to Topeka, I have flown via jumbo jet as far from home as I have ever been. From LA to Taoyaun I watched three movies and still managed to grab a five-hour nap, even sitting upright. A 19-hour flight can be quite an ordeal. To make it easier on you if you decide to take a similar trip, here are my Commandments of Airline Travel, which are based on my experiences from this trip:
I. Check in On-line (or by electronic kiosk). For me, this saved a ton of time. Perhaps 300 people fit on a jumbo jet, which meant the line for economy check-in was about 250 people long. However, the dozen or so of us who checked in online flew through the process in minutes. It was like first class (without the legroom or free booze).
II. Expect Delays...Always. I know, never say always. But the exception to the rule is when flying. There are always problems. We checked online as we ran out the door for the airport and the website said the flight was on time. By the time we got to the airport, it had been delayed by nearly an hour. Then in Los Angeles, the computers at check-in crashed and they had to check everyone in on paper (the old fashioned way!). Speaking from experience and knowing people whose flights were canceled without warning, I highly stress this commandment.
III. Carry on does not always mean carry on. If there's something you want on the flight, take care where you store it. Both airlines I flew with said my roller bag was too big, and they stowed under the plane on both legs of the trip. At least it was free of charge.
IV. Bring Something for Entertainment. For elaboration, see Commandment II.

This is it. Today I leave the United States for somewheres in the neighborhood of 370 days, to study natural resources, environmental policy and social issues in a series of East Asian countries. To the airport I go.