Morning madness

Hong Kong is one of those cities that never sleeps. In our first week our tour guide said that the only time there was limited traffic on Hong Kong Island was around 4 AM on Saturday morning - there was no such thing a no traffic. But compared to another major city such as Copenhagen, it is the crowd and constant atmosphere at all hours of the day which make Hong Kong so special.

Following a hefty night out in Central, my room mate and I took a cab to Mong Kok to hunt down breakfast. It was 5:30 in the morning, but most places were bustling, and we settled for noodles and beef in soup with hot milk tea, costing us HKD 30 a piece. But as opposed to Europe, where all that is open is McDonalds and pizza-places, we could get pretty much anything we wanted, and at no price difference than had it been 10 AM.

Although late nights are not that common, hopefully there will be a chance to roam some more around after nightfall. My tour book says that there is a fruit market in Mong Kok which is only open between 2 and 6 AM, and a trip to the peak when it is dark is supposed to be something special. Another curious event is squid-jigging, which my room mate is doing tonight at 11 PM off the Hong Kong coast with a friend. Sometimes going out should be more than just alcohol.

Networking

Networking, for some reason, only seems to apply to the business community. Although there are numerous other instances of networks being utilized to get job positions or favours, one never hears about a geologist getting a business-lunch. This stereotype is no doubt enhanced by films such as "Wall Street" and "American Psycho", but it exists no the less, and today I attended such an event.

Arranged by the Danish Chamber of Commerce (DCC), a privately funded organization with the goal to enhance businesses in their local area, the event was an informal networking lunch in Wan Chai for all Scandinavians. Since several other GLOBErs were going, I had the day off, and it was an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet for 110 HKD, I decided to sign up for it.

It turned out that we were 14 participants, 5 of which were GLOBE students. The others were representatives of the DCC, the Swedish and British equivalent, and the Danish Consulate. After politely greeting everyone and raking in 3 business cards, I sat down and meticulously worked myself through the delicious selection of dahl, curry, samosas, chicken, salad etc. Between plates, I picked up very interesting, though completely non-business related, conversations with two non-GLOBE Danes. People left after an hour or so, although the GLOBErs and the two Danes stayed for coffee.

One seems to leave those events on a very anticlimactic note - the importance and grandeur imagined is replaced with what was basically a lunch in ones native language. It was polite of them to invite us, especially since one might feel a bit alone in Hong Kong (which also explains why expats tend to cluster together when abroad). But it struck me as peculiar that they called it a networking event (perhaps to get our attention), because although I got their business cards, I'll probably never see them again in my life. Totally worth going though, for the experience and the food - suji halwa is one of the best desserts I have had so far in Hong Kong!

Claypot rice

Spending so much time with my parents also meant I neglected socializing with most other people here in Hong Kong. So tonight I spent time with my two room mates, from USA and Hong Kong respectively, having claypot rice in Tai Po.

Located one stop north of University, I had yet to explore Tai Po. It has no real tourist attractions and it is not located close to the main city (such as Yau Ma Tei). Most students go there to visit the 5-story high food mall, but seeing as I cannot be bothered to cook this semester, it is not really my thing.

A 10 minute walk took us from the train station into central Tai Po and the restaurant, a small, family owned place on the corner of a narrow street. It was packed, everything was in Chinese, so my friend just ordered us his favourite. Claypot rice is, as the name suggests, cooked rice with vegetables and meat in a small clay pot. You get the whole pot served in front of you, and before you eat, you scoop soy sauce into the pot and cover it up again for a couple of minutes to let the rice soak it up. When reaching the bottom of the pot, the rice is slightly burnt and crispy. It is delicious, and totally worth the 140 dollars we paid for three pots and a round of beer.

Having a local friend is probably one of the things I feel most fortunate about. His underground view of the city, all the ins and outs, as well as what to do and where to go, is priceless. I would never have found that place on my own, giving me the feeling that I learnt something new about Hong Kong, and it is also refreshing not to have cantine food once in a while. Next week we'll have Dim Sum in town - I can't wait.

School work

With my parents now safely back in Denmark, it is about time I started being a bit more serious about this blog. But for all the events that have happened in the last week of internet-blog silence, the recurring theme is school work.

Unlike my Danish education, which has a single, comprehensive final exam after 7-8 weeks of lectures in each course, my courses in Hong Kong take the whole semester. My courses are consequently less intense, with only 3 class-hours a week (compared to 6 hours + exercise classes in Denmark), so the amount of work roughly equals out. That is until we have midterms.

Semester-courses often have midterms, and I have them in three out of five courses, with the result counting some 25% of my total score. This is low enough so that a bad performance doesn't discourage you for the remaining half of the semester, but large enough to actually make an impact, although I must admit I struggle to find the motivation.

The most bizarre thing is that although everybody knows midterms are part of the courses, the administration insists on conducting them all the same week. Therefore I have 3 closed-book midterms in the space of 4 days, all covering everything which has so far been read. Not that this is inhuman, but considering the added pressure on the student, would it be impossible to make conduct them in the space of two weeks? Or even three? I guess not, and consequently I shall be spending most of my weekend at the library - perhaps blogging will be slightly affected again.

Horse racing

One of the most popular tourist attractions for westerners in Hong Kong is the Happy Valley Race Course. Located amidst skyscrapers near Causeway Bay (on Hong Kong Island), this small race track packs 32.000 people every Wednesday night. So yesterday, I naturally took my parents there.

The race course opened in 1845, and was built for the British who at the time ruled Hong Kong. The Chinese, however, became more and more fond of horse racing, so the atmosphere is a peculiar mix of gruff elderly Cantonese men, who have statistics and insider information and come for the gambling; and westerners, expats and tourists, who come for the beer, the socializing, and have no clue who or what they are betting on. Happy Valley is one of the oddities of Hong Kong which distinguishes the city from the rest of Asia.

In some ways, it is very Asian: Entry price is 10 HKD, although food and drink is slightly more expensive than the norm. Bets can be placed from 1 HKD to 500.000 HKD (!) revealing Asia's love and mental insanity when it comes to gambling (Macau, the gambling capital of the East, has daily revenues from gambling which are 5 times higher than the Strip in Las Vegas), and you can bet on almost anything. On the other hand, British upper-class still resides, with members' stands, tournaments, and the race track being a spotless lawn.

Betting can be confusing, but it actually intriguing. The 4 main types of bets are winner, placement, quinella and quinella placement. In the first two, you pick a single horse (out of 12), either as the winner or as a placement within the top three. Of course the placement bet gives you considerably lower odds. Quinellas are the same, except you pick two horses - either top two in any order, or two out of top three in any order. You can bet on as many as the top 5 horses (in either a fixed or random order), but those bets are so unlikely that the odds are enormous - some winnings on those bets were several hundred thousand dollars. The odds are updated constantly, and are determined by what everybody else bets on - so if you know something others don't, you can get a considerable return.

A night at Happy Valley lasts 4 hours between 7:00 and 11:00, with the 8 races taking place at 30 minute intervals. After missing the first race, we decided to place one 10 HKD bet on each race, limiting our losses to 70 HKD. I won a quinella on my first race, betting that the two favoured horses would finish 1-2, and a couple of other safe bets, so I ended the day 110 HKD up. That was nothing compared to the total value of bets placed, just shy of 1.000.000.000 HKD! Although some of that was paid out in winnings, operation expenses and rent, I'm pretty sure they make a fine profit. House always wins, as they say.

Parents

Parents are great, especially when you have moved out and they only show up for shorter periods of time. One such time is now, when they are in Hong Kong for 8 days, and although they interfere with my daily blogging, they are a pleasure to have around.

One perk is payment - being a student on a limited income in a foreign country, and since they want to see as much as possible in the days they are here (and want me to join them), some social convention mean they pay for everything. Maybe it is a principal, but I can't even buy a 6 dollar ice cream without my mother swooping in to beat me to the cashier. I thoroughly enjoy it, but it reminds me of the debt that children owe their parents - a debt that can never be repaid.

A second pleasure is that since they want to experience events, places and culture, and they expect me to show them around everywhere, I get to see some sides of Hong Kong that I have not yet ventured to. One thing was the Star Ferry, which costs a measly $2,50, to cross the Victoria harbour, and a second was seeing Soho, the Midlevels, the worlds longest escalator that runs up there, and dining in a fantastic Indian restaurant. The place was located on the 4th floor of a small building, but it was exquisite cuisine and part of supermonday, a 2-for-1 deal that 20-something restaurants have every Monday.

At the end of the day, it is just nice spending time with your parents. I guess as you grow up you tend to see them more as experienced role models rather than parents, and although you are more equal, it is clear that they have a lot of experience and knowledge which often takes you by surprise. So I am thoroughly looking forward to tomorrows horse racing in Happy Valley, our Thursday night half-price sushi in Mong Kok, as well as hiking over the weekend.

Money

With Denmark having one of the most egalitarian societies in the world, travelling anywhere else will remind one of how large the gap between rich and poor can be. Africa certainly has its fair share of poor people, but being a child, and with most of my impressions coming from an international school and a clustering of expatriate families, I never took much notice of it. But in Asia, the income gap shows everywhere.

The most striking observation is not how poor people are, but how rich. Walking through the bustling markets of Mong Kok, small stalls selling 15-dollar T-shirts are flanked by luxurious stores selling jewellery and $500.000 hand bags. Real estate prices surrounding Victoria Peak are among the highest in the world, with prices reaching $100.000 per square foot. Michelin-star restaurants are situated next to $50 all-you-can-eat venues, and cars of top brands such as BMW, Mercedes, Porsche, Bentley or Jaguar are everywhere, even though traffic is a nightmare and the MTR costs about 8 bucks.

In Denmark, this would not be possible. Wealthy people tend to cluster together (in Denmark it is in Northern Sealand outside Copenhagen, colloquially known as the whiskey belt), since money is not something you show off. If you have it, great - but it does not make you a better person than the rest of us, and it does not get you any perks. This is very different from the American view of money, who see money as the result of hard work and risk-taking in line with the American dream. While many Europeans have inherited money and with it a life style and an (anachonistic) place in society, Americans have often started with nothing, and are wealthy because somebody in their family has worked for it. This encourages freedom and opportunities, and explains many American GLOBE'rs dislike of a too large state.

In China, until recently, wealth used to belong to the Government and with it the officials in power. However, with the economic reforms, private profiteering has resulted in the increased wealth of society as a whole, and actually reduced social inequality. But the gradual change toward free markets takes time, and so far the system has resulted in many monopolies / oligopolies, national champions and favoured areas of development. Hence there is a growing number of Chinese who are wealthy beyond their wildest imagination. An example could be a family-owned mining firm, who gets the sole patent to mine bauxite in Inner Mongolia. The company has no competition, sells the bauxite to a state-owned enterprise, and collects sky-high profits.

Cheng Du gave a quick insight into the lives of these people's children. The marketing term for such consumers between 14 and 25 years of age is "little emperor". They have no siblings, have better-than-average schooling in English, and so much money they do not know how to spend it. It is often more about something being exclusive than it being an economically sound investment. For companies appealing to multiple segments of the market, it is a hard balance to strike, but nightclubs, for example, would have no entrance fee and beers for $40, but also Moet champagne and $29.000 bottles of wine. Other times, clubs are members-only, with membership alone costing $30.000.

In Hong Kong, this outrageous consumption is also visible, enhanced by the type of people who make up the trading capital of East Asia. Investment bankers, working +100 hour weeks and earning disposable monthly incomes of way over $80.000, are not too concerned about money. In the every-day encounter with such wealth, one can easily lose any kind of rational consumption pattern, as it becomes tempting to try and bridge the obvious social gap and the status that comes with it. It also explains why, for so many local students I have met, money is a goal in itself. Many Danes would be disgusted with this mindset, but unlike in Denmark, money actually does buy you more than just things.

Buddhism

While my exposure to Buddhism has been quite limited in Europe and Africa (where I have previously lived), in South-East Asia it is everywhere. My basic pre-conceived idea of Buddhism; that it originated as the enlightening of Siddharta Gautama, the first Buddha, who then continued to teach his insights with other beings in order for them to end ignorance and suffering, was pretty crude, especially in light of the previous months travel.

Visiting the Tian Tan Buddha in my second week, this is the largest seated, ourdoor, bronze Buddha. Around 26 meters tall, it is located on south-west Lantau Island, up in the hills near the Po Lin Buddhist Monestary. Completed in 1993, it was made in order to give local Buddhists something to feel proud about, and to underline Hong Kong's melting pot of religions such as Taoism, Buddhism, Christianity and Islam. The Buddha also contains a museum, within which there are exhibitions of calligraphy and poems, many of them drawn in blood (whose blood it did not say), and an enormous bell with hundreds of images of the Buddha carved onto it.



In China, I visited the Le Shan Buddha, which is the largest stone Buddha in the world. Literally carved into the side of a cliff, it stands (or rather, sits) 71 meters tall, and being build around the 8th century AD, it is by far the largest pre-modern statue. It was made in order to calm the three rivers which it overlooks, in order to lessen the wreckage they created to merchants further down stream. It worked, as the rivers slowed considerably from all the stone that was chiselled out from the cliff and dumped in the water. The Buddha is surrounded by an enormous temple complex, including beautiful parks, remote shrines and numerous temples.

Finally, on my penultimate day in Cheng Du, I visited the Sichuanese museum of crafts and art. There was very little information in English, but since it was free I decided to spend a couple of hours being cultural. Skilled craftsmanship in metals, jade, silk, embroidery and pottery were on display from 2500 B.C, and China's historic development in literature, calligraphy and trade seemed way ahead of many European nations. However, there was also a large exhibition on Buddhism, showing the evolution of the religion in Sichuan. Apparently a new line (or sub-division) of Buddhism developed from the merger with local customs and Taoist beliefs, which is practised in mainly in Tibet, Mongolia and other western outskirts of China and Russia. So visiting a Buddhist temple on the night of the Chinese New Year was a considerably different experience from visiting the Wong Tai Sin temple on the Kowloon Peninsula.

Regional differences such as these help explain a number of peculiar Chinese elements, such are people being more regionally oriented, rather than nationally oriented (so people would say: "I am from Beijing" rather than "I am from China"), and especially the Chinese government's interference in many areas in order to ensure stability. A difficult area, but looking at history in Europe could give some indication of what can happen - China is impeccably logical in many areas, just like its language.

Bureaucracy

Western countries, especially Denmark, are renown for their high levels of bureaucracy. Whether it concerns the school administration, local or national authorities, or a service provider (such as a telephone company), there is just an enormous hassle to get through to somebody who either has the qualifications or the authority to help one out. Before I came to Asia, I had the idea that it was different. Of course corruption is more widespread than in Denmark, but there seemed to be numerous loop-holes to the system, and if one could navigate them then the benefits would be considerable.

Finding those loop-holes turns out to be much more difficult than first anticipated. Some elements it is best to just play by the rules (say, getting a visa for China), but acting ignorant (which often is not an act, but actual confusion) often helps smooth out proceedings. Especially the OAL, the school administration which manages everything with exchange students, can be influenced this way.

Sometimes, though, there is just no way around the rules - and these are often the most retarded and inconvenient. For example, the International House, which houses some 200 students, provides one roll of toilet paper for each student a month. Not only does one have to bring an ID card and sign in person in order to receive this single roll (God forbid someone tried to hustle 2 or more rolls), but toilet paper collection is only between 6 PM and midnight. Even if you walk into their office at 5 PM, and there are 4 employees sitting around a mound of toilet paper occupied with nothing but chit-chatting, it is not possible to get your toilet paper. Another example is the cafeteria in the morning, where they do not serve hot food until 8 AM, although cold food opens at 7:30 AM. Even though it is possible to make a bowl of noodles (the heater is on, the sauce is made, etc.) and the canteen is totally empty, and one has class at 8:15 at the other end of the school; dull, over-priced sandwiches are all that is available. Rules are rules.

Although bureaucracy is ever-present, a core difference between East and West is the renown concept of "guanxi" - relationships. You don't circumvent the system, you simply get an insider to circumvent it for you (figuratively speaking, of course). Guanxi is immensely important in Chinese business, but even at a personal level it can be beneficial. It is all about networking (as is anything in life) - the hard part is getting the first contact. I got mine when I went to have drinks with a friend of a friend (including said friend). There I met a guy who organizes parties around Hong Kong, and after I praised the last party I went to, which he happened to host, he invited me and my friend to the next one free of charge.

It seems the Chinese do not care how the system works, as long as they know how to get what they want out of it. For now, I think I might be one step closer to understanding that system.

Climate

One of the blessings of being out of Denmark is avoiding the snow and long dark days of winter. Snow is pretty when it first settles upon open fields, and it is cosy sitting inside with hot tea in front of a crackling fire, but more often than not snow involves chills, bicycle accidents, a cold, and limited outdoor activity.

Hong Kong, having a sub-tropical climate, also experiences its winter months between December and February, but unlike Denmark these months a cool and pleasant; a relief from the hot, humid summer months. January is the driest month, with rain only falling on 6 out of 31 days on average, so all in all it is superb weather.

So far it has rained properly once while I have been in Hong Kong - today. The 20-degree temperatures and high humidity reminded me of Africa. The campus bus system means one spends relatively short periods of time outdoors (some 200-300 meters at a time), but it is enough to get you wet. And when one gets used to it not raining, but instead being pleasantly warm, it just becomes an increased nuisance.

The rain made for a perfect excuse to stay indoors and study for most of the day, even though it wasn't too heavy. The really rainy days will come with the monsoon season, with 80% of annual precipitation falling between May and September - August alone receives rain four out of every 7 days on average. But by then I will (thankfully) be heading towards North Carolinian autumn.

Hong Kong Islands

Being an exchange student has its perks, one of them being that the school goes out of its way to organize various cultural trips and sightseeing tours in Hong Kong. So instead of spending Saturday doing some much needed school work, I went on one such trips.

The excursion of the day was a trip to two of Hong Kong's 260 outlying islands: Lamma Island and Cheung Chau. Located south west of Hong Kong Island, they offer a bit of local-island culture, some spectacular scenery, and some much needed peace and quiet from the bustling city. The 45 minute boat ride from Tsim Sha Shui (the southern-most area of the Kowloon peninsula) took us first to Lamma Island. The village of Sok Kwu Wan is a small cosy fishing-village, which has attracted laid-back expats, mainly due to lower property prices. There is a magnitude of seafood restaurants (in which we had delicious lunch), an old shrine to the goddess of the sea, and a stunning view with the Hong Kong skyline in the horizon.

Cheung Chau, located further west, was reached around 4 PM. We went to the local temple, walked the busy promenade with seafood restaurants, crafts shops and western influences such as McDonalds. After spending a quick 45 minutes we boarded the boat and headed back to Tsim Sha Tsui.

Hong Kong's islands have a surprising cultural heritage, often lost by tourists who instead spend time in the city. Granted, Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and N.T all take weeks to fully discover, but the hour-long ferry ride is worth it to gain a day of fresh air and another side of Hong Kong. An example are the "kamikaze caves", a dozen or so caves hidden by the shrub on the beach, a couple of meters wide and up to 10+ meters deep. Used by the Japanese when they invaded Hong Kong in December 1941, the caves contained a couple of speedboats fully loaded with explosives. They were a means of defence against the expected British re-enforcement from the sea. When the ships approach Hong Kong, the speed boats would be dragged into the water and rammed into the British ships. But the surprisingly weak British resistance meant that they were never actually used.


By the time we reached Tsim Sha Shui, it was around 6:30 PM. Arriving in Victoria harbour by sea at dusk is quite an experience, with the skyline drenched in light and feeling that the city never really sleeps. It invigorates you and because something is always happening, you never really feel like you want to go home. So a couple of GLOBErs headed to Tsuen Wan on the western part of Kowloon to see a lantern festival, get some food, and spend time in a new part of the city. School work had to wait another day.

Rowing

Being a former British colony and all, Hong Kong has multiple odd characteristics which they have adopted. Rugby, for example, is wildly popular, most universities have a collegiate system, and they drive on the left side of the road. And then there is rowing.

Rowing (as in 8 oar boats with a cox) for Europeans is the anachronistic boat race between Oxford and Cambridge every year. Apart from that it is a minority sport, a sport which Denmark is surprisingly good at. At CUHK, however, rowing is the crown jewel of collegiate sport, especially when it comes to work ethic.

The big-7 universities in Hong Kong have an annual race in August, there are a couple of head-to-head races between universities in June, and each of the 7 colleges at CUHK have a team. So today I went down to the rowing try-out in order to book a spot for the New Asia college crew (the university crew is super serious and only recruit full-time students. They also require you to participate in a 2 month training camp over the summer break with morning to evening practice (!) in the build up to the race in August. CUHK are defending champions for the last 10 years).

It was a mixed experience. Technique is everything in rowing, so there was a lot of focus on getting an optimal posture on the rowing machine. They also assumed everybody was a sporting retard, so the pace was slow and there was a lot of counting to 10 together while stretching (my body and my patience). I decided it might be worth going to the water practices if they want me, but I'll train in the gym on my own. It is nice to get pointers for your technique, but I want to do it more for the fun of it. For competition I train football with the University team - that gently strokes my ego.

Hair cut

With class cancelled yesterday, it was the perfect opportunity to head into Tsim Sha Tsui to get a long overdue haircut.

The salon was on the first floor of a narrow, dirty building in the heart of Kowloon's bustling streets, just of the massive Nathan Road. From the outside it looked like it was abandoned, and if it wasn't for the fact that my Taiwanese friend who accompanied me had been there before, I would have missed it. Inside, however, it was spotless. There was an air of professionalism, and it instantly reminded me that Hong Kong property prices are sky-high. There is more to a book than just its cover.

The service industry is remarkably different from in Denmark. There are different prices according to who cuts your hair, with novice being the cheapest and master being the most expensive. Most hairdressers were male, young, and service minded, and were hired to train under a master till they themselves were qualified. They spoke surprisingly good English, but they had jobs such as shampoo and head massage, as well as styling, blow-drying, and clearing up. The actual stylists, as well as the master, only cut the hair, which meant that he could have a considerable number of customers a day.

I spoke little Mandarin, so my friend acted as a mediator. We got the best guy in the building, a rocking 30-something year old named Max, who cut first my friend and then me in the space of 45 minutes. While I was waiting I had a 15 minute shampoo and head massage, as well as a cup of tea. We were out of the door within an hour, paying 158 HKD each.

Sometimes I wonder whether Denmark might learn something from the hierarchical system of China. Perhaps this is one of them. It seems a waste to have fully trained hairdressers wash, dry, cut and style hair - especially since consumers pay premium prices for the service. But there is no way a Dane will take a job for a couple of years just washing hair in the hope that they might become a "real" hairdresser. That shows the complacency and perceived comfort that Danes have with their jobs. In China there are often thousands and thousands of applicants for individual jobs, and even people working in McDonalds have university degrees. The competition is so fierce, that people will literally work to extremes during their school years in order to try to secure a job when they are done - giving them the image of being workaholics. This also means that service and quality of East Asian businesses is impeccable - just like my new Asian hairstyle.:)