Made in Japan, Outsourced Globally

I defrost myself, I must move on.
Like an awkward teenager who doesn't know
What to do with his hands,
I don't know. I am lost.

Fatigue had numbed my feelings.
But now I am back in the safe world,
Circulation has returned -
I must feel. I must respond.

When I am with others, I smile.
I am okay. Don't worry about me.
When I am alone, I cry uncontrollably.
I don't know why. I am okay.

I can feel the sadness, the anger, the hurt.
Not mine. But theirs. Of the rest of the world.
I am sad, angry, and hurt - because they feel.
The lost souls, worried families, parted lovers.

Please don't let the fire in my eyes go out.

First of all, I am alive and uninjured. Nothing could have prepared us for what had happened. But it did. And we move on.

I was on vacation in Phuket, Thailand from Dec.24, one of the locations that suffered severe casualties from the Southeast Asian earthquake and tsunami. 5 friends and I were on this vacation, and we all escaped disaster by a hair. I cannot help but believe that some unseen force had protected us and timed our survival. It was that close.

On December 26, I was in the lodge lobby in Patong at 6am, waiting for a van to pick me up for a 2night/3days snorkeling trip to the Similan Islands. The van arrived at 7 and we headed North towards Taplamu Pier in Phang Nga. It was around 9am when the speedboat left the pier and we headed towards the Similan Islands.

Later, my friend told me that she heard the windows rattling and felt an earthquake at 8am - most likely when I was on the road, but well away from the West coast of Phuket.

The speedboat jetted away for 1.5 hour and hesitated several times before approaching the Similan Islands. The driver kept on shouting on the radio in Thai but we eventually motored close enough to a bigger junk boat. As we peered overboard, I was a bit surprised. The water had patches of murky yellow-green and branches and trash was floating around, which was not expected from a beautiful snorkeling/diving site. The Similan Islands is one of the least touched and best preserved waters in Thailand (and ranked amongst the top 10 diving spots in the world). Something was wrong. Very wrong.



On board, an American couple looked a little distraught, and had told me that their tents and passports had been washed away in the morning. When I investigated further, the people who had stayed on the island the night before told us that a high tide had swept away the camp at 10am. One Englishman said that the water level had reached the windows and everything got flushed away. Most people were diving or snorkeling when this happened, and the snorkellers described that, "The water suddenly got cloudy. Poof - zero visibility." 3 scuba divers had been swept away, and raised their emergency signals. Everyone was saved and no one was seriously injured.

We, being the new comers, looked around the Andaman Sea to find it speckled with various debris: shoes, mattresses, water bottles, tents, bushes, trees - and even a turtle. However, the crew later told us that this was a taxidermies sea turtle that had been decorated on the lodge wall, and we were very relieved.



No one really knew what was going on, but we waited patiently on the boat. We eventually heard bits and pieces of news: "the piers on Phuket had been destroyed," "earthquake in Sumatra this morning," "cannot go back now." Since we were on a big junk boat, speedboats congregated to our boat and dropped people off. There was a boatful of people who started from Koh Phi Phi on a 3 hour speedboat trip. They had all fallen ill from the choppy waves and the small speedboat bouncing on water. At one point, we must have had about 60 people on board.



We did not know how serious the situation was, and believed that we would at least wait the night and still enjoy the rest of our snorkeling/diving trip the next day. We saw some tropical fishes swim by the boats and some flying fish on the water. To our disappointment, we were told that the boat was turning back to the mainland. We begged to at least swim in the water, but it only provided us with 5m visibility, as if the coral reef had been shaken like a snow-globe.

We did not understand HOW fortunate we were until a Danish girl received a text message from home. At the time, we heard "possibly 2000 dead on Phuket." More news came through as we learned "5000 confirmed dead in India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Thailand, Indonesia." We began to see things in a different light. We were extremely lucky to have been on a boat in the Similan Islands.

I had stubbornly sought my adventure, leaving my friends behind in Patong. Having heard that Phuket was hit hard, especially along the beaches, I became increasingly worried about their state of being. Where we had stayed, Patong Lodge, was a good 500m away from Patong Beach and a little up the hill. Nothing was certain though.

After 3 hours on the junk boat, we finally began to see some lights - but only from other boats and a lighthouse. There seemed to be no light on land and we could only barely make out the silhouettes of mountains from the beams of the full moon. We feared that the infrastructure had been hit severely.

When we disembarked, we saw boats piled on top of one another in 60-degree angles. One boat was completely turned over, making bubbling noises as the last bit of oxygen escaped from its hollow cavity. As we waited for the tuk-tuk to take us to our accommodation for the night, we saw a Thai man sitting on a ledge eating his dinner and sipping whiskey. He pointed his finger straight ahead to the wreckage and said, "Those... were my two boats."

From the openings of the tuk-tuk, I could not see much disaster except the flooded ditches. Electricity was up in Phang Nga, and people seemed to be going their own way - until we stopped at the evacuation camp. Before the tuk-tuk could turn into the driveway of the temple-turned-evacuation-camp, a frantic woman zigzagged across screaming, "Peto! Peto? Where are you!?" All of us groaned in sympathy.

AT THE EVACUATION CAMP

The 2 Danish couples and I, whom I had become close friends with, got off the vehicle despondently and set our bags down at the steps of the temple. I knew that we could not expect anything more than an uncomfortable lay on the stone floors. None of us could remotely consider eating or sleeping. We were wide awake and alert for any news. Most people were on edge, but I was surprisingly calm - an acceptance of the situation and dismissal of panic, knowing that it would not improve the situation. I wished I could have helped in some way, but I did not understand the situation and did not have much to offer but to oblige to the recommended actions. Vivika (the Danish girl) and I kept on talking about our incredible luck and smoked away to calm our nerves down.

Then, a man in shorts approached us for a cigarette. "Thank you. I needed that," he said. "I was at the beach this morning and my wife was sleeping in the hotel. I saw the waves coming towards us, grabbed my son, and ran. I had to hold up my son above the water in the lobby to keep him from drowning. My wife was pulled out of the rubbles. I was told that half the hotel was dead - 200 people. Dead. I'm just glad to have a cigarette."

Taking Vivika's advice, I walked around the camp a little. We were in a Buddhist temple, and some people were praying in the back. When I stepped upstairs, the entire floor was packed with people lying on the ground and talking - some severely injured and on a stretcher with IVs. Many had received First Aid at the station below. Most injuries were caused by the cuts created when they were washed away or by the stampede of people. Many were limping and would not have been able to escape quickly if an aftershock were to strike. What was most noticeable was their forlorn expressions - "I came here for a vacation. Why, oh why?"

The lack of information suspended everyone in fear and uncertainty. The volunteers (mostly tour company staff) tried to explain unsuccessfully in broken English. Inability to communicate was irritating many, including the usually smiling and amiable Thai people. Another noticeable fact was that the camps felt like a Western Europe Diaspora - there were remarkable amounts of Danish, Swiss, Swedish German, Fins in the camp, which I thought also contributed to the language gap.

When I returned to my new friends (at this point, I became an adopted Danish), the 4 were talking to a German lady who had been rescued but could not find her husband. In the morning, her husband had rushed to their bungalow and had told her to get out immediately. But before she could reach the entrance, the water had rushed in, pushing her against the ceiling and making her lose consciousness. She was still looking for her husband, but was not really in any condition to do so - physically and mentally. At this point, a lady with a newspaper in hand came to borrow a lighter. "I promise to return it," she said. "A baby is going in shock over there."

The hours seemed to drag on - we were at the temple from around 8:30pm. Vivika's husband let me use his mobile phone to call my parents. The network was congested for a long time, but I finally got through. My mother was still asleep, but I quickly blurted, "I'm okay. There was an earthquake in Indonesia and Thailand has been affected. But I'm okay." Until then, I had stayed unbelievably calm, but deep down inside, I was just as scared. Just as uncertain of what would happen and how bad it could have been. 5000+ dead in all of Southeast Asia and probably many more - it was a chilling realization of how incredibly lucky I was.

LOCALS AND TOURISTS

One of the Thai girls stayed close to us. She was a staff at the snorkelling/diving trip company; but I don't think her motive for staying was for customer satisfaction. For one, her house was near the pier and had been completely washed away. She told us that the only thing she had today was coffee in the morning, when the radio started buzzing and the boat drivers started asking what was going on in the mainland. She was very sorry that we tourists had to experience this. I actually worry more about the local Thai people who have to deal with the aftermath.

Starting from the fishing community to ecotourism and the lucrative tourism industry in general, Thailand had taken a giant blow. I don't mean to deemphasize the other countries that suffered from this disaster, but this is what went through my mind at the moment. Thai people are known for their smiles and warm hospitality, but their faces had been clouded by glazed looks of devastation and many many tears. The surviving tourists will at least be able to go back to a sturdy home and a stable economic structure.

But this is not a story of we vs. them. Locals and tourists alike, there was great suffering and grief. I sincerely hope that wary foreigners will not turn away but look into the opportunities of discovering Thailand again in the near future.

Koh Similan - this is the closest I got to it.

LOVE IS ALWAYS APPROPRIATE

There was great kindness amidst all chaos - everyone extended a helping hand and became alert to the needs of others. The Englishman whom I encountered earlier on the boat was helping two injured women throughout the night. He made sure they could be as comfortable as possible and offered to be their human crutch until they were transported to another camp or hospital. People huddled - couples snuggled closely while strangers formed small circles for security, determined not to leave anyone behind or alone.

When we were back at the temple last night, the Thai guide had secretly brought us a flashlight and said that her mother was looking for a better place for us to stay. We were extremely grateful and thanked her many times as we took a power nap on the temple floor. Normally, we must take our shoes off at temples out of respect, and only the holy monks could use the temple cushions and embroidered mats - but this was an exception, as the tired people sought comfort for their aching bodies.

The girl's mother arrived in a truck, and we packed ourselves onto the trucks, legs dangling out the back. We could see the main street, and the Mom pointed out that some people in the houses had death in the family.

She was a petite and energetic Thai woman, who had an air of strength. She explained to us that she had been looking for her sister all day in Phuket, but had no luck finding her.

"Today, she was driving her truck along the beach to pick up her son. You know, the wave just went away and took the sand and the pier with them. Loose. And then, BAM! the wave suddenly came crashing back. My sister was driving along the coast and her truck got washed away. We found her truck, damaged, but she wasn't inside. I looked around every hospital in Phuket, but I could not find her."

Despite her story, Mom had a sense of optimism and was not going to give up until she saw some concrete evidence. And even though her sister was missing, she was helping us getting settled in evacuation camps.

Truckloads of military men came, unloading food, clothes, and water. We shared scarce resources - global roaming phones, painkillers, and toilet paper. Some were prepared and others had just barely escaped death with nothing but themselves.

When we ate our lunch at the camp the next morning, a little Thai girl brought an armful of distilled water in cups, more than happy to help the peculiar foreigners. She was delighted and her younger brother (age 5?) tried to follow suit by trying to bring the rationed food from their family's picnic area (which we already had our own). This made us smile. The kindness never seemed to stop, as everyone looked out for one another.

Thai kids playing at the camp. I got to see Thai boxing after all.

YET ANOTHER EVACUATION CAMP

Once we arrived at our new destination - a school down the road - it felt more crowded than at the prior camp. Everywhere we looked, bodies were packed, filling all space that was dry and under some light. When our group looked for some space upstairs, the wooden floor creaked suspiciously, making us wonder how many people the structure can really hold until the floor gave out.

We shuffled the school chairs and desks to find some space to sleep. We lay 2 people to an aisle, trying to cover ourselves with towels, jackets, T-shirts, and sarongs to protect ourselves from the mosquitoes and the cold. The Germans chatted loudly and we stuck our heads beneath the desks to avoid the halogen beams above. Although it was annoying, no one dared turn off the light in fear of the unknown.

Surprisingly, I managed to fall asleep (although only for 4 hours total). At least enough to feel disturbed when woken up. Everyone was jumpy, and we had several abrupt nerve-jerking moments when someone screamed about the rats, and eventually, a hopeful cry that a bus had arrived.

It was December 27 - around 6am.

Skeptic of where the bus was going and also if it could possibly take all of us (100+ people), Vivika and I smoked and watched the scene below from the balcony.

Ultimately, we strolled down the hill, lining up in front of the buses - still uncertain whether it would take us, because we heard rumors that it was "For Germans only, arranged by the German embassy." Frankly, I did not care if I did not get on the bus, as long as it was taking the injured or others who were still looking for missing family members.

But disappointingly, the bus took neither - it was for a German tour group "Thomas Cook" only, so all who had got on the bus were kicked right back out. Hearing that it was a German bus, the German lady looking for her husband had excitedly stepped on. Instead, she was rejected adamantly and left in great stress and tears. Even in her fragile state, she was trying to stay optimistic - until this had happened. We looked on bitterly at the 3 empty Thomas Cook buses - all but with 1 or 2 passengers.

We heard that there was a possible aftershock coming at 10am, so we all cleared the buildings and sat outside. The network and our spirits picked up again with the daylight. I had a chance to call Patong Lodge, where my friends were staying. I had no idea if they were safe, evacuated, or if the lodge had survived at all.

I got through, and found out from the receptionist that everyone at the lodge was okay. In fact, my friends were in the lobby contemplating to leave for the airport! After hearing their voices, we confirmed each others' safety with great relief and promised to meet in Hong Kong, if not at Phuket Airport. I also heard that another party from our group was still stuck in Karon Beach, however, because the hotel told them that it was unsafe to leave.

Aftershock or not, my group at the evacuation camp were determined to leave for Phuket (we were still in Phang Nga at this point) after the aftershock was predicted to come. But we did not have to wait long before buses and vans were arranged to head to the Phuket side.

Some were still hesitant to board the vans and decided to stay to see if a missing family member would show up. A Danish group we met had one girl in the hospital and her mother was still missing. Fortunately, the boy in the group was thought to have drowned, but had made it back. They were hopeful.

At the airport, I parted ways with my Danish friends and we wished each other luck in getting home safely. It was quite chaotic in the airport but I miraculously bumped into my friends who had gotten a tuk-tuk to drive up from Patong. We were to return to Hong Kong as soon as possible - after staying overnight at the airport.

Phuket Airport
My friends called me "the worm"

AT PATONG BEACH

My friends' experience is worth mentioning - as they had been closer to the disaster location than me. They showed me the photos on their digital cameras of Patong Beach, where we had been the day before. We had walked along this beach on Dec 25, where the shops, restaurants, and parasols had decorated the shoreline. Strangely enough, the Buddhist shrine at the corner of the street (only 50m from the shore) was left unscathed, making us wonder what holy power or durable construction material it was made of. But everything surrounding it was completely obliterated.

Patong Beach on the west coast of Phuket - we had been here the day before. Now everything is gone.

Most things were destroyed, but the Buddhist shrine (photo right) remained untouched by the tsunami.

150m down the road from our lodge (other side of Patong Beach).

My friends actually did not feel the shock and sensed that something was wrong only when people started running wildly in the hallway shouting, "The waves are coming!" Then, everyone had to evacuate to the mountains where they stayed for 6 hours. According to my friends, they were able see the waves crashing high, as seen on the CNN footages.

My friends had seen the impact of the tsunamis as the tuk-tuk drove up to the airport. The driver was hesitant to bargain, but suggested a rather high price, knowing that their business was very high in demand now and would dry up severely in the following week. My friends obliged and paid him 200% higher than the normal rate.

SOMEBODY IS WATCHING OVER US

Some stumble upon luck accidentally. In the airport pub, I met a French man who had signed up on a scuba diving trip to Koh Phi Phi on the day the disaster struck. However, he had overslept and had stayed in the hotel, avoiding one of the worst struck areas in Thailand. He had indeed avoided a great danger, as we found out from a British couple in the ticket cue that everything in Koh Phi Phi was in ruins. The couple was one of the fortunate ones who escaped the destruction.

On Koh Phi Phi, we heard that all the resorts had been uprooted, leaving only the base structure intact. The diesel from the boats had leaked into the water, and some people had drunk an unhealthy dose of blackened seawater. If you have ever seen the photos of Koh Phi Phi (the location used for the DiCaprio movie "The Beach"), it is one of paradise with such beautiful wildlife under the sea. Now, it is all gone and poisoned - a site of terror.

My friends and I would have been on Koh Phi Phi that day, if it had not been fully booked. Another reason to make me believe that we had escaped death by a slim chance. Alice and Dav, who were on Karon Beach had originally planned to go to the beach early that morning - but changed their minds at the last minute and went to the hotel pool. They saw the waves crashing from the poolside. Patong Lodge, the place that my friends were staying at, was unharmed and it was a budget lodge that we had booked last minute. It was slightly on a hill and did not have a sea view. I was in one of the safest places in the area that day - I remember the Thai Mom saying, "Anyone on Similan Islands today was a very very lucky person."

I sat in Phuket Airport writing this entire narrative on the advert pages of The Economist - not having bathed over 48 hours, sleep deprived, and aching from sleeping on the hard floors. But it had given me much to think about. Something that Vivika said sticks to my mind about this particular incident: 'Timing is Everything.'

Natural disaster is violent, ruthless, and unpredictable. All of us who were here amidst the disaster were touched in some way. Our priorities in life had shifted and connections had formed to test our moral values among already close ones and strangers.

* * *

AFTERMATH - IN HONG KONG

When I got back to Hong Kong, I thought that I would be much better off. I received many worried phone calls, SMS, and e-mails from my friends and family. I had not given myself a proper chance to reflect, though, and the backlash came last night.

My body had become weak and I experienced a bit of a stomach flu and delirium as the adrenaline had worn off and my immune system took a nosedive. This was accompanied by a nightmare of being in the evacuation camps in Thailand again, doing some relief work. Somehow subconsciously, I felt guilt for not being able to do more to help. I will most likely adjust back into the normal life slowly, but a part of me is affected, and a part of me is still in Thailand.

My prayers go out to all those affected - and I sincerely wish that they will have the hope and faith to live on after this tragedy.

I need a break... I need a break.

My mind shuttles faster than what I can digest, causing many unwanted bruises and hiccups. Must be careful. But there's no time. I'm late! I'm late! I'm late! Down the rabbit hole again...

After the double-whammy of nutmeg from the cream chicken stew and gingerbread mocha, I burrowed on the plush, red sofa at Pacific Coffee. What was intended to be a literary moment turned into a power nap. Businessmen passed by, with curious expressions on why this girl was passed out unguardedly on the couch like a chipmunk in hibernation.

Lucky for me, Hong Kong is a relatively safe city with little need to hold on to purses and phones - at least in broad daylight in a business district (however, my phone was stolen once - and the thief kindly (?) left behind my SIM card).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and.

I...

fall... into...

the timewarp back...

...back into... childhood...

My lungs feel heavy, hot and moist air stagnates, and my shirt clings to my body. I am happy. In one swoop, a brilliant breeze grazes my cheek, flapping the sides of the straw-hat in a jubilant pitter-patter. In the distance, I hear the neighborhood kids calling - "come out and play! We're going to the park!" they say.

I possessed many toys, but what fascinated me the most were the infinite treasures outdoors. Most of my time was spent collecting insects and chasing small creatures with my bare hands. Like the lizard that I caught once, and then escaped - later, I had many occasions of observing the stub-tailed lizard scurrying across the cool, mossy stones. I would bring home preying mantis eggs, which would cause my mother to shriek, and then force me to take them back outside. There was nothing more fascinating to me than seeing thousands of green baby mantises fly out in a fuzz at the moment of hatching.

I soon moved on to obssessing about monarch butterflies, which would leave their young on the Sansho or orange leaves. I often pinched the soft green caterpillars, which would cause them to protrude their orange horns that smelled of sansho or orange. I was never fortunate enough to witness metamorphosis from the beautiful translucent chrysalis, for reasons which I cannot recall. Ladybugs, locusts, rolly-pollys dragon flies, crawfish, battling beatles, green frogs - they were all subject to my inquiry at some point.

My parents encouraged and helped me dig up the battling beatle larvae, which I would observe through the plastic casing. The gross but pulsating worm would turn from white to pink, and eventually start to form their keratin coating - then eventually battle to mate and die. Tadpoles were my favorite, as I would scoop them from the creeks and watch the long tube of jelly turn into black swimmers, oddly shaped quarter-notes with legs, and take on a hue of light green. The offsprings would eventually turn into smooth, lime-colored frogs which I cruelly played with until I exhausted them - and let them go so they could discover the outside world.

While most girls shirked away in disgust, I was purely fascinated with life. I would thoroughly enjoy reading biographical accounts of the entymologist, Dr. Fabre and the zoologist Dr. Seaton. The cliche would make people snicker, but I literally ran through rice fields and the fig farm. There was so much nature to be appreciated. My friends found a secret patch of four-leaved clovers. What I know now as a polyploidy mutation was absolute magic to a 7-year old. My friend and I once went on an azalea hunt and foolishly plucked and sucked the nectars until we were sick. Our parents scolded us, but it was a good laugh and the sweet smell of nectar and pollen entices me now and then to try it once more.

My mother was the best teacher of how to play in nature - we would link dandelions togethers to make jump ropes; braid Dutch clovers into elaborate crowns; collect shiny acorns and pinecones to make matchstick cars and funny creatures; pick fragrant yomogi-leaves to make mochi; teach me how to blow on a ground cherry to make a most interesting noise; find the sporing horse-tails to make a tasty appetizer. Speaking of food, one old-time favorite sport in the Fall is raking leaves - because at the end of the hard labor, we get to roast yams in the leaves which seemed better than any snack that you could buy at the store.

We were frightened of the obscure, such as the poisonous snakes, Michael - the straycat with AIDS (yes, this was early 80s), and the Tengu (a mythical Japanese demon with a red face and a long nose). My brother's personal nemesis was the kappa - a green, webbed man with a disc-shaped head and a peculiar liking for cucumbers, sumo-wrestling, and little boys' testicles. Life is strange when you are young.

Spring, Summer, and Fall are the best seasons for outdoor activities, but the Winter can be just as exciting. Our neighbor packed the wet snow in to a mountain and repeatedly splashed water over it to make slides. We even made stairs, which made us even prouder of our creation.
I only lived in Atsugi, Japan for a year - but it is the most vivid part of my childhood. The four seasons of rural Japan are best experienced outside with nature.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is what I long for on a day like this. I know that I want my children to experience the same - when you live so close to nature, there is an indescribable calm and appreciation for life that develops within you.

Over the weekend, I had an epiphany.

It all started when I came to the office on Saturday afternoon, after the usual hangover Friday. I started reading Jesse and Surya's weblog, and then went on to read my options for the Peace Corps again. I initially came into the office to get some work done (which I missed, because I was working on the company Christmas party OC half the day Fri - an extra end of the year stress for me). But I just could not get myself to do any work, because a question popped into my head: what am I doing here?

I had signed myself up to 18 months of corporate traineeship, and I had a very good reason to do so. But somewhere along the way, I had lost track of why I was doing this. Why was I in Hong Kong and not off to an obscure corner of the world doing field work in a developing country? Why am I in the midst of a capitalist gung-ho world despite my heart?

It all became a bit too painful when I remembered how I used to delve my nose into academic readers and theories of economic development - some decent miracles in the Third World; more often than not, failures and development disasters caused by war, free trade (misnomered by the global North), diseases, uneven political and social structures, etc.

The mind-numbing corporate agenda was what I toiled for all day, and in the end of the day, I was all too tired to devote my brain cells to all the interesting stuff I used to muse about. Fortunate for me, that feeling came back - almost thawed - when I read Jesse and Surya's narratives in Nigeria (huge hugs to you guys).

So that was my initial step - but I suddenly realized WHY I was still here.

Back in the university days, I was profuse with these theories and lived in an intellectual bubble where I could devote 120% of my time and energy to all the jargon that my cranium desired - but what of the rest of the world? I had to know what the other side was like. What are the thoughts and actions of the MNCs? How are the HR/FDI/marketing/outsourcing decisions that influence so many livelihoods on all corners of the earth made? I felt that I could not speak of development without seeing both sides of the coin.

As I continued to discover the good, the bad, the ugly of corporate globalization, I was eager to learn and absorb. To understand things from a specific perspective and see things in a different light.

(here comes the epiphany part)

Accidentally, I also stumbled on a realization that my ties that I have created over the past 15 months will amount to much more than just my learning as an individual. The connections that I have made will continue if I desire it - and I will be a bridge to a very very different world (if I go through with this Peace Corps thing).

The people that I have met here in Hong Kong and within my company are very nice. Some live in Southeast Asia and India where they live adjacent to various development issues. But equally, there are people who are in a certain American capitalistic paradigm and have an enormous influence on what goes on in the global manufacturing sector. AND they also have at least some interest in where I am going.

They are the people whom I want to impact as I continue this journey. It may all seem very simple, and somehow I knew it all along. But the difference is that I recognize that I have the potential to influence, and the scope of my impact has now connected to my next step in life. My stubborness to justify why I am here has enlightened me in a different way - a new motivation and an agenda I will continue to work on.

Since Kirk and Erica have started talking about astrology around me, I have started listening closer to horoscopes. However, I subscribe more or less a biological school of personality testing. My source is merely a dialogue between a chiropractor and a novelist, but you can believe anything, right?

To contextualize, the dialogue is in a book called "Karada no Himitsu (Secret of the Body)" - written in Japanese (obviously) and talks about anything and everything about the body - birth, sex, pelvic exercises/theory, sleep, disease, death, psychosomatic connection, child development, adolescent destructiveness and recklessness, social paradigm of sex and gender. One chapter that I especially found intriguing was this theory of organ typology.

Humans cannot help but behave in a certain way, depending on what "organ person" you are. There are 5 types: Lung, Heart, Liver, Spleen, Stomach - and a person's emotional response to a situation reflects what "organ" you are most connected to.

Lung - Sadness
Heart - Happiness, Hyperactivity
Liver - Anger
Spleen - Melancholiness
Stomach - Fear

For instance, if you were to be in a car accident, what would be your first response? A Lung person would immediately think of how sad people would be if he/she were to be hurt or die - or wonder if anyone would be sad. A Liver person would probably well up in anger towards the driver that bumped them from behind. You get the idea.

It's not that you don't feel other emotions, but you cater to one emotion more than others. And this is connected with the organ - so naturally, an angry drunk will feed on the anger by drinking more (like adding oil to fire). Emotions are magnified through how you behave with your organs.

I tend to be a Lung person most days. My lungs ache in emotion. (pulmonary distress is not so poetic, but cardiac hyperactivity is left for happiness).

But to be honest, over the years, I have found that these personality tests are often useless for me. Conclusions from most tests or horoscopes I take (formal, informal) point out that I am a little bit of everything. It is either an indication of my lack of character or that the universalist tendencies come out strongly - I cannot tell. I am still an enigma to myself by the yard sticks of external categorization.

While Devrim was at a high-profile conference (they put him up at the Sheraton, a room with a view) and Kirk hopped on a 24-hour train ride from Beijing with 2 drunken, smokin' Chinese guys, I was slightly stressed at the thought of a coming procurement strategy conference and anxiety of where I would possibly go with the Peace Corps next year.



Kirk called me on Sunday afternoon, while I was eating dim sum with some Aiesecers. We reunited, strolled around Kowloon (a.k.a. the 'Dark side'), and became tourists at Victoria Peak. Kirk and I discussed the importance of clean air in China. He could not get enough of how clear the air was in Hong Kong, opposed to 5m visibility Beijing - and here I was complaining about automobile fumes and Shenzhen's industrial pollution. I guess it's all relative.

Somehow, we ended up on the Dark side again, eating tandori chicken, chicken tikka masala, and mutton vindaloo in a shady Indian restaurant inside Chunking Mansion. If you are wondering, yes, it's where the movie "Chunking Express" comes from. Highly recommended Wong Karwei film, endorsed by Quentin Tarentino. I watched it a couple years ago in Berkeley, when I didn't have the slightest inkling that I would end up in Hong Kong. Now I want to see the movie to see if I have walked through the same locations - the dingy bar, where the assassin made his fake passport, and the sceptic playground in a concrete jungle.

In stark contrast, we visited Devrim's posh suite at the Sheraton, where we reminisced on photos of long ago. Erica and Devrim had mutual acquaintances, causing all of us to genuinely admire the network of Aiesec all over again. It had to be celebrated with San Miguel beer - kingcan, of course. Beer cans in Sheraton suite - the juxtaposition was a reminder that Aiesecers can grow out of old jobs but can't escape the habits. Devrim and I cannot hide our bewilderment of corporate treatment - "you mean I don't have to sleep with 3 other bodies on this bed??? Company expenses???" Life is sweet.

After a grueling day of strategy and discussions, I cut short on the 12-course Chinese dinner (everyone was full by the 6th dish any way) to meet up with Erica and Kirk. With Kirk complaining about his throat and wanting tea, we came to the brilliant conclusion of going to Kasabah - where we smoked some sheeshas and had some excellent mojitos (forget the tea). Then we top off the night with a trip to 7-11. Old habits die hard.

And that's my version of the adventure. In his peculiar circumstance, Kirk will be back in HK in 30 days. Devrim will continue to Asia-hop. And I will kind of sit tight in HK until the end of February. Courtney will be taking off to Madrid on her new assignment - very very happy for her. I really don't need to reiterate - but it's damn cool for us all to cross paths again.

p.s. - Africa or Eastern Europe. Somebody give me a sign (or more details).

In my inbox a couple weeks ago...

Saki,

Sounds like we might have similar intentions for the month of March. Part of my plan is to apprehend a bicycle in Vietnam and ride it as far as I possibly can, all the while encountering random individuals and hilarious misadventures which I will inevitably forget about by the end of the journey due to some overwhelmingly dramatic climax at the end, like perhaps catching dengue fever or some other colorful 3rd world disease. Time will tell that tale, however. Who knows, perhaps we might be able to meet up for one leg of the journey.

Kirk

Last time I saw Kirk was last November, watching borderline soft-porn movie at the Italian Embassy with Minji, Wing, Chris and Dong Wei. Snickering in the crowd as Lars facilitated the panel discussion (Lars was great - questionable if 2/3 the crowd was paying attention though). And in complete annhilation with JD in hand the next day at global village in bumble-fuck of Beijing.

Kirk will be blessing HK with his presence this weekend, taking shelter at the fabulous chateu in disguise - my apartment. 3rd visitor this month - our couch is gettin' more lovin' than the owners of the apartment. Ouch.

With Digs in town as well, we'll be sure to have a good time. Kirk and I will contemplate our adventure in Southeast Asia.

A while ago, I posted an online personal ad to see what would happen. Hey, it was free and what did I have to lose? (so stop rolling your eyes). Meeting people at bars is just not my cup of tea (especially when most think that you are a hooker because you are Asian and can drink a lot).
Well, I screen out the mid-30s and above and anything with a disturbing photo. But other than that, I am willing to meet up for a coffee or a happy hour. And it's a good way of adding variety to my network... or so I thought.

I met a cute, British English teacher last week, who lived in Japan for a couple years with the JET program. I have some friends who are now on the program and we had a good laugh about Japanese culture. Did I also mention that he was cute? I thought that the night went well, but nothing further. Oh well. At least he disspelled the myth that all personals people are either utterly desparate or social cloisters.

But last night was agonizing torture. I met a 28-year old Frenchman, and went on probably one of the worst dates ever. We went to a health cafe (KOSMO is a posh cafe with smoothies and yummy wrap sandwiches - don't go to it often enough) and he insisted on buying me juice. Since his credit was low, we ended up standing there for 15 minutes while he was recharging the card. And it all went downhill from there...

I casually ask, "So, what do you do here?" And he goes on about how he's a "Project Manager," and what a tough life he has. Now, in my mind, having a title of project manager means nothing until you can identify the industry and the scale of what you do - my flatmate is a project manager for an English teaching company, but it means he deals with anything from HR, client management, curriculum building to newsletter editing.

I just sat there in the mind-numbing conversation, as he tried to explain what a busy life he led between vendors and engineers and tried to make himself sound so impressive. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. (Yes, don't bore your date to death with your job and try to pull that sympathy or I'm impressive crap - it's just dull and it sounds like you have no life outside of work).

When his cappucino and the smoothie arrived, I was so thirsty that I just kind of did a little 'cheers' and started drinking the juice. He slowly nursed the cappucino, added cream and sugar, and said, "you're rude, you know?" The heck I am - I just came back from the gym and was dehydrated. But he beat me on the rudeness scale, as he had a spontaneous cough and blasted his cappucino all over the place, including on yours truly. Dripping with coffee, I got up for the napkins and secretly wanted to leave then and there.

We continued the dreaded conversation and he asked, "So why do you have such a heavy American accent?" - of course, he's French and would notice such things. I just told him the story of living all around the US. He insisted that he lived next to San Francisco - Sunnyvale (which does not qualify as 'next to SF' in my world).

He then proceeded to tell me how he thought Silicon Valley engineers are the most terrible and boring people in the world with their Java shirts. I just smiled and said, "my friends are those techies you talk about." (actually, my friend has the Java jacket, a long pony-tail and fashions a red Fedora hat). Should I have told him that my father is in the engineering field too? Of course, he topped it off with, "those engineers don't have the pressure of a manager, like me, and they are lazy." My friends happen to be some of the most bizarre yet creative and fun people to hang out with. And my Dad is a connosieur of wine, music (of all sorts), food, and is an extremely interesting man - and he is an engineer who has done the jungle gym vertical and horizontal climb to do R&D, marketing and management.

Absolutely turned off and pissed off at the conversation, I wanted to call it quits as soon as possible. This guy responded to every comment I made with a "But..." He was Mr. Negativity and thought that everybody was too dumb to understand his 'pressures' and 'work' - he can go on with his self-righteousness, but I guarantee that he will never get a girl any time soon unless she is a masochist. I didn't even want to make the effort to strike up an interesting conversation and he must have thought me dull - but that would have been just as well, because he seemed to put down whatever I had to say.

I joined Duncan, brother, & Co. afterwards, as we poked on the hot-pot and talked about university/marines hazing rituals (some too disturbing to mention), 20th century Chinese history, and Andrew's improvement on chopstick skills. It's good to be back in the world of interesting and unpatronizing friends.

We have a third resident, a guest, two weeks in a row at our apartment.

Andrew is a British marine who was in Iraq for the last 5 months. He is also Duncan's younger brother, but by all means, he does not look nor act like he is 19.

As the alcohol loosened up his mood, he became more talkative and was dazzled by the Hong Kong nights. He jokingly said, "you know, in order to hide the fact that I'm a marine - because once girls find out if you're a marine, they think we are after only one thing - I had to come up with new occupations." So Andrew became a dolphine trainer and a biscuit designer - like for Digestives and stuff.

Duncan and Andrew are nothing alike - one lanky and lean, the other with bulging biceps; one loves pop music and Brittney Spears, the other is for rock and Sweet Home Alabama; the only resemblence is in their eyebrows and smiles. But one thing did strike extremely similar between the two - the love of being on top of the bars, dancing the night away at Carnegies. Can't fight the blood.

After a drunken night in the town, I had to shove Andrew in a cab while his brother had panic-stakingly gone home already (in fatigue from binging and dancing and thinking that his brother was at the apartment). Sometimes, the truth comes out in the subconscious state.

"That weeers greeeeaaat..."
"Yeah? Must be great to be out in the town after the last 5 months."
"Yeah... you know, I was shot in the legs by you Yanks." Taps his thigh. "Right here."
"(sigh) Friendly fire, huh?"
"(chuckle) There's nothing friendly about it. But I like you guys. (shakes head) It's really bad out there - I came home, but I feel for my mates who are still out there. Even you guys... a full-grown American man, on his knees, crying because he wanted to go home. ...It's tough out there..."
"...Sorry to hear that."
"Yeah... I don't hate Americans or anything. You complain that the British forces are in the safer zones down South, but it's safer for a reason. When you shove arrogantly and go attacking, saying that 'you have to follow OUR way,' it gets ugly. But I like you Americans."

Silence.

"...A full-grown American, on his knees. Crying... Begging to come home. It's tough.... I like what I do and I'm proud, but it's tough."

The next day, we woke from our massive hangover and fatigue (well, at least the brothers were wasted) - obviously, Andrew not remembering a single thing from the night before. I know that Andrew's point of view is only one man's point of view - but it's flesh and blood to the things that we have only seen through the screens and in print.

Sometimes his uneasiness and self-consciousness can be felt in the air. So young. Only 19. Neither better or worse, but merely a choice of lifestyle and purpose in life. The similarities and differences between us all waft through the room, spoken or unspoken, and sink into the couch.

TO DO LIST
- Summarize articles on China distribution rights and bonded logistics zone
- Re-evaluate website added value
- Staff profiles
- Fiscal year goal and analysis
- Japan-China CD-ROM project - translation and coordinate with divisions
- Get flu shot

Skimmed through the WSJ for an inteview with Carly Fiorina and Japan's industrial output drop. Who has time to read a newspaper cover-to-back these days anyway? Crack open an operational management book to perk at least some interest or response in my brain.

Hmm... I'm stuck. How do you avoid sounding weird in a translation for mechanical components, when all you can come up with is "male screw"?

Company Christmas party is coming up:
- Yummy food and lucky draw - yay!
- I am on the planning committe - hmm...
- I'm the co-MC - huh???
- The cute guy is no longer co-MC - boo

Hmm... must start cracking on those Christmas cards.