Zai Jian

Days in China: 168

Movies watched: 53 (yes, we know it’s pathetic)

Books read: 6

Cities visited: 8

Things accomplished: Still under review

I really can’t believe it’s time to say zai jian to China. I feel like I finally found my bearings here and the rug is being ripped out from under me. Not that I’m unhappy about being down here on this metaphorical floor, though. By all means, go ahead. Rip away. It means I get see my family and friends, and, just as importantly, be back in the land of the free and the home of the brave, where pedestrians have the right of way and spitting in public isn’t culturally acceptable.

I was Skyping with my friend Mary Stewart the other day, and she said to me, “Hal, I’m so proud of you. Aren’t you proud of yourself?” I guess I hadn’t really thought about it that way. Being in China was never something to “accomplish”, per se, but something I was just…doing. It reminds me of when I graduated last May, and everyone kept saying how proud they were of me. I kind of felt like, “Well, yeah, what did you expect? Of course I was going to graduate from college.” I guess I just never considered either of the two something to be proud of. But, since the 2k10 version of Hallie is going to be kinder to herself, I should probably start giving myself more proverbial pats on the back.

And now that I think about it, I am pretty proud of myself. Because, in all honesty, this was hard. Six months is the longest amount of time I’ve ever been away from my family, and that means a lot coming from a 23-year-old who still sleeps with her baby blanket. [Did I really just admit that?] China itself was a difficult hurdle to jump, too. I’m still feeling reverberations from the initial culture shock on August 23, 2009.

When I came here, I had all of these grand plans to “find myself” and have an “aha! moment” (Oooh, I can’t wait to watch Oprah!) about what I’m supposed to do with my life. There’s a saying that goes, “When man makes plans, God laughs.” He must be having a good giggle right about now, because all of my clichéd post-grad dreams did not come true. But I did learn a lot and grow as a person. I promise this post isn’t about to turn into one big public therapy session, but here are some of the things I would consider to be small accomplishments of sorts:

• Forgive me, but I am not the most patient of people. Wrangling nuggets all day has tested what little patience I do possess in ways I could never imagine. Fittingly, I’ve definitely gained a drop or two since I’ve been here. I’m still working on this one, though. Lawd help my future chillins. I am also now keenly aware that I am not cut out to be a real life teacher, an idea I had toyed with during my pre-China life crisis. Hey, it’s just as important to figure out what you’re not supposed to do.

• You know that favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time? They go with everything, give you a few extra inches and are walkable enough to withstand a night on 6th Street? Wear those puppies enough and you’ll start forgetting why you loved them in the first place because you’ll be so sick of looking at them. Well, by the time I graduated, I never wanted to write again. That’s what four years as a journalism major will do to a person. But, keeping this blog has reignited my love of writing and made me realize that I enjoy it most when I get to write about what I want to write about. Imagine that.

• The absolute last place on earth I wanted to move to after college was Houston. Now, it’s the only place I want to be. Funny how that happens. I had somehow convinced myself that moving back to your hometown is a copout, a sentiment that I no longer subscribe to. In fact, I think it takes a certain kind of gumption to successfully forge a brand new life in a place where you can so easily fall into an old routine. And after six months of being a needle in a Chinese haystack, I can’t wait to be surrounded by familiar people and places. For now, at least…

• Whenever I told people I was coming here, most of them responded with sweet smiles trying to mask the wtf? that was dying to come out. But one friend said to me, “Wow. That’s brave.” At the time, I couldn’t let myself think about my China adventure in those terms or else I would have had a panic attack. Buffin and I decided to come here on the whimest of whims, a choice that was essentially made in a 30-second phone call. If I had known how many times I would have to put on my brave face over the course of the next six months, I may not have come at all. I’m so glad I did. Brave? Why, yes I am.

• In the mad preparation for China, there were so many things to look forward to. I couldn’t wait to climb The Great Wall and see the Pudong skyline, or meet interesting people and learn about a different culture. But something that didn’t even cross my mind at the time has turned out to be the best thing about coming to China – becoming closer to Buffin. You know how they say soldiers form a special bond after going through a war together? Well, honey, there may not be any bullets whizzing past my head but there have been days when China has felt like a battlefield, and no one but Buffin will ever understand what it’s been like. Living in a cramped apartment in a foreign country that tests our sanity on a daily basis could have been a recipe for disaster, but it’s only made us better friends. I am so thankful, grateful, blessed and all of those good words to have Buffin in my life. I will always look back on our adventure together and smile.

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My Uncle Hal sent me this quote that he said made him think of me:

"Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt"

("They change their sky but not their soul who cross the ocean")

At 11:06 p.m. on February 6, I’ll be back on Texan soil. Same me, just a little brighter and shinier. I can’t wait to see each and every one of you. Sending big hugs and kisses from The Far East. I’ll follow shortly.

A’i (Love),

Hallie

I ♥ HK

After nearly six months in the PRC, three days in Hong Kong was a blissful vacation from bad manners, incessant cigarette smoke, cold weather, questionable food and toxic pollution. Hong Kong is China at its best, a happy medium of Eastern and Western cultures. If I ever get the urge to move back to Asia, this is the only place that would cut it.

Buffin and I were able to jumpstart the re-Westernization process during our trip, but were a little frightened by how unfamiliar some things seemed. No pushing and shoving on the metro? Huh? Sniff, sniff. So this is what fresh air smells like? Wait. Where are all the crazy people yelling in Chinese? But the most glaring reminder that I’ve been in China too long came when we were eating lunch at a café in downtown HK and I got minor whiplash from ogling any semi-attractive white man that walked by. I can’t decide if I’m more concerned for myself or for the entire male population of Houston come February 6.

Buffin and I headed south for our last Chinese adventure after our final day of teaching (yippee!) on Sunday. We arrived at the Chungking Mansion (a massive building filled with budget hostels) and it was sketchy, to put it mildly. But, our hostel, The Maple Leaf, was clean and the manager was super friendly. We dropped off our bags in our shoebox of a room and set out to explore the city.

Buffin and I ranked our list of to-dos and decided to head to the Victoria Peak Tram to get a bird’s eye look at HK. Once we reached the top, we had an amazing 360° view of both Kowloon and Hong Kong Island. The skyline isn’t as trippy as Shanghai’s, but it has some amazing architecture nonetheless. For the majority of the early afternoon, we wandered around Hong Kong Island, soaking up our surroundings and crossing things off the list. St. John’s Cathedral? Check. Observation floor inside the Bank of China Tower? Check. One neighborhood we came across, called SoHo, was filled with cute boutiques and cafes, all with a dash of British flair. Right up my alley.

Back on the Kowloon side of the harbor, Buff and I popped into The Peninsula for afternoon tea, a must-do activity in Hong Kong. We indulged in decadent double chocolate truffle cake and sipped chrysanthemum tea, all the while surrounded by Chopard, Rolex, Cartier, Louis Vuitton and a host of other luxury stores all located in the lobby. It was a really unique experience, albeit touristy.

After rambling through Kowloon Park to kill some time (which turned out to be a happy case of serendipity when the sun set beautifully over the rose garden), we headed to the Avenue of Stars, the Chinese equivalent of the Hollywood Walk of Fame. We only recognized a handful of names (Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat and Jet Li), but it was a great place to grab a seat to watch the Symphony of Light, a nightly light and laser show across the harbor, which was set to music – very cheesetastic.

The next morning, we took a ferry over to Macau, which is half Portuguese in the way that HK is half British. We started out in the Largo de Senado, which had the air of a town’s square and was especially charming with its black-and-white mosaic pathways. Wandering through the winding, cobblestone roads, we made our way toward the Ruins of St. Paul’s Church. Only the façade is left of the once grandiose house of worship; several fires destroyed the rest. The singular wall seems almost like a piece of abstract art, standing there all alone.

Then we stopped by Fort Monte, which sits on a hill adjacent to St. Paul’s. Even though our Lonely Planet guidebook desperately wanted us to visit the Macau Museum at the top of the old military fort, we resisted. One more museum and I think I will vomit from history overload. Following a quick bite at a tapas restaurant, we made our way from “old” Macau to the bright lights of the casinos, stopping in both The Grand Lisboa and The Wynn for good measure. With grey skies closing in on us, we decided it was best to head back to Hong Kong.

A short ferry ride later, we were back on HK Island. We took The Mid-Levels Escalator (the longest in the world!) from Central back to my favorite area of Hong Kong, SoHo, for dinner at an adorable little restaurant called Life. The all-organic, mainly vegetarian menu fit the bill. Fresh hummus, warm pita bread, pesto pizza and the best sauvignon blanc I’ve ever tasted (we wrote down the name – I hope we can track it down in The States). A place like that would make a killing in Montrose.

On our last morning in Hong Kong we attempted to have dim sum for brunch, but the restaurant hadn’t opened yet and we were famished. Buff and I ended up back in the same enclave of cafes where I had to physically stop myself from staring at men on our first day in town. Luckily, Hong Kong seemed to have worked its magic on me because I could now behave like a normal human being. I think that means I’m officially ready to be released back into the Western world. America, here I come.