Adieu

It's time for me to wrap up my Asia trip now.

I met so many people during this trip, each and every one of them played an important role in different stages of my life; people that I truly love and value. There are two important life lessons I learned from this trip is: 1) I am completely and unconditionally loved by my family and 2) Contrary to societal expectations back home, married life and single life are actually the same...different lifestyles with their own set of challenges and advantages.

My high school class 3 Sos 3

This trip marked the first time when I actually felt pangs of separation from my family. It manifested itself as an unidentifiable cramp. a very uncomfortable feeling in my gut that I wrote off to be the result of doing yoga with a relatively full stomach (hence the digestion problem). Before that, I'd usually be the first one to hop on a plane back to the U.S. I saw the U.S. as the place where I lead my life the way I want to lead it, as opposed to how my family or relatives or society wants me to.

The second lesson I learned had something to do with attending my 15 year high school reunion. I felt a little bit apprehensive at first....not just about being single in my mid 30s, which is uncommon among my friends back home, but also about the kind of judgement that might be passed on me based on what I have/haven't achieved. That's the thing about these reunion events.  I felt it myself: that sense of curiosity of how my friends turned out and what they look like now quickly turned into judgements like "Boy! is he huge now" or "What happened to her? she looks like an auntie!" type of superficial outer-appearance rating.

My family 

It turned out I was worrying too much for nothing. It felt wonderful to gather together with some friends, acting a bit like our high school selves, catching up to what we've been up to for the past 15 years. It was there I received sage advice from my married friends about how important it is to wait for the right person, that being single is way better than being with the wrong person.

Now as I prepare myself for the 10 day silent meditation retreat coming up this week (Lord, the things I get myself into when I'm on an impulse), I shall bring these two pearls of wisdoms along with me as I contemplate about where I've been and where I'm going in my life. My family's love for me will function as a protective shield, engulfing me in much needed warm and tender energy...especially when I come face-to-face with my inner demon (who I always imagined to look like Ju-On from The Grudge, with jet-black hair covering her gaunt and pale face).

With my long-time friends

Thank you so much for sharing this journey with me! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through this blog!

With love
Sunny

Top 10 Moments I loved most from our Jogja and Bali Trip

10. Visiting the ancient Buddhist temple Borobudur and Hindu temple Prambanan during our short trip to Jogjakarta.

Posing in Prambanan

 9. Dinner at Potato Head in Seminyak. A gorgeous place serving great food that's definitely worth a visit if you're ever in Bali.

 8. The near-death experience of swimming at Dreamland beach with Christina, Anya and Klara and making it to the shore to finally see the red 'swimming prohibited' flag placed near our beach chairs.

 7. Having dinner at an organic place in Ubud, sharing good food and silly stories with 4 of the most awesome traveling companions ever:)

 6. Having drinks with Navin, Anya, Klara and my brother Nelson in Jakarta after the welcome dinner we hosted for them at our parents' place.

 5. Doing Hot Yoga with Anya in Bali on the morning of our departure.

Buddhist Statues at the Borobudu

 4. The invention of 'fluffy' the guinea pig with Klara during our worst meal in a touristy restaurant during the whole trip.

 3. Watching the magical Kecak dance at the Uluwatu temple by the sea.

Kecak dancers receiving a blessing before the dance commences

 2. Sharing sex tips I learned from reading Dr. Ruth's 'Sex for Idiots' with the girls during our flight to Jogja. I tried to whisper but the plane engine was way too loud. So I spoke 'softly'. The guy sitting in front of us kept on looking back at our direction.



1. Watching my friends reading through their newspapers and guidebooks at the airport and feeling immensely grateful that I have them in my life.

Last brunch in Jakarta

An Indian, a German and a Ukrainian meets a psychic Buddhist nun

I’m taking a break from my holiday right now.

Five days after Navin, Klara and Anya had left, I’m still recovering from the task of being a host and showing them around my country last week.  It wasn’t just the pressure I put upon myself to present the best face of my country.  Switching from the American/Western direct, straight to the point way of conversing to the Indonesian roundabout way, which emphasizes more on etiquette and decorum than efficiency took on a daily basis took a toll on me towards the end of the trip.

Not that they were difficult guests or anything. In fact, their flexibility and openness really helped a lot in terms of easing the myriads of planning done during the trip. Accommodating to 4 (and eventually 5 with Christina who joined us later in Bali) different individuals with different interests could have been hell. But they made it easy. I think we all pretty much got to do what we wanted during those 9 intense days they spent here.

At my parents' house during the welcome dinner

Since it's sort of a family tradition for us to visit Buddhist/Daoist psychics to have our fortunes read, we decided it'd be an interesting cultural experience for our guests to meet up with the hottest psychic/clairvoyant in town. A petite woman in her early 40s, ibu (ibu is the Indonesian word for 'mother' or 'madam') Dewi looks like a China doll with her smooth fair skin and small almond-shaped eyes…a China doll with long curling fingernails and a 50-50 psychic ability to tell you what lies ahead in your life's journey.

By 50-50 I mean I believe that she does have some ability to read our energies, and see things that can’t be explained. There are some things she told me about myself that I've never shared with anyone. Yet, the rest she seems to fill out with some basic psychological profiling techniques; techniques she's mastered since she's met thousands of people who have come to her for all sorts of 'consultations': from love life, careers, whether one should start a new business, you name it. 

I won’t reveal what she told them as it’s private of course. I can share some things she told me when I visited her with my mom a few weeks ago. She said that I can finish my degree by late next summer, around August or September 2012 if I wanted to. She also said that it is written in my destiny to marry a divorcee or widower, someone around 10 years older than I am. And that I’ll have many kids (because apparently I love children)...at least 3.

My mom's sweet and sour por

The fact that it was the first thing we did as a holiday traveling group made the psychic visit particularly interesting. Here we were, 4 individuals, about to embark on a fun yet intense trip around Indonesia. Although we knew each other relatively well, there were personal things that Ibu Dewi revealed that, whether it's true or not, we probably wouldn't have revealed or discussed voluntarily to one another. It took us quite awhile before we stopped discussing the validity of some of the things she said to us. 

In front of the house where I grew up

After saying our goodbyes to ibu Dewi, we did a brief tour around Jakarta. We basically drove by some sites at the city center. On our way back to my parents' house, we dropped by the house where I grew up and where my brothers currently live. We had to rush back since my mom had organized a welcome dinner for our special guests. Among the dishes prepared, there were exotic items such as sea cucumber and shark's fin, and normal dishes like my mom's walnut shrimp with mayonnaise and condensed milk, and her famous sweet and sour pork. Later on in the evening, my brother Nelson took us out for drinks. That was definitely one of the highlights of the trip....seeing my two worlds coming together before my eyes.

The next day we left for Jogjakarta to see some famous Hindu and Buddhist temples in the area. We stayed for only less than 2 days there, since our priority was magical Bali with its gorgeous beaches and cultural splendor. The entry on Jogja is coming up a.s.a.p.

Anya and Klara looking gorgeous at the wine house

Forty First Cousins

Yup, it' confirmed. I have 40 first cousins. During a particularly bad traffic jam on a rainy day in Jakarta, my mom and I decided to entertain ourselves by calculating the exact number of first cousins I have. I've heard all sorts of estimates, ranging from 35 to close to 50. We're not including second or third cousins here. We listed out all the children that my aunts and uncles have from both sides of my family (my mom has 10 siblings, my dad has 11). We came up with 40. An even 20 from each side. 

Cousin Dina (grey shirt) and cousin Vina (orange shirt)

Since I was born and raised in Jakarta, I grew up playing and hanging out with Jakarta-based cousins who are mostly from my mom's side. I didn't meet the Bornean cousins from my dad's side until I was around 12 or 13, when we went back to Singkawang to attend my grandfather's funeral. Yet, I remembered feeling a natural sense of closeness and connection with them. We shared the common experience of growing up in our large, tight-knit family. 

In fact, we grew so comfortable with each other that we decided it'd be fun to play tag during our grandfather's wake with the theme 'grandfather has risen from the dead and now is out to eat us, his human grandchildren'. Being the tallest among us, cousin Vina was chosen to play the role of zombie grandpa. She did an awesome job scaring and chasing us around the room upstairs until the noise started disturbing the adults downstairs. This prompted cousin Henry to come up and check out what the ruckus was all about, only to find out the utterly distasteful way we were utilizing our grandfather's death as a form of child entertainment. 

Two of my favorite peeps sharing a laughing moment together

Having that many members in our family allows for a cast of characters worthy of a Hong Kong family drama series. From my dad's side, among others, there's cousin Vina, former zombie grandpa, now a 'tiger mom', hardworking mother of 3, cousin Dina, Vina's sister, the tomboy with a heart of gold, cousin Lisa, whose feminine ways puts us girls to shame, cousin Reina, whose infectious smile and wicked sense of humor always manages to brighten our moods, and cousin Henry, who at one point I wanted to marry because I thought he was the coolest, handsomest, and smartest person in the whole wide world:) 

From my mom's side there are cousins Stanley and Stella, a multi-talented pair of siblings, our very own home-bread bohemian artists, who recently whipped us the best Japanese dinner we've ever had. Then there's cousin Think-think, the shrewd and daring aspiring businesswoman, her sister cousin Vivi, my fellow bookworm and nerd, and Cousin Kevin, who along with my brother Nelson and uncle Hua form a string of sentimental men in the family who are in love with love. Of course neither of them are merely the cardboard characters I make them out to be for the purpose of this blog entry. Nor are my beloved cousins limited to the few persons I've mentioned here. 

Cousin Stanley hard at work

One thing I learned growing up with such a diverse and colorful set of personalities is the ability to get along and be comfortable with different types of people. There was no other way to socially survive in that kind of crazy and active environment. Even the shyest among us formed some sort of social skills since we had to learn to get along with one another at an early age. 

We're all busy leading our adult lives now. We're spread across different countries and continents. Reunions are mostly saved for big events such as weddings and Chinese New Year. With my traveling this time around, I got to see most of those with whom I'm close. By  chance, my LA cousins are also here in SE Asia for a visit. It was nice to have everyone gathered in the same space. They had to close off a part of the restaurant to accommodate our party consisting of 30 adults and children (who are the next generation of cousins:))

Indonesia is no longer my home. It's where my family lives, and where some of the essence of my being is rooted, but I don't belong here anymore. However, if I am lucky enough to have a child of my own, I'd definitely make frequent visits back to Jakarta, Singapore, L.A., wherever my family is, so he/she could experience bonding with their cousins the way I have.

The next generation of cousins

Meet The Parents

When I first went to India back in 2004, my plane was delayed for more than 5 hours. Navin and his father had to wait for me till 3 in the morning  before I emerged out of the Bombay airport. The first thing I did was to apologize to Uncle Suresh because I felt so bad that they had been waiting for me for so long.  Instead of being cross, or making some sort of disgruntled face, he gave me a huge embrace, kissed my forehead and said “bless you, my child!” I was stunned. That had to be the warmest greeting I’ve ever had from anyone. I was just Navin’s friend, an outsider really...not a member of the family in any sense of the word.    

with Sreela's Mom

If we reverse the situation and have say….my dad doing that to Navin,giving him a hug and blesses him with a kiss on his forehead, pigs will fly in the sky, and Matt Damon would leave his fitness guru wife for yours truly:)
          
I observed that in Indian relational culture there exists a close relationship between parents, children, and friends of these children. It's considered as perfectly normal for friends of children to visit parents even when the kids are not around. Friends casually drop by to say hi to friends' parents, and parents often invite these friends over for a meal, again minus the children. Foreign friends are treated to the best meals and hospitality imaginable.    

Calcutta is an amazing city laden with rich colonial history. The Victoria monument in its grandeur is a stark reminder of the sheer greed that the colonists displayed without consideration for the local people's well-being. It was also built on opium money, leading to Edward Said's comment about how the monument should be named The 'Opium' monument instead.           

The Victoria Monument

More than the sight-seeing and wonderful shopping  trips that Sreela and I made, it’s the moments when I found myself sitting on Mrs. Sarkar’s bed  sharing some tea and Mari biscuits, while sharing stories about life, love and the universe (as Liene would say:))  that blew my mind away. Meeting Fugu's parents was quite a treat as well! For the whole evening, Fugu's dad kept on trying to make Sreela nominate his prawn curry as the best dish served during dinner, outdoing that of his wife's culinary accomplishments:)           

I think about my parents and how they relate to my  close and/or childhood friends. It's a much more formal relationship they have with them. They’d be interested in hearing how my friends are doing, but they’ll never visit them or have them over for dinner when I’m not around.  They view my friends as belonging to this distinct, non-familial private world that I have as an individual.  My mom would say it’s a Chinese thing, when you xiang nei (face inward) rather than xiang wai (focus outward), where your family forms the innermost important group of people in your life, while others belong outside that tight knit circle. This philosophy is manifested in the architecture of ancient Chinese houses, where tall , fort-like walls surround the whole house to prevent outsiders from seeing within, while simultaneously confining household secrets within those walls…no airing dirty laundry here!     

Ancient Chinese House with Tall Walls

For me, the Indian boundary between close friends of one's children and the above mentioned inner circle is blurred....when one is a good friend of one's child, then one is almost automatically considered as that person's child as well. And of course there’s the great fun of hearing your friends’ parents reveal embarrassing things about you, or embarrass you with their honest to goodness requests…like how Sudhir’s mom wondered out loud when Sudhir and Radhika are going to give her a granddaughter, and how that would complete her already happy life.    

I arrived in Singapore early this morning. I’ll be here for a few days accompanying my parents for their medical check-up, as well as visiting some cousins who settled in this city-state. In less than 2 weeks, it’ll be my turn to play host as Navin, Anya, Klara and Christina head to Indonesia for a 10 day visit to Jakarta, Jogjakarta and Bali.

Fugu's parents, grandmother with Sreela

Paradise Biryani

Saying goodbye to the Nairs marked a low point in my trip so far.

The thought of not seeing them back in Amherst the way I would Jeff and Sreela saddened me quite a bit. After all, apart from crazy Ms. Catherine Stryker, Radhika was the first friend I made in the Valley. We all met in a step aerobics class that we took at a local gym. Befriending Catherine and Radhika was literally the saving grace of my social life.

Sudhir and Radhika

The Nairs also represented family and a loving home away from home for me. Whenever I'm with them, I feel loved and cared for. That's probably because both Sudhir and Radhika have hearts the size of the universe....always welcoming, always warm and open...with a passion for life and of course, good food:)


We visited a couple of historical sites during our last few days in Hyderabad. Chowmahalla Palace is located at the heart of old town Hyderabad. Through Sudhir's connections, we scored a private tour around this gorgeous location.  They even turned on some of the lovely chandeliers in the queen's chambers for us just so we could quickly take some snapshots of her lavish entertaining quarters.

Chandelier in the Queen's quarter in Chowmahalla Palace

The next day we visited an ancient fort located in the outskirts of Hyderabad called Golkonda. The fortress citadel was built for defense from the invading Mughals from the north. One of the most fascinating things about this fort is how it was designed with a perfect acousticsystem, by which a hand clap sounded at the fort's main gates, the grand portico, was heard at the top of the citadel, situated on a 300-foot-high granite hill. Our persistent guide (we didn't want to have a guide at first, but the guy persisted, so we ended up hiring him for what turned out to be a pretty good tour actually) made sure that we got to clap our hands, shout out our names, and hear the echoes in different corners of the fortress.

Golkonda

Of course, when it comes to spending time with the Nairs,  a delicious meal is always in the schedule. For our last evening in Hyderabad, they brought us to a restaurant called 'Paradise', which supposedly served the best biryani rice in town. One of the most memorable moments of the trip consisted of Sudhir threatening his son Rahul, who was misbehaving in the car on our way back from Golkonda, that he won't allow Rahul to come along with us to have his favorite dish if he didn't stop teasing his younger brother Arjun. The threat worked wonders. Realizing that he might be deprived of this delicious dish, he immediately stopped whatever nuisance he was engaged in with his brother. Jeff and I were intrigued. This has to be some seriously good biryani if even the mentioning of it managed to stop a teenage boy from teasing his younger brother.

L to R clockwise: Sudhir, Jeff, me, Radhu

I brought some leftover biryani for my plane ride to Calcutta. I shamelessly savored my delicious meal as the other passengers were toying around with their bland airplane food.

I'm heading out for some souvenir shopping with Sreela and her mom in a few minutes. We're right in the middle of monsoon season right now. The rain and the tropical terrain reminds me of home.

Hyderabad Dreams

In Hyderabad, my stomach caught on fire and Jeff grew ten heads. 

Jeff as Ravana, the evil 10-headed monster from Ramayana

The minute I had saag paneer (spinach with cottage cheese) during my first dinner in India with Sudhir and Jeff, I immediately felt a blaze running through my esophagus down to my stomach. It’s been like that ever since then. Even our morning omelet is done masala style. I'm pretty sure both Jeff’s and my stomachs are wondering why we're doing this to them.

Jeff’s head multiplied because he had to dress as the 10-headed monster Ravana from Ramayana for this treasure hunt he participated in. He was part of a group that had used the ancient Hindu myth as their main costume theme. The treasure hunt marked the beginning of a series of social activities that we participated in this past weekend. Sudhir and Radhika are involved in this organization which does charity work for Hyderabad and its surroundings areas. They were having their annual gathering this past weekend. Sudhir arranged for us to go along for the ride. 

  

There was a formal event in the evening, and the women had agreed to wear their sarees for the occasion. Nalani, one of the coordinators, decided to lend me a sari that I could wear so I could comply with the dress code. Wearing a saree is surprisingly comfortable! As long as I can pee wearing it, I have no complaints!

The formal event was followed by a crazy 4 hour dance party that lasted from 12midnight-4AM.  I skipped that part because I didn't feel I was up for it. I wanted to slip into my pajamas and chillax in front of the TV. Sudhir and Radhika called me from the party to see if they could convince me to join them. I definitely regretted not going...I mean, when else could I have danced bhangra with a room of 60 Indians for 4 hours non-stop? 

One thing I learned from Jeff, who's been here since last week, is to keep my questions to a minimum. We fully trust the Nairs in their role as our hosts in Hyderabad. All we need to know is what time we have to be ready.  And then we go from there. We eat whatever is offered to us (which so far has been absolutely delicious, bursting with flavor), and we do whatever they plan for us to do.

With some gorgeous ladies in their gorgeous sarees

It's been such an amazing summer trip so far! One night I'd be having a Chinese dinner with my aunt and cousins at the heart of Orchard Road in Singapore, and fast forward to a few nights later, I was walking in a resort somewhere in the outskirts of Hyderabad wearing a sari with Radhika and her adorable son Arjun. The speed of travel access that we have to all these locations around the globe is mind-blasting!

This evening, the Nairs are taking us out for dinner and a movie. We'll be having dinner at the best place in town for Hyderabadi Biryani. The Bollywood movie we'll be watching is a new one titled "Delhi Belly", which apparently is a crude, crass movie with lots of curse words, and only lasts for 90 minutes (no intermission) compared to the standard Bollywood movie duration of 3 hours. 

I'm truly blessed with wonderful friends who have been the most amazing hosts to us firangis (foreigners) here in India:)  

I noticed how I've used all sorts of superlatives in this particular blog entry. What can I say? Experiences in India can only be described in superlatives!! (and lots of exclamation marks:)). 

Tropical jungle, concrete jungle

My parents were raised in a small town called Singkawang located in West Borneo/Kalimantan. My mom would often recall her ideal childhood of living in this pollution-free environment where children roamed freely in and out of neighbors’ houses. Wearing nothing but sarongs, they would swim in clear-watered rivers at least twice a day. They’d also secretly escape to a nearby tropical jungle to play.  There, they’d pick mangosteens to eat, hike, and play hide-and-seek. The jungle served as their ultimate playground.

Mangosteen

It wasn’t until their maid, who accompanied them during one of their jungle trips, was possessed by a spirit that they finally got caught. According to my mom, they were walking around the jungle one day when they encountered a group of people who had dug up one of the graves commonly found there. They were moving the body into another location. When they arrived home, the possessed maid shaved both of her eyebrows and sat still staring at everyone with an empty gaze. Seeing this odd behavior, their grandma (my great-grandma) found out what they had secretly been up to. That was the last time my mom and her siblings ventured into the jungle to play.

From a tropical jungle filled with mangosteens and spirits, my parents moved to the concrete jungle that is Jakarta. My brothers and I were born and raised in this bustling city. What I remembered mostly growing up here is the hours I spent in our family car stuck in traffic, and not being allowed to play outside because the streets are dangerous, filled with cars and motorcycles, and the air outside is polluted. My teenage years were mostly spent indoors in air-conditioned malls. Parks are for hobos and drug addicts. It was an urban upbringing minus the gadgets and knick-knacks that kids nowadays have at their disposal.

Jakarta Traffic

The memory of my childhood in Jakarta is interspersed with some years I spent in LA. I accompanied my mother in LA when she was pregnant with my youngest brother. During that year, I attended a kindergarten in the suburbs somewhere in East LA. To say the experience of being put with a bunch of 5 year olds without any knowledge of the language, as well as social rules was a culture shock is an understatement. But that story is for another blog, another day.

Singkawang

 I’m heading to India via Singapore tomorrow. I’m looking forward to experiencing Hyderabad and Kolkata with Sudhir, Radhika, their boys, as well as Jeff and Sreela.

Mornings at the Lie household

Mornings at the Lie household always begins with a good amount of singing. My dad, an entrepreneur and self-proclaimed workaholic, would belt out some sentimental Chinese songs in the shower upstairs.  My mom, who sweetly confesses that she loves to sing although she doesn’t really know how to (and she’s right. I love her, but the woman can’t sing for her life), would play one of her karaoke DVDs (her recent purchases in Celine Dion’s top hits collection and Beyonce’s latest album), and sing along merrily downstairs. 

Our house

The next activity on my dad’s morning routine list is to have a huge breakfast consisting of an interesting combo of Chinese and Western foods. A few days ago, while eating some sticky rice and pork and mushrooms, he barraged me with the “why are you still in school” and “when are you finally going to finish” concerned-parent type of questions. I understand where he’s coming from. After all, he’s been supporting my education for 20 some years now. I assured him that I’m sticking with my deadline, and that once I get some sort of decent job, even a post-doc, I can finally be financially independent. 

My dad's breakfast

We moved on to discuss other topics, including health and diet. I told him how I’d recently lost weight by reducing my sweets intake and giving up alcohol. He agreed that sweets are bad for you. But then, as soon as he finished making that comment, he proceeded to devour his white bread toast with nutella and blueberry jam! I obviously got my sweet tooth from him!

 

After her singing session, my mom would usually pray and light some incense for our 1,000 hand Guan Yin (Qian Xou Guan Yin), the boddhisatva we’ve worshipped in our household for as long as I can remember. 

1.000 hands Guan Yin

As my father heads off to work, my mom and I would usually do our power morning walk. That’s usually when we have our quality time, she fills me in with the family gossip, I share with her some of my Pioneer Valley/grad school adventures, etc.

My parents have their quirks. We drive each other nuts, in the properly dysfunctional way that only close family members could do to one another. Yet, I’ll never take their unconditional love and support for granted.  Being the only daughter in the family, they could have thwarted my dream of living abroad, and made me stay at home to take care of them. Not only did they give me the freedom to shape my life in whatever way I please, they also never questioned my decisions despite the fact that in my relatives’ eyes, I’m pretty much a failure (mid 30-s, unmarried, over-educated, doesn’t even have a decent job).

I’m heading to the airport to pick up my brothers who have been away in Bali attending their friends’ wedding.   Looking forward to having a reunion dinner with my whole family this evening! 

Mango tree in my neighborhood

Angmoland

“…they don’t even give you time for tea break! And if you want to get coffee, you have to walk to the nearest 7-11 to get one of those disgusting instant coffees from machines.”

“Is that in Angmo-land (red-haired land)?”

“Of course lah! Where else? I was in Hawaii for a conference a few months ago and the only thing they gave you for free was water. AND you even had to bring your own container for it! Otherwise they make you use these ridiculously flimsy cone cups!”

Sitting on an uncomfortable gray plastic chair during a conference break, I was enjoying both the view of the typhoon running through the South China Sea, and the exuberant Singlish (Singaporean English) chatter that my new conference friends were engaged in.

The two-day conference was coming to an end. After 14 hours of attending one presentation after another, we’ve reached the point where we’re basically brain dead. 

If networking is the most important part of being in an academic conference, then nothing is more productive than sitting in and listening to a bunch of Singaporean scholars compare notes on how red-haired people run conferences to the  black-haired ones.

Ang-mo (the ‘a’ is pronounced like the word ‘yawn’), the Hokkien word for red-hair, is a derogatory term used for Westerners (yes, White people).  Out of curiosity, I went to Wikipedia to check out the origin of the term and why Westerners were uniformly referred to as the ‘redheads’ in this corner of the world. Surely my initial mental image of a freakishly high number of redheaded British colonists wouldn’t hold…would it?

Here’s what Wikipedia had to say:

The earliest origin for the term "Ang mo 紅毛" could be traced to the contact between Hokkien  (a Southern Chinese dialect) speakers in Southern Fujian province of China with the Portuguese people and Dutch people during the 16th and 17th century.

The Dutch people were known in Taiwan as "Ang mo lang 紅毛人" (red-haired people) in Taiwanese Hokkien. This is most likely because red hair is a common trait among the Dutch. This historical term "Ang mo lang 紅毛人" continues to be used in the context of Taiwanese history to refer to Dutch people.

Oh! So it’s a freakishly high number of Dutch redheads who prompted the Chinese to coin the term!

In this particular black-haired conference, food, rather than academic rigor, serves as the central organizing theme. Never mind that many presentations were merely descriptive, with one presenter confessing that she didn’t really use any theoretical frameworks, and that she wasn’t sure what her conclusion was (you tell me).

 

bamboo clam with glass noodles and garlic sauce

Sweet and sour pork chops

In black-haired land, conferences begin with a big sit-in welcome dinner and end with an even more lavish farewell dinner. They really outdid themselves yesterday evening! We were treated to the best of Cantonese cuisine which consisted of bamboo clams with glass noodles cooked in garlic sauce, the most tender pork chops I’ve ever had in my life with sweet and sour sauce, abalone and shiitake mushroom, bean sprouts with dried scallops and rice noodles…the list goes on and on.  

The cuisine variety was only matched with the variety of interesting characters who attended the conference: a famous Singaporean actress turned academic, an elder female professor who wore a tube top dress with a silk white blazer, a pearl necklace, and matching pearl hair accessories who looked like she was going to her own wedding, a group of Chinese Baha’i faith believers who zealously proselytized to participants during what was supposed to be a panel discussion on the state of this particular religious strand in the Mainland…this list goes on and on as well:)

New conference friends

This concludes the Hong Kong portion of my trip. I’m heading back to Jakarta this evening to visit my family. Can’t wait!