Rainbow people and golden mountains

Do not disturb. Thank you.

Recently, the Tall Man and I visited my family for our first face-to-face meet up in nearly a year and a half, which is a long time for adults but a seeming eternity for kids. I planned to bring some books for my niece and nephew -- affectionately referred to in my head (and here) as Little Peep and Big Peep. I scanned my bookshelves to assess my old favorites. Some had made the long journey from my childhood home to college, then grad school, and now would be making the full circle back. Perhaps one of them would become a Peep favorite, too!

After making my selections, I packed a box and headed off. Once we gathered together, though, all was forgotten amid the flurry of hugs and dim sum. My brother's sheepdog remained at the Tall Man's side as he petted her with one hand and ate with the other -- the ultimate in multitasking. Then I felt a wet tongue lick me from elbow to shoulder, and I jumped in my chair. It was hard to tell whether the dog had fully accepted me as part of the family, or if she just wanted a bite of my fluffy char siu bao.

It was only later, after taking refuge from the scorching sun, that the box and its contents resurfaced. I was resting in the bedroom when Little Peep brought the parcel upstairs. "Goo-Goo,"* she said, plopping the box down on the bedspread beside me, "Uncle [Tall Man] told me to ask you which book I should read."

Land of the dead amidst the living

Mayhap there be a hand emerging from the gaping maws of that grave? (Glasgow Necropolis)

Cemeteries are one of Halloween's favorite source of creepiness, full of tombstones and skeletons, ghosts and ghouls. Superstitions abound about the undead, vengeful spirits, and untimely death. Cue the muhahaha (cue: the laugh at the end of the Thriller music video)...

In daylight hours outside of October 31st, though, these resting places for the dead are actually a favorite of mine to visit -- even to have a picnic. My travel agendas often include finding a local graveyard, right alongside touring famous museums, monuments, and neighborhood cafes. Nope, I'm not a particularly morbid person, nor do I relish getting scared (note: I really really don't). But I find them to be places of beauty and memory, filled with interesting carvings and cultural turns. I follow in history's footsteps, when graveyards were initially integrated right into the city fabric and, later in the 1830s, became the first "rural" public parks.

An Emily(ie) by any other name

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have grown up in another country?  This thought came to mind after discovering this website, "60 ans de prenoms en France" (60 years of first names in France), that dynamically graphs and compares the popularity of names from 1950 through 2010.

Just for fun, I compared my name plus other renditions of "Emily," then the closest I could find to Marcus (I guess "Marcus" is just too Roman for even the French).  I already had known that my name was quite popular in the States around the time I was born in the 80's, but it looks like it was a more global - or at least, European - phenomenon.

And if any of you is looking to see if your (or your kid's or future kid's) names will work out well in French, well, now you have a way to figure that out!  If you are more of an Anglophile, though, check out this site, which has a similar kind of live graphing of names in England and Wales (but only runs as far back as 1996, so I'm a bit old for it ...).

Thanks to Clotilde of Chocolate & Zucchini for pointing her readers to this fun little site.

//
eLG

I feel old

Yesterday we had training for graduate resident tutors, in which we learned all about the nuances of what incoming freshmen will go through as they navigate their first year of MIT.  I already met one of my fresh(wo)men, and the other will be moving in this coming weekend.  To get into their psyche, one of the administrators in charge of the 'First Year Experience' sent us "The Mindset List" for the class of 2015 ... which instantly made me feel old.  Some items aren't very significant to me, but the ones of note include:

• Ferris Bueller and Sloane Peterson could be their parents.
• Amazon has never been just a river in South America.
• Life has always been like a box of chocolates.
• They’ve often broken up with their significant others via texting, Facebook, or MySpace.
• Frasier, Sam, Woody and Rebecca have never Cheerfully frequented a bar in Boston during primetime.
• “PC” has come to mean Personal Computer, not Political Correctness.

Barbie can be modern, too

... with a real live architect-designed dream house such as this design below :

The AIA has partnered with Mattel to sponsor a design competition for Barbie's next dream house.  Like many design competitions, this one will also not be built but is, rather, what they call "a fun way to play and engage with Barbie® I Can Be™... Architect regardless of your age."

Too bad for architects, though - their designs can't even be realized in the fantasy world of toys, although it's an interesting way to engage other disciplines in the potential education of children, in technicolor pink.

One fun note (if the pink wasn't enough) : One of the judges is a former coworker of mine from my days prior to MIT.

What's more romantic than a bus trip?

... probably many things.  (Just talk to someone who has taken Greyhound on any extended trip, and they will desperately try to counter this statement.)

But the extent to which companies will use that ubiquitous V-day holiday as a marketing tool struck me as I was coasting through my inbox and came across Megabus' wish for me to have a "memorable Valentine's Day."

 

This advertisement made me laugh, particularly after I humored them by clicking the link and found that the target was not the expected page full of actually romantic suggestions for a heart-filled adventure for two, but rather their typical website.  Blue and yellow without a hint of pink or even red.  In the words of Eliza Doolittle: What a fool I was, what a dominated fool.

False disappointment aside, the idea of the "romantic getaway" or, more generally, the uplifting effect of the unexpected, is thoroughly entrenched in cultural ideas about love and Valentine's Day in particular.  It's full of butterflies, cooing doves, and calls to be "whisked away" from the boredom of reality into new heights of ... well, a whole new world, an escape from the everyday.

I confess that I myself enjoy my fair share of adventures with the man friend and can be susceptible to such sentiments, but in the midst of studio deadlines / readings / projects / meetings, then the question comes: what's wrong with the daily?  Instead of concentrating so many efforts on a single day - named after a saint who may or may not have even existed and whose connection to eros is tenuous at best - wouldn't it actually be more telling to express the value of the relationship over the course of the year - and beyond?

Two definitions of "romantic" that somewhat reveal the difference:

1. ardent, passionate
2. fanciful, idealistic, imaginary

Even #1 is dissatisfying if only as fireworks that fade with the falling of ash.  Paper hearts and chocolates get eaten, wrappers crumple and are tossed away, but what endures?

(This is where I'm unsure whether my conclusion should be profound or silly, so you can pick one: profound because I believe a deeper, unfading - but "unromantic" - love is found in God's sacrifice //
or, silly because even after casting a critical eye, I still can't avoid the suggestions that February 14th isn't just a normal Monday, and I look forward to the unexpected planned by the mf.  // 
Oh well, now you've got both.)

[HK 13] : "Is she working for you?"

Foreign domestic helpers picnic under Canal Road on a warm Sunday, their day off.

I knew that there was a class difference in Hong Kong, but today it became crystal clear on a trip my mom and I took to the nearby laundry place.  Some critical facts: Because my mom's back has been hurting, I was carrying our huge bag of dirty clothes.  I also had gotten pretty tan while in Shanghai last weekend (despite holding an umbrella and putting on sunblock... can't be helped).  I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt as post-work wear.

We walked in just as the owner is about to close shop, but she was still willing to let us hand over our load.  She made small talk as she weighed the bags of clothes (since laundry is priced by the pound).  Although I did understand some of it, I frankly wasn't paying close attention but noticed when my mom started mentioning my job and my studies in architecture.  The woman paused, then commented about my intelligence in a fawning tone.

Strange interaction?  It probably seems somewhat ordinary.  I realized later, though, that the part I didn't understand was when the woman asked my mom if I were working for her.  ...  Meaning, she thought I was a Filipino maid and was going with my boss to wash the family's clothes.  My mom's comments were her way to tell her that I was the one going places, not this woman and her claims.

So...say what?  I know this is only one person's point of view, but these sorts of snap judgments based on appearance seem to happen more often in HK than anywhere else I've visited.  Several times already, I've heard that I should be aware of how I dress because of how others might perceive me.  I typically don't care what people think in this sense, but this weird incident makes me stop and consider issues of class in HK society.

Foreign domestic helpers make up 5% of the population here in HK, and even though they often come from several countries, more than half are from the Philippines.  After conducting some brief online searching, I found that this influx of Filipinos began in the 70s as a solution to unemployment back at home.  I have many HK friends and even relatives who have employed Filipino women as their children's caretakers, and although this had seemed normal to me, lately I've noticed the odd dynamic created, especially in public space.  A recent DUSP alum did her thesis on this topic, but you don't need to do extensive research to notice that park spaces and public squares are filled with Tagalog chatter, especially on Sundays - the universal day off.  Statue Square in Central, near the MTR stop and close to many banking skyscrapers, is especially filled with people picnicking.  This is their one time to take over the city, and they do it well.

Is this an "us vs. them" situation?  Integration is a funny thing in HK - although many would consider it a diverse and cosmopolitan city, I've sensed a strong divide between locals and outsiders.  Even I am an outsider with my meager Cantonese speaking skills, and because I can't speak as quickly or fluently as many, it's easy to be categorized as childish, too Westernized, or servile.

I can't make any real conclusions from this situation right now save to say that my eyes are daily being opened to the complications of my summer 2010 city.  Have others noticed similar things or other unspoken societal aspects?

- - -
currently :

• feeling : slightly upfronted
• weather : same as always - hot, humid, but thank goodness for AC