The most joyous moment for me in Macau

I feel I should talk about this.

I spoke with T., an old family friend. He is a few years older and we sort of grew up together. He always got made fun of by his family; they used his name as a byword for stupidty and incompetence for years.

He was a really good person, but the pressures from his ultra-competitive family had always made him kind of hard. I remembered that he used to try to lash out in acts of rebellion that was ... well ... he wasn't very good at being a rebel so it just made him look like a try-hard and people just made fun of him more.

I was sitting at his father's table after breakfast and he strolled out in his pajamas cradling a newborn.

"T.?" I asked confusingly, stunned by the crossing image of him as I met him last as a confused teenage and now, fatherhood.

He smacked me in the back of the head. A brotherly "fuck you" gesture.

He was taking the baby to the vapourizor. His son's broncii are phlemed up. I wanted to talk with him. I hadn't seen him in ... what? ... fifteen years? I asked him how he was.

Conversations are like paths, y'know, how ways lead onto ways. He sold insurance. I asked him how he liked the job. I probably shouldn't have done that.

He launched into a massive diatribe about all jobs are equal, that everybody starts on the bottom, and everybody have to specialize to be somebody. Then he kind of said how my father was a bit of a dillettente and how I should never be like him.

He told me to come back to Macau so I can work hard and be a real man. Canada is a place for fun and games, he said.

I didn't disagree with him. I told him that my problem was that I couldn't really read Chinese.

"What?" he said, "then you're a fucking failure. I had much less education then you did, but when I came back to Macau from Canada after high school, I could still make my way. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I can't really disagree with him. In fact, I wasn't really feeling bad about it. I suppose, if it came from anyone else, I would be pretty offended. From T., I don't know, he has been called a failure most of his life. He, from the looks of it, is doin okay in Macau. As if I was hearing beyond words I knew what he was saying: don't get fucked.

He had to live so much of life equating love with success.

He actually mean very very well by all the stuff he was saying. He was really concerned for me. I felt really good, if somewhat embarassed, by it all.

He remembered and cared after all these years.

Macau - Day 2 - Casinos

Day 2 was casino day. Macau's economy changed dramatically in the last couple of years as dozen of new casinos were built. Macau SAR is a bit of an anomaly in Asia. The government here is willing to grant casino licenses. Before, there was only one casino: the Hotel Lisboa. Since the handover back to China, the government granted dozens of new licenses. GDP growth reached upwards of 50%.

I wanted to see them. So I spent most of the day pretending to be gambling addict with money to burn.

I have to say: security is lax. Most of the guards seems uncertain as to what to search for. The Toronto Metro Reference Library has tougher guards. They only care whether I was carrying a gun or not. They just took a cursory look at my bag; they didn't even look at all the compartments. This was generally true in all the casinos I was at. I understand that they have cameras in every part of the casino, but they are more for spotting cheaters. I wonder how long it will be when somebody rob one of these casinos.

I was at the Sands, Wynn, StarWorld, Lisboa, Ventian. The Lisboa (both the original and the new Grand Lisboa) seem to have the most experience workforce. They also seem more geared towards separating the visitors from all the earthly belongings. Gambling is intensely done. Counters to buy chips with VISA cards is right near the tables. Pawn shops are right inside.

I understand that the Ventian and Sands are more geared towards "family" orientated entertainment. They have higher traffic flow, but the visitors seem to take a more relaxed view with Lady Luck.

All the casinos follow a basic employment pattern: a watcher for every two dealer, a pit boss for every two watcher, and a manager to to every six to eight active tables. I assume the floor manager is around somewhere. And of course, the Eye in the Sky. Cameras in the ceiling about 1-2 meters apart.

There is a sort of racial order here. Portugese security guards and dolled up greeters. Mecanese dealers and floor staff. Cleaners are mostly mainlanders. Australians are generally guys in real suits. One of the Directors of Gaming at the Wynn sounds Aussie from his accent. I didn't really find any Americans. But they have, I think, Russians and Japanese girls as exotic dancers. The gamblers are 95% mainlanders from tour groups. I didn't get to see the High Stakes area. I was told that this is the quietest time because people are busy at work until Chinese New Year.

I had been huddling at the Starbucks here. I can only find two so far in all of Macau: one at the Ventian and the other at the Wynn. The lai cha in Macau is cheap and much better in Toronto, but I find that it kind of low on the caffine scale. I am living on Double Espressos at the from the great Seattle giant.

This whole Starbucks thing is kinda funny. I feel like a gwalo. But I get these massive headache that won't go away until I have a Espressos. It's far more expensive than anything else in Macau. Lai cha at the coffee shop down the road from my place only cost 7 Pataca; Starbucks is charging me 18. That is about the price of a breakfast here. But that is still only $2.50 CAD, so I find it acceptable.

Day 1 - Macau

Shit.

I walked thru half of Macau in a half-day. It wasn't intentional. I met up with my uncle (my mom's friend) at his store. He has a business in Macau supplying uniforms. They are very busy right now. Chinese New Years here mark the end point of the business year ... in the same way that Christmas marks the business year in North America, even if the financial reporting year may be on April.

They are rushing some stuff. So I was left to my own devices. I was just trying to find a nice little wonton noodle shop to have a little lunch in the Ho Lan Un district. It is much older than everywhere else. The streets are mere laneways and mopeds are the primary form of transportation. Unfortunately, I think I came at a bad time, most of the stores in the old district are going under. Cataclsymic changes are happening in Macau. New money from the casinos is pushing prices. Everybody is telling me about how things used to be cheaper. Cost of labor, as the casinos are draining the labour pool has pushed wages up.

My Second Uncle (on my father's side) told me that the price of lai cha used to be 5 Pataca at his favorite restaurant. It's now 6.50. (Still cheap by Canadian standard, roughly $.90.) The other problem is the speed of market adjustment. While wages are about 10000 Pataca a month at the casino, many people in other industries still only make 6000 Pataca. Housing costs are also rising. It's hard for me to say for certain how much inflation is in Macau without looking it up from their Economic Council. But it looks like this inflationary spell is affecting the lower strata much more severly. Somethings like energy, transportation seems to have remained the same.

I saw the Sands and the Grand Lisboa. They pretty much tower over everything else. In fact, the older district of Macau somewhat resembles Hong Kong and Bombay of the late-'70's. Mopeds, mixed-commercial and residential units no higher than 4-stories, lack of large chain stores. This forced me to do some serious self-evaluation: I had always assumed that I came from a smaller version of Hong Kong. Macau, in fact, is highly under-capitalized. I with some trepedation would almost like to use the word "backward."

Also, I noticed the general skill level in Macau is low. Hong Kong, I found, the labor force, even at the middle strata, to be slightly lower than in Toronto. Macau is much, much lower. Clerical postions seem to only demand high school education. Sales people in Macau are motivated, but have little salesmanship training. In Hong Kong, at least, the store clerks rushes you to buy crap. In Macau, they seem confused by more complicated requests. In Canada, the clerks makes you feel like they're your best friend, so that not only will you buy something now, you probably want to come back a few months later to buy more stuff.

On a different note, I saw my old kindergarten and elementry school. In fact, I live right behind the place where I spent grade one. I was woken up this morning by the little kids practising English in the language labs. It's a weird experience. I always felt that the place was like a prision. Looking at it now, it seemed small with it's high walls and gates.

I saw a little bit the most important landmark in Macau, the Ruins of St. Paul's. I was going thru the tourist shopping district. I guess I'll go back later, as the museums and Monte Fort are also there.

The colors. I love talking about colors. In Macau, the Portugese influence meant that most of the buildings are yellow, lime green, and pink. Although, at least, nowadays, most of the roads are no longer cobblestones.

I visited my Second Uncle's house near the Rua da Barca. He told me that it was my grandfather's old house. I was suprised. I used to come to my grandfather's house everyday for lunch and afterschool. I couldn't recognize any of it. My uncle hadn't even renovated in twenty years. I simply don't remember. Everything was small. The doorway, the kitchen. The bathtub is half-lengthed: you have to kneel to bath. My Second Aunt apologized to me when I was there for dinner. They had ran out of propane. A tank is to be delivered tomorrow. Meanwhile, she can't really cook anything for me to eat.

And another suprise. My Second Uncle's daughter, my cousin, not only got married last year, she is five months pregnant. By Chinese reckoning, I'll be an uncle soon.

There is a lot of other stuff that is very significant, but only to me. Like, I saw the hospital I was born in, my father's old house, the cemetery my grandparents are buried. I will go back to many of these places again, so then would be a better time to talk about them.

TurboJet to Macau

I got off the TurboJet - a kind of express ferry from HK to Macau. It was very rocky on account of the shift in weather. I was slightly sea sick. Like everything else in SAR, the ferry was a simulacrum of order. There were tickets with printed assigned seats, attendants with maroon suits, and luggage requirements. Nobody followed any of it. People took whatever seat they liked. The attendants in maroon cajoled only when a problems appears. And then, passengers made deals with each other to stay exactly where they are. Few checked luggage. And everbody got up at the same time as soon as the ferry parked.

Hong Kong Island

Yesterday, my older cousin took me to Hong Kong Island. The Financial District to Causeway Bay.

It was malls, malls, and more malls. Then some outdoor malls. I was completely overwhelmd by the number of bright lights and dollar sign numbers. Things were not as cheap as Kowloon, but -- my God -- I felt like I'd been ripped off most of my life in Canada. Even things like Converse sneakers and Columbia Jacket (all real) were cheaper after tax.

My cousin took me to a Japanese Restuarant and I had a Sashimi on rice. It was okay. Works out to be around $7 Canadian, but slightly smaller.

My cousin and I talked about various things. I think I was waaay too much prying about many personal issues. But, y'know, I don't know when I will have another chance in my lifetime to ask him these questions.

He is an accountant. Corporate Tax Expert. I asked him about his working conditions. He tells me that it's tough. He is expected to work 10 hours a day and 5-6 days a week. This not just during audit time; it is his normal time. He has to work even more if the workload pilesup.

He asked me about real estate in Canada. He was interested. I told him that now is not the time because of the structural crisis in the MBS market.

We also talked about consumption and savings a lot. He was so suprised when I told him that the average savings rate in the US is -10%. He thinks Americans are crazy. He said that he and his peer saves anywhere between 50-70% of their income. I was boggled. He told that becaues working conditions are so poor, they all want to retire early: at age 40. I told him about how in Canada, some people are sueing their employers becaues they are being for to retire at 55.

Hong Kong is nice to visit, but I don't think I want to ever live here. Everybody is super-competitive. I wonder what the ROI for small- and medium-size enterprises are. Cuz margins are so low in everything here. They seem reliant on high volumes.

And Hong Kong seems to have a strange devotion to money. We went to Statue Square, which is right next to the Legislative Building, overlooking the water to Kowloon. In the middle is a statue to a former manager of HSBC. This is he first time I heard where they commemorate a banker in this fashion. My cousin explained to me that this dude was responsible for moving the headquarters of HSBC from London to Hong Kong a houndred years ago... and along with it, KMPG. This move eventually made Hong Kong into a financial centre for Asia.

I turned around and there was the World Headquarters for HSBC. I looked around and everywhere were towers named after banks. Indonesian and Phillipino domestic workers all gather here on sundays for a picnic. They are eating apples, pastries under the shadows of glass.

Lai Cha

At Tsuen Wan right now. Inside an old "Western" style tea restaurant. Had a squid ball noodle and lai cha. Watch Doramon. Fuck. I feel old.

Yesterday, my auny and cousins took me to Mong Kok to shopping. Afterwards, we went to the the Star Ferry at Tsim Sha Tsui. We saw Hong Kong Island and the Central district across the waters.

We ate inside the mall and I order a pesto pasta from a Japan-style pasta place..

Mountains and Waters

The sun had just risen over the city. Grey today. The buildings out the window looks magnificent and sad.

I am suprise to see the mountain in Hong Kong. And the greens.

The cars on the highway are also different: skinnier and longer.

Mostly it has to do with the palettes that are so different. A very loud visual statement that this is somewhere else.

Landed!

It didn't fully occured to me that I am no longer a minority until I saw all the ads had only Asians in them.

Welcolme to Hong kong.

Almost there

The plane is 254 miles from Nanjian, the last Imperial Han capital.

Another 2 hours too go. My ETA is 9:35pm. I am about hour and a half late.

I finished Elmore Leonard's City Primeval: High Noon in Detroit. It's very fresh. I don't know what to think unless I read more books of his.

Arctic Sunrise

Apparently, the plane i'm flying goes over the North Pole. I'd never considered it. All this talk about East & West, I guess from here everywhere is South.

We're almost over continental Russia. Asian Russia. Asia. The sun is weak at rising. Like the winter is getting to it too. At best, it can offer is some faded orange and yellow on the skyline. Who can blame the sun for laziness. It is -60° C outside.

Newark Liberty: EWK is not so bad

So I am back at the airport.

The short sojourn to Manhattan was not so bad.

A one-way ticket to NY Penn Stn is $15.
A one-way ticket to NJ Penn Stn is $7.75. From NJ Penn Stn, a PATH subway ride to the WTC site or to the NYC Penn Stn is only $1.50.

The PATH is kind of slow, less frequent, and slight confusing for travellers.

But I guess flying to NY via EWK is not as bad as I had originally thought.

PATH

Transit I never tried in New York. New Jersey has a lttle subway system that goes to Newark.

I always just rode on the MTA everytime I come here. This is something different.

I actually saw it the last time I was at Christopher Street, but I didn't clue in as to what it did. And now I am riding it.

The trains are rather squat, but much cleaner and less busy. It is a little different frm the train I took. It's cheaper too. Only $1.50.

I think it's suppose to take me to Newark where I can take something else to the airport.

It's a lazy NYC morning

I'm in the Cheyenne's Diner on 33 & Ninth. Just ordered a Bison Burger ... it came all the way from Canada!

I took the train from Newark. New Jersey is eerie in the overcast light. The train running by the water and various steel structures, derelict and half-submerged. Arrays of chimneys giving burnt offerings to the industrialized great beyond. This place that is so necessary to NY must so resemble some ancient necropolis.

Coffee. Shitty joe coffee in NYC is always quite good. Good enough to push away the dreamy, cloudy light of the day.

Take Off

My first jet from Toronto to Newark turns out to be about the same size as a Greyhound Bus, but not as comfortable.

I got a seat all to myself. By the window too.

It's so early. A minute after takeoff, I could still see the yellow crowns of streetlights as thin out lines of residential cul-de-sacs.

Our slowly lifted thru the clouds. The wing is washed by the sky shower. And I saw the sky above turn a deep-purple: sunrise. The city below disappear just as the purple turns rosé-wine pink.

The sun has risen offering a promise with a gift of a small rainbow peeking slightly from the white clouds.

One last BK Whopper

I know there are Burger Kings in HK. But probably not at $2. (Roughly $15HKD)

There is something good about ingesting enough calories to sustain you for half a day in one fell swoop.

So... good.

Excitement and Possibilities

A friend just reminded me that I should be freaking out; looking at all the possibilities of travel.

Somethings I will get to do:
- Full pomp of Chinese New Year in it's 15+ days of glory
- See electronics 2 years before they are sold in canada
- Light coat / no coat in Feb.
- Clubbing in Hong Kong
- Sweet black sesame soup
- Cow intestines cooked in star anise for sale in little roadside carts
- Cheap Lai-cha

Leaving

I suppose I better start now. I am not going to be anymore amicable to myself later on to talk about my feelings that I am having right now.

I appreciate all the hugs friends have been giving me. Hugs are really good. Going to Asia is completely nerve-wrecking.

I suppose hearing all year last year from people telling me about their identity changing experience final persuaded me to go. Hari, Patrick, Leah in particular stuck out in my mind. Shit.

Where is home?

The last ten years, I have been telling myself the comfortable lie that I am special. I am Asian: let the masses of white fuckers twist in the wind. Let them clutch to their imaged sub-identities. I don't need them. I was born with mine.

But it isn't really true, now, is it?

Despite all of my protestations, I am still a Bananna Boy. Below the skin, any hint of Asian-ness is but a drop in the vast sea of a thru-and-thru Westernized Man. Plain yogurt with a splash of vanilla. I am not an alien in the strange, Western lands; I am a white man marginalized by the accident of birth and skin colour. It's almost a social disability -- like a lisp.

The last twenty years have been like playing dress up. Playing both, neither, one, or the other. But the core of core is always someone else. No one.

The preparation of the trip is a confrontation of the lie. I am not ready. I will be a stranger in my yellow skin to the billions of other yellow skins. A rough rock dropped into the stream in warble twists.

It's all in the little things. The thousands of small affections in speech and manner to portray the persona of a certain kind of person. But my persona -- as a architype -- only exists here. I won't be me outside of North America; the social self I wish to project cast too short of a shadow to span oceans.

I mean here, I know how fast I am suppose to walk in the subway to tell people that I am too tough to rob. What is a "brisk and confident" pace in Hong Kong?

I don't think I like Ana's

They are really really mean to fat people.

I found this from 57 Reasons Not to Eat.

14. Too many people in the world are obese.

15. People who eat are selfish and unrealistic.

16. Only fat people are attracted to fat people. Do you want pigs to like you because you are one of them.

20. If you slap a fat person you can see a shockwave ripple over their skin. That's disgusting.

29. Fat people are so huge, yet people look away from them as if they don't exist.

30. The only time people do notice a fat person is when they get in the way of that beautiful thin girl walking by (ok that sounds really horrible i know.)

47. Fat people make their country look bad.

48. Big people sweat more and they smell bad.

Ana, Mia, and Ednos

It's late at night and I am on youtube looking at skinny girls in bras and panties set to the tunes of emo/electronica.
Yeah... well, it's not porn. I am watching thinspirations.

A few days ago, I was surfing wikipedia and someone used the word "pro-Ana." Who is Ana? Some new celeb I never heard of? Why are so many 15 years-old girls swearing allegiance to her?

I found out via this wikipedia entry that "pro-ana" are people who view anorexia as a lifestyle choice and not a disease. I was curious.

I looked at a few online diaries like this one:

When I was shopping the other day, I went into a shop and tried on a skirt.
It was the smallest size available, and it was too big!
I felt so fabulous.
I mean, it dropped down from my waist, and when I tried to wear it on my hips, it was too long.
Even the shop clerk complimented me on my thin figure.
I hope this keeps me motivated, but I'm a bit sad that I can't exercise for another few days.
- from Perfect Elegance

I also looked at a philosophical discussion on the topic here. Mostly it revolves around conceptions of perfection, sacrifice, and self-control.

The tips section are also interesting. They seem to be a mish-mash mixture of encouragement, nonsense, and harm-reduction.

I found gems like:

Clench your butt all the time. Guys like a nice ass and you burn calories too.

On the other hand, the website encourages Anas to be thin but not dead. There are encouragements to ensure the right nutrional intake.

I finally saw some thinspirations. Videos made by pro-ana's to encourage each other not to eat.
Thinspo real girl BEST ever!!!
FAT is a CRIME
Perfection Comes in Size 0 :: Nicole Richie Thinspo ::

I don't know. I think these girls are kind of mean to make fun of fat people.
I personally don't find the women in the thinspirations attractive.
But other people may have a different opinion from me.
I'd admit this: pro-ana's have good taste in music at least. I was rocking out to some of the songs in the videos.