New Beginnings (with video!)

In case you're wondering, I haven't disappeared from the face of the earth yet!

I've just been lazy with updating this blog. Life's been busy on many fronts - still doing a lot of thinking (about old and new things!), re-adjusting to life in London (which now includes the wanderer-turned-writer boyfriend), finding my feet in development, moving to an absolutely lovely area called Canada Water... but there's still no excuse.

Cebu II and III are coming, I just don't quite know when! In the meantime please do watch the video I've made using some video clips and photos I took in Cebu (see further below). If you're interested in helping the street children charity, please let me know or go to their website www.christforasia.info.

A quick update on where I am on this blackberryless journey:

Since mid April I've been temping at an international development consultancy in Victoria, London. Funny how I used to think temping is a really strange concept, and probably only for people who "didn't make it", but now I think it's actually quite a good thing to do, especially if you're trying a few things out or you're building what Richard Nelson Bolles (and others I'm sure) calls a "portfolio career" (where basically you set out to collect the skills you think you will need for your ultimate career). Interesting how my perspectives change as I job hunt! The international development consultancy is a firm of consultants who advise government agencies and sometimes NGOs in their development programmes / policies / projects, and are a lovely bunch of people who are trying to make a difference in their own way! I was a bit taken aback at how relaxed and chilled out everyone is here (and they actually like what they do).

Rather miraculously, at the end of May, I managed to get an interview with my top favourite NGO of all times, Tearfund (www.tearfund.org), to get registered on their temporary register. I wasn't too sure how I could get into the organisation without having quite a lot of the technical specs that they normally ask for, so I thought why not try temping first? When I went for my interview there happened to be a job going in the International HR Team so I interviewed for that and in less than 3 hours they offered me the job!! I was probably a bit in shock for a week after that, but very excited and grateful to get a chance to see how Tearfund works from the inside and also get another bit of my foot through the door of development! I think HR is not exactly my thing (what is my thing??), but I'm interested in what they do (esp because the team deals a lot with the overseas based Relief and Development Team) and this will be a really good opportunity to learn and acquire more skills / know how in the field.

The only down side (and seriously it's the ONLY down side) is Tearfund is based in a place called Teddington which I had never heard of previously and according to Transport for London it's in Zone 6!

Gone will be the days when I wake up at 8am to go to work.

Yes I know I'm very spoiled...

Anyway, so this is a new exciting chapter for me, and as a friend was asking the other day, I'm still going to be blackberryless for a while :)

Here's the video.


Cebu 2008 from Christine Liu on Vimeo.

Cebu: Part I of III: The Real and the Surreal

Each day the feeding team sets offs at around 4pm in a van stocked up with several large pots of steaming rice and the nutritious food that it has prepared, large containers of water, along with plastic plates and cups. When there are two feeding locations (with up to 200 children in each), the day does not finish until about 9 or 10pm.

One afternoon we arrived in a slum area when the rain had just stopped. The area looked like a gigantic dumping ground and was very wet and muddy after the downpour. Even before the van pulled in the children started running towards us and jumping onto the sides of the van like hyperactive monkeys, giggling and calling out our names. I watched with worry as they very skilfully dodged the muddier puddles and hopped around on the dryer patches, avoiding the splashing of the thick grey mud. Soon we were embraced by the smell of sewage; I instinctively held my nose as I got off the van to a growing crowd of smiling, expectant children.

I stood rather speechless at the sight of nine and ten-year-olds carrying smaller children on their backs, not seeming to mind the mud-stained flip-flops brushing against the back of their t-shirts. They took care of them as if they were their babies, taking turns when they got tired. I have also seen older children giving their food to younger ones. Most of them are not even related. The children look out and care for younger ones because they know what it means to be small and vulnerable, and they do this out of sheer kindness and love and not because they have anything to gain from it. It really makes me question my own heart, how often I don’t even share with people I know, let alone strangers totally unrelated to me.

The children were so happy to see the team and eager to sit on the mats which we had brought, waiting to listen to the Bible stories for the day. My sister, who, like me, is not used to noisy and overly excited children, pleaded with them to sit down and keep quiet. They battled with one another for the pieces of paper being given out for them to write their answers to a quiz we had prepared - they were so keen that when the quiz ended they expressed disappointment that there weren’t more questions to be answered! Children do desire to learn don’t they, but so many in the world lack the opportunities to do so.

After handing out plates of food from the candle-lit van (as the light at the back of the car was broken) to what seemed like an endless queue of children we set off for the second feeding location situated at a busy roundabout in the city. The children there seemed scruffier and dirtier and certainly didn’t smell very nice, but again they were so happy and excited when our van pulled in, and they kept asking for my sister’s name as they had not met her before. As soon as they found out what she’s called they were all chanting “Ate (= big sister) Tina” and wanting to play with her (in the form of Tina holding their arms and spinning them around). One girl who didn’t speak much English beckoned me over and pointed to the new bandage on her lower right leg. Barbara, a volunteer from Switzerland, had treated her wound earlier. Many of the street children are often covered with nasty cuts which take ages to heal because of the lack of hygiene and basic essentials such as antiseptic cream and bandages. What Barbara did was a simple act, but it meant so much to the girl.

Towards the end of the feeding, the children and adults started putting the used plastic plates and cups in one of the large basins. I was busy arranging the plates and cups into a pile when a man, wanting another drink of water, picked up a used cup and rinsed it in the basin with the mix of water and leftover sauce from the meal. I stared at the dirty cup and felt sorry for him, but he smiled and thanked me in English as he gulped down the lukewarm water.

The topic of happiness is super hot in the West these days. Some say one’s happiness is dependent on one’s expectations. Is that true? Were those children playing in Mud Land happy because they didn’t expect anything other than mud and sewage smell? Was the little girl grateful and content because she didn’t (and couldn’t) expect anything beyond a small piece of bandage? Did the man wanting a drink of water smile and thank me because that’s all he wanted? I suppose one could argue that one of the reasons why many in richer countries, despite having more in material terms, are still unhappy is because for some reason we are always wanting and expecting more (and more) and we are not content with what we already have.

But is that it? Are monks and nuns happier people necessarily? From what I saw in Cebu it seems that one can be happy even if he doesn’t have much. In fact, it seems that the more we have the unhappier/more dissatisfied we become, though of course that’s not what the world of advertising would like us to think. I suspect many of us probably resonate with this deep within but curiously most of us still carry on doing what we have always done – it seems most natural to do so.

I’m not saying possessions are evil, but if I was honest, I would admit that more often than not possessions do seem to take over me and render me powerless to say no to acquiring more and more. Just two hours before writing this I was walking down the street in central Brighton. As I passed by the shops I found myself drawn to many window displays (of nice clothes, books, DVDs), a familiar desire rising within me crying out for the items. It was almost as if I would be happier and more complete if only I could acquire another skirt (despite being seriously convicted for the past months that I have way too many clothes), or that book, or just those two DVDs. But I know that that’s simply not the case - my heart will actually continue to long for more after being temporarily gratified by my purchases. Oliver James in his book Affluenza suggests some principles as antidote to the modern day “virus” of wanting more incessantly. I have yet to read it, but just browsing the interestingly worded chapter titles I have decided that the book is probably buying (from a second hand bookshop perhaps!).

The Gospel of Matthew records Jesus saying some rather radical things which seem to be words echoed from a distant world. One such thing was: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where you treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Where is my heart? Is it with the poor and those without, or the window displays?

Happy Year of the Rat

February 7th marked the first day of the Year of the Rat in the Chinese Lunar Calendar. As per our custom, all my relatives from my father's side gathered at my grandma's and had a sumptuous and noisy meal. As we are no longer children, my cousins and I restrained from doing what we did when we were little, ie running to the toilet straight after we received our red packets (see further below for an explanation) to see how much money we've got this year...

We still had a good time anyway.

For the curious, here are a few must-haves for Chinese New Year:

Beautiful daffodils - my mum's favourite. In Chinese we call them Shui Xian which translates Water Fairies - what a lovely name! Many families put them in shallow dishes around Chinese New Year. They give out an amazingly pure and refreshing scent.

Everyone's favourite!! These red packets containing a token of money are usually given by married persons to relatives/friends of a generation younger than yours, or younger relatives/friends of the same generation. If you're not married you can escape this duty, and apparently when you first get married you receive a one-year grace period during which you are not obliged to give! These colourfully decorated red packets were given to me and my sisters by my aunt.

Collection of sweets and goodies - sweet lotus seeds at the top, followed by (going clockwise): sweet mellon pieces, sweet coconut pieces, sweet lotus roots, random japanese sweets, sweet melon again, with dried water melon seeds in the middle.

In recent years this particular "dish" has become popular with the general public in Hong Kong, though it used to only be consumed by certain groups of residents in the New Territories. Normally it is made up of: Chinese mushrooms, dried beancurd, prawns, abalones, fried pigs skin(!), dried oysters, dried scallops, sea cucumbers, turnip, all braised in a yummy thick sauce.

It may look small but it can easily fill the stomachs of 15 people!

Glutinous Rice Cake - okay, it may not look like the ones you see in the shops but this is my first attempt of a homemade Chinese pudding, and judging from my parents' reaction so far I think it's quite good!!

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I leave for Cebu, the Philippines on Tuesday for 3 weeks to work with Christ for Asia, a Christian charity that works with street children in Cebu City. It will no doubt be very challenging but I'm excited... so watch this space!

Singapore: Slings and Arrows

Last month I flew to Singapore for a 2-week visit and met up with old friends and relations. I have always had a love-hate relationship with this place, and with each visit my feelings grew even more complicated.

Love, because Singapore is clean, tidy, relaxed and, most notably, nicely hot. The people (I used to find anyway) seem a lot more down-to-earth than their fellow counterparts in, say, Hong Kong. I felt I could let my hair down completely, wear any random top, bottoms and flip-flops I could find and wouldn't feel embarrassed or inappropriately dressed going to most places. Because I spent 6.5 of my growing years there, I have many good bosom friends from high school days. From memory our concerns were to do well in the O and A levels and know nice boys (in that order), and we didn't seem too fussed about money, fame or even beauty. It's great making friends in that context as friends such as these seem to remain forever as pure and innocent as before, no matter what time has done to us 10 years on.

Hate. Well, hate is probably too strong a word. Reservations, maybe. The usual complaints aside (e.g. the apparent homogeneity of things, the paternalistic governing, the lack of freedom, the extreme competitiveness), I always wished for in the people I met more spontaneity, more outside-the-box kind of thinking and more daring attitudes. I can't say I'm not generalising somewhat. I remember being 17 (i.e. rather naive and idealistic) and dying to express my views on certain rather politically sensitive topics in our General Paper class, and while our teacher seemed slightly pleased to see the potential of a good debate, no classmate of mine raised their hands to say anything in response. Perhaps it was a topic no one was really interested in, but on hindsight I think it was probably either apolitical indifference or some sort of subtle fear that dictated the silence of my class.

I'm not saying Singaporeans can't think for themselves, but certainly I'm not sure if they are really encouraged to, in spite of all those creative writing and thinking lessons they are made to take. Can one create creativity? It seems like most of the time the people don't feel completely free to express themselves. The inability to be free with one's thoughts, I think, curbs creativity and stifles spontaneity, and in turn further perpetuates the bubble of apparent success and security.

A good friend asked me over drinks one evening whether I thought Singaporeans were shallow. I asked her what she meant by shallow. She said: "obsessed with the materialistic, with little culture or history." This time in Singapore I did notice the increasing affluence, how everyone seemed to be all out shopping all the time, and I could hear a lot more talk about huge killings made in the property market, higher wages and bigger spending power, and was even told that government-supported scientific research institutes remunerate their staff based on their profit-making performance (instead of research ability or results). I felt sad seeing Singapore turning into another money-obsessed city, not least because I now felt less relaxed about how I dressed/looked on the street, but my response to my friend was - isn't the whole world going that way too? As for culture and history, given Singapore only has 42 years of history since its independence, can one expect much of a culture at this point? And just when we were discussing this point, a Singaporen version of the song Pretty Woman was blasting in the cafe. That's culture, no?

Home in Glittering Hong Kong

The other night whilst walking home from Causeway Bay to Wanchai I passed a long row of shops selling trendy clothes and accessories. They were still open. It was midnight on a Monday. I hardly know of any other city in the world where one can find plenty of normal shops still open at midnight.

Hong Kong.

The name in Chinese translates to "fragrant harbour" in English. I always wondered why the word "fragrant" was picked, as Hong Kong does not seem to me to be particularly sweet-smelling, but according to Wikipedia the original area was one where fragrant wood products and fragrant incense were once traded! So much for growing up here!

It feels slightly strange to be home again. In one sense I feel as if I have never left the place at all, but in another it seems as foreign to me as any new city can be. I walk on the streets dodging hundreds of people who seem to all walk into one another in an organised chaotic fashion, I sit in dim sum restaurants hearing conversations the words of which I understand but the substance of which I don't, I wait for my friends in glamorous shopping malls watching every sort of character appear and disappear every two seconds. It seems all so familiar. Yet at times I feel like an external on-looker observing the buzzing city through Alice's amazing looking glass.

I was on the bus one morning. Looking out of the window in the air-conditioned double-decker I could see business people smartly dressed in the latest Armani suits waiting at the crossing (and checking their blackberries). Two people who are probably colleagues heading to the same meeting were silent and not talking to each other. They just stood there side-by-side, expressionless. Perhaps they just had an all-nighter? Further on the road I could see a newspaper hawker sitting on a stool about 10cm away from the pavement. He had probably been sitting there since 7am that morning and would not leave till at least 9pm.

My hairdresser was telling me that afternoon how his assistant often has lunch at 5pm because they are so busy. He himself was off sick the previous day because of his severe sinus. That day he didn't feel too well either but he was back at work, full-swing. In the evening I went to the fresh meat market with my mum. Whilst trying very carefully not to step in any puddle of fish blood as I had my pretty new shoes on, I saw many, many middle-aged butchers, men and women, wearing big black plastic aprons and gloves, smeared with blood, all furiously gutting the fish or chopping up the meat. They had probably worked like this at the stalls since their late teens.

I wouldn't normally say life is hard in Hong Kong, at least not compared to many parts of the world, but these days it struck me as pretty hard. Perhaps it's just a case of my being blind and oblivious to the lives of some who are not lawyers, bankers or accountants. Not that lawyers, bankers or accountants never work hard. They do (I'm tempted to use the word "we"!).

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Qn: Why do people work so hard?

Ans: They need to make a living.

But do people need to work this hard, so hard that one is physically and mentally exhausted, one's health gets compromised, one hardly has time to see his family etc etc?

I can see why in certain circumstances one must work this hard, as otherwise one simply may not be able to feed his family. But I think in the developed world, these cases are rare. My good friend pointed out to me that the gap between the rich and the poor in Hong Kong (and, I'm sure, many other booming cities) is widening, but I have to admit that I was quite shocked to see children living in government flats having the latest mobile phones, trendy clothes and enjoying a huge plasma TV at home. Maybe that is not common, or these families do not represent the poorest.

Nowadays it is a bit of a joke amongst my friends that I'm unemployed. But I did used to work hard. Some would say very hard. Often I was asked why I had to work so hard, to which I would reply with a combination of: (1) well, everyone (in law at least) worked this hard, (2) it is not always like this, and (3) if you want to move up you will need to work this hard. Never did it really occur to me to answer that working very hard (1) paid my bills (which were ever increasing in number and amount), (2) allowed me to have a comfortable (or some would say luxurious) lifestyle (which was ever getting more and more comfortable, or luxurious), and (3) afforded me the potential / dream of acquiring the many, many things I could have in the future, like a nice house, a nice car, a nice school for my children, even more nice holidays... (not that any of these reasons are wrong, or not good in themselves)

I think I was working hard apparently for one set of reasons but the other set of reasons were the real, subtle driving force behind my working hard. So you see, I was rather self-deceived. Or at least not very self-aware.

Is it at all possible to not work so hard and live a simpler and equally vibrant life, but with more time, energy and space? For family, friends, old and new hobbies, mother nature, health, rest, unread books, charitable causes...? Or is this only a luxury for the few with the freedom to choose? Or, do most of us actually have this freedom but somehow just don't see it?

Some Observations about an English Christmas

This past Christmas I had the absolute pleasure and privilege of spending it with Rob and his family in Shropshire in the UK midlands. (Aussies: yes, it is indeed the Shropshire featured in the coffee ad back home!)

I had never spent Christmas with an English family before so I was very excited just thinking about it (and the many sumptuous meals of which I had heard so much)!

While spending time in the lovely house in Shropshire I became quite fascinated by a number of things:

1. The Aga

Apparently this stored-heat stove and cooker is very common in the UK, especially in the countryside. You can use the oven compartments as well as the "hobs". It runs on gas and seems permanently hot. I loved standing next to it warming myself while waiting for the kettle to boil. I discovered that there is also an Aga cookbook!

The Aga was invented by a Swedish physicist in the 1920s.

2. Walks in the countryside in your wellies

I first came across wellies when I was about 4. They were yellow and there was a cartoon figure on each one facing outwards. I wore them to kindergarten during rainy seasons. I had not seen them since my childhood days.

This Christmas I re-discovered the simple joy of marching (!) through the beautiful but often muddy fields wearing your wellies. This time my wellies are lilac, a lovely pair of Hunters from Rob.

3. Brussel sprouts and parsnips

Apparently you either love or hate these. Usually those who love Brussel sprouts hate parsnips and vice versa. There were lengthy negotiations over how many one must have, deals were struck to trade one for another....

I have yet to decide whether I love or hate them.

4. Stockings

Before Christmas arrived Rob kept telling me about the "stockings". I had thought, from memory of watching western cartoons, that stockings are where you put your Christmas presents. It turned out that you deposit the "main" presents under the tree and what you find in stockings are smaller presents which are either more practical things or fun things. I had become quite obsessed with the stocking business by midnight on Christmas Day and I was thrilled to receive my very long stocking from Father Christmas (Americans: read - Santa Claus) stuffed with 15 presents!

5. The turkey

For someone who is quite into food, I was quite embarrassed to find out that the turkey is actually very big compared to a chicken! I was told it weighs at least 4 times as an average chicken. Because of its size, it was able to feed us for many meals. Rob's mum was most talented in making different dishes out of the same bird! Apart from impressing the family with my lack of knowledge on turkeys, I must have left an equally deep impression having devoured a whole huge turkey leg over lunch one day.

6. The Queen's speech

Rob is a big fan of the Queen. Growing up in Hong Kong meant I saw the Queen on notes and coins and official documents, until the handover in 1997. But there was never much attachment or connection with the smiling and kind-looking royalty.

The Queen's speech on Christmas Day used to attract a lot more audience but with apparently half of the adult population in the UK falling asleep by 3pm due to the excessive consumption of food and alcohol (so I read), I doubt many actually watch the speech these days. However, it is part of the Lilwall tradition so we switched on the TV at 2:55pm! In her 50th televised Christmas speech, she spoke about caring for the marginalised in society, which wasn't exactly very cheery but it resonated with the central Christmas message. So I thought she did really well!

If you missed it, you can watch it at www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0nmkYGCljE