Wow, it's been a while since I've written. Every time I tried to remind myself to write in my blog, I was always pushed back by the thought of not knowing where to start. So here it goes.
Shortly after I got back to the States I began my job search though websites like Career Builder and Monster.com. I soon discovered that many if not most of the applicable jobs that were listed were scams operating on pyramid schemes where the more people you recruit to work for you the more money you made. So, I decided to try my luck with some temp agencies. I worked as a pharmacy technician (fancy name for the person who puts pills in blister packs), as an assistant to a loan officer at JP Morgan, and also as a fact checker at a market research company. I ended up getting a full time job at the latter as a project manager.
The job has pretty much taken up most of my time since I started late January. There are ups and downs but I'm fairly content with where I am as of now. I can't say I love the work I'm doing but I do enjoy working with my co-workers which I've heard is probably more important that anything. I will post more work update in the future since it is what comprises most of my life.
I've lived at home for about 4 months now which is longer than I had previously though capable of doing. Two weeks was my record in the past. Initially I wanted to stay for a couple of years to help my family out with financial matters. After moving in, I changed that figure to a year and after these 4 months I'm not sure I can make it to even half a year. So my search goes on to find decent housing in NYC. I searched on Craigslist and found a few apartments that I went to check out one Sunday afternoon. The first appointment was a no show. The next one was a 100 sq. ft. studio in Midtown to share with this gay dude for $650; The room was semi divided with space for a small bed and a dresser. I basically got a corner of a room. The next was another studio on the west side to share with a "non-matriculated" student. It was a bit bigger and had a nice view of the Hudson but I still didn't think that it warranted the $800 rent. Then, I went to see a place to share with a room of my own in the Upper East Side. That was $1,200 for a tiny room with space to put a little desk. So this is what you get for that amount of money in NYC. I almost considered the $650 because it was the cheapest but I didn't go for it. All of them were nicely furnished. Living in NYC for at least a little while is just something I've always wanted to do so the search continues. If you know of anyone looking for a roommate, please contact me.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
A new year, a new resolution: 2007
"There are few things humans are more dedicated to than unhappiness. Had we been placed on earth by a malign creator for the exclusive purpose of suffering, we would have good reason to congratulate ourselves on our enthusiastic response to the task. Reasons to be inconsolable abound: the frailty of our bodies, the fickleness of love, the insincerities of social life, the compromises of friendship, the deadening effects of habit. In the face of such persistent ills, we might naturally expect that no event would be awaited with greater anticipation than the moment of our own extinction."
--Alain de Botton How Proust Can Change Your Life
I have been back home in America for nearly a month now and I must say it was one of the hardest months I've ever had the displeasure to endure. I had to leave Cheung Chau where I lived in a beautiful apartment located on a cliff overlooking the South China Sea, next to lush subtropical greenery, a beach a ten minute walk away, on a island with no cars, a short ferry ride to one of the most cosmopolitan, most advanced cities in the world, the lovely jewel of Asia called Hong Kong. I left the jet setting life style of traveling to several different countries a year. I was having afternoon tea at the Peninsula. I was scuba diving in the south of Thailand. I was seeing live music on the weekends or going out onto the mountains in Sai Kung for a Sunday afternoon hike. This was normal for me. Up until two weeks before my departure, I was completely fine with leaving all this behind and starting up yet another life back in New Jersey, the place I had never, even after four years living in Ohio for college and after another four years in China, stopped considering my home. But then the fear struck. Number one, I was leaving someone that I loved very dearly for the past four years behind in order to start a professional life in America, a life that I'd been planning since the day I stepped onto the plane to go to Asia. Was I doing the right thing? The week before my plane was to leave was so harrowing, I was so grief-stricken, I wept at least five times a day and was in constant emotional agony. The decision to leave was tormenting me inside and out. I showed classic signs of depression - feeling lethargic, not wanting to leave the apartment and having a lack of appetite, being hungry but not really having the desire to put something in my mouth, chew then swallow.
Once I got back home, the pressure on me was compounded by my family situation. My mother has for as long as I've known her has been mentally ill, my brother after he was terminated from his job more than a year ago started showing signs of the same mental illness, my grandmother was put in a nursing home after a stroke eight months ago, my father's finances are terrible with the possibility of losing the house (which is in complete disarray), my aunt was hit by a car and is now being harangued by the hospital for bills topping thousands of dollars, all this while I unsuccessfully looked for a job without any practical education or relevant experience. I didn't know many people in the area anymore either except some old high school friends who had their own lives now so I felt really completely isolated. It was then I looked to getting in touch with my spiritual side and picked up a book by the Dalai Lama called the Art of Happiness. After I finished it, I went to the library and got another book similar in content, and then another until I had almost read all the books on Buddhism in the local library. Since then, and I know this sounds so cliche, I can truly attest that I've become much more in tune with what is important in life.
I feel like this has been some forced spiritual retreat created to test how I would deal with a difficult situation but somehow I think it's worked. I feel like I've had an epiphany of sorts. I now know what my purpose in life is - to be compassionate towards all living things, to serve others and to experience happiness through this.
A few days ago, I went downtown to do some errands and to pick some things up one of which was for my grandmother in the nursing home - a bouquet of flowers which I thought had been missing from her bedside table. Now, I have no money except for a few hundred dollars in the bank and eighty in cash and I'm unemployed. But I was sure I wanted to spend the seven dollars on the flowers. After I cut the stems, placed the bouquet in a vase and set them down, she smiled and told me they looked really pretty. When I left, I caught a glimpse of her looking back at the flowers. Who could have thought that giving something could feel better than receiving?
Every decision I make, every thought I come up with, I try to do with the idea of being compassionate. I don't claim that I always succeed or that I'm always happy. That would mean that I've reached enlightenment which normally takes many lifetimes of rigorous meditation and prayer not a month of reading spirituality books. But I can say I feel more grounded whereas when I was away, I was swept away with the jet setting lifestyle of there always being something to do, somewhere to go or be, pleasurable experiences to take part in and in a way I used to think that this was living. It was fun but it's not necessarily the formula for happiness. I now know what my purpose is in life- to serve others. And if that means that I get trampled on, abused, insulted, embarrassed, pushed, I will not hit back but try to retain my compassion to those whose wish is to harm me. This is my vow for not only the the new year to come but for as long as I remain in this world.
"This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward people... re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss what insults your very soul, and your very flesh shall become a great poem." ---Walt Whitman
--Alain de Botton How Proust Can Change Your Life
I have been back home in America for nearly a month now and I must say it was one of the hardest months I've ever had the displeasure to endure. I had to leave Cheung Chau where I lived in a beautiful apartment located on a cliff overlooking the South China Sea, next to lush subtropical greenery, a beach a ten minute walk away, on a island with no cars, a short ferry ride to one of the most cosmopolitan, most advanced cities in the world, the lovely jewel of Asia called Hong Kong. I left the jet setting life style of traveling to several different countries a year. I was having afternoon tea at the Peninsula. I was scuba diving in the south of Thailand. I was seeing live music on the weekends or going out onto the mountains in Sai Kung for a Sunday afternoon hike. This was normal for me. Up until two weeks before my departure, I was completely fine with leaving all this behind and starting up yet another life back in New Jersey, the place I had never, even after four years living in Ohio for college and after another four years in China, stopped considering my home. But then the fear struck. Number one, I was leaving someone that I loved very dearly for the past four years behind in order to start a professional life in America, a life that I'd been planning since the day I stepped onto the plane to go to Asia. Was I doing the right thing? The week before my plane was to leave was so harrowing, I was so grief-stricken, I wept at least five times a day and was in constant emotional agony. The decision to leave was tormenting me inside and out. I showed classic signs of depression - feeling lethargic, not wanting to leave the apartment and having a lack of appetite, being hungry but not really having the desire to put something in my mouth, chew then swallow.
Once I got back home, the pressure on me was compounded by my family situation. My mother has for as long as I've known her has been mentally ill, my brother after he was terminated from his job more than a year ago started showing signs of the same mental illness, my grandmother was put in a nursing home after a stroke eight months ago, my father's finances are terrible with the possibility of losing the house (which is in complete disarray), my aunt was hit by a car and is now being harangued by the hospital for bills topping thousands of dollars, all this while I unsuccessfully looked for a job without any practical education or relevant experience. I didn't know many people in the area anymore either except some old high school friends who had their own lives now so I felt really completely isolated. It was then I looked to getting in touch with my spiritual side and picked up a book by the Dalai Lama called the Art of Happiness. After I finished it, I went to the library and got another book similar in content, and then another until I had almost read all the books on Buddhism in the local library. Since then, and I know this sounds so cliche, I can truly attest that I've become much more in tune with what is important in life.
I feel like this has been some forced spiritual retreat created to test how I would deal with a difficult situation but somehow I think it's worked. I feel like I've had an epiphany of sorts. I now know what my purpose in life is - to be compassionate towards all living things, to serve others and to experience happiness through this.
A few days ago, I went downtown to do some errands and to pick some things up one of which was for my grandmother in the nursing home - a bouquet of flowers which I thought had been missing from her bedside table. Now, I have no money except for a few hundred dollars in the bank and eighty in cash and I'm unemployed. But I was sure I wanted to spend the seven dollars on the flowers. After I cut the stems, placed the bouquet in a vase and set them down, she smiled and told me they looked really pretty. When I left, I caught a glimpse of her looking back at the flowers. Who could have thought that giving something could feel better than receiving?
Every decision I make, every thought I come up with, I try to do with the idea of being compassionate. I don't claim that I always succeed or that I'm always happy. That would mean that I've reached enlightenment which normally takes many lifetimes of rigorous meditation and prayer not a month of reading spirituality books. But I can say I feel more grounded whereas when I was away, I was swept away with the jet setting lifestyle of there always being something to do, somewhere to go or be, pleasurable experiences to take part in and in a way I used to think that this was living. It was fun but it's not necessarily the formula for happiness. I now know what my purpose is in life- to serve others. And if that means that I get trampled on, abused, insulted, embarrassed, pushed, I will not hit back but try to retain my compassion to those whose wish is to harm me. This is my vow for not only the the new year to come but for as long as I remain in this world.
"This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward people... re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss what insults your very soul, and your very flesh shall become a great poem." ---Walt Whitman
Friday, December 08, 2006
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
On the Road
I haven't posted for quite some time. I kept telling myself I would do it soon. Now that I've got absolutely nothing of any importance to do - no work, no school, no traveling, nor anyone to be a host to - here it is. What have I been up to lately you ask; well, I'd be happy to tell you.
- In October, I went camping along the MacLehose Trail in the New Territories. We hiked up Pat Sing Leng, one of the highest peaks in Hong Kong. Though, it wasn't what I'd expected. I wanted to see lush forest and clear running streams of mountain water but there wasn't much of that at all. What we did see was a lot of grass and lots of steps, lots and lots of stone steps. My legs were shaking uncontrollably by the end of it. The highlight of the trip was that I got to see a wild boar while hiking and some mischievous macaque monkeys who stole some food from other people at our campsite. Heh, Heh.
- A week after that, Malcolm treated me to afternoon tea at the most famous hotel in Hong Kong, that's right - The Peninsula. I withheld from eating that morning because I thought it would be an all you could eat buffet of finger foods and a choco fountain like at the Hyatt in Taipei. But it wasn't. I was most disappointed when our server placed an elaborately decorated silver three-tier tray in front of us with four finger sandwiches and about six pastries and didn't refill it after we inhaled them within seconds. Still ravenous afterwards we went to Chungking Mansions to fill up on some cheap Indian samosas and snacks.
- The next weekend, we did some snorkeling at Hoi Ha Wan near Plover Clove in the New Territories. The water up north is much cleaner and the visibility is good because the waters don't get muddied by the Pearl River Delta like in the south. I never knew that I could find such rich coral life in Hong Kong. I recommend this area to anyone who wants to have some inexpensive fun outside the city.
- I also took a day trip out to Tai O with Jenn. Who would have thought, we'd leave our fishing village on Cheung Chau to tour another fishing village two hours away. I would describe it as Cheung Chau's less developed sister. The water surrounding the village isn't too clean, the sewage system isn't up to date and there wasn't very much to see, a few temples, some old streets, nothing I haven't seen before.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Monday, September 04, 2006
Moving On
The hectic summer schedule has finally ended and with the end of the summer came the end of my contract; I put in my letter of resignation more than two months earlier which means I am no longer a teacher of English to non-native speakers which means no more obnoxious little brats I've got to discipline, no more tedious lesson plans I have to prepare, and the best part of all no more prick of a boss I have to deal with. Hooray!
In celebration of this momentous event I went out for a scrumptious buffet lunch on Saturday and on Sunday I did what I'd always thought about doing but was to scared to attempt, I shaved my head. And it feels great, let me tell ya! It's so much cooler in the hot and humid climate of Hong Kong. I don't have to shampoo and condition my hair in the shower, I can use soap, don't have to comb it nor blow dry it or wait for it to air dry it before I go to sleep, it only takes one wipe of a towel. It's so effortless that I now can't believe how much time we women spend on our hair in a lifetime compared to our short-haired male counterparts.
One reason I chose this particular time to experiment with an altogether different hairdo (lack of hairdo?) was that I am temporarily leaving the workforce to study Cantonese five days a week for the next two months and then traveling to Southeast Asia the following month before heading back home to Jersey for good. By then, hopefully my hair will have grown to a reasonably acceptable length to land a decent job. The main reason I was reluctant to cut my hair short before was because I thought it would influence my job prospects which I now know after working for some of the most discriminatory people I've ever had the misfortune to meet to be true.
The things that I heard coming out of my co-workers' mouths about the job applicants that were to replace me were disgusting enough to make me want to vomit. And they weren't just racist comments but ageist, sexist, discriminatory against people who were over-weight, pretty much anyone who didn't fit the young, thin, Anglo-looking woman was ridiculed. That they shared their opinions with me I thought was really curious since I of course do not fit their ideal appearance of a teacher. They had known that my last day would be August 31st and by the time I left, they had still not found a teacher because they had rejected so many resumes on account of the applicant's heritage or sometimes even because the person had a foreign sounding name even though their nationality may have been from English speaking nation.
They had considered a former hairdresser with no experience teaching over a Mexican-American male named Sal with a BA in child development. It was baffling. Stephen, the center's self proclaimed "principal", interrupted my class to ask whether the name Sal was a man or a women's name. (They believed that men would not be able to teach kindergarten.) When I asked Candy, the assistant what she thought of Sal after his interview, her face contorted into an ugly expression when she commented, "He look... no good." "Oh, you mean he's ugly?" "No, look Pakistani or something..." "Ah, huh... I see..." And that was the end of that conversation.
But, now it's all over and I don't have to worry about any of that anymore. I'll be getting up tomorrow at 6:30 (I hope) bright and shine for my 9:00 Cantonese class in Wan Chai. Hope all goes well.
In celebration of this momentous event I went out for a scrumptious buffet lunch on Saturday and on Sunday I did what I'd always thought about doing but was to scared to attempt, I shaved my head. And it feels great, let me tell ya! It's so much cooler in the hot and humid climate of Hong Kong. I don't have to shampoo and condition my hair in the shower, I can use soap, don't have to comb it nor blow dry it or wait for it to air dry it before I go to sleep, it only takes one wipe of a towel. It's so effortless that I now can't believe how much time we women spend on our hair in a lifetime compared to our short-haired male counterparts.
One reason I chose this particular time to experiment with an altogether different hairdo (lack of hairdo?) was that I am temporarily leaving the workforce to study Cantonese five days a week for the next two months and then traveling to Southeast Asia the following month before heading back home to Jersey for good. By then, hopefully my hair will have grown to a reasonably acceptable length to land a decent job. The main reason I was reluctant to cut my hair short before was because I thought it would influence my job prospects which I now know after working for some of the most discriminatory people I've ever had the misfortune to meet to be true.
The things that I heard coming out of my co-workers' mouths about the job applicants that were to replace me were disgusting enough to make me want to vomit. And they weren't just racist comments but ageist, sexist, discriminatory against people who were over-weight, pretty much anyone who didn't fit the young, thin, Anglo-looking woman was ridiculed. That they shared their opinions with me I thought was really curious since I of course do not fit their ideal appearance of a teacher. They had known that my last day would be August 31st and by the time I left, they had still not found a teacher because they had rejected so many resumes on account of the applicant's heritage or sometimes even because the person had a foreign sounding name even though their nationality may have been from English speaking nation.
They had considered a former hairdresser with no experience teaching over a Mexican-American male named Sal with a BA in child development. It was baffling. Stephen, the center's self proclaimed "principal", interrupted my class to ask whether the name Sal was a man or a women's name. (They believed that men would not be able to teach kindergarten.) When I asked Candy, the assistant what she thought of Sal after his interview, her face contorted into an ugly expression when she commented, "He look... no good." "Oh, you mean he's ugly?" "No, look Pakistani or something..." "Ah, huh... I see..." And that was the end of that conversation.
But, now it's all over and I don't have to worry about any of that anymore. I'll be getting up tomorrow at 6:30 (I hope) bright and shine for my 9:00 Cantonese class in Wan Chai. Hope all goes well.
Friday, August 04, 2006
I walk alone
I remember a while back when I was living in Taiwan, a friend asked me if I would ever go to a restaurant by myself. I replied with a question, "Why would I do that? Maybe a take out joint or a cafeteria but a nice restaurant, no." That was some time ago. I've traveled much more. I lived in more places. I've eaten in many more restaurants. Somehow, somewhere in the time period between that moment and now, the fear of being alone for long stretches of time has diminished. I'm not saying that it is not present at times, just that my tolerance for being alone has grown.
When I first got here on this island and didn't know anyone, the loneliness was nearly unbearable. I had two coworkers, my manager from HK and an English fellow who grew up on the island, one grumpy family friend who I didn't get along with, and a village people who didn't speak a lick of English. What was I to do?
One day, I reached my breaking point. I had found out where the local expat pub was located and was determined to speak English to whoever foreign person I could find. Sure enough there was a group of them sitting outside, Mick an older Brit who had been on the island for 25 years, Nick an unemployed writer, Will an American in his 30's and his Asian girlfriend. Now, I wouldn't have normally associated myself with some strangers in a bar, but I was desperate. The pool of people in Asia that you can carry a conversation with is much smaller so one can't be too picky when choosing who to talk to. Anyway, we talked about various subjects in HK like job seeking and housing, the normal things people talk about when first arriving in a new city. Will and I started on the topic of Taiwan where we had both once lived. Then I think his girlfriend started to become jealous so the two of them start making out right at the table in front of everyone. It was the strangest thing and no one else seemed to blink an eye. That was about eight months ago. I haven't been back since nor have I had the desire to.
I had learned to occupy my time with a lot of hiking around the island and always I wanted to share this time up in the mountains or near the ocean with someone else because it was simply so beautiful that it would be impossible to explain it in words or capture it in a photo. Then last week I was on one of these walks exploring more of the village wishing someone was there so we could talk about these new places and then it struck me. Wait a minute, if I were with someone else, I wouldn't be able to go where I wanted. Every time I'm with someone else, we've got to ask each other where to go next, to go straight ahead or make the next left, when to head back or to keep going. There is always a slight concern for the other person and it's always a compromise when being with someone else. Being with another would take the freedom, the joy out of wandering around and discovering new niches in an unknown territory. That freedom is what I love about traveling. It is my passion.
Not to say that I like being by myself all the time but now if that friend asked me the same question of whether or not I would eat in a nice restaurant alone, I would think nothing of it. Would I go on vacation by myself? Sure, if safety or money wasn't an issue. I might even prefer it.
I'll end this entry with a haiku for today.
Alone I am now
Tranquil silence surrounds me
Yet I am at peace
When I first got here on this island and didn't know anyone, the loneliness was nearly unbearable. I had two coworkers, my manager from HK and an English fellow who grew up on the island, one grumpy family friend who I didn't get along with, and a village people who didn't speak a lick of English. What was I to do?
One day, I reached my breaking point. I had found out where the local expat pub was located and was determined to speak English to whoever foreign person I could find. Sure enough there was a group of them sitting outside, Mick an older Brit who had been on the island for 25 years, Nick an unemployed writer, Will an American in his 30's and his Asian girlfriend. Now, I wouldn't have normally associated myself with some strangers in a bar, but I was desperate. The pool of people in Asia that you can carry a conversation with is much smaller so one can't be too picky when choosing who to talk to. Anyway, we talked about various subjects in HK like job seeking and housing, the normal things people talk about when first arriving in a new city. Will and I started on the topic of Taiwan where we had both once lived. Then I think his girlfriend started to become jealous so the two of them start making out right at the table in front of everyone. It was the strangest thing and no one else seemed to blink an eye. That was about eight months ago. I haven't been back since nor have I had the desire to.
I had learned to occupy my time with a lot of hiking around the island and always I wanted to share this time up in the mountains or near the ocean with someone else because it was simply so beautiful that it would be impossible to explain it in words or capture it in a photo. Then last week I was on one of these walks exploring more of the village wishing someone was there so we could talk about these new places and then it struck me. Wait a minute, if I were with someone else, I wouldn't be able to go where I wanted. Every time I'm with someone else, we've got to ask each other where to go next, to go straight ahead or make the next left, when to head back or to keep going. There is always a slight concern for the other person and it's always a compromise when being with someone else. Being with another would take the freedom, the joy out of wandering around and discovering new niches in an unknown territory. That freedom is what I love about traveling. It is my passion.
Not to say that I like being by myself all the time but now if that friend asked me the same question of whether or not I would eat in a nice restaurant alone, I would think nothing of it. Would I go on vacation by myself? Sure, if safety or money wasn't an issue. I might even prefer it.
I'll end this entry with a haiku for today.
Alone I am now
Tranquil silence surrounds me
Yet I am at peace
Friday, July 14, 2006
The road to financial freedom
I wish I could frame this and put it on my wall. I AM FINALLY DONE PAYING OFF MY STUDENT LOAN! WOOHOOOOOO! It's been a long four years but I can safely say that I am now debt free. Life is good.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Racism in Asia (cont...)
Check out this article I found from the South China Morning Post.
http://www.bigenglish.com/imgs/14jan.news.jpg
http://www.bigenglish.com/imgs/14jan.news.jpg
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Racism in Asia - An Anti-Asian American Sentiment in Hong Kong
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I've never been subjected to such racism as I have been here in Hong Kong and Taiwan. Back home I would occasionally get the "You speak English good. Where're you from?" comment every now and then but I don't believe that I'd ever failed to accomplish what I set out to do on account of my Asian face.
The common word for foreigner here is gwai lo which literally means something like devil man. My manager referred to me as one when I ordered some sweet and sour pork. First of all, last time I checked, I'm not a man, nor am I a devil. Please don't tell me I am.
Months before I arrived in Hong Kong, I sent my resume to dozens of schools looking for a teaching position. Almost none replied. I figured they didn't want to hire someone out of the country. Fair enough. Then, I got one phone call, an interested party, no doubt. We talked several times and just as I was sure I'd clinched the job, she asked if I was Chinese. I said, "What? No, I'm American." "Yes but do you have black hair? Your name is Chinese." "My parents are from Hong Kong but I was born and raised in the States." "I'm afraid we can't hire you because the immigration department may not issue a visa to you because you have a Chinese last name and they would rather give the visa to a foreigner." I just about blew my top. It was a good thing I was at the gym because I really wanted to hit somebody.
When I first got here, I interviewed with this company called New Horizons, which incidentally Malcolm is now working for. The man who I interviewed with, an Aussie, was really nice. He showed me around, answered any questions I had about living in Hong Kong. Then, he started going into who applies for this job. They get tons of resumes from abroad, which they don't even look at because those applicants simply can't be trusted. They get people from different fields like business, CIS, English, and so on. Asian people who were born and bred from an English speaking country. They may be considered. And a lot of people of Indian descent who come in with perhaps perfect English but don't hire because the market doesn't want Indian people to teach English. Hm, I see. So this company hires only white people. Needless to say, I didn't get the job.
The latest insult to indirectly affect me was when my co-worker designed the current newsletter for our English school. On the cover were two pictures. One of him and his class (he is caucasian) and another white teacher and her class in my classroom. There are only two teachers at our school - him and me. Who the f#@k this other white chick? It is so blatantly offensive that when I saw it, I laughed. It turns out that she was a former teacher though she had not worked there for almost a year. If this had happened back home, I could sue the asses off of this school.
I like it here, Hong Kong. It's a beautiful city. But the longer I stay here, the stronger the pull grows to go back home.
The common word for foreigner here is gwai lo which literally means something like devil man. My manager referred to me as one when I ordered some sweet and sour pork. First of all, last time I checked, I'm not a man, nor am I a devil. Please don't tell me I am.
Months before I arrived in Hong Kong, I sent my resume to dozens of schools looking for a teaching position. Almost none replied. I figured they didn't want to hire someone out of the country. Fair enough. Then, I got one phone call, an interested party, no doubt. We talked several times and just as I was sure I'd clinched the job, she asked if I was Chinese. I said, "What? No, I'm American." "Yes but do you have black hair? Your name is Chinese." "My parents are from Hong Kong but I was born and raised in the States." "I'm afraid we can't hire you because the immigration department may not issue a visa to you because you have a Chinese last name and they would rather give the visa to a foreigner." I just about blew my top. It was a good thing I was at the gym because I really wanted to hit somebody.
When I first got here, I interviewed with this company called New Horizons, which incidentally Malcolm is now working for. The man who I interviewed with, an Aussie, was really nice. He showed me around, answered any questions I had about living in Hong Kong. Then, he started going into who applies for this job. They get tons of resumes from abroad, which they don't even look at because those applicants simply can't be trusted. They get people from different fields like business, CIS, English, and so on. Asian people who were born and bred from an English speaking country. They may be considered. And a lot of people of Indian descent who come in with perhaps perfect English but don't hire because the market doesn't want Indian people to teach English. Hm, I see. So this company hires only white people. Needless to say, I didn't get the job.
The latest insult to indirectly affect me was when my co-worker designed the current newsletter for our English school. On the cover were two pictures. One of him and his class (he is caucasian) and another white teacher and her class in my classroom. There are only two teachers at our school - him and me. Who the f#@k this other white chick? It is so blatantly offensive that when I saw it, I laughed. It turns out that she was a former teacher though she had not worked there for almost a year. If this had happened back home, I could sue the asses off of this school.
I like it here, Hong Kong. It's a beautiful city. But the longer I stay here, the stronger the pull grows to go back home.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
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