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!  

Beige granny pants and orange skimpy bikinis

After 16  straight hours of being cramped into a narrow airplane seat, what I really needed was a huge yoga-esque strech and a shower.

But when I got to the hotel at 6.45AM, the hot Hong Kong sun seemingly already at its peak, the staff informed me that it was too early to check-in, and that I had to wait till after 12noon to get a room.

Noodle Shop in the middle of an outdoor market

What was the next best thing to do? Use the hotel swimming pool in the meantime of course! The only swimwear I had with me were these skimpy bright orange pair of bikinis that I'd brought along for the 'laying on the beach the whole day in Bali' portion of the trip....so I put it on, mustered up as much confidence as I could to nonchalantly walk to the hotel's semi-outdoor pool, and jumped right in:)

Since they didn't have my room ready yet, I had to leave my luggage at the concierge. I needed to grab the bikinis and some clothing change to advance my swimming idea, so I had to rummage through my luggage in the middle of the hotel lobby! The only clean underwear within my anxious view were these big beige granny pants that I'd included when I was doing some serious last-minute packing...what a stark contrast they were to my bright orange skimpy bikinis:)

It was the best decision I made for the day:) I got to use the pool shower...and free body lotion! I came out smelling like lilacs:)

With my long-lost friend Maria

I met up with my long-lost friend Maria, whom I haven't seen for more than a decade. We took a good couple of hours catching up over dim sum. Then we proceeded to fulfill my shopping mission of: 1) Finding the DVD "A Chinese Ghost Story", a movie that I've been hyping up to everyone who cares to listen for the past oh....4 or 5 months maybe? the one Pasha so lovingly dubbed "a spiritual Rom(antic) Com(edy)" and 2) Getting a Chinese translation of a Thich Nhat Than book on Buddhist teachings for my mom...because I want her to enjoy the simplicity of his wisdom and writing as I've had for the past few months.

We completed those 'highly urgent' purchases in less than an hour. The rest we spent roaming around the hot and steamy city.

Before we parted, I asked her to accompany me to the Chinese University of HK, where I'll be presenting a paper on Chinese Indonesian Evangelicals tomorrow. The serene mountain view was taken from the university...another stark contrast to the busy streets we were immersed in a few hours before dropping by the University.

Serene view from Chinese Uni HK

I'm glad that I only get to play tourist for a day. I'll be spending the next few days like the good, nerdy, academic conference rat I aspire to be:) Hong Kong is a gorgeous thriving place...but it sure is expensive!

HK Skyline

Buddha Neighbors

Happy Buddha

Buddha Bette

Buddha Bob 

Hi everyone:)

Thanks so much for taking the time to read through my blog! Although I haven't officially started my Asia trip yet, I wanted to share a bit about the wonderful neighborhood I live in here in Amherst, MA.

I live in a neighborhood consisting of practicing Buddhists...Lois, my landlady, has been a follower of the Vietnamese monk and scholar, Thich Nhat Han for more than 25 years. That kind of explains why every time I'm around her, I feel at ease.

Practicing Buddhists, like any other practicing spiritual persons, make for awesome neighbors:) I guess it's a common thing here in Hippie Valley to find oneself being surrounded by peace-loving, generous people who'd leave treats in front of your door for no reason, or who would gladly call you up from Trader Joe's to ask whether you need anything since they're there anyways.Yet, I give myself a pat on the back every time I remember how fast I responded to Lois' apartment posting online back in September 2008...when I was severely unhappy with my living conditions.

You have to understand that I grew up in an un-neighborly, flood-prone area in West Jakarta. Instead of figuring out how to best solve the problem as a community, those households who can afford it levied their houses way up high without any consideration for their neighbors or traffic safety for that matter. Imagine a jagged street with mini hilly entrances for people's houses.

...and yes, given the law of gravity, come February or March, the start of our tropical rainy season, flood water enters our low-leveled house like crazy. At one point, we had knee-level water (my knee, and I'm around 5'4) in our living room. We saw some fish swimming around near our couch...the black, small, mutated ones who thrive in our gutters!

Here are some pics from last night's neighborhood movie night that I've religiously attended for the past 2 years. I see it as sort of my way of returning the favor. I share a bit of my culture with them by showing them movies that are near and dear to my heart..even the potentially bizarre, risque (as in in danger of exoticizing my own culture) ones.

How does showing a movie featuring a tree devil pimp and an army of ghost prostitutes compare to their kindness and generosity? At least it'll be an entertaining evening for them come this September:)

And oh...you guys are invited as well to see the premiere of "A Chinese Ghost Story" in Pioneer Valley:)