(continued from "Enemies in Combat - Human World - Part I)
Though I declared a no-enemy-zone in the human world, and sided with Boris on the active flee strategy in combat, I have come face to face with the animal kingdom. The animals in question are not those endangered species which I am supposed to protect, like bald eagles and pandas; nor those dangerous species which I shall gladly flee from as with in the human world, like tigers and wolves. The poor animals that I've taken on as my enemy combatants so far are those defenseless, yet somehow know how to damage my garden or scare me off for no reason. They are listed here in an alphabetical order: bugs, carpenter ants, deer, frogs, possum, spiders,...
The number #1 enemy has to be deer. At the height of my scare and self yard defense, I have pointed my BB gun to them, execution style. They are the only type of animals who have evoked me to the degree of gun voilence. Deer are really cute animals, as long as they stay where they belong: the woods, the parks, someone else's gardens..., anywhere but my garden. I used to adore them. Once when my friends and I spotted a few of them at daytime in a campground in Texas, we went on searching for them with our flashlight at night. I used to greet a deer with the same great joy and excitement as I greeted a long-lost friend "Oh my dear (deer)". Not any more! Ever since I moved here, the deer are no longer a novelty species: they are everywhere. During the hunting season, you'd better wear something bright walking in the woods if you don't want to be mistaken as a deer by the deer hunters. Though I despise hunting as sports or entertainment as a whole, when it comes to deer, I sometimes don't have as much sympathy as I should. I beckon you to see things from my point of view. You see, the soil in my yard is clay like. Adding to it, I don't have green thumbs (only yellow thumbs at best). Do you know how hard it was for me to dig a hole, to shuffle the smelly manure into that hole, to water that hole, to wait for the bud finally blooming from that hole, and then one day to wake up seeing the plant being leveled down to the top of that hole? My yellow thumbs reached out to my BB gun. "Deer, consider yourself warned this time. Don't come back again!" I yelled at them. Next time, I repeated the same hole process, and then there were the deer again! They really knew how to test my tolerance. I suspected they were the same deer because they all looked alike (as the Americans say about the Asians in USA, and as the Asians in China say about the Americans). When they were caught red-handed at the crime scene, they carried on with their crime as if they were carrying on with their daily lunch routine. "Who are you? We are having our lunch here" - They raised their heads occassionally, staring at me during their lunch break if I just stood there still, stunned. "I didn't do nothing. What did I do?” - They gave me that innocent look, citing ignorance as their innocent plea if I tried to make a move; “We didn’t steal; We didn’t kill; We just had a decent meal” - They differed with my guilty verdict if I confronted them with rocks. When all those attempts failed me, I FIRED MY BB GUN AT THEM! That worked because they dropped their food and ran. However, after the gundown, I usually found myself apealing for the deer's innocence. One voice says "They are just animals. They don't know better." Another voice says "They must know they were stealing. How could they not?! Even if they didn't know, a crime against humanity cannot be justified on the grounds of ignorance"!
The next tough animals to combat are frogs. Frogs are traditionally considered good animals. They feed on other unlikable insects, some of which are the above mentioned other enemies in combat. I don’t mind frogs if they stay where they belong, such as rice fields, ponds…anywhere but inside my hot tub. Is that too much to ask considering I'm the one who bought the hot tub? In the beginning, I used some tree branches to direct them away. “You, please run away, far away, back as far as the rice fields in China”. A few times, we relocated them in the far-away corner of the other side of the house, thinking we disoriented them enough for them to find a new hiding place. But no, those frogs like the northwest migrating salmon, knew their way back. Next time I opened the hot tub, the same frogs were at exactly the same spot where they were hiding before. It was not that I was against them having a warm comfortable shelter; It was just that the same spot they liked happened to be where my head liked too. Even if I chose to give that spot away to the frogs, and to lay down my head at one of the other three corners, I couldn’t know for sure they won’t jump into the hot water. For their own sake, it was way too cruel. So I wanted them to leave and I also knew I couldn’t let them leave alive. Finally I resorted to the old trick as a co-cospirator: Every time I opened the hot tub cover and saw the frogs, I just screamed and pointed, letting the man in the house decide their fate. I excused my presence during their fateful moments, but I kinda knew what happened to them and where their new hiding place was. From then on, every time I headed to my hot tub, I passed by their new underground hiding place covered with dirt. I couldn't help paying a glance tribute for their sacrifice before I was about to enjoy my relaxing spa experience.
Spiders are the next in line. There were so many of them around the house last year. Like frogs, spiders are considered good insects too. In most instances, their scary appearances make their fate unfortunate to humans. One morning last year, I massacred at least 40 of them on the fence alone with one rock and one shoe. Some of them were the rather ball-shaped fatty ones. Only by killing them, I discovered they were pregnant spiders. As soon as I smashed their outer round bodies to juices, the skinny spiders crawled out. I felt so disgusted, at them for being pregnant with more disgusting spiders, and at myself for killing the would-be moms and the unborn babies. I remembered longing for a long hot water shower to wash away the spider crawling feel on my skin days after that combat.
Even if I have thousands of reasons to declare the above enlisted animals my enemies in combat, by being a meat eater alone, my crimes against animals are ten thousand fold greater than what a few animal species have done to me. If animals are going to seek justice one of these days, I'm really in trouble.
I remember in the movie “Legend of the Fall”, the 2nd son played by Brat Pitt fought with a hungry lion in the jungle and in the end was eaten by the lion. When his father learned about how his most favorite son died, he called it a good death. I think I know why. It was based on the notion that the animal life forms should be respected and appreciated as the equivelent of the human life forms. It was the same reason why the indiginous tribe people used to praise the sacrifice of the animals before they ate their meat. It’s good and only fair that we humans return some of the animals' favors when the time comes.
When I was in the middle of the combat with the enemies from the animal kingdom, I was aware that I was just adding to that unfairness of humans to animals, the way of life on earth.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Enemies in Combat - Human World - Part I
In the movie by Woody Allen "Love and Death", the nerdy Jewish new recruit from a Russian village - Boris played by Woody Allen, marches with other soldiers towards the enemy in a simulated battlefield. As soon as he sees the enemy, he turns around and runs like hell in the opposite direction.
Sonja: Boris, you're a coward!
Boris: Yes, but I'm a militant coward.
Sonja: What are you suggesting, passive resistance?
Boris: No, I'm suggesting active fleeing.
That movie I watched 10 some years ago still cracks me up when I think about it. I'm just a coward like Boris. If I were to be sent to a war, I would make sure to march in the back row when the "Marching" order is given. Further, instead of following my teammates running to the enemy, as soon as the gunshots start, I'd just pretend being shot and falling to the ground, faking death. And then I would flee at the first possible opportunity.
Sergeant: If they kill more Russians, they win. If we kill more Frenchmen, we win.
Boris: What do we win?
You get the picture: I'm pro-life! Like Boris, I don't know who my enemies are and what I can win in combat.
I have run a list of the crimes I have done and been done to, from the early crime of once cutting down a sugarcane in the farmer's sugarfield in the 8th grade to the later more elevated crimes, a couple of which in that list I wish to have an undo or erase button to undo or erase, or at least to have a shovel to bury the associated memory deep into the grave, never to be dug out again. However, if Albert Einstein is correct in his mass energy equation, also the theory of relativity E=mc² which says "all motion can be measured only in relation to the observer who performs the measurement, and time and position are all relative to the observer", then I should believe: 1): Everything happens for rhymes or reasons; 2): If the thymes sound off-tune or the reasons seem unreconcilabled. Therefore, I refuse to take an enemy combatant regardless of how I'm regarded as by the other side. I hear if you don't have an enemy, you have never stood up for something. If so, first tell me what I should stand up for. I also hear if you don't know how to hate, you don't know how to love. If so, first show me how to love. Until then, I'm fleeing with you, Boris.
Soldier 1: The idea is not to panic and run... then they shoot you in the back.
Soldier 2: I don't want to be trampled by a horse. What about you, Boris?
Boris: [sarcastically] Yeah, I want to be trampled by a horse. I don't even want to fight.
See my next blog Enemies in Combat - Animal Kingdom - Part II
Sonja: Boris, you're a coward!
Boris: Yes, but I'm a militant coward.
Sonja: What are you suggesting, passive resistance?
Boris: No, I'm suggesting active fleeing.
That movie I watched 10 some years ago still cracks me up when I think about it. I'm just a coward like Boris. If I were to be sent to a war, I would make sure to march in the back row when the "Marching" order is given. Further, instead of following my teammates running to the enemy, as soon as the gunshots start, I'd just pretend being shot and falling to the ground, faking death. And then I would flee at the first possible opportunity.
Sergeant: If they kill more Russians, they win. If we kill more Frenchmen, we win.
Boris: What do we win?
You get the picture: I'm pro-life! Like Boris, I don't know who my enemies are and what I can win in combat.
I have run a list of the crimes I have done and been done to, from the early crime of once cutting down a sugarcane in the farmer's sugarfield in the 8th grade to the later more elevated crimes, a couple of which in that list I wish to have an undo or erase button to undo or erase, or at least to have a shovel to bury the associated memory deep into the grave, never to be dug out again. However, if Albert Einstein is correct in his mass energy equation, also the theory of relativity E=mc² which says "all motion can be measured only in relation to the observer who performs the measurement, and time and position are all relative to the observer", then I should believe: 1): Everything happens for rhymes or reasons; 2): If the thymes sound off-tune or the reasons seem unreconcilabled. Therefore, I refuse to take an enemy combatant regardless of how I'm regarded as by the other side. I hear if you don't have an enemy, you have never stood up for something. If so, first tell me what I should stand up for. I also hear if you don't know how to hate, you don't know how to love. If so, first show me how to love. Until then, I'm fleeing with you, Boris.
Soldier 1: The idea is not to panic and run... then they shoot you in the back.
Soldier 2: I don't want to be trampled by a horse. What about you, Boris?
Boris: [sarcastically] Yeah, I want to be trampled by a horse. I don't even want to fight.
See my next blog Enemies in Combat - Animal Kingdom - Part II
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Whine on Wine
When asked about drinking status in any questionnaire, I often check the box for a "social drinking". According to Wikipedia, social drinking refers to casual drinking in a social setting without intent to get drunk. That's a close description because either of the two is true: 1) When I got drunk in a social setting, I didn't intend it; 2) When I intended to get drunk, I preferred a non social setting.
In the recent years, I seem to have broken the social drinking status with wine: I’ve had it in private moments, many times over. It’s quite enjoyable drinking a glass of wine, paired with cheese and crackers, either meditating on my own or conversing with good company. I can no longer play the drinking blame game on the temptress - usually the party hosts (They made me. I only said “yes please”); or on the social pressure - the pressure of being sociable (I don’t want to look like an uptight misfit). Since I can not blame anyone, I’ll just whine on wine.
As the saying goes, “In water, there are bacteria. In wine, there is wisdom”. Wine has some common wisdom with other alcoholic drinks, one of which being the tipsy effect, it loosens you up and makes you an eloquent speaker. Alcohol is said to have a damaging effect on the brain, especially if it's drank heavily. However, wine, especially red wine, when being drank in moderation, helps your brain. Not that brain power is important to me. If I'm really serious about improving my brain (for what I don't know), I have a better chance achieving this by working on the brain use percentage. Most of us use only 10% of our brains. Unless you are striving to be the next Albert Einstein or a rocket scientist (even Einstein used only about 15% of his brain), then your brain should be the least of your worries. On the contrary, for most of us, drinking is a pain medicine in exchange of the awareness of our intellecture waste. Isn’t it painful to realize that a big portion of your brain is never to be utilized to better yourself and mankind?
One time, I read an article about rosé wine in an in-flight magazine. It says rosé does not get old. It only ages. That’s some inspiration for a woman whose self reflection in a mirror starts to show signs of gravity pull. Now I not only like its pretty pink color and its pleasant flavor, more than ever, I like what it stands for. That's a doze of rosé wisdom some of us could use. We just age; We don’t get old.
Like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, in the hands of mastercraft wine makers, grape transcends into wine. Wine takes a culture (or may we say religion) of its own. Wine is differentiated from old world to new world according to region; from Pinot Nior to late harvest ice wine according to cultured grapes; from oak wood to stainless steel according to barrel; from aged to new according production year. Different wine goes with a different size wine glass. Different wine is also supposed to pair with different food in order to best bring out its flavor. Difference aside, all wineries have one thing in common. They all have beautifully construed grape vineyards and the equally beautifully constructed architecture. If you have never been to Italy, a trip to a fine winery gives you the closest impression of what Italy might look like. "Arrivederci Roma".
Against my better judgment, so far what I have written is an ode to wine. Am I supposed to whine on wine? Here I come. Have you been to a wine tasting in an estate winery lately? If you have not, mind you this is how it goes. All the wines in the wineries are award winning wines from different years. Before the staff pour you some sample wines, they go on speaking their sophisticated wine vocabulary, and I would not know how to repeat them. The only words that came out of my mouth during my many wine tasting sessions are the boring: "strong", "mild", "bitter" (this last one is often felt but rarely spoken), and then they tell you the wine you are about to taste has a hint of apricot, peach, pear, passion fruit, lychee, smoky, oak, peppery, cedar …in one word, any flavor except grape flavor. Are we tasting wines fermented from grapes, grapes, nothing but the grapes only? Has anyone truly and surely tasted any of those imaginary flavors, provided you are still sober? In case you don't know, here is how wine should be tasted: Swirl the wine in the glass; Close your eyes; Bring your glass underneath one of your nostrils; Breathe in deeply; Smell the aroma; Take the full wine amount in your month; Swirl the wine in your mouth; Swallow it (Thank God. Finally!). Every wine tasting room even has an empty bucket on the counter just for those who would do all the above, except instead of the last action, the only one action that counts -swallow, they spit the wine out in the bucket. Aren't we wine people among the snobbiest kind of all people? Wine, which is glorified grape juice at its best, is put on a pedestal for us classy but ignorant tasters to worship. Try that on beer people with their beer. I suspect they will either storm away from the tasting room or dump the free wine from the spit bucket into their stomach.
Some of the wine gift shops sell the banners which read “Whine a little, you will feel better”. Yep! I feel better already.
In the recent years, I seem to have broken the social drinking status with wine: I’ve had it in private moments, many times over. It’s quite enjoyable drinking a glass of wine, paired with cheese and crackers, either meditating on my own or conversing with good company. I can no longer play the drinking blame game on the temptress - usually the party hosts (They made me. I only said “yes please”); or on the social pressure - the pressure of being sociable (I don’t want to look like an uptight misfit). Since I can not blame anyone, I’ll just whine on wine.
As the saying goes, “In water, there are bacteria. In wine, there is wisdom”. Wine has some common wisdom with other alcoholic drinks, one of which being the tipsy effect, it loosens you up and makes you an eloquent speaker. Alcohol is said to have a damaging effect on the brain, especially if it's drank heavily. However, wine, especially red wine, when being drank in moderation, helps your brain. Not that brain power is important to me. If I'm really serious about improving my brain (for what I don't know), I have a better chance achieving this by working on the brain use percentage. Most of us use only 10% of our brains. Unless you are striving to be the next Albert Einstein or a rocket scientist (even Einstein used only about 15% of his brain), then your brain should be the least of your worries. On the contrary, for most of us, drinking is a pain medicine in exchange of the awareness of our intellecture waste. Isn’t it painful to realize that a big portion of your brain is never to be utilized to better yourself and mankind?
One time, I read an article about rosé wine in an in-flight magazine. It says rosé does not get old. It only ages. That’s some inspiration for a woman whose self reflection in a mirror starts to show signs of gravity pull. Now I not only like its pretty pink color and its pleasant flavor, more than ever, I like what it stands for. That's a doze of rosé wisdom some of us could use. We just age; We don’t get old.
Like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, in the hands of mastercraft wine makers, grape transcends into wine. Wine takes a culture (or may we say religion) of its own. Wine is differentiated from old world to new world according to region; from Pinot Nior to late harvest ice wine according to cultured grapes; from oak wood to stainless steel according to barrel; from aged to new according production year. Different wine goes with a different size wine glass. Different wine is also supposed to pair with different food in order to best bring out its flavor. Difference aside, all wineries have one thing in common. They all have beautifully construed grape vineyards and the equally beautifully constructed architecture. If you have never been to Italy, a trip to a fine winery gives you the closest impression of what Italy might look like. "Arrivederci Roma".
Against my better judgment, so far what I have written is an ode to wine. Am I supposed to whine on wine? Here I come. Have you been to a wine tasting in an estate winery lately? If you have not, mind you this is how it goes. All the wines in the wineries are award winning wines from different years. Before the staff pour you some sample wines, they go on speaking their sophisticated wine vocabulary, and I would not know how to repeat them. The only words that came out of my mouth during my many wine tasting sessions are the boring: "strong", "mild", "bitter" (this last one is often felt but rarely spoken), and then they tell you the wine you are about to taste has a hint of apricot, peach, pear, passion fruit, lychee, smoky, oak, peppery, cedar …in one word, any flavor except grape flavor. Are we tasting wines fermented from grapes, grapes, nothing but the grapes only? Has anyone truly and surely tasted any of those imaginary flavors, provided you are still sober? In case you don't know, here is how wine should be tasted: Swirl the wine in the glass; Close your eyes; Bring your glass underneath one of your nostrils; Breathe in deeply; Smell the aroma; Take the full wine amount in your month; Swirl the wine in your mouth; Swallow it (Thank God. Finally!). Every wine tasting room even has an empty bucket on the counter just for those who would do all the above, except instead of the last action, the only one action that counts -swallow, they spit the wine out in the bucket. Aren't we wine people among the snobbiest kind of all people? Wine, which is glorified grape juice at its best, is put on a pedestal for us classy but ignorant tasters to worship. Try that on beer people with their beer. I suspect they will either storm away from the tasting room or dump the free wine from the spit bucket into their stomach.
Some of the wine gift shops sell the banners which read “Whine a little, you will feel better”. Yep! I feel better already.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Happy Chinese New Year!
The Chinese New Year 2010 falls on Feb 14th, Valentine’s Day. Happy Valentine's Day! Happy Chinese New Year!
In the city where I live, Asian makes up about 1% of the total population. I don't know out of that percentage how many of them are actually Chinese. Though there are 1.3 billion of us on the planet, I'm undoubtedly in the elite minority status here. I have only met several Chinese people around here so far. A couple of times when I saw an Asian looking person in the stores, I felt compelled to approach her/him for some quick chit-chat in Chinese. Usually I was approached before I made up my mind. Make no mistake about it. Though we lonely Chinese minorities here can't swing the votes, united we can stand voicing our native language in the stores. Having lived among the American communities for so long, I sometimes forget I am a Chinese. My American husband and a couple of close American friends claimed to have forgotten that too when they slipped their tongues by making unflattering remarks about Chinese goods or China in front of me. Only when they turned to look at me, my furious look reminded them of me being a Chinese. They would immediately apologize "Oh I'm so sorry. I forget you are a Chinese". When it comes to forgetting, it should be a double-standard: I can forget I'm a Chinese but you can NOT! However, most of the times, I don't have to worry about that. Just my face and my accent alone don't let me get away with being mistaken as an American even if I want to . When I first started with John L Scott real estate office as a sales associate, I solicited a few of the "For Sale by Owner" telephone numbers in order to prospect some new listings. As a rule, I had to identify the company name I worked for during the soliciting calls. Shortly after, my broker received a complaint from a FSBO Seller I previously called. "Shame on you! You are outsourcing your business overseas, to China?". And I didn't even mention to the Seller where I was originally from and where I was then!
5 years ago, on one weekend before the Chinese New Year's Day, I invited my American colleagues for a Chinese New Year's celebration dinner party. My broker volunteered his house as the venue. I volunteered myself as the Chinese iron chef. Since I have been educating my American colleagues all along that the Chinese food they have had was only American Chinese food, I was supposed to demonstrate to them how the authentic Chinese food should taste like by cooking for them at the party. Fearing my limited cooking skills will fail the authenticity part, I drove a couple of hours one-way and bought a lot of takeouts from a Sichuanese restaurant to the party. Along with the takeouts, I only made a couple of easy dishes. I didn't lie per se but I did lead them to believe I made all of them. Misleading is not lying, right? All the colleagues and their families seemed to love the food I "cooked". My broker wanted to keep the leftover "eye balls". That's how he called those white sticky rice balls, and everyone else started calling them "eye balls" also. That dish was actually called "Tangyuan" in Chinese. It was the single most traditional Chinese new year's dish made of sticky rice and sweet filler. One of my colleague's 3-year old daughter was a little traumatized watching us adults eating the "eyeballs". Several agents asked me to give them the recipe of some of the dishes they liked. A couple of them kept bugging me about releasing the recipes afterwards. I never did. How could anyone expect me to give recipes for the food someone else cooked? Oops! Hush. Can't really blame them.
We invited my Chinese girlfriend and her family from another city over for a hotpot dinner celebration on Chinese New Year's Eve this year. Hotpot is like fondue in Chinese sauce. I like it burning spicy hot but I will have to tone the spice down for others. This will mark the first time in USA that I celebrate the Chinese New Year with my Chinese people!
God bless America! God bless China! Happy Valentine! Happy Chinese New Year!
In the city where I live, Asian makes up about 1% of the total population. I don't know out of that percentage how many of them are actually Chinese. Though there are 1.3 billion of us on the planet, I'm undoubtedly in the elite minority status here. I have only met several Chinese people around here so far. A couple of times when I saw an Asian looking person in the stores, I felt compelled to approach her/him for some quick chit-chat in Chinese. Usually I was approached before I made up my mind. Make no mistake about it. Though we lonely Chinese minorities here can't swing the votes, united we can stand voicing our native language in the stores. Having lived among the American communities for so long, I sometimes forget I am a Chinese. My American husband and a couple of close American friends claimed to have forgotten that too when they slipped their tongues by making unflattering remarks about Chinese goods or China in front of me. Only when they turned to look at me, my furious look reminded them of me being a Chinese. They would immediately apologize "Oh I'm so sorry. I forget you are a Chinese". When it comes to forgetting, it should be a double-standard: I can forget I'm a Chinese but you can NOT! However, most of the times, I don't have to worry about that. Just my face and my accent alone don't let me get away with being mistaken as an American even if I want to . When I first started with John L Scott real estate office as a sales associate, I solicited a few of the "For Sale by Owner" telephone numbers in order to prospect some new listings. As a rule, I had to identify the company name I worked for during the soliciting calls. Shortly after, my broker received a complaint from a FSBO Seller I previously called. "Shame on you! You are outsourcing your business overseas, to China?". And I didn't even mention to the Seller where I was originally from and where I was then!
5 years ago, on one weekend before the Chinese New Year's Day, I invited my American colleagues for a Chinese New Year's celebration dinner party. My broker volunteered his house as the venue. I volunteered myself as the Chinese iron chef. Since I have been educating my American colleagues all along that the Chinese food they have had was only American Chinese food, I was supposed to demonstrate to them how the authentic Chinese food should taste like by cooking for them at the party. Fearing my limited cooking skills will fail the authenticity part, I drove a couple of hours one-way and bought a lot of takeouts from a Sichuanese restaurant to the party. Along with the takeouts, I only made a couple of easy dishes. I didn't lie per se but I did lead them to believe I made all of them. Misleading is not lying, right? All the colleagues and their families seemed to love the food I "cooked". My broker wanted to keep the leftover "eye balls". That's how he called those white sticky rice balls, and everyone else started calling them "eye balls" also. That dish was actually called "Tangyuan" in Chinese. It was the single most traditional Chinese new year's dish made of sticky rice and sweet filler. One of my colleague's 3-year old daughter was a little traumatized watching us adults eating the "eyeballs". Several agents asked me to give them the recipe of some of the dishes they liked. A couple of them kept bugging me about releasing the recipes afterwards. I never did. How could anyone expect me to give recipes for the food someone else cooked? Oops! Hush. Can't really blame them.
We invited my Chinese girlfriend and her family from another city over for a hotpot dinner celebration on Chinese New Year's Eve this year. Hotpot is like fondue in Chinese sauce. I like it burning spicy hot but I will have to tone the spice down for others. This will mark the first time in USA that I celebrate the Chinese New Year with my Chinese people!
God bless America! God bless China! Happy Valentine! Happy Chinese New Year!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Tora! Tora! Tora! - Hainan
Tora! Tora! Tora!- Hainan is on fire! Property prices are skyrocketing! Every inch of the waterfront is being built up! The rich and the greedy are invading the island! Avatar is playing out 3D live on my favorite place in China - Hainan!
Just learned from one of my girlfriends in China that the property prices in Hainan have skyrocketed in the recent months as a result of the Chinese government proclaiming that Hainan will receive special attention and incentives to be developed into an international luxury level destination. My girlfriend's budget for an ocean view retreat in the city last year is now only enough for an interior condo in a nearby county, and she needs to act quickly before the next price heat wave starts. The selling prices for some condo developments are already around $700 per square foot.
What a poof! I knew it! It had to come down to this. If you think Waikiki beach is overcrowded with high-rises and tourists, wait until you see Yalongwan (one of the nicest beaches in Sanyan City, Hainan) in a few years. Hainan has already undergone lots of development since I was there last time, which was...At this point, I have to do the math using my age as a reference point. So it was 14 years ago.
Memory plays tricks on us. I reckon the reason why we think of a dead person as always nice is that our memory is kind-natured enough to filter out the bad, and a dead person is not alive to do any wrong to prove our memory otherwise. I futher reckon that my memory of Hainan could be playing the same trick on me. Spaced out from another continent and 14 years time span, what remained of Hainan are only those fond memories: unspoiled sandy beaches, friendly locals, fresh seafood, cheap taxis, post-midnight eat-out, motorcycle riding with sandals on, endless shopping streets, palms trees, and fresh coconuts right off the trees... Let's not forget about the perfect tropic weather. Hainan was an ultimate romantic place where romance didn't have to involve men (or really?).
I'm sure even without the overdevelopment, Hainan was no longer the place as it was once before. All my gangs have moved somewhere else; The old streets must have been replaced with new constructions; The remote Moonbay beach, where we used to go for a whole day without running into another person, must be swarmed with people. Of course, even in the 80's and 90's, the major cities in Hainan were no lack of crimes, prostitution and corruption like the rest of the country. I don't know things in those aspects have improved over the years. I hope so. However, Hainan is the only tropical island in China, and possibly the only place where you can breathe fresh air in China. Back then outside the city outskirts, you were likely to find a slice of paradise .
As more and more mainlanders are descending on the island, Hainan is finally living up to its name "Oriental Hawaii" in property prices and tourist popularity. My China Connection through Hainan is thinning out as the new development wave is giving another facelift to the primitive beauty of Hainan. Oh well. Changes are inevitable. Hainan as well as the rest of China is too far away, and it's too early to think about where to retire. Even if Hainan were the same as I remembered, it would not have made any difference to me in reality because all I have is right here and right now. Spring is almost here. Bulbs and rose buds in my garden are coming out. A grape arbor needs to be built for the grapevines to climb on. My slice of heaven at backyard is awaiting my touches. Now here is the secret of gardening: whether you realize it or not, gardening is one's attempt to create sacredness on earth, in spite of the soil and location. If you have ever reserved a spot for a sacred garden in you, then nothing can take your bliss away. That's the way how we preserve the memory of a deceased beloved. That's how I will always remember Hainan, even when it's under tora tora tora!
Just learned from one of my girlfriends in China that the property prices in Hainan have skyrocketed in the recent months as a result of the Chinese government proclaiming that Hainan will receive special attention and incentives to be developed into an international luxury level destination. My girlfriend's budget for an ocean view retreat in the city last year is now only enough for an interior condo in a nearby county, and she needs to act quickly before the next price heat wave starts. The selling prices for some condo developments are already around $700 per square foot.
What a poof! I knew it! It had to come down to this. If you think Waikiki beach is overcrowded with high-rises and tourists, wait until you see Yalongwan (one of the nicest beaches in Sanyan City, Hainan) in a few years. Hainan has already undergone lots of development since I was there last time, which was...At this point, I have to do the math using my age as a reference point. So it was 14 years ago.
Memory plays tricks on us. I reckon the reason why we think of a dead person as always nice is that our memory is kind-natured enough to filter out the bad, and a dead person is not alive to do any wrong to prove our memory otherwise. I futher reckon that my memory of Hainan could be playing the same trick on me. Spaced out from another continent and 14 years time span, what remained of Hainan are only those fond memories: unspoiled sandy beaches, friendly locals, fresh seafood, cheap taxis, post-midnight eat-out, motorcycle riding with sandals on, endless shopping streets, palms trees, and fresh coconuts right off the trees... Let's not forget about the perfect tropic weather. Hainan was an ultimate romantic place where romance didn't have to involve men (or really?).
I'm sure even without the overdevelopment, Hainan was no longer the place as it was once before. All my gangs have moved somewhere else; The old streets must have been replaced with new constructions; The remote Moonbay beach, where we used to go for a whole day without running into another person, must be swarmed with people. Of course, even in the 80's and 90's, the major cities in Hainan were no lack of crimes, prostitution and corruption like the rest of the country. I don't know things in those aspects have improved over the years. I hope so. However, Hainan is the only tropical island in China, and possibly the only place where you can breathe fresh air in China. Back then outside the city outskirts, you were likely to find a slice of paradise .
As more and more mainlanders are descending on the island, Hainan is finally living up to its name "Oriental Hawaii" in property prices and tourist popularity. My China Connection through Hainan is thinning out as the new development wave is giving another facelift to the primitive beauty of Hainan. Oh well. Changes are inevitable. Hainan as well as the rest of China is too far away, and it's too early to think about where to retire. Even if Hainan were the same as I remembered, it would not have made any difference to me in reality because all I have is right here and right now. Spring is almost here. Bulbs and rose buds in my garden are coming out. A grape arbor needs to be built for the grapevines to climb on. My slice of heaven at backyard is awaiting my touches. Now here is the secret of gardening: whether you realize it or not, gardening is one's attempt to create sacredness on earth, in spite of the soil and location. If you have ever reserved a spot for a sacred garden in you, then nothing can take your bliss away. That's the way how we preserve the memory of a deceased beloved. That's how I will always remember Hainan, even when it's under tora tora tora!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I shall fight no more forever - to the unlived life
The first time I read this line was right after I came to the U.S. One day as I was browsing a store, I saw a painting of a solemn and anguished looking old Native American India man, on horse with his feathered arrow down. Underneath the painting, it read "I shall fight no more forever." As an impulse shopper, I acted on my impulse. The painting made its way to my small apartment then. I often looked at that painting, not knowing who he was and what the painting was about. I just knew the painting spoke to me on many personal levels, in a good way. It helped bringing the inner peace in me. I later learned about Chief Joseph and his story.
Life is full of conflict. To live in one physical body form means to be at one place at one dimension at one time. It means we have to take side in the conflict, and then fulfill only one side of the conflict. Living means walking the path of one life, leaving the other life, for most our inner life, unlived. There is no way to run away from the dilemma. In order to avoid bloodshed and pain, something is going to give. Peace is born. Peace is not absence of conflict. It's the ability of taking side and then coping with the conflict. Peace (so is happiness) is also over-rated in today's society in my opinion. It should never be appraised as if it were the destination - the goal of living. It's just a way of living, a choice which a survivor ought to take in order to move forward. I don't know if all my peace talks make sense to you. But if you are left with any scars, you have fought the senseless battles.
The painting is now collecting dust in the garage after my last move but I still think of that painting whenever I'm in a war with myself. So an invisible spot somewhere on the empty wall is reserved for Chief Joseph. To my unlived life into the wilderness, I lay down my weapons and lay you to rest this lifetime. "From where the sun now stands, I shall fight no more forever".
Life is full of conflict. To live in one physical body form means to be at one place at one dimension at one time. It means we have to take side in the conflict, and then fulfill only one side of the conflict. Living means walking the path of one life, leaving the other life, for most our inner life, unlived. There is no way to run away from the dilemma. In order to avoid bloodshed and pain, something is going to give. Peace is born. Peace is not absence of conflict. It's the ability of taking side and then coping with the conflict. Peace (so is happiness) is also over-rated in today's society in my opinion. It should never be appraised as if it were the destination - the goal of living. It's just a way of living, a choice which a survivor ought to take in order to move forward. I don't know if all my peace talks make sense to you. But if you are left with any scars, you have fought the senseless battles.
The painting is now collecting dust in the garage after my last move but I still think of that painting whenever I'm in a war with myself. So an invisible spot somewhere on the empty wall is reserved for Chief Joseph. To my unlived life into the wilderness, I lay down my weapons and lay you to rest this lifetime. "From where the sun now stands, I shall fight no more forever".
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