Hong Kong skyline - more to come, I promise.

Oh, right, I'm in CHINA (sort of)!

Hong Kong is an easy city to live in. Whatever the reason - it's something of a "chicken and the egg" question (does the convenience bring ex-pats, or do ex-pats breed convenience?), combined with the obvious fact of long-time British rule - the city is just Western enough, just clean enough, just safe enough that people like myself have no problem getting around.

Of course, that sterilization can make you forget sometimes that you are in fact in China (sort of). Fortunately, not all of Hong Kong is as new and shiny as Central, where I live and work. In fact, some of it is actually, well, Chinese.

I'd been longing for a new digital camera, and despite the fact that electronics really aren't much cheaper here any longer, I finally broke down and decided to buy a new one (the catalyst was the fact that my flash bulb had burned out on the old one while in Nepal, and I had little time, energy, or motivation to get it replaced). I had asked Paul, a co-worker, where to go, and he'd suggested that I have his boyfriend take me shopping. Paul and Derek have been around for over a year, and Derek is actually a photographer himself, meaning he knows where to go and how to bargain, not to mention substantially more than I do about cameras generally speaking.

Paul and Derek live in Wan Chai (read: not Central), and Derek had me meet him there for lunch at his favorite Thai restaurant to provide much-needed energy for shopping. Wan Chai is a much more middle class, residential area than Central, a fact that struck me as soon as I got out of my cab, and that was driven home by the round-about route we took to the restaurant. Turning down a side street, Derek explained that he wanted to walk us through the Wan Chai market, a local market more akin to those I saw in Cairo than the shopping I'd been doing in Hong Kong. The next thing I knew, we were sidling through a barber shop into a back alley, then turning down an alley way filled with suspiciously fishy puddles and into a butcher's shop. We walked past vendors selling hot steamed buns (filled with meat, red bean paste, lotus, you name it), steamed pork, live chickens, fresh eggplant, incense, traditional red wedding cards, and anything else the average Hong Kong local might need on a Tuesday afternoon. Jason, another summer associate who had joined us for lunch, stared longingly at the food vendors - he spent his first nine years in China, and was craving some "local" food. However, Derek was adamant about this Thai restaurant, and it had made it into a "tip sheet" compiled by former summer associates, so we dutifully followed in his wake.

Finally, we arrived at the restaurant, which happened to be in the back of a store. As we walked in, a woman behind a desk in the back (apparently recognizing Derek, who is likely the only tall bald white guy to ever enter the building) stood up, shook her head, and said, "No, no! Closed!" in a mournful voice. The communications were sketchy at best, but it turns out the restaurant we had been hoping to dine at had just been closed down for operating without a license. The letter she handed Derek in explanation was actually a summons to court.

Now THAT is authentic.

Thus thwarted, we ended up eating at a won ton noodle joint in the neighborhood, another of Derek and Paul's favorites. We sat down on multi-colored plastic stools at a table with a bottle of hot sauce and a can of chopsticks, and Derek ordered "three, big." A few short minutes later, our table was laden with three large bowls of noodles and fat shrimp won tons (dumplings). The food was delicious, the restaurant was authentic (I would have been laughed out of the shop if I'd asked for American utensils, and the door was actually a thick sheet of plastic hanging from the frame), and together with a bowl of greens and three drinks, we paid a whopping HK$61, which comes out to under US$8. Derek reminisced fondly on the days when he and Paul first started eating there, and the large bowls were only HK$11 each (inflation has bumped them up to HK$12, but business is still booming). A far cry from the ritzy meals in air conditioned hotel restaurants that we've been consuming thus far, and a nice change of pace. Of course, I couldn't eat like that every day - my lack of chopstick expertise would be an incredibly efficient weight-loss system!

After lunch, Jason went back to work and Derek and I trekked across Wan Chai to the Computer Centre, a two story "mall" filled with nothing but electronics shops - cameras, computers, cell phones and the like. But there wasn't a Best Buy or Circuit City in sight. Rather, these stores were tiny, each the size of a small bedroom, with one or two men standing behind a counter and the walls covered with glass display cases. Bargaining was minimal, as most items have marked prices (and if they don't, red flags should be raised), but in the end I got a nice Canon digital camera (the Japanese version, which means if it breaks, I have to mail it to Tokyo to get a warrantied repair), a huge memory stick and a back-up battery for a pretty decent price. And what the store lacked in super-store guarantees and selection, it more than made up in sheer local charm - unlike every shopping center I've been to in Central, this place didn't have a white person in sight. (Well, other than us.)

Before sending me back to the office, Derek insisted we stop to get dessert at a local chain. We had to order by pointing to the sign and signaling "two", but in the end we wound up with delicious mango drinks with sago and coconut, and excellent mango mochi, which I'd always thought only came in ice cream form (you learn something new every day!).

Afterwards, Derek refused to let me flag a cab, instead insisting that I take the trolley, which runs directly in front of the Bank of China Tower. Thus, another local experience - we went and bought an Octopus card, which is a rechargeable card good for all public transportation, and usable at a lot of local shops and restaurants (including Starbucks!) as well, and then he told me how to get on the trolley and off I went. I must admit, it was kind of an adventure, and HK$2 for a ride back to work beats the HK$15 minimum cab fare any day! Of course, nervous I'd miss my stop, I got off two stops early, but I have few complaints - even though I'm comfortable and happy in my ex-pat neighborhoods, it's good to know that I am in fact in Asia, and there's still a place for me to buy smoked fatty pork off the street, if I so desire.

First Impressions

I was struck with a bout of nervousness when I found my driver in the airport. He was standing there with a sign that said "CGSH/Miss Teale" and didn't speak a lick of English. Taking one of my bags, we headed outside, where I was struck with a wave of heat and humidity, and then he left me by the curb to bring around the car. Suddenly, I was struck with flashbacks of Egypt, and a similar airport pick-up - my hopes for this summer adventure mainly revolve around things that happened in Egypt that I would like NOT to happen again, including the nasty housing situation that awaited me at the end of the ride from the airport.

My fears were totally unfounded. After a short wait, the driver came around the corner - in an air conditioned Mercedes, unlike the Cairo 1960's taxi for hire - and loaded my bags into the trunk, rather than attaching them to the roof with bungee cords. Definitely off to a better start! And once we were on the road, only one thought was running through my mind - "This is as unlike Cairo as it could possibly be."

The best description I can think of for Hong Kong is that it's kind of like a jungle, with a slightly futuristic city coincidentally stuck in the middle of it. It's lush and green - thanks to the ridiculous rainfall and humidity - and the buildings are tall, shiny, and often impossibly designed. (In fact, my own office building - the Bank of China tower - is one of these controversial architectural experiments.) The islands, including Hong Kong Island, are insanely hilly, so nature and civilization are impossibly mixed, the roads are narrow and steep, and there are stairway alley shortcuts and overhead pedestrian walkways everywhere you look.

It's pretty freaking cool.

My "serviced apartment" is halfway between a dorm room and a hotel room, small but with a kitchenette and a huge window. The controversial shower - billed on the website as a "funky cubist" shower from which you can "watch satellite TV" - is actually glass-walled, so that you can see from the shower into the rest of the room (yes, including the TV), and the bathroom is painted lime green. There could be more storage space, or more space generally speaking, but considering the shortage of space in Hong Kong, I'm finding very little to complain about - again, a far cry from the apartment I was delivered to that fateful first day in Cairo. (The photos above are the view from my apartment window.)

Soon after I arrived, I met up with my Hong Kong Cleary mentor, Young, to head over to the office and view the Handover Day fireworks (Handover Day, 7/1, being the day that Hong Kong was returned to China by the British). The office building is INSANELY cool, and I got a chance to see my office and wander around. At our level, the building is a triangle, so there are crazy angles and weird hallways, but I love it, and there's some pretty spectacular artwork for me to appreciate on those not-so-busy days. The fireworks were pretty spectacular, too - first, fireworks were set off from the tops of a bunch of the skyscrapers (including ours, although we obviously couldn't see them), something that apparently takes place every couple of weeks. Then, from four boats in the harbor, the real show started. I don't have such faith in my writing abilities that I'll attempt to describe the fireworks display - it's sufficient to say that I don't feel like I'm missing out on the Fourth of July anymore.

Afterwards, Young and I came back to pick up Jason and Jonathan, the other summer associates rotating through Hong Kong right now. They'd landed just too late to come see the fireworks, but Young wanted to take us all out to dinner. We went to a Thai restaurant nearby, where I had some delicious food and unnecessary mothering - Young kept dishing up our food and making sure no one needed anything, something I'm sure my mom will feel better knowing - and then it was back to the building for some much-needed rest.

I'm unpacked - although I need to go ask for some extra hangers - and settled in, and soon I'm off to find myself some food, some money, and maybe even a phone. Today is a public holiday - the day off to go with Handover Day, which fell on a Sunday this year - so I have a day to get adjusted and spend some time relaxing. And tomorrow morning, it's into the office for us, and the holiday ends.

It's shaping up to be a pretty good six weeks.

The Misadventures of Teale

This trip did NOT get off to a good start. Considering the circumstances - I needed to pack my entire apartment, decide what to bring and what to leave behind (and where to leave it), and run all of my pre-trip errands while still working full-time and saying goodbye to all of my friends - I suppose it was pretty obvious that not EVERYTHING could go smoothly, but I can always hope, right?

Sure, but apparently, it does little to no good. I managed to get everything taken care of, and Friday night (my flight out of DC was at 10:00 AM Saturday morning), after one last dinner with friends, I headed to the ATM to get some cash to travel with, looking forward to a full night's sleep before the trip. Alas, such was not to be - instead, I got to the ATM, pulled out my wallet, and discovered there was no ATM card to be found! Anyone who travels knows that a missing ATM card is a pretty big deal - there's something slightly unsettling about the idea of leaving the country without having access to my bank account, especially considering how long I'll be out of the country.

But I calmed myself down, and figured I'd just left it at home - after all, I'd changed purses that afternoon. But once I'd made it back to my clean/packed apartment, searched my other purse, clothes I'd been wearing the previous day, and anywhere else I could think of, panic started to set in. "Okay," I thought, "I'll just have to bite the bullet and order a new card."

I won't waste your time with the agonies involved in that - three hours and tons of phone calls later, I had the promise of a card being delivered to my Hong Kong residence on Tuesday, and another replacement being shipped to my secretary in DC, who could then use our inter-office "pouch" delivery system to get it over to me. My hero Ken Moon walked like a mile and a half at 12:30 at night to loan me some cash, to tide me over until one or the other card is delivered, and all was right with the world. I was ready to start my trip!

Of course, the transit wasn't great either - a two-hour delay due to a "conflict over Russian airspace" (coolest reason for a delay I've ever gotten!), and a kicking three-year-old and his airsick mother sitting behind me on the plane - but after my return trip from Nepal, which took 47 hours and included nine hours sitting on the tarmac in New York with nothing to eat but Worcestershire-flavored pretzels, other travel agonies have definitely been put into perspective. And finally, I arrived in Hong Kong! My driver was waiting outside of customs, and my adventure was off and running.

Five Days and Counting ...

Here I sit, in my Washington, DC apartment, 6.5 weeks into my summer job. I've been working as a "law clerk" (a.k.a. "summer associate") at a prestigious international law firm, which is, I've decided, the sweetest job in the world. Firms like mine hire most of their lawyers directly out of law school - laterals (attorneys with previous experience at other firms) are rarely hired, so those law students who want to work at firms hope and pray to get a good summer gig for their second summer of law school. Assuming all goes well, the summer ends with a full-time job offer, and at least those law students who intend to spend their lives in law firms are set.

Although I don't want to spend my life at a firm - I still have some of those pesky human rights interests preventing me from settling down - I would love a few years of experience, and so decided my 2L summer should be spent at a firm, if any would have me. I happened to be hired by the firm dubbed my "long shot" by my (oh so supportive) roommate when the interviewing process started, and I couldn't be happier. The work is mainly interesting, the people are great, and summer associates are treated like absolute royalty. The summer is mainly one big recruiting process, especially at my firm, where selective interviewing means the firm genuinely hopes that all summer associates accept full-time offers. Thus, to ensure we get an idea of what the firm is "really like" - and thus, whether or not we'll fit - socialization with associates is strongly encouraged. To that end, pretty much everything a summer associate does with a full-time associate can be billed to the firm, including decadent lunches every day and drinks out as often as we'd like. Further, the firm plans amazing events for the summers - and interested attorneys - including trips to the theatre, tours of the city on Segway scooters, and even a day spent learning to sail. In fact, just today, the firm rented out an entire country club for a "firm outing," to which all attorneys and staff members were invited.

By far the best perk, however, is the opportunity for summer associates to rotate through one of the firm's dozen or so foreign offices. Some are more or less popular than others, or have language requirements, or focus on one or another area of law. The upshot: different summers with different interests request different offices, and at least the DC office generally succeeds in placing all interested summers in a foreign office for a six-week rotation.

Anyone who knows anything about me clearly knows that I fall into the "interested summers" category. Because of my weakness in any relevant foreign language (I'm only even a little proficient in Spanish, but we have no offices in Spain), my options were somewhat restricted, but I got my first choice placement, for which I will be leaving this Saturday morning.

I am going to Hong Kong.

And I couldn't be more excited. My firm has arranged my housing, in a building of funky serviced apartments where I'll have satellite television in my shower and the best nightlife areas a brief walk or cab ride away. Both my apartment and my office are in Central, on Hong Kong Island, and I've even been told we'll probably take a day/weekend trip to nearby Macau. Hong Kong itself is a fascinating mix of commercial activity and traditions, and as far as I can tell, it will be more than sufficient to keep me busy for a month and a half. And, as if things weren't already sweet enough, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the fifth movie) will be released in Hong Kong simultaneous with the US release, so I'm not missing a thing!

Although I'll be significantly busier this summer than last - I now work for an employer that actually values my contribution (or at the very least, my potential future contribution) - I hope to keep this blog updated every few days, or at least with most of my stories. Much love to everyone, and wish me luck on this, my next grand adventure!

Day 9: Wedding Day #3

Now that Bishakha was married, the only thing left was to send her away, in a ceremony my friend Neema calls "the kiss and cry." Basically, everyone gathers in front of the house, and the groom's family comes and takes the bride away as her family stays there and watches. It doesn't sound fun, and it wasn't - Sandeep and Bishakha were taking a horse-drawn carriage to Sandeep's Grandmother's house, and the receding monsoon rains had softened the roads enough that they were delayed about a half-hour. All that time, Bishakha sat in a chair in front of her mother, father, and brother, who all tried very hard not to start crying. Her father (subtly) broke down a couple of times, but finally the carriages arrived, and the wedding procession paraded through the streets - the band, then the carriages, then a few cars following behind (Bishakha had said Bonu and I would ride in the carriages with her, but the driver absolutely refused, saying it was against tradition, so we took a dry, non-smelly car instead).

Once we arrived at Sandeep's home, there were a few more ceremonies - blessings aside, the best was a game between Bishakha and her mother in law. Both kneeled on the floor, on either sides of a huge bowl filled with some sort of grain, and a few tokens (money, coins, a ring) - the bowl was upended in a tray, and the two women fight to be the first to find these items. The tradition emerged as a way to determine which woman would be dominant in the household (since brides traditionally move in with the groom's parents); although it doesn't work that way anymore, I still rooted for Bishakha!

Afterwards, we were finally allowed to escape - Bishakha, Sandeep, Bhothu, Bonu and I went to relax in the newlywed's room for a few minutes. The festivities had even extended this far - the bed was decorated with garlands, and a heart of flowers on the bed cover was filled with the inscription "B + S". Sandeep was embarrassed, but he'd threatened to decorate all the cars in like fashion, so I think this was a fair compromise!

We had yet another reception, eating yet another buffet lunch in yet another tent, sitting on yet more folding chairs. Creepy uncle was still creepy, too, but I sat with Bishakha's father to deflect most of the creepiness. After the lunch, Bonu and I went to our separate homes, leaving Bishakha to her new life.

I had planned on getting some school work done that afternoon, assuming I'd be left alone, but I think Bishakha's parents were afraid that I would get bored or lonely, because I didn't get a moment of peace! Samar, the young cousin, came home with me, and we talked and watched TV for hours. Finally, he left and I got a bit of work done, but then Bhothu came over for awhile - we watched a movie, had a drink, and then he had to get home. As soon as he left, Bishakha's brother came up to see that I was okay, and find out what I wanted for breakfast the next morning. By then, it was almost 10 and nearing my bedtime, especially with a threatened power outage, and very little work had been done.

Giving up, I went downstairs to say goodnight to Bishakha's parents. Her father cried - this was a nightly ritual for Bishakha, their baby, and wouldn't be anymore - but they were happy to have me around (a poor substitute, it's true, but a substitute all the same!). Reassuring them that I had all of the company, food, drinks, and everything else I could possibly want, I headed back upstairs to get a good night's sleep.

Day 8: Wedding Day #2

Starting today, each morning for the rest of my trip dawned rainy, clearing up by late morning. According to Bishakha, these are the "receding monsoons," which are somehow different (less severe?) than regular monsoons; all I know is that rain on the wedding day was not, to me, a good sign. However, Bishakha's aunts told her that wedding-day rain is a good sign - hard to say if this is yet another tradition different from my own, or if it was just her aunts trying to make her feel better about having a rainy wedding day.

Today was the day for me to dress up. Bishakha was determined that I get the royal treatment, so we both had our hair done by a professional stylist who came to the house, one of Bishakha's friends did my make-up for me (after I put on eyeliner I considered "heavy" only to be asked if I was planning to put any eyeliner on ...), and I donned a gorgeous hand-embroidered sari Bishakha designed and ordered especially for me. I wasn't sure about the outfit - I was deathly afraid I would step on a hem and have it all fall off - but I certainly looked amazing by the time these people were done with me! These people know their stuff!

The formal "engagement" took place mid-day. As we put the finishing touches on the bride, suddenly, from Bishakha's room, we heard the sound of an approaching brass band - the groom-to-be was on his way! We ran downstairs to find the courtyard set up with throne-like chairs for Bishakha and Sandeep, and a huge audience waiting. Bonu, me and Bishakha's other friends gathered behind the bride-to-be, her "ladies in waiting," so to speak, and stood at attendance through the ceremony. Bishakha and Sandeep, decorated with garlands, sat and patiently (and nervously) listened to the chanting of the priest, never making eye contact. Finally, after about half an hour, the engagement was over, Sandeep and his band left, and us girls hurried back up stairs. Only a few hours before the wedding!

The intervening hours were spent eating, gossiping, and stressing, as I would imagine often happens immediately before a wedding. Finally, at the hour that had been deemed "auspicious" by priests comparing the star charts of the bride and groom, Sandeep's band (and Sandeep himself) approached again. Suddenly, people were pushing me towards the door - "You have to go downstairs!"

I got down to the first floor before I noticed that, instead of my embroidered red slippers, bought to match the sari, I was wearing fuzzy brown Pooh-bear slippers to keep my feet warm!! I ran back up to the bedroom, switched footwear, chastised the girls for letting me run out wearing those things, and then hurried back to the courtyard.

In place of the chairs was a couch, draped in a white sheet, on which Bishakha and Sandeep were meant to sit. Traditionally, this should be the wedding bed - in the post-wedding procession (day #3), it should be taken to the groom's home (where the bride and groom will live), having been appropriately blessed. However, the procession was going to Sandeep's Grandma's home, where the two were going to live temporarily while their new apartment was completed, and at any rate, the wedding bed had already been set up at the new place, so the couch was used as an acceptable substitute.

Again, there was an audience in the courtyard, but this time, the process was much more interactive. The main highlight of this part of the ceremony was a ritualistic foot-washing. Bishakha and Sandeep propped their feet over a large copper urn, and family members came up to wash the new couple's feet and give them their blessings. This took over an hour, as the family members just kept coming, but finally it was finished. (The mehendi is often put on feet as well as hands, but Bishakha had refused specifically because of this ceremony - she was worried it would wash off too quickly and her feet would just look dirty.)

After the foot-washing, the priests began (or continued) chanting, as Bonu and I leaned against the back of the couch and chatted. Suddenly, Sandeep turned around: "Don't touch the couch!!!" We both backed up, shocked and a bit nervous, and he explained that the incantations currently being chanted were meant to tie Bishakha and Sandeep together - via the couch - for seven lifetimes, and that if Bonu and I were too close to the couch, we too would be included in this cosmic connection!

Throughout the ceremony, people had trickled away, and finally the bride and groom (and Bonu and myself) were allowed to go get dinner as well. There was a band, dancing, and more delicious food, but we were only allowed to relax for a few minutes before being summoned back to the house - Bishakha and Sandeep had to get ready for the "real" wedding.

The next few hours consisted of the hard-core rituals, as Bishakha, Sandeep and two priests sat around a fire in the courtyard. The fire burned in a clay pit that had been built days earlier, and was surrounded by offerings of various sorts for the gods. Neither Bonu and I managed to stay awake through the entire process, but instead lasted until Bonu's favorite part of the ceremony. The bedsheet (earlier draped on the couch) was tied around Bishakha's waist, and Sandeep led her around the fire four times, performing specific blessings at specific points around the circuit. At the end, the sheet was held to Bishakha's forehead, and Sandeep put red powder in her hair, at her part, to symbolize the marriage (this symbol is one only married women may wear).

Finally, it was too much, and Bonu and I went upstairs to go to bed. Samar, Bishakha's little cousin, made a bed on the ground, and we all fell right asleep. Somewhere outside, the rituals went on.