Our First Year: Everywhere

The Beginning

"You're asking because of the storms in Beijing? We don't really know. They aren't telling us everything. Yeah, it's awful. Here are your tickets, you can check for the gate assignment once you're past Immigration. Have a nice trip."

Needless to say, the Air China agent left us unsettled.

When we asked the gate agents, three of them looked up our flight sequence, gave a concerned look,  then a quick smile, then went back to gravely serious in order to tell us, "We are just the Hong Kong agents, so we don't know everything that's going on. We will check into it and get back to you. Please have a seat."

One woman was on the phone for about 20 minutes when she finally came over to tell us that the weather report for Monday was good and that the airline understands we don't have China visas and would take responsibility for us if the transit didn't go correctly. Basically, we should fly and hope. So, knowing we had the airline's backing - whatever that meant exactly - we went. Despite the flight being delayed because of weather conditions in Beijing.

Our first anniversary lasted 36 hours and spanned half the world. We went from Hong Kong to Beijing to New York to Boston using three taxis, two airplanes and one bus. Our stay in the Beijing transit hotel was our most expensive stay at $130 for about eight hours and our taxi from the New York JFK Airport to the Port Authority Bus Terminal was our most expensive taxi at $59 after tip.

Also, for the first time in a year, we found ourselves on a plane with mostly minors. A large group of elementary age Chinese kids and another group of high schoolers filled our 747 - with a relatively few teachers/chaperones in charge. It had the recipe for disaster. Although I'm certain the flight attendants would say otherwise, we thought the kids were very well behaved for a 12-hour flight and were much calmer than American kids would have been - especially given the plane lacked individual TVs/entertainment systems. Nonetheless, it wasn't ideal.

Still, we managed to get some real sleep in Beijing, take showers and make it home.

Arriving in New York was shocking. Of all the airports we passed through, it has the worst signage, least information about immigration and was least hospitable. The lines were long and the staff didn't say that passport holders can move ahead of the visitors to get to a separate line - an angry man with a populist streak decided to "expose" the officials for their lack of information and led a brigade of citizens through the hallway, down the escalators and right to the US Citizen line. We were grateful and amused.

"Soap in only one dispenser and no paper towels, nice face we put on for the world!" a woman said to Emily in the restroom by the baggage claim.

It seemed harsh and whiney at first, but it had merit. Every airport we've visited has had clean, well stocked bathrooms except JFK. People get off a long flight and they deserve a nice, clean bathroom. Singapore even offered "feminine wash" in the women's room toilet stalls, but we don't have soap available at all sinks? It was a point that stuck with us. No country I've ever been to has an arrival process that feels so harsh, suspicious and stark as ours.

Despite that, the long line moved quickly and it was nice to hear, "Congratulations on your marriage, happy anniversary and welcome home!"

Naturally, it was better when we arrived at my/our friend David and Jessica's doorstep and got a real "Welcome home and happy anniversary!" along with warm hugs. I've known Dave since we were 10 and we share the same warmth and friendship today that we've always had. Moreover, he's a mensch in the true sense of the word.

If going home to LA wasn't on the agenda for our first, week, coming to stay with Dave and Jess is the next best thing. Dave, who is an editor for Cook's Magazine's "America's Test Kitchen" had a fantastic dinner waiting for us at almost 10:00. It also happened to be Dave and Jess' 12-year anniversary which got undercut by our arrival and their two adorable and brilliant kids.

Waking up to a Boston summer day - more arid and less hot than anything we've experienced in the past 5.5 months was a change. So was spending time with six year-old Ben this morning looking at the iPad's Google Maps to show him where his gift came from. Ben, who says he hasn't seen an iPad before began operating it like it was his own hand. He needed no more help than a little spelling when typing in destination names.

This week will be a strange transition - time with friends in Boston and then a four day wedding extravaganza in Goshen, Vermont. It's limbo between our last year and returning to our old life. We're "home," but not fully. We'll have some fun and see people we love while we reacclimatize ourselves - kinda' sorta'.

Over the past few days, as Emily and I took stock of where we've been and where we're going, we realized how fortunate we are. We're coming home with money in the bank. We set aside our "re-entry cushion" as we had planned. We have income, prospects for the future and hopes and dreams for the next phase of life. We're not confused, lost or sad. We have direction, goals and possibility.

That's not to say, we won't miss some of the financial advantages to life abroad. We had more expendable income while being better able to save than we did at home. How many people get to travel the world, do whatever they want and set money aside? We did and we're proud.

We credit our budgeting process. Given we both can find more reasons to spend than save, it took some smart budgeting. In Greece, we developed our daily budget system which we adjusted based on costs, needs and income throughout the course of the trip. Amazingly, we mostly stuck to it - with one big exception. If we overshot our budget on a given day - particularly a weekend - then all bets were off. Not the healthiest exception to the rule, but somehow it all worked out. Surprisingly, these indiscretions occurred most often in Mumbai, Bangkok and a fair amount in Bali.

We are very proud not only of our experiences, but that we achieved all our goals. We enjoyed each other and our travels while succeeding in work and our financial goals. In truth, we aimed high and had our doubts. I believe we achieved because of our teamwork and dedication to each other, as well as our drive and passion for our adventures. Whatever came along technologically, logistically, financially - we made it work. Truly, we never compromised.

Ending this adventure is just that - the end of one of many of life's adventure's. We have so many more ahead. None will ever be this one and nothing will ever go the way this adventure went - but I don't see that as a bad thing. I believe that every time in our life has the possibility of being the best time of our lives. We carry memories of special moments and past favorites that nurture us and bring us joy. I see them as motivations to choose wisely and make the best out of life. We have different and perhaps even richer adventures ahead.

Of course, an adventure isn't just the fun and the warm memories - it's true value is what we take from it. Emily and I have gained so much.

First, there's what we've learned about each other. Spending most, if not every hour of everyday together is trial by fire. All the challenges and weaknesses become clear - and luckily, the issues we encountered were largely small and circumstantial.

If anything, we learned about how to better support and take care of each other. A journey like this takes teamwork and we figured out not just how to function, but what one another needs in a teammate. Being a good partner involves a lot of thought and consideration of one another's needs and workings. We learned what's involved and what that means for each other.

At various points in the year, Emily and I talked about how this wasn't a trip that opened our eyes to the new and unexpected. We weren't shocked and our worldviews weren't changed.

However, the trip challenged us - subtly at times. We visited a broad array of places with cultures and economic levels as different as India to Hong Kong. The way people see the world and what they know about life varies widely.

Some have very limited views with outlooks so simple as to be beautiful. So many in Nepal and Laos are happy with what they have - or at least content. Often, they don't question whether life can or should be "better". They may not even know what "better" means. Nepalis very often are comfortable with what they have and don't question "the way it is" - which leaves them lacking for nothing.

In a way, this is wonderful. In a way, they are fortunate.

They are also - often unknowingly - pawns in other people's games. As peasants throughout place and history so often are, provincial Nepalis and Lao are exploited and sometimes abused. Others have more because they have so little and sadder still, because they ask for nothing for themselves. One person's contentment becomes someone else's excuse not to care for their fellow human beings - even their own people.

In other places, we found people with incredible means. Hong Kong and Singapore are incredibly well-off. They have high per capita incomes, first world standards of living, access to education, civil liberties and the ability to create and claim their destinies. Hong Kongers and Singaporeans have massive advantages and to their great credit, they worked hard for what they have - perhaps harder than most European countries. Hong Kong and Singapore were built on their own sweat and tears - not those of colonies and subjugated peoples.

One night, standing on a cool street in a vibrant section of Hong Kong, I suddenly wondered, "What life is this?" It's a better life than most of the world enjoys in many ways, but in others, it's so devoid. Hong Kongers exist within a tiny space and in a particular, frenetic work-focused environment which, like Singapore, is heavily driven by consumerism. In Hong Kong, you can knock yourself silly, make it big and then buy a nice car (there are no shabby cars in Hong Kong) and spend more time at the mall. Maybe you can enjoy shows, buy art and travel too. And then what?

By the standards of our country - the standards of most visitors to these places - Hong Kong and Singapore are the kinds of places we stand up and applaud. They are the success stories - they worked hard and are living the dream.

Indeed they are - and I respect them deeply.

At the same time, where's the depth, connection and richness? Where does it all lead? Emily and I would have a difficult time living in such places, even though it would nominally be so easy.

Standing there, days before the end of our trip, I realized we loved Bali and Greece - especially Patmos - not just because of the beautiful, relaxed way of life, but because of the people and their values. Although on the surface, these places seem so different from the world from which we come, in a sense - they're more home than home.

Both the Balinese and the Patmosians understand that there's more to life than "making it" and at the same time, don't outright reject Western ways. In fact, they embrace technology and what the outside world has to offer - and then limit it. Earn a living, but share time with family and friends. Maybe it means being a "slacker" by American standards, but never to God. Both cultures spend large amounts of time deeply involved in rituals and tribute to the divine - and in doing so, show love and respect for one another.

Perhaps it's endemic of warm islands - particularly well resourced ones like Bali. They don't need to work as hard for what they have as people in resource-scarce Singapore or the seasonally paralyzed countries of Scandinavia. In many ways, the Balinese and Patmosians are blessed and therefore have the time to thank their creator(s) for all their blessings.

However it happens, their mix of simplicity and awareness are enamoring. The Balinese in particular walk that line between a Nepali's contentment for the life she has with the awareness to know when someone's putting Baby in the corner. They also constantly evaluate and assess the technologies and outlooks foreigners bring to their shores to decide how to respond. In their continual efforts to balance being part of the world, and yet remain themselves, the Balinese perform a more skillful dance than anything they offer at the Lotus Temple or Ulu Watu. It's the ultimate Kecak.

In a sense, we envy them - these people who succeed at moving forward with the world and yet staying grounded in their own culture. In today's world which is being bolstered and ravaged by incredible rapid technological change, everyone struggles.

How do we maintain our values and connections in an age when we communicate via devices and become "friends" with people we often never meet? Do effective communications replace time together? How do we keep the rituals, impart meaning and share richness in a world that's becoming increasingly fast-paced, complex and that demands more of us?

What do we do with the fact that the incredible efficiency technology has created hasn't necessarily enriched our personal lives and inner beings? How do we find meaning, satisfaction and happiness in this incredible unfolding world of limitless potential?

There aren't many parts of the world where people don't ask these questions from France and Turkey to Vietnam and Thailand. Perhaps only in Nepal and India did we find people who are so entrenched in their lots in life afforded to them by the caste system that no questions need to be asked. There are no questions.

The past year hasn't been so different from the rest of my adult life - or Emily's. We're among those blessed with the ability to choose, select and shape our lives. We choose how we find our meaning and seek lives that resonate with our souls. We are both challenged by this heavy task and extremely blessed to have it.

Our journey simply illuminated the challenge - it made the work clearer and easier. Wandering among places, questioning, comparing, contrasting and pondering bring into sharp relief what so many of us do everyday, but perhaps never think about so clearly. We have had the incredible opportunity to step out of our world and think about what matters.

Now we step back in - and hopefully take the thoughts, the wisdom and the shared conclusions to help build a richer, fuller and even more wonderful life together and with those we love.

We want to thank everyone who supported us and made our journey possible. Some people have taken on extra burdens ranging from caring for dogs to handling mail to understanding when we weren't there for important moments. Our friends and family have been nothing but loving and gracious.

I once read that when JK Rowling finished writing the last chapter of the Harry Potter series, sat there and bawled. Years of her life - her work and her passion - had come to a conclusion. A week ago, I began to understand. This blog has been a part of both of our lives - but especially mine - for the past year. It's impossible to separate the journey in real life form the journey in these writings.

Since no one wants to read about how my car's oil change went or what I think about the new Fall line of veggies at Trader Joe's, it's time for this blog to end.

Luckily, today is the beginning of another chapter. Maybe not one I'll chronicle here in such detail - but one that I expect will be just as wonderful and hopefully fascinating. Those of you who read most won't need this blog to know what it contains, you'll be there as it happens.

Sent from my iPad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times

A year's worth of experiences are almost impossible to process. The beginning of our journey on July 13th seems so long ago. Mediterranean Turkey and Greece and Israel - all of which we visited in our first month of travel - seem like distant dreams.

The days when there was an entire journey in front of us were both exciting and a little nerve wracking. We weren't completely sure we could really make it through a year let alone work in all the places we wanted to travel. In the end, we didn't back away from a single place or thing. We did it all our way. Sometimes with some cost and pain - but our way, and we're glad.

Of course, there were the better and worse moment and the things we loved and hated. Over the past two months, we have been compiling our list of "best of's" and "worst of's." We hope they help someone, somewhere in some small way....

Best Hotel(s)
Emily: Keraleeyam Resort, Kerala, India and Anjani Haveli, Udaipur, India
Eric: Royal Asia Resort, Bangkok and Empress Hotel, Saigon

Worst Hotel
Some decieivingly nice looking hotel that turned out to be moldy, smoky and loud that we stayed in for one night in Cochin, Kerala, India

Best Shower
Both: Bali

Worst Shower
Both: Monumental Paradise Guesthouse, Kathmandu (We had to go to room 708 if we wanted hot water)
Eric: Alexis Hotel, Crete (close second because it flooded the bathroom)

Best Flight
Emily: Jet Air, First Class cabin Kathmandu to Mumbai
Eric: Etihad Airlines,  Istanbul to Delhi via Abu Dhabi

Worst Flight
Emily: Air Asia, Bangkok to Bali - plane was too cold
Eric: Rhodes to Crete, Greece - plane was so small our bags needed their own seats

Best Cuisine
Emily: Indian
Eric: Balinese

Worst Cuisine
Emily: Israeli (lack of food that was different from home), Hong Kong (specialties aren't her favorite)
Eric: Israeli (often bland, limited selection), Northern Indian (too heavy)

Favorite Destination
Emily: Patmos, Bali, Kerala, Jodhpur
Eric: Patmos, Bali, Kerala, Istanbul

Most Disappointing Destination
Emily: Penang
Eric: Crete (I expected so much more), Kathmandu (too hard with work)

Favorite Surface Transportation
Emily: The Jodhpur Express
Eric: Train de Grande Vitesse (TGV), France; Ferry from Patmos to Samos

Worst Surface Transportation
Emily: Mui Wo - Hong Kong Ferry when she was nauseated by the typhoon waves
Eric: Bus from Jodhpur to Udaipur

Best Snack Item
Emily: Pani pourri (Indian/Nepali), gundruk (Nepal and roasted squid and liver on sticks  (Thailand)
Eric: Baklava (Yes, I snacked on it in buses and taxis)

Worst Snack/Food Tried
Emily: Durian
Eric: "Little Fish" on Patmos

Scariest Moment
Emily: The fire in Kathmandu
Eric: When our taxi driver made a u-turn in across five lanes on the largest road in Kathmandu

Would Have Done Differently Had We Known
Emily: Gone straight to Hotel Vadra in Kathmandu, rather than our first guesthouse
Eric: No 16-hour bus from Istanbul to Alanya, no hotel by the airport in Crete the night before we flew and no first, crappy guesthouse in Kathmandu

Wish We Had Packed
Emily: A watch for her husband
Eric: Deet mosquito repellent for Kerala, electric clippers

Didn't Need To Pack
Emily: Long underwear
Eric: Long underwear

Glad We Packed
Emily: Q-tips
Eric: Extra sweatshirt (because my wife always steals mine), Benadryl gel, flashlight, sarongs

Favorite Hotel Staff Or Owner
Emily: Nicholas and family in Patmos, everyone at Keraleeyam Resort, Kerala
Eric: Nicholas in Patmos, George in Kerala, everyone at Evsen Hotel Istanbul and Royal Asia Resort Bangkok

Grossest Moment
Emily: Walking through an outdoor food market outside Vientiane, Laos (but she also liked it)
Eric: Stuck in a crowd near the bathrooms at the Kathmandu Airport while waiting to board. (I didn't also like it)

Most Embarrassing Moment
Emily: One block away from our hotel in Vientiane, Emily realized she couldn't make it and ran into a restaurant to use their restroom. They didn't want to allow her since she wasn't a customer, but she begged and ran into the bathroom, then bought a bottled water and left in shame.
Eric: in Thailand, I asked a 7-Eleven cashier if they had a machine that dispenses Thai iced tea (most stores do). She said they didn't. I meant to say, "That's a shame," but instead said, "You should be ashamed. Thank you, see you again," and left. I realized the mistake seconds after leaving.

Saddest Moment
Emily: Emily encountered a very sick, injured tiny puppy in Kathmandu. It was probably going to die soon. She didn't know what to do and regrets not having scooped it up with her pashmina and taken it for help.
Eric: We went to one of Delhi's most famous restaurants. It turned out to be in a very poor section of Old Delhi. Between the people lying all over the streets, struggling to keep warm and get food - many very sick - and us going to eat a great meal along with Delhi's upper classes, I felt very badly.

Most Elated Moment
Emily: When she saw her mom and Aunt Penny come out of the airport in Bali, when we landed in Kathmandu and seeing her friend Rabina again in Kathmandu.
Eric: When we got confirmation we could have the house in our Bali compound, when I arrived in Cannes, seeing Ziv in Israel after so many years and when Emily and I reunited in Istanbul.

Best Activity
Emily: Halong Bay cruise
Eric: Boat trip off the coast of Hania, Crete where we got to jump off the boat, swim and snorkel with Sharon and Autumn.

Biggest Challenge
Emily: Working in Nepal
Eric: Working in Nepal, establishing working Internet systems in Kerala.

Place That Most Surprised Us
Emily: Mumbai - She expected it to be like Delhi, but it was wealthier and much more developed.
Eric: Vietnam - I liked it much more than I expected and it was far more developed than I had imagined.

Best Beverages
Emily: Cold - avocado juice in Bali, Hot - Bali coffee, Alcoholic - ouzo in Greece and Beer Lao
Eric: Cold - Thai iced tea, Hot - Indian chai with cardamom

Best Dessert
Emily: Vietnamese mung bean and ice dessert, Patmos chocolate cake and chocolate infused camembert from Cannes.
Eric: Paris Match pastry from Casa Luna in Ubud, Bali and pumpkin candied chestnut pudding in Istanbul.

Best Bed
Both: Tune Hotel, Penang, Malaysia.

Best Laundry
Emily: Bali because it was best, but also Hania, Crete because they gave us raki to drink with Sharon and Autumn.
Eric: Bali.

Best Music
Emily: Nepali, Hindi and Greek pop
Eric: Greek pop

Best Massage
Emily: Thai massage on Soi Rangnam, around the corner from our Bangkok hotel, Milano Day Spa in Ubud, Bali and barber who also gives massages near our hotel in Udaipur, India.
Eric: Milano Day Spa in Ubud.

Worst Massage
Emily: Saigon
Eric: Hanoi when the masseuse turned out to be a prostitute who got grabby and wouldn't take no easily.

Most Innovative Concept
Emily: Automated fly swatter in Laos. People hung mobile-like devices that spun over their street food stands to keep flies away.
Eric: First class movie theater at the Paragon mall in Bangkok. Unreal.

Best Internet
Emily: Israel
Eric: France

Worst Internet
Both: Nepal

Best Taxis
Emily: Rhodes, Greece (all Mercedes) and Singapore.
Eric: Singapore with Hong Kong as a close second.

Worst Taxis
Emily: Kathmandu
Eric: Kathmandu followed closely by Delhi

Favorite Sight
Emily: Halong Bay, Vietnam, Jodhpur Fort, Boudanath Stupa in Kathmandu
Eric: Old Grasse, Taj Mahal and Udaipur Palace

Least Favorite Sight
Emily: Ubud Palace
Eric: Pashupati Temple in Kathmandu (cremation temple)

Favorite Decorative Item Purchased
Both: Paintings from Bali we bought from a local artist with a roadside gallery.

Best Book Read
Emily: Museum of Innocence by Orhan Pamuk
Eric: Istanbul by Orhan Pamuk

Most Touching Thing
Emily: Seeing her friend Rabina
Eric: Etz Hayim Synagogue in Hania, Crete - which a single man restored and is trying to keep alive after Nazi destruction.

Easiest Currency
Emily: Nepali Rupees (familiar)
Eric: Indonesian Rupiah and Vietnamese Dong (divisible by 10,000 and 20,000) respectively

Most Difficult Currency
Both: Lao Kip (confusing)
Most For The Dollar
Both: Bali, India and Vietnam

Least For The Dollar
Both: Israel and Greece

Most Romantic
Both: Patmos, Kerala, Bali, Halong Bay

Least Romantic
Emily: Saigon and Hong Kong
Eric: Kathmandu and Delhi

Friendliest
Emily: Nepal
Eric: Kerala and Laos

Most Impactful
Emily: Nepal and India
Eric: India

Best Surprise
Emily: When she opened up the doors to our bungalow the first morning at Keraleeyam and saw the backwaters - and that her husband actually wrote a blog entry every single day.
Eric: All the friends and guests - Sharon, Autumn, Tony, Ziv, Hila, Alisa, Ori, Arti, Conlan, Susan, Aunt Penny, Jacob, Diana, Chad, Rina, Jay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Below The Surface

The balmy gray day outside sort of matches our hearts. Packing up this time was a little more efficient than usual, but very hard to do.

To some degree, it may be a good thing for Emily who always feels a little stressed about packing and unpacking. Every week to two, her "nest" is destroyed and she wonders how she'll do it all - as if the stuff outside the bag didn't all fit in before.

Admittedly, Emily carries a little more than I do which makes it so that if she's not on her game, her backpack bulges in sort of an embarrassing, bordering on dangerous manner. Many is the time when I've had to take some her stuff to alleviate the stress of a bad pack....

Over the course of the year, it's been interesting to watch Emily go from "I think I want to wait awhile before we have kids," to "Oh look at that cutie petutie...." several times a day. Her "nesting instinct" seems to have grown stronger and she gets anxious until she unpacks at each hotel room. Meanwhile, she coos over cute little kids and babies. I take these as a signs that we're moving toward ready.

Of course, going home is a step toward that too - and for that reason among several others, I'm happy to go.

I'd be lying if I said we were thrilled. Our hearts aren't fully ready. We could probably go another six months to a year and certainly, we would love to travel South America and maybe Africa. However, this year and this adventure is drawing to a close. We'll figure out other adventures - domestic and foreign - for the future. There are many ways to live life and we want kids who are deeply connected to their family and communities as well as connected to and comfortable with the world.

Life always has options - even for people who don't always see them or who stay fixed on the ones they wish they had. As far as I can tell, life involves a lot of re-focusing and embracing new sets of choices. Often, we're limited by our lack of imagination or ability to step back and reexamine. It's not always - and won't be -as easy as this adventure and year has been for us.

Partly because they like us, partly because we're their newest best customers, the people at the local dim sum place told us to come back every year and to always come see them whenever we come to Hong Kong. The lotus paste filling in their sesame balls is almost as sweet as they are.

So much of life comes down to assumptions. One of Emily's classes on cultural relations spends a week focusing on first impressions and the way we make snap assumptions based on images and a few facts. She says that when she challenges students to evaluate how they assess others, some adamantly deny that they judge people based on first impressions and superficial factors.

Of course they do - everyone does.

My high school economics teacher - who also happened to be my summer camp counselor when I was a young and knew me from age six and is an amazingly honest and straightforward guy - said once that first impressions, snap judgements and to some degree stereotypes make economic sense.

If we all had complete information about everything, everyone would make better, if not great decisions. However, it's impossible to know it all, so our brains look for shortcuts - quick tests and rules that help us avoid pointless research or bad decisions.

Thus, when we see someone who dresses up on the weekends, we might assume she's conservative or perhaps pretentious. A man with a toupee often gets labeled foolish, silly or scuzzy.

There's a strong chance I would talk longer to a 60 year-old black female phone solicitor than a 30 year-old white male because I would trust and respect her more. I have no grounds for this decision - expect that perhaps over time, I've encountered a number of softer, nicer 60-something year-old black women? I'm not really sure. We all have our subtle biases and shortcuts.

Brad's point was that although our snap judgements aren't always correct, well-founded or fair, we find them more useful than not - or we wouldn't use them. In other words, they're efficient and as far as we can tell, maximize our utility.

Traveling our way has been wonderful for gleaning more from each place and culture. We got past the typical sights and superficial feel of a place - past what we imagined, what people have told us to expect and our first impressions - and began to peer under the surface. What we got in 10 days, 2 weeks or even a month is really just a cursory glimpse. Yet, it's so much more than most of us ever get.

How often do travelers spend two weeks in Mumbai and really explore the neighborhoods? I don't know anyone who has spent 10 days in Vientiane, Laos.

Naturally expats get a different view - and the longer someone is in a place, the deeper she can go if she chooses. Of course, both expats and travelers can remain in their foreigner bubbles, never really knowing the places and people that surround them. Part of the joy of our journey has been peeling back as many layers as we can and trying to see the world a little more for what it is, rather than our idea of it.

I've never spent this long in Hong Kong. As with everywhere we've been, the time we take because of our work and needing a slower pace than if we were only traveling has added depth. It's easy to get the basics - to capture what's on the surface and what the guidebook and pop culture tells you a place is about.

I've always enjoyed Hong Kong for the bustling, energetic, creative, culturally unique place that it is. One thing I can say for certain is that there is only one Hong Kong and it's a treasure.

On the surface, Hong Kong seems fantastic. Compared to so much of the world it's doing well both financially and in terms of quality of life.

Being here, I've wondered if - not including the typhoon - Hong Kong hit the perfect storm. It rejoined China at a moment when China began serious reforms and a bold entry onto the world stage. China is going capitalistic and Hong Kong is a useful model. The people of Hong Kong may just get to keep what they have even when the 50 years of protection under the British treaty pass.

I've also begun to wonder if Hong Kong - with all its tribute to traditional Chinese culture and academic dedication to Sinology - will also become a little lost. Not fully Chinese, not Western - both a throwback to more traditional Chinese cultural habits and yet extremely modern and international - the Hong Kong people's uniqueness may also leave them feeling somewhat isolated. At some point, I imagine there will be difficult decisions and cultural struggle.

I also love to ignore the dark underside of Hong Kong life. Today, as every Sunday, the parks and public areas of Kong Kong are filled with Filipina domestic workers and nannies enjoying their one day off each week. Like Singapore, Hong Kong families often have domestic helpers from the Philippines, Indonesia and in Singapore's case also Sri Lanka.

I've read stories and heard tales of Filipina nannies who aren't afforded bedrooms or personal space and sleep on mats on the floor or in one case, inside a pantry. Physical and emotional abuse happen too - and although there are statutes on the books, no one really protects nannies and housekeepers.

Throughout the week, we see Filipinas of all ages - taking children to the park, helping the elderly down the street, feeding babies and going with Hong Konger parents on family outings to help with the kids, so the parents can enjoy.

Perhaps if I hadn't lived in Singapore, I wouldn't care as much as I do. I recruited many Filipino nurses from Singapore and heard their stories and those of their families and friends.

I had one nurse with three little children who worked in Singapore to support her kids while her parents and husband raised them. She saw her family a few weeks a year. On one visit, she got pregnant, worked through her pregnancy, flew back to the Philippines, delivered and then returned to work in Singapore two weeks later. It was her third child and she didn't see her baby again until she was 11 months-old.

When I asked her why she chose this, Dabby told me that her family needed the income. They could lose their land if she didn't work. It was what she had to do.

Because at one point, we had four American 20-something year-old guys sharing a four bedroom, 2100 square foot condo, we had Mathilda - a day maid - come every Saturday. She made about $6 USD per hour and cleaned for us on her day off from her full-time job for an American family. She used her "day off" to clean other people's homes to make extra money to send home to her family. She had a daughter in college.

I realize the Filipina nannies and housekeepers wouldn't be here if it wasn't a better job than they could get back home. Naturally, I watch - especially the nannies who trail behind parents like caddies at a golf game - and I feel sad.

Hong Kong is a place with two family incomes and career professional women. Coming from where I do, how can I not understand that? Looking at what Hong Kong has and is about - how could I not appreciate it? One thing I understand about little Hong Kong is that people work hard. There's an unstoppable momentum that's part of the fabric of life here. For better and worse, nannies help make that possible.

During our ten days here, I've contemplated the nature of Hong Kong life - it's spectacle, culture, glitter, cultural cohesion, uniqueness, richness and shallowness too. I love the way it preserves some of the most wonderful Chinese customs and cultural arts and at the same time, it embraces the Western world too. But I also wonder if life here isn't or hasn't become somewhat "flat" in the way it is in so many Western cities too. Where does all the hustle and bustle lead?

Meanwhile, Emily who started off overwhelmed by the frenetic energy of the big city, has come to appreciate it over the last nine days. As she got past the shock of returning to the first world - and a crowded piece of it at that - she began to appreciate the uniqueness of modern, international neighborhoods stacked on top of traditional Chinese ones. She explored the cuisine that was hard for her to get into after Thai and Lao and found solace in various dumplings, "tribute vegetables", pastries and hot Chinese soy milk. Emily has tapped into some of the cultural delights and charms of Hong Kong.

In my opinion, Hong Kong has one thing so few major cities do - incredible beauty. Behind the giant skyscrapers and condo blocks stand tall, green mountains and below them lies beautiful calm blue water. It's a manmade city in nature's backyard. The fresh breezes across the harbor keep the city fresh and for a city its size, it's not hard to find a great view. Hong Kong is like fusing New York and San Francisco, with heavy emphasis on Chinatown. Only it's prettier still.

Perhaps that's why spending the day on Lantau is so pleasant. Honkies come here on the weekend to escape the frenetic city and enjoy outdoor activities and local culture. We're enjoying our last day amid the peace and calm of the water before we take to the air.

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Maxim-izing Our Time

"Who sold you this ticket?!" the Air China representative asked in a scary tone.

"A travel agent. Why?" I responded.

"This ticket should not be. This violates the rules. You cannot use this ticket. It has only a one hour transit time and we require at least two hours."

"I realize, but this is the ticket we have. What can be done?"

"They should not have issued this ticket. They should know better! It violates their agreement."

"Yes, I understand. So, what can we do?"

"You must call the travel agent and make them change it, or they should give you your money back."

This is not the conversation one wants when calling to reconfirm an airline ticket. It lead to several more calls, and exchange of emails with our travel agent and an eventual free change that should secure our connection between Hong Kong and New York via Beijing.

The whole issue was compounded by factors that included getting different information from each of four Air China representatives we spoke to, a lack of seats on subsequent days, Air China's refusal to put us on a partner code share flight and our lack of a visa to enter China - which means we can only be in the airport, and only for up to 24 hours.

Oh, and Beijing flooded when the typhoon made it's way up there and flights were cancelled for two days.

In the end, we have to leave Sunday night instead of early Monday morning. Despite some remarkable communication difficulties, we believe we'll be able to stay in the airport transit hotel during our 13 hour layover - which will take the edge off being stuck in the terminal for so long.

Unfortunately, this cuts into our weekend and makes today not only our last full day in Hong Kong, but of the entire trip. There will be three more entries to this blog - Sunday, Monday and one after arriving in Boston and finding the time and energy to write - which probably means sometime Tuesday.

The loss of a complete Sunday feels profound. When you're savoring every last moment, a few hours make a difference. At first, I insisted we take our bags into the city, drop them with the baggage locker service at Hong Kong Station where the airport express train departs and spend our last day in the city until our evening flight.

Eventually, some reasonable part of me prevailed and we now plan to spend our Sunday day on Lantau and perhaps go see the world's largest sitting Buddha. Maybe he'll have some good advice on sitting before we sit in Air China coach class across the Pacific.

We had only one choice for what to do with our Saturday, Maxim-ize it. If I was going to lose a precious day in Hong Kong, I needed a consolation. I chose Maxim's Palace in City Hall - the finest dim sum restaurant in all of Hong Kong and very likely the world.

Sure, it cost more than four times as much as our usual Mui Wo Cooked Food Market dim sum - which really is incredibly cheap at an average of $10 for the both of us. Nonetheless, it was literally the full-meal deal. Gorgeous gigantic dining hall with endless rows of round tables, crystal chandeliers, women with dim sum carts making their rounds, fine tea, real bone china and floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the harbor. Maxim's is everything dim sum should be. Emily fell in love with the sesame bao. I loved it all.

After the quintessential Hong Kong meal, we took to the trams and the streets to explore several parts of the city, spanning the length of Hong Kong island from North Point all the way to Sheung Wan.

After some bargain hunting in Wan Chai, Emily and I took the tram down to Sheung Wan - a neighborhood of narrow, windy streets that climbs its way up a steep hill - San Francisco style. The lower part of the hill is a Chinese neighborhood filled with outdoor markets, lanterns, antique shops, religious supply shops, Chinese medicine dealers, restaurants, outdoor noodle and food stands and barbers....

Yes, barbers. In a narrow alley Sheung Wan a single barber pole stood out from the other signs. Despite my reticence after yesterday's rejections, I made my way up a narrow staircase to the third floor shop - which turned out to be a real barber shop well accustomed to buzz cuts and shaves.

The team of elderly barbers all dressed in white smocks were happy to see me as all were idle and I got the feeling they don't get many white guys - which made me fun too. There was only one problem - not one of them spoke more than a few words of English.

Nonetheless, we worked our way through the situation, with a little pointing and gesturing. My barber had a special set of electric clippers I had never seen before that did a fantastic job.

More impressively, this man who wore a collared, button down shirt and tie under his smart looking white smock that looked like a lab coat, clearly considered himself a barbering professional. He shaved my face with the electric clippers using the same skillful technique he would with a straight razor. In fact, at times I wondered if he forgot that it wasn't a straight razor.

His work was detailed, meticulous and when done with the initial shave, he went back over every hair and line to make touch-ups. He took perhaps 30 minutes to do what others have done - not as skillfully or with as much pride - in half the time.

When the job was done, we wiped off my head and neck with a hot steaming towel he took from a special warmer - and then charged a mere $8.50. This man was worth far more and earned my admiration. There's nothing like someone who takes pride in their craft.

Emily and I then boarded the extensive series of travellators and escalators that carry pedestrians up the hills through the "Mid-Levels" to the hip, happening international SoHo neighborhood.

All of a sudden, we were surrounded by expats enjoying the innumerable bars, gourmet restaurants of every kid of cuisine and shopping at fine boutiques, art galleries and Western-style grocery stores. It felt like we climbed the hill into a non-Chinese neighborhood of San Francisco.

Emily loved it all - the cute streets of the very expat-oriented SoHo down to the very authentic Chinese Sheung Wan below. As we made our way down the hill, through the narrow and fascinating streets, she gained a new appreciation for Hong Kong.

With several hours left of daylight and not a moment to waste, we decided to take the tram along the length of the island to North Point. From the upper deck, we enjoyed an incredible tour of the island for a mere 25 cents. The breeze of the moving tram helped combat the heavy humidity that made Hong Kong a sweatbox today.

North Point is nothing more than an average, but very authentic Hong Kong neighborhood. Although there's no part of Hong Kong Island that feels like a suburb, North Point had none of the interesting attractions or grandiose malls of the central areas of the city. Instead, it had the most dense market street either of us have ever seen here. It was a piece of tradition and chaos in the middle of a modern city. We loved it.

We're back in SoHo about to walk down to Sheung Wan for dinner. We love this area - it has incredible texture and more than the eye can catch in a single, or perhaps several visits. Who knows what the evening holds. Since it's our last night before the long journey home, we plan to make it special.

 

 

 

 

 


Sent from my iPad

Package Accepted, Barber Rejected

It looked a little chancy going in. The salon looked a little girly, but advertised on the door that it served both men and women. It struck the balance between looking nice enough to be credible, but average enough to be inexpensive.

Several of the women who worked at this hair cutting establishment on one of the main streets of Vientiane were sitting around Lao-ing - chillin' and chatting intermittently. I asked in my odd Thai-Lao if they had electric clippers and could shave both my head and face.

They all pointed to the woman whose turn it was for the next customer. She rose silently and confidently. Without confusion or concern, she said it would be no problem.

I'm used to confusion and miscommunication, so I didn't fully believe she understood my request - especially since I only knew the words for face and hair, but not specifically beard or shave. When I lived in Thailand, I always shaved myself, so I never needed to learn.

Then my stylist opened up her drawer with five professional grade hair clippers, and things were looking up. We went over my request - no guard for head and face except for mustache and goatee which get #1 guard. She help up the right guard, mimed the right lines on my face - and got to work.

Cool as a cucumber, seemingly without effort, not a strain of thought or sign of focus on her face, my hairstylist shaved my head and face - perfectly. While my Thai barber looked like he was Michelangelo sculpting a masterpiece - and was incredibly detailed - this woman looked more like she was rolling paint into a wall or casually icing a cake while chatting with her friends.

Nonetheless, zen-master that she was, my stylist did a perfect job. I mean perfect. Perhaps the highest level of detail of the trip, rivaling the Thai and Turkish barbers - only she appeared to give it no more thought that tying her shoes - which might actually take more thought for her, since she probably never wears laced shoes.

In short, my stylist was Lao-ness at its finest.

For her skills which looked as if she peacefully channeled them from the heavens, I paid $12.50.

I wish I could report Hong Kong has gone as well. Having been a little lazy about getting to a barber, I'm somewhat desperate for a shave and would ideally like to do it before our flight Sunday night. Unfortunately, I have been rejected by five establishments now.

It seems that a barber pole in Hong Kong indicates any type of haircutting establishment - including nice salons. I spent time this afternoon scouring the streets of Kowloon for a plain ol' barber. I chose places that looked not too fancy. I have basic needs, so I aim for a basic barber.

Three salons rejected me for shaving. They all looked as if I had asked them to commit a crime when asked if they could shave my beard with the same clippers as they were willing to use on my head. In all three cases, it was midday and the shops had several people sitting around idle. But no deal.

I hunted through the side streets - the narrow ones where you can find knock-off luggage and cheap Chinese manufactured souvenir crap. I went to the places where locals eat in small soup and noodle shops.

I finally found a shop that looked promising. It was nice, but not too fancy - they seemed to live in the Supercuts range. Perfect. Only while the sign said "Open", the door was locked. I rang the doorbell. A guy came to the door, let me in and then explained that they were unable to cut my hair.

When I asked why, another gentleman came up, flashed his ID badge and said, "There was a recent break-in here. I'm Hong Kong Police. We need to keep the shop closed while we do the report."

They were very apologetic and asked me to return later in the day if I could. They seemed willing to do the work including the beard. I just had bad timing.

One salon directed me back to the block where Emily was waiting for me. We set up shop today at a Starbucks (I use "a" because there are at least three) in the Harbourplace Mall at Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon. Our Starbucks is at the very end of this mall build over a pier and we have an amazing view through ceiling to floor windows of Hong Kong Harbor and Island shimmering in the sun.

As my newly found barber rejection complex set in, I made my way back to our "office" of the day. I checked the streets and eventually the mall directory. The mall customer service people directed me to a hair cutting place I thought they said was called "Razor" - perfect! It was Aveda. Great if you're Emily. But I didn't have to ask to know, I'm not Aveda salon material.

So, I headed back through the enormous mall complex to our Starbucks. Along the way, I passed yet another Aveda salon. "What's another rejection? I might be surprised," I thought. So I asked and was indeed rejected - but kindly offered a facial instead. I wasn't sure how that would work with my beard that they wouldn't trim, so I moved on.

Given our limited time left in Hong Kong and the fact that shaves don't seem to be common here - perhaps because men don't have much facial hair - I may just go scraggly to Boston and turn myself in to a real Supercuts or generic equivalent.

A year's worth of barbering adventures ends on an odd and low note as the barbering elite of Hong Kong chewed me up and spit me out.
In each country, we purchase a decorative item for our future home, a cookbook and a dress for Emily (which sometimes becomes pluralized). As a result, we have had to occasionally unload some ballast and send packages home. We also get the occasional gift for people - and send those too.

As a result, we've visited a lot of post offices and I've mentioned a few highlights over the course of he year - such as the awing experience we had in Mumbai (http://unfoldingworld.typepad.com/our_first_year_everywhere/2010/12/a-stitch-in-time.html).

As we tie up various matters from the year, I want to return to post offices for a moment. For anyone who should need to know, the post offices of France, Hong Kong, Singapore and Thailand are delightful.

In fact, Hong Kong and Singapore are not only easier to use, but they offer faster service and lower rates than most of the postal services in Asia. Emily had a little bit of difficulty in Singapore with an older postal worker who became annoyed with her for not being "prepared" - aka not knowing the system. However, in my experience, most of the Singapore Post people are very helpful and they actually have a system - which is more than many countries we've visited.

The postal counter people in Bangkok - who were sitting around doing nothing both times I visited the post office - happily packaged up all our items, chatted merrily and helped me find the best rates for each item. They did all the work and had simple forms. Although Thailand Post is a little pricey, the air packages arrived a week later - faster than promised. The sea mail took 1.5 months longer than quoted.

Turkey was a little confusing because the English wasn't great. But the lines were super-quick and the postal people were as helpful as possible. The rates were reasonable and service was good. In terms of ease, it was surprisingly great despite not being the nicest looking of the postal administrations....

Greece was almost at the cusp of greatness. In Rhodes, they had a hillarious man who not only sold, but created packaging. We gave him our items and he made customized boxes for each - cheaply. Afterward, we took a number, didn't wait too long and a very nice lady quotes us reasonable rates for our air mail. She then practically covered each package with stamps, because they don't used computerized postage systems. Items arrived in about 10 days and all was well.

That's why we were so shocked in Patmos when the three employees of their tiny post office refused to sell us packaging and directed us to beg the man at the nearby supermarket for discarded boxes. In the end, we had to change a few of our gift items so we could use padded envelopes - which the stationery store sold us cheaply. The supermarket man was low on boxes and in the end, the postal people refused to allow a bottle of olive oil to ship. The packages still arrived - covered in stamps - in a timely manner. We were less than impressed after an hour of running around, begging for boxes and bargaining to allow our packages to be sent.

Then there was India. Crazy-ass, bureaucratic, you need a user manual and a vicodeine to get through it - India. We played along and had an amazingly interesting experience in Mumbai, however in Udaipur we left. In fact, we paid three times as much to send our package DHL mainly to avoid the post office. I have never seen such disorder and a lack of humanity in a government office. It was like a pack of dogs attacking an injured deer - only it was a postal counter.

The Vietnam Post was so complicated and the workers so harsh that Emily nearly cried. Other customers cut ahead of her and the people at the counter acted as if she was invisible. It took her an hour to send her packages. When Emily came back to the cafe where I was working, she looked shaken. Somehow, the Vietnam Post had insulted her dignity and beaten her up a little.

And then there was Poste Lao - which posts a chart on how they send international packages to their destinations. Not surprisingly, it doesn't matter where your package is headed, Poste Lao tosses everything on the morning Thai Airways flight to Bangkok and basically hands over the packages Thailand - which operates a real postal service.

Despite this, Poste Lao was amazingly easy to use. We sent a fairly sizable package from Vientiane and expected it to be a lot of bureaucracy and hassle. Although we had to visit four different windows and desks to complete our transaction, it all went very quickly and the workers - who really weren't that busy - were extremely helpful. Laos was far from our cheapest package, but it all went easily and extremely civilly. Knowing it's backed by Thailand Post (sea mail), I'm sure we'll see our stuff one day.

Things like post offices and barbers are some of my favorites because they're little glimpses into everyday life and the mindset of a country and culture. Each of them has taught me a little something. After all, they provide essential services everyone needs and uses. They're not doing anything special and different for us.

Although at times, these "errands" have seemed annoying or a hassle, they've been some of the highlights of the trip. They're part of the enrichment of staying in a place long enough to get a feel for it. And I guarantee that the next time I'm in a USPS line and I have to wait ten minutes, I'll think nothing of it and I'll appreciate the affordability and speed. Believe me, Americans - whatever your post office complaints, we have it good.

Sent from my iPad

Dim Sum And Then Some

Even the most bland middle-American town knows Chinese food. It might be in its most greasy and generic form - maybe even a national chain like Panda Express or Pick Up Stix. Maybe it's just Chung King frozen egg rolls - and Chung King is scraping the slimy bottom of the Chinese food barrel.

After Italian, Chinese is America's "ethnic cuisine" of choice.

Sadly or fortunately, depending on your point of view, Americans who pride themselves on their international taste buds and refined ability to discern the subtle differences between General Tso's and orange chicken or their chow mein from their lo mien don't know real Chinese food.

I used to be among the ranks who thought mu shiu and kung pao were real until January 2003 when I went to Taiwan and had my bubble so cruelly burst.

More than anything, I wanted freshly made dumplings - ideally from a street cart. I looked for stacks of steaming bamboo baskets, expecting they would be as common as Starbucks. Not only did you have to be in the know and wise to the ways of street food to find them as traditional foods are giving way to global cuisine, but what I found disturbed me. All they had were xiao long bao - round pork filled dumplings served with grated ginger, soy sauce and vinegar - similar to what we call potstickers in America.

Although nothing to sneeze at, I became frustrated at my inability to find dim sum. Real dim sum in all its many varieties. Where the hell were my shumai and bean curd rolls?! It felt as if there was some conspiracy to keep the good stuff hidden.

And if the good stuff was hidden, the often repulsive stuff I had never heard of was on display. Stewed beef lungs and other innards, fermented tofu that smelled for blocks, pig's blood encrusted rice and hot pots fueled by a clear gel made of processed excrement - aka poo gel - that had a sickening pungency when burned. Even the ducks hanging in the window were boiled and chewy, neither crispy or deep roasted and soft like I had known them at home.

Sure, there was some good stuff in the mix, but often not dishes I had ever heard of or seen.

It turns out - shockingly - that China is very big. Different regions, different cuisine and many, many dishes. Much of what we know in America is Cantonese cuisine brought by the workers who came to build our railroads and the subsequent waves of Chinese immigration into San Francisco and Los Angeles. Go to a Chinatown on the west coast, and you'll find people mostly speak Cantonese and use traditional Chinese characters, not modern simplified Mandarin in their writing.

Of course, there are also some adjustments for the American palate. More meat, a little less of this, a little more of that... lots of MSG.... A few invented items like General Tso's chicken. Deep fry it and put some thick sweet sauce on top and Americans are all over it.

This is why when I finally made my first trip to Hong Kong for New Year's 2004, I felt like I had finally found the Chinese food I was had expected in Taiwan. Just like I had expected, it was far better than what we have at home.

For me, the heart of the matter is the dim sum. I love dim sum -- the huge variety of different steamed and fried treats the Cantonese eat primarily for breakfast. And when push comes to shove, it's all about the various dumplings and steamed buns and cakes. I can pass on the steamed pork ribs, ox tail and chicken feet.

I want the har gao dumplings of shrimp or green vegetables in a clear, glutinous rice-based encasing. Give me shumai - the shrimp and pork dumplings in a soft, steamed wonton wrapping. I happily eat cheong fun - the rolls made of giant sheets of rice noodles containing shrimp, chicken or pork and served with soy sauce. The light, fluffy steamed char shiew bao and nianyong bao - buns stuffed with BBQ pork and lotus seed paste respectively - are fantastic.

But above all - and if nothing else - I want fu pei guen, the rolls of ground meat and fresh, flavorful veggies wrapped in bean skin (tofu) rolls. Something about the vibrancy of the veggies and the light, flavor enhancing sauce covering the rolls practically explodes in my mouth. Fu pei guen - it's what's for breakfast.

People back home may scratch their heads and point out the obvious - we have dim sum in almost every major American city - especially Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Seattle.

It doesn't taste the same. Believe me, I've done the rounds. I've wanted it to work out. It just never does.

I've consulted some of the top foodies in Singapore about this issue - because Singapore not only has no shortage of dim sum, but it employs countless chefs from Hong Kong to prepare it. Still, it tastes sad and withered compared to Hong Kong. Singaporeans all agree - it's the water. The exact same reason New York claims their pizza is superior to everyone else's.

I'm inclined to buy it. There can't be that many half-assed dim sum chefs out there. After all, this stuff isn't rocket science. Besides, if anyone was going to replicate perfect dim sum through science, precision, financial resources and force of will, it would be Singaporeans. Most convincingly, it's the way the dim sum here looks - big, moist and ready to burst with flavor. It even smells different.

The water theory also holds up under the financial strata test. The dim sum at the very affordable cooked food market down the way from our hotel is just as good - if not better - than the stuff being served in Maxim's in City Hall. Bill Clinton eats at Maxim's as does probably every dim sum loving celebrity and dignitary who passes through Hong Kong. The selection is vast and the chefs are top. Maxim's is a well oiled, top notch dim sum machine of superb quality - perhaps the top of the global dim chain. Nonetheless, I'm just as happy with the fu pei guen that grandma and her posse are making by the ferry dock.

Emily, however doesn't share my dim sum crazed enthusiasm. She finds it nice - not thrilling, but nice. In part, I don't think meat for breakfast is quite her thing. She gravitates to the sweet side of dim sum and enjoyed the matuan - sesame seed covered, fried balls of glutinous rice filled with lotus seed paste. She doesn't mind the steamed buns with the lotus filling either.

We both agree that dim sum goes best with either Hong Kong light green tea or warm Chinese-style soy milk.

Despite my fixation, I recognize there's a culinary world beyond dim sum. Hong Kong is famous for its roast Peking duck - known for its deep reddish brown skin and soft meat made tender after almost a day of slow roasting in a giant heated barrel. Hong Kongers do the same with pork, goose and occasionally giant squid. You can find these delicacies hanging in restaurant and butcher shop windows.

Locals also like salted Hainanese chicken which is steamed instead of roasted so that the white meat is moist and flavorful when it gets placed over rice cooked in chicken stock. And because chicken seems to be best accompanied by chicken, they also serve a light chicken broth as a side accompaniment.

Hong Kong also features every kind of Chinese noodle you've ever seen and them some - fried and in soups. Thin rice noodles, medium lo mein noodles and huge, thick globs of noodle used in dishes containing all forms of vegetables and meats - some with a peppery bite and others mild enough to feed a baby.

There are a million forms of fried rice. If it can be fried with rice, Hong Kong does it. Best yet, the rice we associate with Chinese food at home is the kind used in Hong Kong. I've never tasted rice like it in any other country - including Mainland China and Taiwan.

Some of the dishes served over rice we know from home also exist here including beef with broccoli, almond chicken, lemon chicken and spicy tofu (ma po tofu). I've even found a few restaurants that feature chop suey and some spicy Szechuan dishes loaded with chili peppers.

Veggies aren't mixed into meat dishes as often as home - you get them as their own separate items. Chinese broccoli is ubiquitous as are numerous forms of spinach, kale and other leafy greens. Emily fell in love with a braised eggplant dish which - like every kind of vegetable we've had here - is coated in an oil-based sauce. It's hard to consider Hong Kong veggies healthy - but they taste great and we have no desire to know the secret of their recipes.

As anyone who has been reading for the past year knows, I'm all about dessert - and Chinese dessert is no exception.

The Macanese egg tarts served warm are great as are the coconut puddings and glutinous rice balls filled with sweet nuts or banana custard. Almond cookies are a Hong Kong classic that most American Chinese restaurants feature. Cool, refreshing mango and almond puddings are great on a hot day.

Nevertheless, I usually want anything with lotus seed paste in the middle. The sweet, nutty almost fragrant light brown paste is one of the great delights of Asia. Whenever we walk the streets of Hong Kong, I have one eye out for a bakery that features traditional Chinese flaky pastries with lotus seed filling or better yet, moon cakes that have the highest concentration of lotus of anything. Emily's favorite matuan will do in a pinch too.

In part, Chinese dessert brings me back to my childhood when my mom and grandmother would take us to Chinatown, or when we would have some reason to be downtown. My mom always made a point of stopping by the Phoenix Bakery on Broadway for their best pastries with emphasis on the rich, peanuty lotus filled ones - which we would then enjoy for days.

For Emily, on the other hand, Hong Kong has been one of the lesser culinary stops. She's not a frequent Chinese food eater and when she does eat it, she likes the Americanized version. Oddly, at home, I don't eat Chinese often despite liking so much of the food here in Hong Kong. Perhaps it's because it isn't as good as Hong Kong - and perhaps it's because it'll kill you.

But I sure enjoy every bite of it here.

Sent from my iPad

The Typhoon

"Hi, we're having a problem with our Internet service....it's sometimes very slow and I'm having trouble opening up pages...."

"That's probably because of the typhoon outside, Madam," the man at the hotel front desk told Emily.

In a sentence, we learned that the rain outside was not just the standard one hour tropical rain and that we have really been out of touch with the news.

The typhoon hit Hong Kong about about 8:45 last night as we were finishing dinner in Wan Chai. We grabbed a taxi, headed back to the Central docks and had a choppy ferry ride back to Lantau.

We awoke to strong winds and torrential downpours which have been intermittent all day. Looking out at the rough waters, strong winds and wet hotel windows, I didn't feel much like going into town. I had intended to go alone while Emily hung back to maximize her work time. But a quick check of the news, and I decided this was the wrong day for a 30 minute boat ride across Hong Kong Harbor and no better a day to walk the streets of the city.

Although tropical storms are typical to the region this time of year, parts of Guangdong and Fujian have flooded and more than 280 are dead.

Here in the tiny beach cove town of Mui Wo - as throughout Hong Kong - drainage seems fine. However, any good Los Angeleno knows, rain kills - stay inside - be very afraid. So, Emily and I have holed up in our hotel room and watched the storm while working. Internet has continued to fluctuate, reminding us that we probably have it good compared to many of the other places and people facing this typhoon.

While we are dry and safe inside, storms still lurk on our horizon and in our hearts. As of late last week, the reality of heading home has begun to hit us. Like a typhoon, it came on mildly and over the subsequent days grew stronger and more blustery.

To our surprise, it isn't the sadness of ending our trip or reflections on the impending change in lifestyle that has been stirring us up - although those things are present - but the amount of things to do and handle from here forward.

It starts with something as simple as losing more than 24 hours during the workweek when we travel to New York on Monday. Emily has several classes coming to an end, which means extra heavy grading and she's losing a workday while running up against deadlines. That means getting a little more done this week than she would otherwise have to do.

Then we have three days in Boston visiting friends followed by a four day holiday weekend wedding extravaganza in Vermont - which is fantastic in and of itself. But work and deadlines don't stop for either of us and more importantly, it's a very disjointed reentry. Three days here, four days there, buses, taxis, rental cars, endless activities - good times, but sort of a whirlwind. And we'll be living out of backpacks more so than we do on this trip. It's like we're finishing a year long trip with another trip in our own country - which is actually a little more challenging in some ways.

All of this is just a prelude to the sound of life - or our life at home - politely pounding on the door.

As we have begun to think about upcoming events and necessities, we've realized that there's far more to do than we had really considered. The driver's license I renewed online somehow never arrived anywhere. I have to go in - and as long as I'm at it, I have a vehicle registration to attend to as well.

There's also collecting my car from my mom - who we want to see anyway - and then having some maintenance done including the installation of a new $300 xenon headlight. Time, money - fun.

Car insurances need some changing and higher coverages again. Cell phones need reactivating too. There are appointments too - doctors, dentists, chiropractors, pedicures and probably several others Emily doesn't tell me about. We have dogs to retrieve, people to see, birthdays to attend, babies to hold and a year's worth of mail to sort.

I need to get to work with my independent healthcare recruiting, while also working on getting some writing published. Emily has her classes as always.

There's not a single horrible thing - except maybe the DMV. Somehow, the thought of it all is causing some anxiety and trepidation.

We have conversations that go like this:

"Who's going to make our bed every day? And who's going to do and iron our laundry?!"

"What are we going to do when there's no street food and no cheap massages?!"

"Do you realize we'll have errands again? We'll have to go to places like the grocery store, the dry cleaner and Target again...."

We've led a charmed and spoiled existence for a year now.

Last night Emily identified another important change and discovery. Aside from Bali, we haven't had to drive for a year. Emily hasn't driven at all. Even when I drove, we didn't have to commute or run around to live our lives. If we wanted to stay at the compound all day, we could. Los Angeles involves a lot of 30 minutes here, 20 minutes there and 40 minutes to get to that. In the course of a normal day of work, errands and seeing people - there's a lot of shuttling. Emily isn't looking forward to that. Being without the running around is nice.

The truth is that coming home will have some culture shock, but even more lifestyle shock. We haven't been in any one place (except maybe Bali) long enough to really immerse ourselves in the culture and environment, but we have developed a lifestyle that has become part of our year. In a sense, we've formed our own culture that capitalizes on wherever we are and whatever we find.

Going home is going to be a big change.

Naturally, we're ready for some of those changes. We have people we miss. There are great times ahead to share. We miss our dogs. In my experience, there's also always something you miss about home that you don't realize until you arrive. No matter where you go and how great it is, there's a feeling of belonging and happiness about things you love - both big and little - that you haven't seen or felt in awhile. For me, it has sometimes felt strange or disorienting to come home after being away a long time, but it's never unhappy or bad. Usually, it's extra special.

Only sitting on the other end of the world at the end of a long, extremely wonderful journey, it's hard not to feel like a typhoon is gathering. We have that anxiety, that electrical twitch you get before a storm - or what our grandmothers and Linda Richman refer to as shpilkes.

As the days pass and we get closer to the East Coast and then home, people have asked us what we miss - often foods we haven't had or perhaps conveniences and creature comforts. To our surprise, there's really nothing.

"People don't realize, we can get anything. Aside from good Mexican food and Q-tips (brand name) which I had my mom bring me in Bali, there's really nothing we're missing," Emily said. I would add Papermate pens - which her mom also brought me in Bali.

Perhaps it's because we're not backpackers this time around. We earn money and have a decent living budget - so we can get afford whatever we would at home. In fact, in some ways money has been easier abroad than it was in LA. We have far fewer bills right now.

However, the greater lesson is that stuff is just stuff. This brand of shampoo or that one - it doesn't really matter nor do dinners at trendy restaurants or thick, plush towels (America has the best towels in the world, hands down). What we miss are the people, moments, connections - the sharing of life and love that comes from being together. You can't hug someone from the other side of the world - and the truth is, it's never as easy to console or celebrate someone through email, over the phone or even through Skype.

Today, we often focus on special moments as being the most meaningful. We remember specifically the births, deaths, sicknesses, triumphs, heartbreaks, celebrations, losses and joys and pains. They stand out like bookmarks in the volume of our lives.

Those are important and they count.

Nonetheless, I believe it's the forgettable time, the mundane, the parts of life we share without trying and without hoopla that matter just as much if not more. Kids don't just remember the events of their childhoods, but the feeling of it - which comes largely from the unquantifiable effect of time spent around the people who raise them. It's knowing mom is in the next room, reading a book with a grandparent, family dinners, the car ride to school, help with homework and being tucked into bed that matter as much as anything. Just like it's the glances, touches, and knowing looks that are as much or more a part of a relationship than any moment or event.

In the end, the Fox and the Little Prince had it right, "It is the time you have wasted for your rose, that makes your rose so important."

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Rules, Drugs And "No" - Transitional Reality

The pretty beachside cove town of Mui Wo glitters in the sun. Dogs and their people take dips in the shallow blue-green waters and the old folks and little kids enjoy the park in the morning until the sweltering midday heat overwhelms them. The green hills roll above and the scene is more reminiscent of a summer holiday than a suburb of Hong Kong.

Before my first trip to Hong Kong in 2004, my friend Leanne told me to stay at the Silvermine Beach Resort at Mui Wo. She said it has more space and nicer amenities for the money than anywhere else and best of all, I could afford it. Leanne is someone to trust on anything, but especially hotels, restaurants and Hong Kong.

I took her advice and have repeated it four times over. Starting and ending the day in the peaceful cove of Mui Wo and taking the beautiful ferry ride to and from Hong Kong's Central district has become a pleasant ritual for me.

Emily's reaction has been more mixed. Although she enjoys the pretty ride across Hong Kong harbor with the green hills, open skies and many boats, the extra 30 to 40 minutes of sailing plus the walk to the pier and wait twice a day adds up - especially on work days. Sure, we can work at our hotel and local restaurants, but the idea of being here is to be in the city - either Kowloon or Hong Kong Island. In this sense, this has been one of our least convenient stays.

It all highlights the difference between what we do and normal travel. Traveling and working is such a different experience than being a full-time tourist or backpacker. We actually have structured needs and a routine as we go - which has to be adapted and reestablished in each environment. Some, like Patmos and Istanbul were a breeze, others including Nepal and Udaipur, India were draining.

In my past, Hong Kong has been nothing but fun. I spent my days walking the city - with friends on two occasions and once on my own. I treat Hong Kong like New York - the most interesting part of the city is the city itself. The streets, the neighborhoods, the subways, trams, taxi drivers, cafes - everything going on outside and on the ground interests me. They are the living, beating heart of Hong Kong.

Over the weekend and when we're not working, we still attend to them. However, our days aren't as easy and carefree when we need to get to good, ideally free WiFi in time to get on with our work and hopefully be done in time to enjoy the city.

Hong Kong has also reinforced an idea that has surfaced time and again during the course of the year: environment matters. This is Emily's first time in Hong Kong and the city sort of overwhelmed her for the first two days. Although we were just in Bangkok with has 12 million people compared to Hong Kong's 7 million, the feel is so much more laid back.

Like Los Angeles, Bangkok is spread out and the skyline is decentralized. There are tall buildings here and there, but mostly people live no more than five stories high. The city doesn't tower and the proportions are more human. The back sois (alleys that form the secret heart of Bangkok) take people off the main roads and the streets aren't so densely crowded.

In Hong Kong, it's people everywhere, get with the flow of foot traffic and you gotta' know when to use the pedestrian underpasses because crosswalks aren't always an option. People will help if you ask, but you have to catch the tiger by the toe - they power walk.

"I miss the third world! In the third world they took us right to the door of wherever we wanted!" Emily said in a particularly whiny moment.

The first two days, without work nagging for our attention, I took my wife walking and when we didn't walk, we used the metro (subway) and the tram (streetcar). This involves walking to and from the transportation. We didn't use taxis at all.

It hadn't occurred to me that the woman who could jump into the uncontrolled, swarming human mass of Chandi Chowk in Old Delhi - which I couldn't stand for five minutes - would find the streets of Hong Kong overwhelming. But when I zoomed out, I realized that this city is different from any other we've visited this trip.

Singapore with only one million fewer people on their vertically built little island has a calm, orderly feel.

Delhi was an uncontrolled mass of humanity that we traversed by taxi and walked really only in bits and pieces. It's also so different that Emily suspends her cultural expectations and norms, and instead finds it fascinating.

Mumbai, Bangkok and Istanbul were spread out and relatively tame.

Hong Kong is the Big City in the metropolitan, marching through town in wing-tips and high heels sort of way. Everyone has somewhere to be, something they're doing and you have to get into the groove.

Meanwhile, I get high off it. Something about Hong Kong thrills me. The energy is like a drug - it quickens my heart, sparks my imagination, drops my jaw and makes me think about the possibilities of life and what people are capable of achieving. Bali is my euphoric tranquilizer and Hong Kong is a powerful upper. When I'm here I want as much as possible, straight into my veins until I drag myself back to the hotel exhausted and crash. Then I wake up the next morning to nurse my hangover over dim sum and tea before getting back on the boat for another hit.

If I ever went back and forth between Bali and Hong Kong, I'd probably end up like Elvis on the bathroom floor.

It turns out, this isn't Emily's drug of choice. She's becoming accustomed, but it sort of gives her the jitters - the way I'm glad I saw Delhi, but it rattled me too.

When I was a kid, my parents liked to occasionally look at houses and neighborhoods when we were on vacation in a place they really liked. They wanted to peek, see if they liked it - always a little open to new ideas for their lives. It used to freak me out because I had no desire to move and just looking sort of frayed me. Now, I get it.

As Emily and I have made our way around the world, we sometimes try things on for size. We discuss where we could and could never live. We talk about what we like about different places and environments. Each stop becomes a sounding board for figuring out our individual and collective environmental needs. And it turns out that the physical environment affects how we feel about each place as much or more than any of the sights or cultural aspects.

When it's all said and done, two places remain on the tips of both our tongues - Bali and Patmos, Greece. The two most relaxed and small-town places of the trip. Istanbul won as favorite city. Although it was cool and we should have liked it more, Penang failed to impress and we're still working on why that is. And I would be happy not to spend five more minutes of my life in Delhi, whereas we both found Mumbai intriguing and pleasant.

For us, many things make a place special but temperature, natural beauty, and water matters. We also like access to "stuff" without rampant consumerism. None of our favorite places are sportin' the bling, but they all have everything we could want and need. Alright, Patmos might require an occasional shopping trip at a nearby island or Athens - but only now and then. We'd probably boat-pool with Nicholas.

In the end, just as my parents always told me when I'd get jittery about them looking, we have no intention of living anywhere other than in LA, near family and friends. No island or city is beautiful enough or enjoyable enough to replace them. However, we might make extended regular getaways if we can make it happen....

In the meantime, we've promised ourselves we're not going to turn our last week abroad into a "count down" or a giant nostalgia-fest. We want to enjoy each day - the entire trip entirely. We're trying to stay in the present.

Luckily, Emily began getting over her Hong Kong shock yesterday. She got some work done and began acclimating to the flow of this very first world city. Of course, Emily was put off over the weekend when someone told her "no" for the first time since Region 1. She wanted to sit on a ledge in the mall and eat a snack she had purchased at a stand that had no seating.

"Do you remember the last time someone told us "no"? I don't! No one has told us "no" in months!" she exclaimed. As caucasian American travelers in South and Southeast Asia, we were pretty much left alone and allowed to do whatever. Sad in a sense, but it's the way.

The cultures too, allowed more flexibility than we ever required. Thais sit on the steps of their malls eating street snacks. Lao sleep anywhere they feel like. Vietnamese pull out drawf-sized chairs and stools and hang out on the sidewalk. And Indians do just about anything - except touch a member of the opposite sex or have sex - anywhere. But Emily wasn't allowed to eat food she purchased in a mall just anywhere she wanted. She needed a designated bench or table.

"I don't like the first world! Is this what's going to happen when we get home?! This isn't good..."

This is why I wanted Hong Kong for last. Besides the "upper" of Hong Kong energy - at least for me - it's a transition from third world to first in a safe, removed setting. Without cutting the intoxicating elixir of travel completely, Hong Kong allows us to titrate back to the rules and realities of our world. Hong Kong is, as so many Asian cultures say, "Same, same, but different."

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Pressure Cooker, Crock Pot And The Taste Of Success

This is my fourth visit to Hong Kong. The other three were each in January - 2004 - 2006. Each time, the air was crisp and refreshing during the day and a little chilly at night and in the mornings. Drinking hot soy milk and almond milk to keep warm were part of the city's charm and days of walking and sightseeing were broken up by quick rests in diners and cafes to warm up. I'm not normally a winter person, but Hong Kong in January is delightful.

This time, it's shvitzy. Like New York where the holidays are magical and the summers are steamy, Hong Kong in June could frizz the mane of a horse. It's a different experience this time around. Walk a little, get a drink. Walk, stop in the shade. Walk, run into a mall to cool off.

Every building is blasting air conditioning in a way that makes Californians look energy conscious. It's like Hong Kong took air conditioning lessons from Singapore which uses man made arctic blasts in every inch of inner space to offset the never ending heat and humidity that goes with being a degree north of the equator.

Singapore and Hong Kong have the same answers to heat. Iced bubble tea or boba stands everywhere, fresh fruit juices, Milo, Horlicks, barley water, cold soy beverages and hot tea (the old school approach).

In fact, in the two predominantly Chinese populated former British colonies share a certain kinship and are often compared and contrasted. Singapore and Hong Kong are an 11th grade five paragraph essay waiting to happen.

The fact that they're both island states completely dependent on trade for resources and survival ranging from the exports that fuel their economies to the completely imported food on their tables. Neither has its own agriculture anymore.

Most importantly, they share the British colonial experience. Their embrace of English language, capitalism, standards and business practices make them different from not only their neighbors, but their entire continent.

Superficially, soaring skylines include not just business towers, but condo blocks of size and quantity we've never seen in America. Wide roads, nice sidewalks and fantastic public transportation make both former colonies easy to traverse. Public parks, squares, museums and activity centers given them the civic trappings of Britain.

Both Hong Kong and Singapore have essentially had to invent themselves. Starting from humble beginnings as port cities and centers of international sea trade, they each took off when they discovered manufacturing and banking. Both figured out that their limited resources meant they needed to compete also on intellectual capital, emphasizing education and English to become fulcrums for East-West commerce. Interestingly, the two small societies decided to incorporate technology as part of their credo, embracing it as integral to their prosperity and quality of life.

But then comes the fascinating divergence.

Singapore - along with British Malaya as a whole - demanded its independence, while Hong Kong clung to its colonial power - who was happy to cling right back. Singapore had intended to cast its lot with Malaysia and only faced adversity when it was kicked out of the Malaysian Federation and had to go its way. While this was an overwhelming set of circumstances, Singapore had a shot of making it.

Hong Kong had only two choices - Britain and China. Once China went Maoist, the choice for Hong Kong was clear. Many of China's wealthiest industrialists, most talented artists and brightest scholars fled to Hong Kong to escape. Hong Kong and its British masters eagerly absorbed them. In fact, Hong Kong was one of the few colonies that not only didn't push for decolonization, but practically begged Britain not to leave.

Lee Kuan Yew would tell you Singapore had it roughest. It lacked the capital and incredible talent that rushed into Hong Kong. It also had no ready-made market. Communist or not, Hong Kong was and remains a gateway to trade with China. During the communist era, it became one of the few if not only ways to do business. Hong Kong had a clear and distinct purpose - and the British not only knew it, but they profited from it. Which is why they let Singapore go and kept Hong Kong even after letting all their other eastern possessions go.

Singapore was a sandbar with a port and even worse - a multicultural population. Even the Chinese weren't from the same parts of China and spoke at least six different dialects incomprehensible to one another. The early years of Singapore were about not not starving or killing each other.

Meanwhile Hong Kong had two basic types of people: Chinese and British. One party was in charge, the other was homogenous - a much simpler recipe for getting along.

The British were not only in a better position to assert their will than the Singaporean government - which had to get the buy-in of the people in the early days - but the two cultures were receptive to each other. Locals' trade styles drove business with China while British investment and modernity allowed Hong Kong to reach new heights. The players discovered that despite each other's annoying habits, the two groups could advance each other's interests and everyone could win.

Financially, Hong Kong came out on top more easily in a shorter period of time.

Only it isn't a nation. Singaporeans have a nationality, an identity and the ability to blaze their own trail. Their choices aren't belonging to China or Britain - they belong to themselves. At the end of the day, despite the tight system that governs them - Singaporeans are free. They have their own future.

Of course, where Hong Kong thrives as a center of culture, creativity, art and cosmopolitanism, Singapore is a little more...subdued. Bringing three cultures together to form a new nation where none had existed before and no one intended for there to be one - while at the same time creating and developing an economy was no easy feat. Despite many western criticisms, Singapore achieved a lot using a pressure cooker.

Singapore is an experiment and achievement of social engineering. It's a remarkable feat of imagination that sort of discourages too much imagination. It fused Asian values with British and western concepts, not over 156 years as was the case in Hong Kong, but in about 30 years.

Singapore's founders were architects and managers while Hong Kong was developed by politicians, financiers, traders and merchants. Hong Kong's people celebrate festivals and everts together while Singapore's Indian population works overtime during Chinese New Year while the Chinese pick up the slack on Deepavali (aka Divali). Singapore's people were immigrants who came for work and trade. No one meant to change their nationality or necessarily to stay. It all just sort of happened. Meanwhile, Hong Kong had a people of its own. Their home developed definition and increasing purpose and prestige with time.

There's no doubt the the pressure cooker is less tasty than Hong Kong's rich and well honed crock pot recipe.

When I'm in Hong Kong, I feel uplifted. There's a spirit and energy like New York that only comes from people hustling and chasing dreams. In order for that to happen, you have to have dreams - and the people of Hong Kong have no shortage of them. They manifest themselves in their city that reaches for the sky and the amazing diversity of happenings in their little series of islands.

Hong Kongers have free speech - while Singapore's is curtailed. People here urinate in the street (saw it today), they spit on the sidewalks and they occasionally J-walk. There were years of organized crime and violent crime still happens. There are rough edges. Hong Kong has arts - real thriving ones including a strong film industry. You know more about it than you realize - Bruce Lee, Chow Yun Fat, Jackie Chan.

Hong Kong is real. It has a heart that feels and a strong pulse. With little side streets where people are selling live fish and chopping up pork next to big thoroughfares where women dressed in their Prada heels play part of the fashion show that is this city.

Hong Kong is the where the cream of Chinese and British/western culture bubbled to the top.

All of that said, I admire Singapore more. Nothing is more amazing or valuable that something earned. Singaporeans have worked for everything they have - no British backers, no built-in Chinese trade, nothing in common with one another except the island on which they stand.

In the end, I love both places and more importantly, they are endlessly fascinating. I believe they have a lot to offer us. Melding cultures as different as Chinese Indian, Chinese, Malay and British can be done. People can - whether through adversity or in pursuit of rewards - look past the differences and see how much they share.

These two little islands turned diversity into strength, learning to use their array of assets to achieve. When people learn to see each other's humanity and respect one another, they get more. In fact, we all do. After all, I can't think of a more invigorating place to walk than through the streets of Kowloon or Wan Chai - armed with iced Alishan tea, of course.

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Things I'd Tell My Bubbee And Struggles With Destiny

After the 1984 joint declaration that laid in the plans to return Hong Kong to China, my grandmother decided she had to visit the British crown colony before the scheduled July 1997 handoff. Despite Chinese guarantees to keep the liberal capitalist system of government in place and to honor the Basic Law of Hong Kong, my grandmother, like most people questioned what would happen.

Being a lover of Chinese art and culture, she very badly wanted a shopping trip to Hong Kong and began talking to my mom - who shared her passion - about clearing their credit cards and finding a time to go.

My grandmother was traveling and enjoying life, looking forward to Hong Kong when in August 1989 the first symptoms of her pancreatic cancer began to surface. She died in December, at age 67 - and missing Hong Kong was one of her great regrets.

I always think of her when I'm here. I love it here and know she would have been as happy in Hong Kong as she had imagined.

I also think back on what drove her to plan her trip. Most of the world shared my grandmother's concern. Many Hong Kongers left - going to the UK, US, Canada, Australia and Singapore among others.

Hong Kong's future became highly uncertain and in the years leading up to the handoff, the colony had trouble securing loans for projects like the MTR (subway).

Luckily, in most respects, China has upheld its end of the deal. Hong Kong remains much as it was. The coins no longer bear the image of Queen Elizabeth and the red postal boxes were changed to green, but the colony turned Special Administrative Region wasn't gutted as people feared.

Eventually, many Hong Kongers returned to roost. Singapore which had offered an extensive number of visas and residencies to Hong Kongers found that within 10 years, most had returned to Hong Kong.

As far as I can see, there's really no reason why not. Hong Kong remains a vibrant world city where business and industry - including its sizable and important banking sector - still thrive. Hong Kongers have a fantastic standard of living and a beautiful pseudo-city-state.

Only, there's the rub. Pseudo city-state? Because it's never existed before, no one really knows what an SAR is, let alone what that means for its residents. Hong Kong is under Chinese sovereignty, but the people mostly don't consider themselves Chinese nationals. But they are ethnically Chinese. Although they speak Cantonese. And English. They have different passports and identity cards than Chinese nationals and actually have to stamp in and out of Mainland China - or Macau, another SAR.

So that's confusing.

Hong Kong has its own currency, legislative body and post office. Its citizens vote for some of their legislators in genuine elections and they have a bill of rights including free speech and the right to assemble (biggies).

But there are Chinese naval ships in the harbor.

It has to be a bit confusing to be a Hong Konger. One thing you can't really have is nationalism - because in a strange way Hong Kongers are people without a nation. They know what they aren't - not fully Chinese (not in the PRC sense of it, anyway), not British, not fully democratic, not communist and not in charge of their collective destiny.

However, walking around town, you see a confident society. Buildings going up, business booming, streets bustling, cultural events in the harbor. It's Dragon Boat Festival time and Emily and I watched the races at Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon. People were lined up to enjoy an ancient Chinese tradition which Hong Kong turns into a multi-day celebration and carnival on the water. In this way, Hong Kong is very Chinese.

Of course, feet away are department stores, hotels, museums, malls, office towers and streets teeming with business and shopping. The red hot center of Asian capitalism is alive and well.

However, despite all this, Emily and I have been struck by how many people don't speak English. Hong Kong has had some immigration from Mainland China, and I know these people don't usually speak English, but we've seen young Cantonese speakers who lack English skills.

"You know, everything after Generation X, they are so lazy," a very nice Hong Kong woman about our age told us. "After 1997, the education system has gone downhill. They stopped teaching as many classes in English and switched the emphasis to Chinese (Cantonese)."

"But hasn't English been one of Hong Kong's advantages? Don't young people need it for computers, media, watching movies, future careers?" I asked.

"Education is very important. For my daughter (an adorable 20 month-old in her arms), education will determine her chances and opportunities - her entire future. That's why we have to pay to send her to private schools and make sure she gets a good education with English. Our public schools are not so good anymore and kids are lazy too."

She already alternates English and Cantonese so her daughter will be bilingual.

What seems most alarming to me is that Cantonese doesn't help anyone. China uses Mandarin and the international business language is English. It seems to me like the change in Hong Kong education is a giant step backward.

However, Cantonese with traditional characters remains one of the few distinguishing characteristics of this SAR/former colony/city-state/whatever it is now. Cantonese doesn't belong to the PRC or the western world. Maybe it's a quiet form of nationalism - something to help Hong Kongers "keep it real"?

Given I'm writing from Duke's Deli - an American style deli with free WiFi in a mall in Kowloon downstairs from the United Artists theaters, upstairs from the Starbucks that was too crowded to work in, and down the street from the TGI Friday's, McDonald's, 7-Eleven and Outback Steakhouse - it makes sense that Hong Kongers might want something to block the tides that make it so hard to grasp onto a cohesive identity.

It seems - from my limited perspective - that people just go on about their business and live their lives. Some fight for the right to elect their own legislative council. That hasn't been highly successful. But then, the people of Hong Kong have never been in charge. In 1841 their emperor signed them over to the British who ruled for 156 years and then handed them back to the government of the PRC which affords its citizens no democracy, choice or rights whatsoever.

Being a Hong Konger might not be as glamorous as it looks.

But if I could tell my grandmother about it today, I would tell her that people here still are thriving and business is booming. I would tell her that walking along Tsim Sha Tsui, looking across at the enormous and powerful skyline of Hong Kong Island, or looking down on it from the Peak, the city has a wonderful peacefulness amid the blue water, steep and richly green hills and the gentle winds. Despite the constant buzz on the streets and the electrifying nature of the city's life - Hong Kong has a certain magic that blesses its inhabitants. They may not be in charge - and I hope one day they will be - but they're doing okay.

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