For The Travelling Kind

The Gift of Peace

2007-06-09T23:47:00.000+08:00

"...The fruit of service is peace."
- Mother Teresa

I live in a world with out peace. My fellow Canadians are dying in Afghanistan. Women around the world are being abused, kidnapped, sold and murdered. The streets of my city are filled with the homeless, the hungry, the violent, the mentally ill, the outcast, and the down trodden. My mind is constantly processing where my next job will be, where I can live, what to write next, how to maintain relationships, what are my priorities, where is God. When I cannot sleep, when I cannot pray, it is because I don't have peace.

Peace is "freedom of the mind from annoyance, distraction, anxiety, an obsession, etc.; tranquility; serenity." (Dictionary.com)

Who does not desire peace?

At first, serving the women of Shanti Dan created more turmoil in my life than I had before. Everything from the fear of hurting a patient, to the early rising to go to the home created an uncomfortable state of being. Slowly, I have established a routine at Shanti Dan. In the mornings I take a woman for a walk. We stroll down the road within the facility's walls. Sometimes I sing and we often stop to watch the geese either waddle around or swim in the pond. The sun is usually shinning, and luscious fruit trees flower along the roadside. When we reach the gate, the woman I walk, Shanti, presses her face to the crack where the hinge meets the perimeter walls to watch the outside world glide by. Then we walk back. Often Shanti holds my hand.

It was on one of these walks that I was thinking about peace. With the sun, and the geese and Shanti I realized that I was content and that I had stilled my soul. I was at peace. I can't say exactly how it happened. I can't pinpoint when serving the women turned from chore to privilege, but it did.

In Bengali Shanti means "peace" and Dan means "gift of". It wasn't until a few days after I learned this that I realized every morning I walk with Shanti, is a morning I walk with peace.

Love and Service

2007-06-04T21:19:00.000+08:00

"...The fruit of love is service..."
-Mother Teresa

I have been trying to figure out if love really does come before service. Even before stepping foot into Shanti Dan the idea of mentally handicapped women frightened me. I thought I wouldn't be able to understand them. They would ramble and scream. Do they bite? How do I interact with them? They would drool and wet themselves. All this frightened me. What if I hurt them? What if they hurt me?

From the beginning, when I was going to serve, I was frightened. Can you love something you are afraid of?

When I finally came face to face with these women it was not the scene from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" that I expected.

And now I love them.

So does service come before love?

I think of James, my boyfriend, my best friend, my love. It brings so much joy to my life to cook him dinner, to rub his feet, to make him smile. I serve him because I love him, I do not love him because I serve him. So perhaps love does come before service.

And if that does hold true, then I must have loved these women I had never met before. I must have loved them in some form to over come my fear of them. Or maybe it was my love of someone else that brought me to serve the women who frightened me.

It was late March when I felt God call me to India. Yes I love to travel, but this was different. I am not a natural server. My personality is inclined towards selfishness and self-centeredness, a truth that has taken me years to face and admit. I was not sure I wanted to serve, but God asked me to go.

I think it is my love of God that produced the fruit of service in my life.

And the fruit of service is peace. This I will write about soon.

Being Christine

2007-06-01T18:23:00.002+08:00

I returned to Shanti Dan today. I have been looking forward to this morning for a while. The bus ride, the walk down the rural road, the pathway beyond the gate, all stretched farther than I can remember them doing before. My feet carried me anxiously.

Why do I love these women so much?

The first moments I spent back in the ward caused confusion and glee. These women are used to seeing volunteers such as myself come and go. It happens so suddenly and so often that what we may consider a constant interruption of structure and security is common place for these women. A framilliar face returning is uncommon.

The welcome set my heart on fire. I couldn't smile big enough for these ladies. Kisses and hugs and feet touching all around. My cantankerous Shanti smiled in surprise at me, then quickly regained her furrowed brow and permanent frown.

Of course, some are unaware of these types of goings on in the world. I doubt they ever really saw me last time through their veil of mental illness. It warmed my heart never the less. Though their eyes portray a blankness, they still shine of humanness.

I was happy to see Sister Mary Angela again, the sister in charge of the ward where I volunteer. She was glad to see me, but had a confession.

"I have forgotten your name," she said in her thick Mandarin accent.

It is difficult for non-English speakers to reproduce the "che" sound that is so verbally prominent in my native language. This makes my name a difficult one for my foreign friends to pronounce, let alone remember.

"Rachel," I smiled.

"Raykel."

"Ra-chel."

"Ra. Ra. Ra-gel. It is so hard no?"

Before I really even thought about it I offered my middle name. "You can call me Christine."

Sister Marie Angela smiled. "Christine." She added a nod of approval.

The day continued as any other at Shanti Dan. I began combing lice out of peoples hair. While humming and catching those small gray bugs in the teeth of a wooden comb, I let my mind wander. Why did it feel so good to be back? Why was I so happy to comb lice out of this old woman's hair? Later I will clip their toenails, rotting, ingrown, and black from fungus. Why am I looking forward to this?

It was then that my mother, my middle name's sake, stepped into the path of my wandering mind.

E-mail
May 24th/2007
From: Christine Hahn
To: Rachel Hahn

"Had a really good visit with Nanny yesterday. I went down to do her nails. She had just had her hair done and then I did her nails, so she felt pretty special. She even joked with me and asked if I did toes too. She seemed genuinely happy."

My mother visits her mother, my nanny, several times a week in a nursing home. It is a 45 min drive both ways on the congested QEW. Often my mother brings offerings of her love and devotion: a dress she had dry cleaned for her, a new cotton night gown for the warmer summer evenings, fruit jellies that are Nanny's favourite, news of the family, fresh fruit from the local farms, and a manicure kit to do her nails. Nanny, with her advancing Alzheimer’s, has become less and less responsive over the past year. Her communication is often limited to one word replies. To see my mother with her you would not know that anything has changed for decades. I have always admired that strength in my mother.

I pulled one rather large lice from a gray strand of hair and squished it between my gloved finger tips. I realized what had happened. I had given my mother's name as my own, and I had learned why she is so happy to paint Nanny's nails.

"Christine!"

I looked up from the infested scalp to see Sister Mary Angela waving for my attention from across the ward.

"Come cut nails!"

The Himalayans

2007-05-26T12:52:00.000+08:00

I have been in the mountain town of Darjeeling for 5 days now. The team and I arrived here early on the 22nd. It was raining heavily as jeeps took us up the winding roads for 2 hours. Slowly we climbed through the clouds until we reached our destination, this land of mists and mountains.

Two nights ago was the last evening the team spent together. We sang songs of worship huddled together in an opulent and cozy meeting room furnished with thick carpets and plush chairs. As the fire crackled in the stone hearth I asked God to be pleased with our words of love and adoration.

That night, as we prepared to sleep, a magnificent storm rolled in. Sitting on the back veranda of our hotel one could see the speckles of lights in the valley far below, the dusting of stars in the black sky above, and the clustering of storm clouds directly beyond in the distance. Within the storm clouds lightning danced unaccompanied by thunder. Bolts and flashes flared for more than an hour. A silent symphony of light.

I heard these words in my heart - "I am pleased."

A business card

2007-05-20T17:40:00.000+08:00

Someone once offered to make Mother Teresa business cards. She had this printed on them:

The fruit of silence is prayer
The fruit of prayer is faith
The fruit of faith is love
The fruit of love is service
The fruit of service is peace

I'm trying to understand these words. I've gotten as far as the fruit of silence. In this city of blaring horns, angry dogs, calls to prayer, crying children, the chant of beggars, the beckon of merchants, the songs of mass, the chugging of generators, and the caw of ravens, silence is a luxury.

Today we had breakfast at an upscale hotel where a cold buffet costs more than many Indians make in a month. To get there you stroll down a busy main street on a broken cobbled sidewalk. To your left and right are slumbering locals. The fortunate lie atop wooden slates, the less fortunate have only the uneven cobble stones for a mattress and their forearms' for a pillow. Step over them and turn right as soon as you see an arch way. Within the next few step the oppressive heat and noise of Kolkata disappears and you are in a world of crystal chandeliers, marble floors and trained servants. Escapism at it's finest.

It seems that only the wealthy can afford to pray in India.

Today I volunteered at Prem Dan, a home for long term patients whose journey will more that likely end in death. There is a chalkboard on the wall that keeps a monthly tally of the number of patients who were admitted, who were discharged, and who died.

April
Admit - 0
Dischar - 2
Dead - 4

I fed an old frail woman who was tied to the bed with medical gauze. She kept pulling off her dressings. She doesn't have the strength to sit up, so I propped her tiny body with myself from behind while I reached around to her mouth. I asked another volunteer, a paramedic by trade, what was wrong with this woman. She's just old, and weak and loosing her mind. She will die soon from pressure ulsers. She's dying from bed sores.

I tried to pray for her, but the sound of her choking on her food and the clanging of other patients' metal plates drowned out my plea to God.

My days usually begin like this:

2007-05-14T18:12:00.000+08:00

I wake just before 5 am. I set my watch alarm for 5 but my body doesn’t trust alarms that early in the morning, so I tend to wake myself with 15 or 20 minutes to spare before the digital chimes. I go across the hall in my hostel and knock on the door. A boy, usually Rob, answers, usually in his boxers, and I tell him it’s time to get up.

At 5:30 I head out. Other travelers and I walk down a non descript street lined with vendors, rickshaws, and water pumps that, at this time in the morning, are crowded around by nearly naked lathered men washing their bodies for the day.

At 6 we arrive at Mother House. Here the Sisters of Charity have daily mass. Any volunteer is welcome, but a sign strictly prohibits non-Catholics from partaking in communion.

At 7 the volunteers gather in a back room. Here we each get a small banana, a thick slice of white bread, and a cup of hot chai. The chai in India is not spicy and fragrant like our North American version. It tastes like the tea I used to have as a child at my English Grandmother’s home. I didn’t like tea then, but it was essential to drink it when visiting, so I loaded it with milk and sugar until it was unrecognizable a tea. I don’t drink much of it at the volunteers’ breakfast. I prefer to dip my bread into it.

After cleaning up, reciting a prayer and singing a song, we disperse, to walk, catch buses and hop in auto-rickshaws. There are many houses founded by the Sisters in Kolkata. I catch the 202. It costs 5 rupees, 14 Canadian cents, and takes 20 minutes. The bus ride is followed by a 15 minute walk. By this time in the morning the sun has become harsh and threatening in the sky.

Finally, I reach Shanti Dan.

This is the home for mentally disabled and abused women. Unlike other homes, I don’t have many menial chores to perform. Many of the women here are very self sufficient and do their own washing, bathing, and eating. They suffer most not from their mental and physical afflictions but from boredom.

A few of the over weight patients were delegated to me by the Sister. I walk them because if they don’t loose weight they will die. That’s what the Sister said, more or less, in her broken English.

Everyone has lice. It seems inevitable that I will soon too despite my effort of keeping my hair tied up and covered with a scarf. I’ve seen cases so bad that it looked as if the woman was wearing a soft white crown around her head.

Sometimes we dance, often I sing though I can’t carry a tune. There’s a skeleton of a woman who has bulging eyes and implores me to sit next to her as she sobs in Hindi, or Bengali, I’m not sure which. She knows I can’t understand.

The women like to be massaged, and a few require physical therapy exercises. I often kiss them on the face.

Everyday, when I arrive, and before I leave, they bow to my feet and place there heads on my toes. I remember the first day, as soon as I walked in the door, and they were crowding around just to touch my feet with there faces. I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing, and I was immobile with shock. I came to be like Jesus to these women, and they are like Jesus to me. They are like the weeping woman who washed His feet with her tears and her hair.

Home for 11 days

2007-05-13T00:26:00.000+08:00

I spent the past week in transit.

We visited Agra and saw the Taj Mahal, an amazing testament to undying love, or perhaps an amazing testament to egotistical architecture and oppression of the masses. I read the Taj described as "poetry in white marble." When Agra was the capitol of India, hundreds of years ago, and King Jahan ruled, he (the masses he ruled) built the tomb over a 27 year period. It holds the body of his favourite wife. The structure is shrouded in grief, white being the traditional Indian colour of mourning. His wish was to have an exact replica made across the river in black stone. This would be his tomb. Unfortunately for Jahan, his son believed his father's wish outlandish and a detrimental strain on the people and the economy. He imprisoned Jahan until his death upon which he was entombed next to his favourite wife in the Taj. The single unsymmetrical feature of the building is Jahan's sarcophagus set off to the left of his wife's.

Next was Varanasi, the holiest city in India. Here is where Hindu's desire to die. They believe dying in Varanasi releases them from the cycle of reincarnation. To die in Varanasi means to have your remains be a part of the sacred Ganges, the river that runs through the city.

If you'd like to hear more about my trip so far, tune into CIUT's morning show Take 5 on 89.5 fm Monday May 14th. I am corresponding with the show during my trip and the first instalment will be then.

Now, in Kolkatta, I'm settling into my home for a while.

New Delhi

2007-05-06T14:53:00.000+08:00

Another trip begins.

We arrived in New Delhi late last night and took a bus to the Tibetan refugee district where our hotel is. I slept a lot on the plane, so though we didn't have to wake before 9 am, I was wide awake at 6 am. With the sun shinning, I decided it was the perfect moment to have my first real look at India.

On the fourth floor of our hotel, down the hall from my room, is a patio that overlooks the river. As the sun rose I stretched my muscles which had seemed to be cramped from the flights.

I took the quiet moment (a very rare ocasion in India) to write in my journal. Here is a bit of that:

"Though the sun is well into the sky by now, 7:30 am, the haze dissipates light. There is a wide, lazy looking river in sight from our floor's balcony. There are no buildings betwen us and it, just field consisting of smasll rectangular plots. There are three ramshackle homes on the river side. They look to be built of the same straw the broom on this patio is made of. Shiney and plastic things and clothing and material are strewn ontop and around the homes. A woman sits, pulsating up and down, perhaps preparing breakfast."

Home Coming

2006-08-05T17:25:00.000+08:00

"I am far frae my hame, an' i'm weary aften whiles, For the longed-for hame-bringing an' my Father's welcome smiles.
~Erastus W. Ellsworth
"My Ain Country"

I got an email today from a good friend. She wanted to welcome me home. I was touched that the few words read with such love and excitment that I almost felt guilty that I wasn't actually home yet. And then I began to think about it, about returning, and it felt different than when I had thought about it all before. It reminded me of what it felt like to see the Great Wall of China. All my life I had seen spectacular pictures of this imposing, wriggling structure that would conjure up a feeling of awe in me. Then, when I saw the bricks of that ancient wall for the first time, it felt completely different, it felt real. And I guess coming home feels real now. These past 8 months have had many a time where I thought of home, but now I can almost smell the sweet escarpment air.

And it is all so bitter sweet. To stop exploring, learning, experiencing asia, well, that's something I would give almost anything to avoid. But I wouldn't give my family for it, or my friends.

I'll be home on Wednesday.

Say Cheese!

2006-07-23T21:04:00.000+08:00

Thailand: in brief

2006-07-20T16:46:00.000+08:00

Bangkok:
hot
humid
sunny
temples
monks
ferries
cheap shopping
good food
tuk tuks

Chiang Mai:
rainy
cool
rainforest hiking
elephant riding
white water rafting
motorbike exploring
more temples than Bangkok
Only the cool cities still have moats (like Chiang Mai)

Too many good-byes

2006-07-12T21:49:00.000+08:00

Sometimes I feel like my life is comprised of good-byes. With that philosophy in mind I suppose I can consider my life to be full of hellos as well. That point aside: I feel like my life has been comprised of a lot of good-byes lately. I had to say good-bye to loved ones in Perth, a close friend in Sydney and I will say it to family here in Brisbane tomorrow afternoon. I hate good-byes, especially where these afore mentioned are concerned. You see, when I left home I said good-bye to everyone knowing full well when I would see them again. Sure, a solid date was not pegged down but it was safe to say August 2006. Here it's the ambiguity of the next meeting that makes it so much harder. My friend from Sydney lives in Paris but we may see each other this month in Laos. One friend from Perth will stay on the East Coast for an indefinit amount of time and the other may be getting a job in Asia. My family in Brisbane will more than likely always live in Brisbane, so when will I get back here again? Or maybe they will meet me one day in Europe. They love Europe.

Anyhow, one of the worst parts of travel is the good-byes. That and the jet-lag can really get a person down.

Thanks Australia. You've been beautiful and enchanting and I don't think you've seen the last of me. But, for now, I have to say...

Good-bye.

In Perth...

2006-07-11T20:48:00.000+08:00

I can't even begin to explain how happy I was to be reunited with my friends. I missed them so much over the past month and a half. It was really great to meet up on their home turf. Wine tastings, breweries, chocolate factories, birthdays, coffee, amazing food and the company of people I hold dear. Who could ask for more? I even got the chance to make and share a traditional Canadian breakfast with my Aussie host family. I think it takes some training to be able to fully digest bacon and pancakes covered in maple syrup first thing in the morning.

To top it off, it would have been worth heading to the West Coast just for the sunset.

Sydney

2006-07-11T20:42:00.000+08:00

9 foreign house mates
4 bedroom apartment
7 days
1 opera house

Wow, the Great Ocean Road is really... great!

2006-06-30T11:59:00.000+08:00

Last week while in Melbourne I had quite a few adventures.

One was a trek out to the Great Ocean Road which, as you may have guessed, winds along the coast. I stayed with my friends family at the farming homestead they have. It is a gorgeous home, built in the 1940s on a huge chunk of land. It looks out over the ocean and has achres of fields and bush. While on a walk around the property we spotted more than 10 koalas and a couple of kangaroos.

View from the kitchen

Lone Pine

2006-06-19T21:01:00.000+08:00

Today I went to the Lone Pine Koala conservation park. Don't let the name fool you; there are more than just koalas. I saw kangaroos and wallabes and wombats and emus and bats and parrots and snakes and more!

Joanna and I went with her parents and Joanna's 5 year old nephew Jack. Everytime we got to a new habitat I would gape and point and giggle in awe. As Jack put it so eloquently, "the reason you are so excited is because you've never seen these guys before."

How wise 5 year olds are.

Pictures of Noosa and the Sunshine Coast

2006-06-15T21:41:00.000+08:00

a view of Sunrise Beach from the hiking trail

an early morning walk on Sunrise Beach

a full moon over the sea at sunset

Sunrise Beach

A throw back to Hitchcock

2006-06-15T21:23:00.000+08:00

This morning, during breakfast on the patio of the beautiful historic hostel I was staying at, I was enjoying home cooked food, good company and the wildlife.

I was admiring two white cockatoos in a gum tree when a rainbow lorikeet landed a table away. I smiled at it, amazed by it's vibrant colours and it cocked it's head to one side as if inspecting me. I was even more delighted when the little feathered fella was cheeky enough to hop onto my table where he continued to tilt his head to and fro.

However, the cuteness stops there.

This little guy was joined by a friend and together they approached my plate and began picking at my toast. My attempts to shoo them away were in vain. In fact, the little buggers called in recruits and I soon found my self surrounded. They were on my chair, on my plate, on the table and swooping around my head.

I quickly resigned to the fact that I wasn't getting any more of my meal.

In a moment of inspiration I picked up my plate and placed it a table away. The birds did indeed follow my meal and it wasn't long before a turkey arrived and gobbled down the last of the bacon.

I had an extra large lunch once I got back to Brisbane.

My Beer

2006-06-15T21:19:00.000+08:00

Take a good look guys. This is my beer.

The Land of Oz

2006-06-13T14:55:00.000+08:00

G'Day!

So here I am down under. I am really psyched to be in Australia. I have been staying with Joanna and her husband David and it feels just like home. They have welcomed me with open arms in the most hospitable manner imaginable. I have my own room, a bathroom to myself, my own balcony to enjoy, and an amazing apartment to live in. Not to mention the vase of tulips and jar of veggiemite that were waiting on my desk for me.

This weekend Joanna, David, Jude (David's mum) and I went up to the Sunshine Coast for the long weekend. I think there is a serious case of false advertising going on becuase when we arrived it was anything but sunshiney. We were all a bit bummed. However, come Sunday, the sun was out and we enjoyed the rest of the weekend by going swimming, shopping and hiking.

Though Joanna and David had jobs to return to on Tuesday, I opted for some more time on the coast. So, I checked myself into the local hostel and have been enjoying the beach!

Today I had my first ever experience surfing. It was amazing! I am in serious danger of becoming a surfer chick who says "dude" a lot and is perpetually in a wet suit.

Anyway, I'm headed back to Brisbane this Thursday and then it's an Aussie Football Rules game for m this weekend!

I've got tickets booked for Melbourne, Sydney, and Perth, though I can't imagine leaving Brisbane yet!

peace

Censorship and other things Chinese

2006-06-04T20:48:00.000+08:00

So my blog is censored in China. That's right, you can't read it in this country. I knew some of my escapades were racey but come on communist China, I'm not that bad. In all seriousness though, I think it is the general blog locale I use: blogspot, that is censored. However, I can post. I just can't read anything.

Seeing as I've figured that little trick out, it's time for another update:

I'm back in fabulous Beijing after a good trek through central China. Train, bus, boat, I did it all.

It began last Sunday with a 12 hour over night train to Xi'an where I took a bus to see the Terrecotta Warriors. A thousand man army made out of terrecotta, complete with weaponry, horses, chariots and generals, guards the tomb of a 2500 year old emperor. It doesn't getm uch cooler than that.

Then it was another over night train to Chongqing where I boarded a boat on the Yangtze river. My travel partner and I shared a cabin with two elderly chinese men. Surprisingly one of them knew some english and we were able to say good morning to them each day.

We sailed through the Three Gorges and saw several amazing temples. We took a side tour up the Lesser Three Gorges which, despites the name sake, is equally if not more breath taking. It was in the sheer cliffs of these gorges that I spotted a hanging coffin of the Ba people. Thousands of years ago they lay their dead to rest in coffins placed in holes chissled out of the cliff side hundreds of meters above the water level. To this day no one knows how it was done and the secret is dying with the few descendents of the Ba that are left.

We stopped and saw the Three Gorges Dam. It is one of the most controversial constructions of our decade. Though it has been completed, it will not become operational until 2008. However, when it does, the Yangtze will flood up to 175meters above sea level and most of what I saw, including the hanging coffins, will be submerged. Not only this, but a countlessnumber of people will loose their homes and farm land. That's communism for ya. Hmm... maybe this is why my blog is censored.

After our 4 day sail we docked in Yichang. I parted ways with my Scotish friend and spent the day exploring this small riverside city. Then, that night, I caught the train heading to Beijing and settled in for the 20 hour trek.

Now I'm back in the capital city and getting ready for my plane trip this Tuesday. Everything is flying by so quickly I can't believe it. It's not long until it's all over and I'm back in school this September. Ack! I don't want to think about that. What I do look forward to though, is seeing all of you guys again.

peace

Time for a quick re-cap

2006-05-28T16:57:00.000+08:00

Life has become a bit of a whirlwind. If you can relate to the craziness of exams and the end of a school year then you may begin to understand what has been going on in my life the past few weeks. However, there's more. Add to the regular exam stress load the ordeal of packing up all your possessions into boxes for posting home, trying to see as many sights in your city as possible, arranging travel plans and saying good bye to numerous people for whom you care deeply for and know you will probably never see again. So, I suppose that's the long winded way of explaining why I haven't posted lately.

In short: I've been busy.

But now it's all done and gone. HKBU and I have said farwell and I have begun the last leg of my journey. My backpack and I are ready for 3 months of adventure.

And what better place to start adventuring than China?

So here I am, in Beijing. I arrived on Tuesday night. I've had a few friends come up and meet me here and we've gone out exploring. I'm staying in a great hostel called the Red Lantern House. It's in the Hutong district of Beijing and is built int he traditional hutong style. IT's great stepping out of your hostel in the morning and right on to the neighbourhood where people live, work, and play.

I have done and seen so much so far that I can't possibly take the time to describe it all (I have a train to catch soon) so instead I will re-cap.

-Walked through Tianamen Square
-Explored the Forbidden City
-Hiked along the Great Wall
-Watched Chinese acrobats
-Shopped in the Silk Markets
-Walked around the lakes
-Took a rickshaw
-Visited the Temple of Heaven
-Enjoyed a message
-Got a hair cut

And now my friend Louise and I are headed out to catch a train to Xi'an to see the Terrecotta Warriors. Then it's over to the Yangtze River to catch a boat to the three gorges. After that, I'm on a train back into Beijing so I can fly down to Australia.

So there are the plans. I promise to keep you all updated as much as possible.

peace

I Have Been Asian-ified

2006-05-02T14:52:00.000+08:00

I lost my alarm clock in Borocay and since I'm not always the champion of waking up, especially in the morning, I needed a new one.

I argue that I got this one because it was cheap (about 3 Canadian dollars) but we all know the simple truth: I've been asian-ified.

Thus, every morning, I can say "hello kitty."

You Can Dress Us Up But...

2006-04-30T03:23:00.000+08:00

The annual, very swanky, black tie Rugby Gala was this past Friday evening at the Conrad Hotel in the Grande Ballroom.

Needless to say, we all clean up fairly nicely (had trouble recognizing some people without dirt on their face) but asking us to act appropriately is a bit of a stretch. Think about it: Rugby guys, rugby girls, free alcohol and giant trophies.

Much fun was had!

My team, the Valley City Ladies, were official recognized and awarded for being the women's 10s champs. Though our trophy was small, we felt like it was the biggest and shiniest in the room.

Also, a girl on our team was honoured with the title of the women's league's player of the year. We were all very proud.

All in all, the dancing, the food, the wine and the company made for a great night. I was sad to decline the offer of playing for the team next season. Unfortunately, I just can't make the commute from Toronto to Causeway bay every week for practice.

My Baby Boys!

2006-04-24T13:04:00.000+08:00

Isaac Aaron Werner Hahn (left) and Benjamin Arthur Vrolyk (right)

These are the most recent pictures I've had sent my way. They're from Easter, the first family holiday meal with babies at the table (since we were in diapers of course).

How blessed we are!

Isaac, Ben, I know you can't read quite yet but I'm sure your parents can relay this message:

I love you so much! You are both so beautiful (it's a family trait obviously). Your Tante Rachel prays for you everyday, asking the Lord to guide you and bless you in every way. You have no idea how much I look forward to meeting you. I've been saving up a flood of hugs and kisses, so build an ark because August is not that far away!

Postage and Parcels and Packages, Oh My!

2006-04-19T09:48:00.000+08:00

I came home to a lot of mail: a few birthday cards, two letters, and three parcels.

Yes, Moni, it has finally arrived (and it was worth every bit of the wait).

Ty and Nat, a big-thumbs up to the candy. It wouldn't be Easter without Hershey's

And, I was most pleasantly surprised by a giant envelope from my Tante. Thanks to all of you who pitched in. I look spiffy in them, if I do say so myself.

And, to all of you, I just want to express how much it means to me to know that you're thinking of me. I love you all very much, and I eagerly look forward to the day we see each other again.

The Philippines: Part Deux

2006-04-19T01:11:00.000+08:00

For Easter long weekend this year a few friends and I decided to catch a cheap flight to what is widely recognized as being the 3rd most beautiful beach in the world: White Beach, Boracay Island, The Republic of the Philippines. Don't ask what the 2nd and 1st beaches are, I have no idea, but I'm sure a quick google would satisfy your curiosity.

MANILA

Last time around I had decided that Manila was the worst city in the world. However, I was feeling benevolent on Thursday when we arrived, and I let the city know, "Manila, I'm giving you a second chance, a clean slate; show me what you've got."

On Thursday we counted down the seconds to midnight. Three... Two... One... Happy
Birthday! It was a weird and wonderful celebration including a few run-ins with Filipino dancers, a persistent lady-boy, and Red Horse lager of course.

Do I look older?

Friday morning I woke up early, the sun streaming in the hostel windows. I wandered to a church built hundreds of years ago, and I listened to the gospels being read in Tagalog. I took a quick stroll along the bay followed by a short phone call home to thank my mother for giving me life, and it was time to hit Starbucks.

That afternoon I joined the others and persuaded them to explore the walled city of Intramuros.

Not a thing all day felt like a familiar birthday occurence; so I bought myself a slice of cake. That seemed to remedy the feeling. It will go down in memory as a very nice birthday.

BORACAY

Delayed 4 hours in a terminal the size of my high school's gymnasium, a long taxi ride and a ferry crossing in the dark: all part of traveling. Getting there is half the fun, right?

The stars. I had almost forgotten what they look like. Sparkling pin pricks in a navy velvet sky.

I rose with the sun the first day, and wondered how on earth beach #2 and #3 could top what I saw.

Breakfast in the sand, a day in the sun, dinner at an Indian restaurant, and dancing bare foot at a beach club. I like Boracay.

The last day a few of us went for a sunset horse ride. My eternal apologies to equestrians the world around.

I had always wondered what the big deal was, chuckling inwardly that people actually needed lessons to ride a horse. How hard can it be? Get on a horse, hold the reins, ride the horse. Badda-bing, badda-boom. I'd even been on a horse once. I was young, maybe 14, and I'm surprised my horse didn't neigh its last while plodding along in line with the others on the tour.

I remember thinking, "this is so easy, why can't we gallop?"

In Boracay, on the back of Smokey, as he decided to gallop, I remember thinking, "what do I do? Why did I do this? I've finally done something stupid enough to get myself killed."

Did I mention that my horse had a temper? He didn't like, well, anything. But he especially didn't like other horses. And so he kept trying to kick them.

I must say, there was an immence sense of accomplishment on my part when I dismounted after surviving Smokey galloping full out along the sand.

I'm sore.

Packages in the Post

2006-04-08T10:24:00.000+08:00

Do you know how fabulous it feels to glance into your mail box heading into res and see a little white slip declaring you have a package waiting for you in the office? No? Well, let me tell you, it's better than going out for ice cream, petting a puppy and a sunny afternoon combined.

So when I got one of these little white notes yesterday I strolled into the office with a huge grin on my face and felt like I owned the place as I handed it in to the attendant. She riffled behind the desk and came up with the greatest red box ever: large, wrapped in tape and emitting a slight aroma.

Inside was a plethora of goodies that I knew could only be attributed to one group... my living room.

When I finally unwrapped the last two items in the box-o-fantasticalism, my heart stopped. It was the source of the slight aroma. It was coffee grinds. It was the best thing I could have hoped for. And what's that? A coffee mug? Oh no! It's so much more! It's a coffee percolator travel mug! Could it be? Am I the most blessed girl in all of Hong Kong?! The Coffee Crisis of 2006 has official ended!

And how'd you know I have a closet passion for puzzles?

Thank you so much. I am so blessed to have people like you in my life.

I love you guys.

Surprise!

2006-04-07T23:33:00.000+08:00

The proverbial cat was out of the bag. Well, at least half out seeing as I knew something was up.
Julia was asking me more frequently to plug my ears and hum a song around other people, which in itself may just be considered weird, but with my birthday approaching it could safely be considered a covert operational procedure.
The question had not become if I was having a birthday party, but when and what.
Believe it or not I decided to avoid snooping. Ok, at least I did a very minimal amount. I didn't really feel it was a challenge trying to get a group comprised largely of non-native English speakers to let a secret out. Besides, as Julia put it, I wouldn't want to kill the magic would I?
I was impressed that no one slipped up until Wednesday afternoon. Someone asked me what I was doing Thursday and I told them I was planning on going out for dinner and drinks wit Sue, James and Nigel. Only them they wondered. Yes, I replied. Well, I thought you'd go out with more people on your birthday. That's when Julia shot them the evil eye.
However, if it hadn't have been blundered on Wednesday, I surely would have caught on by Thursday. those non-native English speakers that I mentioned, they kept popping up to wish me happy birthday, and seeing as my birthday wasn't for another week it was a bit of an unusual greeting.
So that night I put on my new dress and waited. Sue called and asked me to meet downstairs for dinner. The suggestion was made that we have a few cocktails in James' room first, so we all trekked up to the 18th floor. thats when the blindfold came out and I was plunged into darkness. Stumbling while being led on wither side I came to a silent doorway.
It was then that 30 voices burst into song.
My blindfold was removed and before my eyes was the rooftop patio trabsformed into a Hawaiian Luau. Palm leaves on the walls, fruit spreads on the tables, everyone is Hawaiian shirts, music pumping, limbo set up, kebobs on the BBQ, and an open bar, including Hawaiian punch not suitable for anyone under the age of 19. Of course, it wouldn't be complete if all those beverages were being consumed out of anything other than a hollowed out pineapple or coconut.
The party continued on into the night, and then most of us ventured to Lan Kwai Fong, those who didn't make it had become fallen casualties of the punch.
And it wouldn't have been a true night out if it didn't end with pancakes at the Flying Pan.
Thanks for the great party everyone.

Rugby 7s

2006-04-02T12:00:00.000+08:00

Hong Kong has become, over the past 30 years, the most popular stop on the men's rugby 7s iRB tour. The city throbes with tourists, sports fans, and players all caught up in the euphoric buzz that takes over the streets. Being a part of it is a priceless experience.

However, being a part of the stadium crowd is a pricey experience.

Hence why I wasn't going to partake in that aspect of the weekend. At a fundraiser for the Canadian Mens team the night before the tournament began, tickets were going for $2,500 HKD. That's about $400 Canadian. Ouch.

So on Friday when my friend Greg called me and told me he had heard that student Rugby players in the Hong Kong leagues could get in for free, it sounded too good to be true. Greg made a few phone calls to varify the rumour and it turned out it wasn't true. Student rugby players weren't getting in for free... all students were.

Gates opened at 3:30 and it was first come first serve. So 5 of us jumped in a cab at 3:00 and hoped we would be lucky enough to beat the inevitable horde of students waiting to get in.

When we arrived at Hong Kong Stadium we were confused. Where were the students lining up? We walked through security and spotted a sign to our left. It read: Student Entrance. We stepped up, showed our student cards, and walked in.

No, I didn't walk in. I floated, skipped, twirled.

We sat, field level. We drank and cheered, booed, painted our faces, lost our voices, found them again and cheered some more.

We watched the Canadians vs. the USA. With 4 minuets left in the second half the score was 12-12. Not even on the edge of my seat, but standing in shock, we watched Canada score a try and win the game.

It was my favourite day in Hong Kong.

Acupuncture

2006-03-30T14:45:00.000+08:00

My friend Louise and I were sitting in the courtyard today when somehow we stumbled on to the topic of acupuncture. And then we decided to inquire about it at the Chinese Medicine clinic next to our residence. And then we found our selves lying on examination tables speaking through a translator to a woman in scrubs.

Funny how things can snowball like that.

I watched Louise get two needles stuck into her neck, four in between her shoulder blades, four on her lower back and a few on her arms and hands. The doctor then hooked up electrical wires to the needles and adjusted the voltage levels so they were just right: twitching her muscles but not causing discomfort.

And then it was my turn. I sat up while the doctor place two needles in my neck. It's a difficult sensation to describe. After watching how far the needles sunk into Louise's flesh I was a bit nervous. There was a pinprick, pressure, and then nothing.

The doctor placed one on either side of my eyes, and two along my hairline. These ones pricked a bit more at first, but were followed by a slight tingling sensation. The last few were placed in my hands.

An electrical pulse was hooked up to the needles in my neck and the translator softly told me to wait for 13 minutes.

The needles were taken out so smoothly it was nearly without any sensation.

I must say, although it is too soon to tell if the acupuncture has helped with my cold, I feel very relaxed.

10, 000 Buddhas

2006-03-29T16:57:00.000+08:00

There's a monistary in Sha Tin on top of Po Fook Hill called temple of 10,000 Buddhas. It was built in the 1950s and it does indeed hold more than 10, 000 Buddhas. The main temple itself holds 12,800 miniatures.

To get there you have to walk through a bamboo grove and up 400 stairs lined with life sized golden Buddhas. Each Buddha is different and none of them looked like the classic pot bellied guy I was expecting.

One temple houses the embalmed body of the monistaries founding monk. He died in 1965, and was covered in gold leaf before being put under a glass encasing where he sits still in prayer.

a groundsman touches up the paint on a Buddha

A List: Things I miss

2006-03-25T21:25:00.000+08:00

As a pre-cursor to the following list, I would like to note that this itemizes things I miss, not people. I miss you all. This particular list just goes to show the little things that you can really yearn for.

- Couches, seriously I sat on one today for the first time in months
- Salad
- A Kitchen
- Coffee, REAL coffee
- Soft matresses
- The National with Peter Mansbridge
- a wide variety of News Magazines (the Walrus, Harpers, Mcleans, This)
- Breakfast

It's kindda funny the things you miss. And some things you don't even realize you miss until you have them again. Like couches. Geez I miss couches.

Pics of Vietnam

2006-03-20T20:57:00.000+08:00

Cu Chi Tunnels, and the Mekong Delta: a meal I'll never forget.

2006-03-18T16:40:00.000+08:00

Yesterday we visited the Cu Chi Tunnels.

During the Vietnam War the Vietnamese dug a vast network of underground tunnels used to run messages back and forth, to hide troops, and to live in. The process of building the tunnels took 20 years, with a progress rate of 20 cm. dug per tunnel everyday. Workers laboured at night so as to avoid enemy eyes.

Some of these Tunnels are located in Cu Chi. Visiting them was surreal. I crawled 100 meters in the musty pitch black. I don't understand how the Vietnamese soldiers didn't lose their minds.

We walked through a forest that used to be thick with rubber trees. Now, the vegetation there is only about as old as I am because the agent orange killed everything.

While stepping through the forest, and being shown booby traps used on the US troops, the sound of gun fire would ring out. There is a firing range near by, but the impression was one of the battle fields. Eerie.

I fired an AK 47 at the firing range. That gun has some serious kick back.

Today I've been touring the Mekong. It's been a relaxing combination of bus and boat jaunts with many stops to eat and drink new things. Rice wine, coconut candy, various teas, dried lotus, and a particularly interesting lunch of king cobra.

Snake is a traditional meal believed to be good for your liver and sex drive.

We went to a cage that held a bag of snakes. Julia picked out the feistiest one for us. The cooks carefully and skillfully extracted our choice pick. weighed him, and than let our friend Chris do the honours and cut his head off with a pair of scissors.

The cooks drained the blood into a glass and than whisked the snake's body away to be prepared in curry. To my surprise, the snakes head continued to flick its tonge and open its mouth. Apparently, because snakes are cold blooded, they take awhile to actually die, even when decapitated.

The meal was a traditional spread. We washed down pieces of snake, skin and all, with a drink made from its blood (though they mix it with a potent alcohol its still pretty unbearable).

And now I'm sitting in an internet cafe, minutes away from getting back on the bus and trekking home to our lovely hostel in the backpackers district of Ho Chi Minh City.

I've got a few great pics to post once I get back to Hong Kong, so be sure to check this blog on Monday or Tuesday.

Peace to everyone.

Thinking of Tripp'n

2006-03-14T15:05:00.000+08:00

I'm contemplative.

I don't particularly like when people use blogs as a forum to be pseudo-philosophers analyzing their own thoughts and the events in their daily lives. So I was weary to begin my post with, "I'm contemplative." But I am contemplative so...

I need some help.

I have been thinking about traveling. Booking my ticket to Vietnam got the thought juices flowing, and I just had a great conversation with an old friend who now lives in Whistler. We hadn't chatted with each other for nearly two years, so we rehashed travel stories for each other. Also, just being around other exchange students, who often jet away for a weekend or two, is a constant reminder of the traveling life.

So here I am. Remembering Iqaluit. Thinking about Africa. Seeing my tan fade from the Philippines. And I ask myself... where next?

It's become increasingly clear to me that I won't be able to shake this travel itch so the only option left is to decide on some destinations.

This is where I need your help. Everyone has a place they want to see. Even if you're not the traveling kind, there is an image, tucked away in your mind. Its a place that holds you captive, a place you want to get to know, to smell, touch and see. My place was always Africa. I had to see it and to breathe it in... and I did.

I want to know where your place is. Norway? The Amazon? France?

I figure, if I can compile a list of peoples travel desires than I'll have a list of the most captivating places in the world. And, perhaps I can work towards seeing some of them too!

Thanks for your help everyone.

Iqaluit, Nunavut 2004

Rugby 7s

2006-03-12T11:50:00.000+08:00

Yesterday my team, Valley, played in a women's rugby 7s tournament. Playing 7s was exciting. Since I usually play back I don't often get to go into contact. Rather than ruck, tackle and scrum, I just run a lot. With 7s though, since there are only 7 players on the field, I got to do all those things I miss.

We won in our pool, beating both Aberdeen and the Nomads. No trys for me, but there were lots of good plays and hard tackles. I even took down a HUGE chinese girl a couple of times. She clearly hadn't anticipated anyone on our team being able to take her down, but after the first half she wasn't exactly keen on running the ball up.

Baby Ben and The Next Destination

2006-03-11T01:16:00.000+08:00

I want to congratulate Monica and Arthur Vrolyk on becoming parents! Welcome to Benjamin Arthur Vrolyk, born March 9th, 2006. You've picked a good family to be born into :)

Also, just finished booking my ticket to Vietnam. I really just want to be able to start a sentence off with "when I was in nam..." so that I sound like a veteran. March 16th-20th... can't wait!

World Peace

2006-03-10T14:13:00.000+08:00

The International exchange student community is a complex and interesting one to be a part of.

As with any group of people, there is a division into cliques. This isn't a hostile thing, just a human nature thing. As you can imagine, the natural inclination here was for people to form cliques according to nationality. There are the German boys. The French girls. The Jukie boys (named that after a Swede tried to say UK and it came out Jukie). The Swedes. And of course, the Canadians, who are actually comprised of 3 Canadians and an Aussie.

All of these cliques coexist in harmony and general camaraderie steming partly from the shared understanding and experience of being an exchange student. However, sometimes international relations become strained.

The past month there have been riffs. It all started between the Canadians and the Swedes, who are very close with the German boys. The pretenses of the situation are not very important, but the way things were left caused a serious riff.

International relations deteriorated to a George and Sadam like state. Ambassadors were recalled, propaganda became prolific, and there was no verbal cease-fire... until last night.

Maybe the stars aligned or something is in the water, but either way, people were in the mood to make-up. I personally was approached by 4 different people who wanted to express their apologies. I was inspired and apologized to two guys who I had un-rightly snubbed.

And thus world peace was achieved.

Sahara: Our Hookah Haven

2006-03-05T20:39:00.000+08:00

The story of Sahara begins on a January night.

Brandon, Katherine, Tia, and I were shopping in Soho, my favourite part of Hong Kong. We decided to devide and conquer the little boutiques since there was so much to see in the windows lining the narrow winding and hilly roads of Soho. So each of us went wandering in our own direction.

Soon, Brandon called, and we reunited to hear what he had found.

He had stumbled across a small bar and the hostess invited him in. The bar hadn't officially opened yet, and it had only entertained a few select customers for 2 nights previous. The hostess suggested Brandon bring his friends by to see how they liked it.

And that's how we found ourselves atop bright cusions and below wrought iron chandeliers smoking Hong Kongs finest Hookahs. What's a Hookah? I wasn't sure myself. Think of the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. That's a Hookah. Traditionally middle eastern and Egyptian. It's flavoured tobacco through pipes and tubes.

The hostess, Gonga, introduced us to the owner, Doodee. We said we would stay for half an hour.

We were served fabulous breads and humus. We called friends. People came. We smoked. We laughed.

We said we'd stay just one more hour. We stayed 5.

Now Sahara is open for business, officially. We are still frequent faces against the vibrant orange walls, and Doodee always has some free drinks for us.

How classy is drinking champaign out of a plastic cup?

2006-03-05T19:49:00.000+08:00

VERY! If that plastic cup is the Rugby Women's 10s Championship Cup!

That's right. The Valley City Women's team, of which I have recently joined, won with a score of 37 - 10. I had a fabulous time!

Last weekend we won our qualifying match with a ridiculous score of 62 - 5. So this past week I was hyped to play the final... until Thursday night when I found out that we were only being allowed 5 official subs... which meant 2 of our girls wouldn't be playing on Saturday.... which put me on the side line.

Bummed, but still determined to support my team, I got up and ready to go to the game Saturday morning. an hour before I was leaving res I got a text from our team captain: Looks like someone can't make it. Bring your stuff, you're in the game.

I called my friends, gathered my gear, and was on my way.

Thirteen of my friends from university came out to fill the bleachers and show their support. Their cheers were load, obnoxious, and much appreciated. A few of my favourite slogans shouted include: "Go Canada!" and "Get your hands off of my friend!"

And the highlight of the game... was scoring a try! My friends went wild and my team mates cheered me on, congratulating me on my first try with the team.

We went to the bar that sponsors our team and celebrated with the men's team who also won that day. We had free beer and drank champaign out of our glorious cup.

Gun fire in Hong Kong and Rugby: the gentlewoman's sport.

2006-02-23T23:06:00.000+08:00

I've joined a Rugby league. I have no cleets, no shorts, no mouth guard and no recent experience (seeing as the last time I played was my senior year of highschool) but I'm thinking: What the heck? So I showed up to the Happy Valley Women's practice and said, "Hi, can I join your team?"

This resulted in me going on an outing in Causeway Bay, an area of Hong Kong I'm not particularly framiliar with, in order to try and aquire the said items I do not have.

Needless to say, in a city where there are 6,000 people per square kilometer in the heart of the shopping district, I got lost looking for a store I had never been to and whose location was described to me as "the small shop next to the McDonalds across from the Football club."

Wandering, frustrated, and surrounded by bustling crowds, I became distracted by my situation, so distracted in fact that it wasn't until I was a mere 15 feet away that I noticed that a man was hanging out of a car window with a semi automatic.

Bang!

My heart stopped. I froze in utter terror and with wide eyes scanned my surroundings, expecting to see the hourds of people take off running.

Then someone approached the car, grabbed the gun and walked calmly away.

It was at that moment I realized something was amiss, and my attention was drawn to the camera hidden around the corner.

Lucky me, I stumbled onto a movie set, a very common occurance in the thick downtown core of Hong Kong.

I stayed to watch another take. This time, although the bang startled me, I didn't fear for my life and the lives of those around me.

Thinking of Home

2006-02-20T15:42:00.000+08:00

Sometimes when I sit at my desk and allow my eyes to wander off the screen and out the window to the courtyard below and the lush green hill beyond, I think of the view from my childhood bedroom where I spent many years staring at the escarpment.

When chatting with people who love to travel, often one question pops up: where is your favourite place? Your favourite place you've ever been. People mention places in Thailand, the Caribbean, Africa, Europe... I had to think about it. There are so many options, so many beautiful places with beautiful people. But there's one place that can't be beat. The couch, in the den in my parents home, infront of the fireplace on a winter's evening.

Funny isn't it?

Pictures Anyone? (philippines)

2006-02-14T03:24:00.000+08:00

In a tank. . .

On a boat. . .

In a cart. . .

A Re-Cap

2006-02-14T00:47:00.000+08:00

So, it's high time I put up a little re-cap of my jaunt over to the 7000+ island country of the Philippines.

Mike and I flew out on Sunday and after taxi's and buses, arrived in a small mountain city called Baguio where we stayed the night and planned our next move over pizza and a football game involving manchester united (Mike's hometown team).

That morning we explored Baguio's famed park modelled after one in Washington DC... everyone say it together now... let down. So we sat and watched people paddle giant swan boats on the man-made pond and decided to head over to the Philippine Military Academy (PMA).

A taxi through the mountain (inches from plumeting to my death let me tell you) to the PMA gates where a security officer confiscated my passport (gasp!) in exchange for a gate pass. The following hours definitely made up for the lame salad garden festival which was going on in Baguio Park (I forgot to mention that didn't I?). We toured the academy grounds, walked through the museum, harassed mannequines, tried on uniforms, played on old military equipment like tanks and anti-air craft guns, and roamed through picnic areas and gazebos. We made our way back to the main gates, where I had my passport returned, and off we went to Mines View park.

Mines View park was a spectacular view of the mountains and country side. A little too touristy for our liking however, so we hiked it over to the Good Shephard Convent and chilled out on a patio overlooking the mountains and valleys while eating peanut brittle made by the sisters there.

We caught a bus to Dagupan that night, then to Alaminos and from there we rode on a trike (a motorcycle with enclosed side car) 20 mins to the small coastal town of Lucap.

The next morning we woke up to the beautiful South China Sea at our door. We had breakfast and hopped on a boat. Two guides took us around the Hundred Island National Park (there are a hundred, we counted). We soaked up the sun a bit and took a sea kayak out for a paddle before heading back to Lucap's shore.

Then, it was on to Manilla.

We took a bus, and arrived late at night. We explored a bit, ate a bit, slept a lot. The next morning we met up with Julia, Sasha, and Magnus who had just flown in. We spent a few hours at the local Starbucks (you better believe it) and then booted it to Batangas to catch a ferrie. When we got there all the ferries were gone except one, and it wasn't going where we wanted to go, but we went there anyway since spending the night in Batangas is not appealing at all.

We watched the sun set over the sea and a few hours later we we in a hotel in Calapan.

In the morning we took a jeepnee (random truck like transport) from Calapan to Sabang, our originally intended destination. We rented a hut on the beach and did regular beach things, until Mike realized his passport was lost... and so he trekked back to Manilla to the British consulate.

The next day, now down to Sasha, Julia, Magnus and I, we went on a tour. Our guide took us into the jungle, forging rivers, hiking through mud, and swiming in waterfalls. We ate delicious fish served on palm leaves and then rode in an ox cart home. Surprisingly the ox defecating on us didn't dampen our spirits at all, it just made the day all the more memorable.

The next day we caught a 5:15 am ferrie back to Batangas, and watched the sun rise over the sea. A bus took us from Batangas into Manilla and we met up with Mike. That night we visited Manilla's Hobbit House: The only bar run, owned and operated completely by midgets. Now I'm sure that nothing this politically incorrect would ever happen in North America... but when in Rome, er, the Philippines.

The next day Mike and I set off to return to HKBU.

Though this seems to be a rather detailed chronology of our trip, I assure you it is barely an overview of the laughter, the sights, and the moments.

You'll just have to wait until I write my autobiography ;)

Spontaneously Yours,

2006-02-04T12:36:00.000+08:00

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was curled up on a soft bench in Pacific Coffee enjoying a Latte and the company of my friends Julia, Sasha and Mike. The topic of discussion was the week we had off for Chinese New Year.

Julia and Sasha were planning their trip to the Philippines with a Swedish friend Magnus. They were due to fly out of Hong Kong International on Wednesday.

"I wish I could go to the Philippines," I said. "But I can't afford it."

"I bet we could find some really cheap tickets," suggested Mike.

By 6 pm Mike and I were booked on Tiger Airways from Macau to Manilla for the next day. I did a load of laundry since my clean underwear situation was grim, packed my 27 litre knapsack and slept for a few anxious hours.

There aren't words for the past few days. Beautiful scenery. Adventures. Heartbeaking images. Friends.

Yesterday I was on an ox drawn cart in the jungle. Today I'm in an internet cafe in Manilla. Tomorrow I'll be on a plane again.

Pictures to follow, I promise!

Language, Vocabulary and Vernacular

2006-01-23T13:32:00.000+08:00

Here, my closest group of friends come from many different countries and speak many different languages. Sometimes I feel a little spoiled because all of them speak English, and my native tongue has become the language of general conversing. However, that being said, slowly but surely my speech is changing. At first it was just a verbal slip here and there, but now I barely notice when “y'all” escapes my lips.

I'm not the only one to experience this either. It seems the exchange students are developing a new English dialect. Here are some defining features:

Y'all (American)

Giggle Peanut (German, a direct translation from a german phrase meaning a giggly person)

Eh (Canadian sound indicating the end of a question)

Winggy Baby (Australian, a whiney person)

Oy (British)

Wanker (Australian British, a dork or jerk)

Then I found Five Dollars (American, said to get peoples attention when you are being ignored… and it works)

Footy (British slang for football/soccer, but don't call it soccer because they'll kill you)

Uni (Australian slang for university)

Fancy (British, to like, ex: do you fancy hanging out sometime soon?)

Added to this brief overview of international vocabulary, all proper grammatical structure has been completely disregarded. Example:

Last night I wear my red shoes.
Where you guys go?
So nice.
Now class I have.

I love the evolution of distinct dialects. Woot.

One more sleep

2006-01-10T18:34:00.000+08:00

Tonight is my last night before classes begin. Of course, as Murphy’s Law dictates, my class schedule was all wrong and the HKBU computer system has decided to not recognize my login. But, after a few stressful hours, it seems all is well. My schedule is finalized at 11:59pm tonight so then I can let y'all know the great things I'm studying.

Everything here is wonderful. I went out to Central with some people last night. It's this crazy amazing club and bar district where everything is open all hours and there are awesome themes like red velvet rooms, starlight bars, English pubs, and of course karaoke.

Today started with a library tour (very impressive might I add), then we had a great dim sum banquet lunch where I got to meet my professors. The students from different clubs put on demonstrations. We listened to traditional Chinese music, saw kung fu, and watched hip hop. Good times. Looks like I need to dust off my rugby cleats because there's a team here.

I miss you all so much.

Ok, I'm a little homesick, but mostly because I wish you could all be here to enjoy everything I'm enjoying.

Maybe some pics would help you enjoy the scenery at least.

Food?

2006-01-09T18:37:00.000+08:00

Good thing I like rice.

The cafeteria here is making Pitman Hall look like a gourmet restaurant.

Even though you might feel safe sticking to "North American" dishes at times... you are actually better off just diving in and eating the eel.

And coffee. I miss you.

*tear*

Looks like I might have to settle for what the locals are downing.

FRENCH TOAST
Hong Kong Style

- stick 4 piece of white bread together using peanut butter and syrup
- Dip in egg
- Deep fry
- serve with honey

Tante Rachel

2006-01-08T17:50:00.000+08:00

Beautiful and Perfect, Isaac Aaron Werner Hahn was born at 12:44am January 7th, 2006.

A whole 8 lbs and 1/2 oz of joy.

Praise the Lord!

Hong Kong

2006-01-08T17:33:00.000+08:00

I have arrived.

It's been 3 days and I just finished un-packing. From the moment I got here to now I've been going, going, going. I arrived around 8 am on Friday and have had a whirlwind introduction to this crazy beautiful city.

The best part was when I left the airport on the train that whizzed by lush green mountains and the hazy blue harbour.

In a lot of ways this city reminds me of Toronto. But bigger and busier.

It's been difficult finding a decent cup of coffee :(

All the exchange students (about 40 of us) went on a bus tour yesterday. We shopped in Stanley Market, went to the Hong Kong Convention Centre and then hiked around the Peak. The picture is a view from the Peak.

Today Heidi and I went to a Church called The Vine in Central Hong Kong. It was a mix of ethnicities, but lots of people from New Zealand and Australia. The worship was amazing and included some framiliars from Freedomize.

I'm a little overwhelmed, but in a completely excited way.

My Canadian flag hangs proudly over my bed.

A New Year

2006-01-03T01:41:00.000+08:00

I've never been a huge fan of the whole New Year's Eve party and celebration thing.

I think it's hard to just wake up one day and say "Now a new year has begun,". It's like a birthday. One day you're 19, the next you're 20, but you don't feel any different because changes are gradual and continual.

But, I suppose a socially universal agreed upon and accepted concept of time is neccessary to a certain degree to maintain the relative order of humanity.

And thus: Happy New Year everyone.

Best Intersection Ever

2005-12-29T00:43:00.000+08:00

Last weekend my friend Beth and I undertook a short road trip to take her home for the holidays. It was on this fateful car drive that I found the worlds greatest intersection. Driving anywhere in central or northern Ontario is always a treat. Farm land, endless highways, Amish people driving horse and buggies, and small towns. The best part, however, is the random places in these small towns.

It was about lunch time when Super Burger appeared in my life. The lady behind the counter explained that the owner used to live in Toronto near Dundas Station and really liked the streetcars. Somehow that turned into this particular roadside burger flipping joint. Homemade fries, a port-o-potty out back, and vinyl upholstered booth benches all in an old Toronto street car.

It doesn't get any better than this. But wait... it does.

Kiddie cornered to Super Burger is Pete's Donuts Deli where you can get a good cup of joe, anything doughy and deep fried, and a sandwich. The best part is the sign. I think it epitomises the theology with which I approach life.

Hence, this is the best intersection ever.