One semester…

33,396 miles traveled. (Denver to Denver)

25,408 blog words written.

24,801 miles = circumference of the Earth.

2,767 blog unique visits.

1,015 photos taken

114 days abroad.

102 receipts saved.

52 pounds of books collected.

51 pages of papers written.

48 blog posts.

13 cities visited.

7 countries/SARs.

6 classes.

2 new continents.

1 sprained ankle.

0 missed flights; police encounters; lost passports; girlfriends.

-3 pounds gained.

? McFlurries; phone cards; chopsticks; rice-drenched meals.

Where to from here? In the morning, I leave for another foreign, albeit slightly less “abroad,” semester in California. I’m looking forward to the drive through America’s western-heartland, college life in an apartment, and in returning to the unique college blend of familiarity shaken and stirred with new experiences. Though I’m slightly less enthused about an immediate return to academics, I hope this semester’s lineup is both diverse in content and manageable in workload.

Though documenting life abroad was my initial impetus in resurrecting this blog project, I’ve appreciated the personal thought fitness this space has fostered and have been encouraged by the remarkable success of other recent entrants into the blogosphere. As such, for at least the first half of ‘05, I hope to keep this project moving with 3-4 posts a week detailing collegiate life, intellectual liberty, and the pursuit of rice-free happiness.

I just finished thrusting my suitcase held together by shoelaces (long story, short lesson: US$12 for TWO pieces of luggage was too much of a bargain) onto the bus and said a truncated adieu to Justin Coppedge, a great friend since the days of my head to body ratio being that of cake to candles.

Thanks to the incredible incompetence of United Airlines (who, might I add, I will be flying tomorrow), Justin’s luggage was thoroughly trashed on a trip last year (it’s a great story when he tells it–ask him) and he was compensated with travel vouchers. United’s insolence was my gain as Justin (aka “Doogie”) was able to jet off to join me in my final week in HK. And, in an odd mix of my personal past and future, a strange meeting of East and West, and a smashing combination of vacation and tour, I can’t think of a better way to have spent it.

To summarize in brief: of course, we hit nearly all the major HK landmarks (including a few I had yet to check off my list): HK Science, History, and Space Museums, the Peak, Victoria Harbor, Star Ferry, HK Infrastructure Exhibition, and a day Macau. Shopping was abundant at Festival Walk, Ladies Market, Temple Street Night Market, and Stanley Market. Beyond what one finds in the tourbooks, we found some thrills in biking across the island, hiking with monkeys, liability-insurance-free go-carting, all you can eat buffets and hot pots. Finally, memories were certainly minted in events ranging from the reaction of elderly Chinese to a museum video documenting the dropping of the atomic bomb on Japan (cheering and applause… eerie), to my the life perspective of my roommate after he’s consumed a few beers (his English gets better, to say the least), to riding a bike with another bike strapped to one’s back, to Justin’s EMT-in-action-reaction to a bike accident.

While this semester has been irreplaceable in value and experience, it’s been reassuring and encouraging to catch up with someone I’ve known for more than 4 months. Justin has 24 hours of travel ahead of him, and following a day’s delay to finish tying up loose ends, I will begin the same journey.

Thank you, Doog. Thank you, HK. See you soon, America.

T-minus 12 hours until I step onto a plane bound for my native continent.

I’m struck by the humorous intersection of three of the day’s events: a blog interchange, a Chinese final, and an e-mail forward. While these intersections didn’t exactly combine to reveal enlightment nirvana, it’s definitely one of those “cute” moments in life.

First, I had a few spare moments to get involved in a response to Andrew’s (the rhetorical bouncer at the House of Vaughan) latest: “Worship Is No Excuse For Bad Grammar.” Andrew has a marvelous ability to combine wit and wisdom; the point he makes about metaphor in this post is no exception.

Second, today was the day the Mandarin final dropped. Nothing like the smell of napalm in the morning. All in all, I feel positive about the experience; exhaustion is a form of relief in the race well run. The inner angst of the entire predicament, though, is better summarized by the last piece of the puzzle…

Third, the above topics wrapped together splendidly in an e-mail courtesy of Dr. Bingo. I’ve posted the “Fitness” clip he passed along (Disclaimer: neither of us know where this came from so I can’t seek copyright permission. We’ll call this context a critical review and defer to the Golden Rule of cyberspace–if anyone can identify the author, though, do let me know). You’ll need Windows Media Player (Mac | Win) to partake. Does anyone else see this as a particularly poignant metaphor for the finals season?

To infinity and beyond.

I’ve often thought we, as Americans, had more to grateful than we could see from the inside of our land of the free, home of the brave. From this vantage point, though, it seems that such an expectation in itself is something for which to be thankful. While my country and I are no closer to being total in virtue now than when we both began, I think a large part of how blessed we are is seen not in the tangible results of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, but in instead in the attitudes resulting from life in a land in which such blessing is not only allowed and encouraged but is expected.

I’m thankful that we expect great things of our heroes, our children, and ourselves.

That we expect our faith and that of others to be freely practiced.

That we expect our news to be truth, however editorialized.

That we expect our opinions to be openly disagreed with.

That we expect our grades to be objectively determined.

That we expect our health to be safe from epidemics.

That we expect our authorities to be elected.

That we expect our military to be honorable.

That we expect our airlines to be equally safe.

That we expect our prices to be competitive and final.

That we expect our food to have taste and be safe.

That we expect our future to be self-determined.

Now, I should pause and note that this thankfulness does not nullify the shortcomings of here and now: I detest more than ever the sick entertainment we consume ourselves and export to the world; I continue to be disheartened by the lapses of our justice system; I’m not thrilled with how much I or my peers know about the world beyond our shores; and I’m more aware that my nation hardly holds a monopoly on hard work, innovation, and virtue.

In the end, and though we are a work still in grand progress, I’m proud to be from America: not the spot on the map, but the novel ideal in human history; not the final product, but the hopeful process.

A fellow named James Allen once wrote in his diary, “many thinking people believe America has seen its best days.” He wrote that July 26, 1775. There are still those who believe America is weakening; that our glory was the brief flash of time called the 20th Century; that ours was a burst of greatness too bright and brilliant to sustain; that America’s purpose is past.

My friends, I utterly reject those views. That’s not the America we know. We were meant to be masters of destiny, not victims of fate. Who among us would trade America’s future for that of any other country in the world? And who could possibly have so little faith in our America that they would trade our tomorrows for our yesterdays?

–Ronald Reagan

1992 Republican National Convention

City sidewalks, busy sidewalks

Dressed in holiday style

In the air there’s a feeling of Christmas

Children laughing, people passing

Meeting smile after smile

And on every street corner you’ll hear

Silver bells, silver bells

It’s Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling, hear them ring

Soon it will be Christmas day

Strings of streetlights, even stoplights

Blink a bright red and green

As the shoppers rush home with their treasures

Hear the snow crunch, see the kids bunch

This is Santa’s big scene

And above all this bustle you’ll hear

Silver bells, silver bells

It’s Christmas time in the city

Ring-a-ling, hear them ring

Soon it will be Christmas day

First, let me pre-empt the comments by apologizing to anyone who’s taken offense to my cross-breeding of Bing Crosby lyrics with a Faith Hill title. Much like the Edsel, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Returning from Australia has felt like signing up for a week-long internship with Sisyphus (here’s an explanation in case you were playing Magnetic Corners during that lecture). The Hong Kong higher education philosophy seems to strongly favor end-of-semester proficiency demonstration rather than the more familiar continuous assessment that has been my experience in America. I thought I had things fairly well under control, particularly since I’m already finished all of my political science work, but my academic ego was conveniently downsized and outsourced when I put in my place by, of all things, the BADMINTON final. Crazy Asians. I neglected to learn the womens’ rules and the exam wasn’t gender neutral in the least.

Anyhow, since that experience on Thursday I’ve been evenly splitting my emotions between nostalgic reminiscence over the good times prior to this little tribulation and channeling this challenge into anger/study impetus for my upcoming Mandarin final. It’s hard to make an objective assessment in the “hardest test I’ve ever taken” category, but this one would definitely be receiving a gold star. So, on that note, I’m back to my little non-English study hideaway… it’ll all be over in 40 hours.

I am looking forward to the academic frustration immediately turning to tourist glee, though, since the one, the only Mr. Justin Coppedge will be arriving in the Kong just hours after I’m done with exams. Most totally excellent.

Update: I realized I left a page of Sunday/Monday’s entry out of my transcription. For archival purposes and your amusement, it has been added.

SATURDAY

It’s a miracle I got here. Between last minute technical armageddon with a paper due two hours before my flight, packing for the venture in some 23 minutes, and confusing both my flight time and visa requirements, I really thought the cards were stacked against me on this one. But, alas, the magnetic Aussie attraction is a force not easily broken and I was roaming Sydney by 9 AM following the overnight flight.

The good news about starting a trip with a whole day ahead: more time to explore. The bad news? Most of that “overnight” was due to a time change, leaving me only four hours of sleep after meals and making sure my Furby was switched off (see the photo gallery). Nonetheless, Sydney was very welcoming: warm, easily navigable, and English speaking!

Following the needle in a haystack search for an open hostel bed on a Saturday, my two primary destinations for the day were the Powerhouse Museum and Sydney Tower. I was also surprised by two unexpected finds: a city-sponsored water exhibition at the Powerhouse (thus making admission free; it turns out Sydney is dealing with that same little drought problem we invented in Colorado) and a digital media exhibition very close to my hostel sponsored by none other than Apple.

SUNDAY/MONDAY

For the record: it’s the the sixth of December and I got sunburned today! Thank God for the Southern Hemisphere. Do you realize that you can live on this Earth and avoid winter? Wow. That is neat.

I must admit: I’ve been doing so much “vacationing” that I’ve lazily decided to combine the last 48 hours into one entry here. The majority of my touring hours in the past two days were spent at the Sydney Olympic Park, the Digital Media Festival, the Harbour Bridge, or the Opera House. To briefly the summarize those…

The Sydney Olympic Park was pretty darn sweet. It’s overwhelmingly massive: so many stadiums, so much infrastructure, such huge capacity. The facility itself is quite innovative: it’s irrigated with rainwater captured off the roofs, entirely self-sufficiently solar powered, and 15,000 of the seats in the main stadium actually ROLL in or out to accommodate different sports. It just so happens that a “sweeten your rice rocket” car show was being held in one of the event centers on the day of my visit. This gathering certainly attracted a particularly peculiar Sydney demographic… fond memories of LA.

The Digital Media Festival was also a nifty attraction. I got to take a free Final Cut Pro HD class and mingled with some pretty talented folks. Nothing like Mac geeks and Aussie accents to enliven the cultural experience.

Finally, the obligatory visits to the Sydney Harbour Bridge & Opera House were definitely worthwhile. Much cooler than the average landmarks in some other destinations. I talked myself into parting with a fat stack of travel budget change and signed up for the Sydney Harbour Bridge BridgeClimb. Sure the the Sydney bridge is cool… but, seriously, a LEGAL chance to climb on a real, live suspension bridge? Sign me up.

The BridgeClimb was an awesome experience and really, really effectively executed. I have to hand it to those guys: I knew it was a tourist trap, but I eventually didn’t feel bad about being exploited since they did it so well. One particular example of their business strategy: due to the threat of dropping personal belongings on the eight lanes of traffic below, they won’t let you take any cameras on the climb. They will, however, be happy to sell you the photos they take of you… at the cost of about one bottle of cheap wine each. I splurged and got one–I’ll find a scanner and get it into the photo gallery eventually.

Updated section: I’ve stumbled across one off observation in this visit: after seeing a variety of spots up and down this side of the Pacific, Sydney is the first destination that has struck me as a place I’d actually like to live. Don’t get me wrong: I love my Rectangular Republic, but Sydney seems to be a culturally intoxicating blend of Denver and Key West. In addition, the Asian influence here seems to uniquely complement the existing culture.

I met a very intriguing chap tonight: Jacob from Sweden. He just stepped off the plane today to live and work in Sydney for a year, but he doesn’t know a soul on the continent; I think I’m one of the first folks he’s talked to. Such an immigrant story often seems to be the stuff of our grandparents, but seeing this guy’s entire life in one bag makes it quite real. I envy his courage; his life-by-the-horns attitude reminds me of another Swede I admire…

I think of Mark Heinmets often when I travel. I don’t know if it’s because the solace of the journey is a rare time for reflection, if it’s because many of my memories with Mark are travel related, or if it’s just because some of the oddities of this planet remind me of that extraordinarily unique guy. It’s been nearly a quarter of a year since he left this life, but I still have to consciously correct myself whenever he comes to mind in the list of people I plan to call when I get back. His number is still in my cell phone, his name in my address book, his pictures in my albums. And I don’t think I’ll change that.

TUESDAY

Today is Tuesday. To me, however, it is the weekend.

Today’s activities certainly weren’t anything to write a travel book about, but I feel like they were waking hours well spent: one nice lazy day juxtaposed against recent busy weeks of projects and the finals yet to come. I set out with two goals for the day: learn something factual about the politics/society of this continent-nation and relax. So, I bought a book and went to the beach.

And I loved it.

Photos from the venture are now up.

Thank goodness I’m not a parent.

If this blog was a child, I’d be charged with criminal neglect for the past week of dereliction. Oh well; blame it on the final week of classes. And what a week it was. There’s a sense of accomplishment involved, but I’m so very glad it’s over.

Long story short: I’m making this brief post while sitting at a cyber cafe in the heart of Aussie-land: Sydney. I took an overnight flight, though I consider it quite an act of God that I actually got here given some serious planning oversights on my part (like, say, thinking the flight was two hours LATER than it actually was… and forgetting about that little detail called a visa).

At any rate, consider this just a brief note to thank you for your continued readership despite my lack of bloggitunity (that means time to blog… and, yes, I did just invent it). Aside from the return voyage to America, this is my last planned major travel for the semester. So, on that note, I’m ready to rock it out. Talk to you in 5 days!

It’s a curious feeling to wake up and be told your face is in the morning newspaper.

Such just happened to be the case on this, a weekend otherwise submerged in the one-week-of-class-left flood. As it turns out, the South China Morning Post (Hong Kong’s largest English newspaper) picked up the story of a little campus activism instigated by MC, my roomate and president of the Student Union.

The news story has embellished the situation a bit, but basically it amounts to the government raising the minimum wage and the University refusing to raise its cleaning staff salaries accordingly until contracts are renegotiated in July. Frankly, I think the University is holding to a legally justified posture–they have no reason, other than the goodness of their hearts, to give the cleaning staff a raise before the existing contract expires. What leads me to show solidarity with the cleaners, though, is the fact that their monthly salary (that’s supposed to cover food, shelter, transport, etc) is less than my monthly Pepperdine-allotted food stipend. This is not a poor University… what amounts to a few pennies from the coffers of the administration would make a world of difference to the very dedicated cleaning staff. I was also particularly impressed that a number of students banded together to support the cleaners; I figured the least I could do was offer the backing of a native English speaker.

So, when my roommate offered me the chance to participate in a demonstration he was organizing, I decided it was certainly an experience worth seizing and a freedom worth exercising. After all, there’s something mighty special about marching in a demonstration directly past the PLA Barracks. The demonstration wasn’t especially large but it appears to have been remarkably successful in achieving the goal of bringing press attention to the situation.

I’ve posted the article below; checkout the comments of my roommate (Chan Kai-chun) and the picture that features us both (he’s to the right of me, reading a speech).

<<click to enlarge>>

Welp, my bro, Mike, and I just said our “zaijians.” (There’s your free Mandarin lesson for the day… and you didn’t even have to crack a fortune cookie.) For the first time this semester, the vacation came to me in the form of a five day swing through HK courtesy of my brother and two of his fellow American Eagle flyers, Joe and Eric.

In short: a grand time. These guys pulled a full-time tourist schedule and saw nearly all there was to take in during their short stop. It was also a great opportunity for me to join them back in the tourist rut and explore some HK spots I haven’t yet seen, ranging from an Anglican Mass, to a snoozing jaguar, to a memorable conversation with a Cathay Pacific A340 pilot. As the Hong Kong academic calendar throttles up to the “Home Depot paint mixer/shaker” setting, I really enjoyed the opportunity to take my mind of campus for a few afternoons and enjoy some good ‘ole native English… particularly the dialect that only bunker-native Denistons speak.

Beyond the obvious enjoyment of seeing my shared genetic material incarnate in the five year older model, I must say there’s two things I greatly enjoy about the pilot mentality: they know what a schedule is and they don’t have a problem being direct. It was a pleasure to host some guys that were enjoyable company but respected my existing schedule. I’ve gotten frustrated at times this semester with the Asian plan-it-on-the-fly outlook, which is fun at times but can cramp my “smart plan = maximum efficiency” style. Also, maybe it’s just the fact that these guys are a few years more senior than most of my social sphere, but I found their ability to respectful yet direct on any object of discussion to be quite refreshing. These guys realize that ultimately they’re not helping anyone if they try to avoid offending someone by playing neutral. And I like that.

And so, tomorrow they begin the day-long quest back to the other side of the world, namely Puerto Rico. It sure puts me in awe when I align the pieces: I’m living in CHINA and my BROTHER just flew over for a WEEK. Family, freedom, and a small world. So much to be thankful for on this rice-laden Turkey Day.

We didn’t take a great deal pictures, so I thought I might just post one here in lieu of the gallery…

The blurry version. (L to R: Me, Mike, a street vendor, Eric, Joe)

The sharper, Eric’s-a-ninja version.

It’s been a week of tender turkey, but lumpy mashed potatoes.

Just when you think you’re at home in this island metropolis, the powers-that-be seem to quickly dispatch a swift but subtle reminder that one’s homeland still has its perks. For instance, on Monday morning I was feeling quite positive after a strong performance on a political science presentation regarding China’s demographic transitions. But, my ego was quickly returned to a convenient, compact travel size when I celebrated by academic victory with a trip to the dining hall. My order? An iced coffee and the 2 item set lunch. What ended up on my tray? A hot coffee, and 2 milk cartons.

It hit me as a cruel irony that I can tell these people in great detail what the population of their country will look like in 20 years, but apparently I can’t yet order a US$2 lunch with decent communicative efficacy.

But, all in all, the adventure is still grand, the challenge still intriguing. Though, with about two weeks of classes left, I think I have hit the point where I feel quite vindicated in making this excursion a single semester; I don’t know if I could keep this up for another four months.

My brother and two of his fellow-pilot-friends are planning to swing through HK this weekend, so I’m pretty pumped about seeing someone that shares not only my skin color, but my last name! So, the weekend should be a welcome pause of doing “the tourist thing” with my bro. Until then, I’m headed back to the books… In the final two weeks of class, I have: 39 pages of papers due, 3 tests, 1 Mandarin quiz, and 1 debate. And that’s before “finals”!