Land Granny and her partner, the ‘Modest Heavenly Bureaucrat’

Looking as warm and caring as Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus, this pair of tiny gods can often be found around Hong Kong’s villages. I spotted this particular set at an altar beside the Tin Hua Temple in Lam Tsuen.

Initially, I simply assumed they were symbolic ancestral relatives used in a generic form of ancestor worship. A very silly assumption on my part! With more careful sleuthing, I’ve discovered that they are “Land Granny” (Tu Di Po/Tou Dei Po 土地婆) and “Earth God” (Tu Di Gong/Tou Dei Gung 土地公).

According to Wikipedia, Earth God was historically revered by common people who relied on the land for their livelihoods:

[He was] not all-powerful, but was a modest heavenly bureaucrat to whom individual villagers could turn in times of drought or famine.

So he is a simple celestial administrator; he can’t win wars, but he can make sure your agricultural balance sheet remains in the black. Beloved by many, the Earth God is often simply called “Ye ye” (grandpa).

His partner, Land Grandma, is often viewed as having a similar benevolent temperament, but is sometimes thought to negatively temper Earth God’s potential generosity. The particular representation of her above, however, looks like the archetype of a warm, loving and generous grandma and must represent the former, non-stingy, interpretation.

A Nuanced God of War

In the same area of Hong Kong’s New Territories, I passed by this jumble of roadside gods:

A partner-less Earth God can be seen on the right, but the scene is dominated by the red skinned “God of War” (Guan Yu/Gwaan Jyu/Kwuan Yu 关羽, 關羽 ). Having visited several temples at least partially dedicated to the “God of War,” I thought of him as a one-dimensional god of aggression. I was wrong again. Guan Yu was a real historical figure whose non-fiction life has morphed into a fictional tale of grandeur via the “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” where he stars in such stories as “Guan Yu crosses five passes and slays six generals” and “Guan Yu attends a banquet alone armed with only one blade.”

Symbolically, Guan Yu represents loyalty and righteousness. He is widely worshiped by the Hong Kong police force. Unexpectedly, but because he also represents the “code of brotherhood,” he is also widely revered by Hong Kong’s criminal underworld who respect him from an “honor among thieves” perspective.

Guan Yu, it turns out, is a character much more interesting than a bluntly violent action figure; he is a nuanced symbol of strength with honor.

The Goddess of Mercy and Possibly Air Travel

Near the old police station that now houses the Ping Shan Heritage Trail Visitor’s Centre, I spied a tiny “Goddess of Mercy” (Guan Yin/Gun Jam/Kwuan Yam 观音, 觀音 ) perched on a tree stump:

Guan Yin is a very widely worshipped bodhisattva who seems to have become all things to all people. The Goddess of Mercy provides compassion and unconditional love, protects women and children, champions the downtrodden, liberates souls from karmic woe, promotes fertility, aids fishermen, and may even protect air travelers.

The two small children who flank her hint at further interesting tales to be explored. They are two of her acolytes ”Dragon Girl” (Long Nü) and “Child of Wealth” (Shan Cai).

An utterly enormous version of Guan Yin is under construction in Tai Po district, but I prefer this modest tree stump representation.

*****

For now, I’ll conclude this random walk around the Chinese pantheon of gods.

Have I gotten something wrong? Please correct me. Do you have another interesting deity-related story to add? Please share it.

I heavily mined Wikipedia for this information. Let me know if you have a good book recommendation on this topic. Here are direct links to the relevant Wikipedia source articles:

Land Granny and Earth God

Guan Yu or God of War

Guan Yin or Goddess or Mercy

Feet and fingers aching from Beijing’s winter air, I once went in search of the Forbidden City’s much-maligned Starbucks. As a former “friends don’t let friends go to Starbucks” anti-corporate Seattle-dweller, I’d read all the tut-tutting over the cultural inappropriateness of the coffee chain’s location within China’s former Imperial Palace.

After a 2003 conference in Beijing, I took a few extra days to see the sights. In the heart of the city, I wandered solo through huge, impersonal expanses of crushed ice and snow. Entering the Forbidden City, I passed through an unending series of unheated squares, palaces, gardens and halls until my bones ached with cold. I needed something hot. I wanted a coffee. I remembered the newspaper articles about the out-of-place Starbucks and started looking for it. It was not in any of the obvious places I had already passed through. I started circling through side halls and garden corners.

I could not find it. Despite the hand-wringing over its location being an ugly mark on historic China, I could not find it.

With red cheeks and a running nose I called it quits and ducked into one of the many shops selling pots of instant noodles. It was warm-ish inside and the walls were lined with rows of Big Gulp-sized buckets of noodles. I chose the “red” flavor and a woman peeled back the top and filled it with hot water. Carrying it to a long communal table, I sat on a metal stool and waited for the boiling water to soften the noodles and shards of dehydrated carrots. It was filling and warming, but a soft chair, newspaper and hot coffee would have been nice.

After seven years in operation, the Forbidden City Starbucks branch closed in 2007 because of a disagreement with the landlord over branding. Despite leaving the Forbidden City, Starbucks has only kept expanding throughout China and there are currently over 3,000 branches in “greater China,” that is including Hong Kong, Macau and Taiwan.

Starbucks, unlike KFC or McDonald’s, tries to blend into the local area. For example, in Hangzhou last autumn I saw what is probably the most beautiful Starbucks in the world. Tucked away among the gardens and other tea houses, it’s a rather lovely sight:

Starbucks in Hangzhou, China

Starbucks sign “星巴克咖啡” (xīng bā kè kā fēi)

Starbucks is ever-keen to suit its products to the local market. Looking at the current seasonal offerings in China, one might wonder whether Starbucks is changing China or China is changing Starbucks:

Dragonboat Dumplings (screen shot from Starbucks China website)

Red Bean Green Tea Frappuccino (screen shot from Starbucks China website)

In Seattle, with its wealth of coffee shops, I’m still more likely to visit small stores like Herkimer or Fuel, but there have been many times in China, Macau and Hong Kong, when a soft chair and a Starbucks coffee have been exactly what I wanted. And from the growth figures, it’s exactly what many Chinese want too.

Since Chinese New Year, I’ve been studying Cantonese with a small group of beginners. Our class consists of a few Brits, a few Dutch, a token American (me) and a token Beijinger.

As our instructor has guided us through a check-list of basic topics — taxi directions, food, shopping, family relationships, the weather, colors, etc. — the more distractible and deviant members of the group have slowly collected enough Cantonese homonyms to devise a mini-tongue twister:

“九個膠狗够嘅 !” is pronounced like this in Cantonese: “Gau go gaau gau gau ge!” (with Jyupting tone markings: gau² go³ gaau¹ gau² gau³ ge³). The meaning of this tongue twister is: Nine plastic dogs are enough!

Sticklers, please forgive us, we’ve picked a generic and imprecise measure word for “dog” but we did it in keeping with the spirit of the tongue twister’s “g” sound. Are there other errors? Please let me know!

This side-game has firmly stuck six Cantonese words in my mind and (I think) helped me to understand one Cantonese final particle — ge — more clearly.

Here is another Cantonese tongue twister that fills in a few more Canto vocab blanks: Go go go go gou gwo go go go go (click through for Youtube video).

Neither of these short sentences, however, can match the famous Classical Chinese tongue twister, “Lion Eating Poet in the Stone Den,” which uses the sound “shi” and only the sound “shi” (with varying tones) for 10 straight lines of poetry.

《施氏食獅史》

石室詩士施氏，嗜獅，誓食十獅。
氏時時適市視獅。
十時，適十獅適市。
是時，適施氏適市。
氏視是十獅，恃矢勢，使是十獅逝世。
氏拾是十獅屍，適石室。
石室濕，氏使侍拭石室。
石室拭，氏始試食是十獅。
食時，始識是十獅屍，實十石獅屍。
試釋是事。

 ”Shī Shì shí shī shǐ”

Shíshì shīshì Shī Shì, shì shī, shì shí shí shī.
Shì shíshí shì shì shì shī.
Shí shí, shì shí shī shì shì.
Shì shí, shì Shī Shì shì shì.
Shì shì shì shí shī, shì shǐ shì, shǐ shì shí shī shìshì.
Shì shí shì shí shī shī, shì shíshì.
Shíshì shī, Shì shǐ shì shì shíshì.
Shíshì shì, Shì shǐ shì shí shì shí shī.
Shí shí, shǐ shí shì shí shī shī, shí shí shí shī shī.
Shì shì shì shì.

“Lion-Eating Poet in the Stone Den”

In a stone den was a poet called Shi, who was a lion addict, and had resolved to eat ten lions.
He often went to the market to look for lions.
At ten o’clock, ten lions had just arrived at the market.
At that time, Shi had just arrived at the market.
He saw those ten lions, and using his trusty arrows, caused the ten lions to die.
He brought the corpses of the ten lions to the stone den.
The stone den was damp. He asked his servants to wipe it.
After the stone den was wiped, he tried to eat those ten lions.
When he ate, he realized that these ten lions were in fact ten stone lion corpses.
Try to explain this matter.

Do you study languages? Any great tongue-twisters or word games to share? Do you think The Police tune, “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da,” was really just a secret Cantonese tongue twister?

Related posts:

My Cantonese is improving thanks to the NRA
My accidental Chinese language partner, the telemarketer
Getting into language character, or: I’ll wear a half-shirt if it will help my Chinese
Mini-bus language angst. To speak or not to speak…in Cantonese.
Milestones in a Foreign Language: “I went from talking like an evil baby to talking like a hillbilly”
Language Fails. My own failures of communication in French, Spanish, Mandarin and Cantonese.
China’s Pearl River Delta = Woe for the Chinese Language Student

A giant, inflated suckling pig lurks in the grass.

The heavy-hand of Hong Kong’s Leisure and Cultural Services Department (LCSD) stunts the enjoyment of many of the city’s public spaces. LCSD guards have told us we couldn’t “frolick”, lean over railings (to better view the fish pond), or even sip from a juice box at Nan Lian Gardens. They have warned us away from the edge of a turtle pond in Hong Kong Park. By observation, I have deduced that their general policy is to discourage all of the sorts of things kids like to do in public open spaces.

In striking contrast, the Moble M+ INFLATION! exhibit is a wonderland of freedom and bliss. At “Inflation!” the public is allowed to walk, skip or (even) run through what feels like a swiftly tidied up construction site — uneven surfaces(!), clumps of tall weedy grass (!), mud (!) — to see, touch and explore a series of huge, irreverent inflated sculptures.

Giant suckling pig

The “exit” to the suckling pig with the ICC as backdrop.

Half-buried human and cockroach

The real surprise highlight is what appears at a distance as simply an inflated Stonehenge replica.

But which turns out to be a massive “bouncy castle” that everyone can (and does!) jump on:

Old and young alike delight in running, jumping, sitting and falling all over the sculpture’s green, bouncy surface. It’s all smiles and just a few common sense restrictions:

The whole experience is unexpected, mind-freeing, and fun.

Go now, before a net of rules is thrown over the whole thing. It’s on through June 9th at the West Kowloon Cultural District (which, fortuitously, is not managed by LCSD).

]]> http://expatlingo.com/2013/04/28/buoyantly-free-in-rule-bound-hong-kong/feed/ 22 expatlingo A giant, inflated suckling pig lurks in the grass. No frolicking or running Hong Kong Park sign The giant suckling pig! The "exit" to the suckling pig! with the ICC as backdrop. Half-burried bodies and cockroaches! Jeremy Deller's "Sacrilege" Jeremy Deller's giant 'bouncy castle' Rule board at Inflation! http://expatlingo.com/2013/04/24/sorry-im-new-to-this-notices-for-novice-expats/ http://expatlingo.com/2013/04/24/sorry-im-new-to-this-notices-for-novice-expats/#comments Wed, 24 Apr 2013 05:27:24 +0000 expatlingo http://expatlingo.com/?p=3805 Keep reading →]]> On my first walk around Mainland China, I should have hung this apologetic public notice on a placard around my neck:

As a new pedestrian in China, I initially looked for official painted crosswalks, waited for the biggest gap in traffic I could see (because no one yielded voluntarily), and then ran across the road at an unpredictably jerky fast-slow pace. A practice no other road-users anticipated and which caused a lot of confusion and honking.

Fortunately, with a little observation, I soon got the knack of stepping out into the traffic-filled roadways, walking at a steady pace, and marveling as the cars predicted my path and opened gaps for me.

Why am I flashing-back to a time I should have notified others of my ‘novice’ status? It’s the fault of this cartoon man’s guilty, sweaty, stupid grin:

I pass this ‘new driver’ notice daily in the rear window of a white station wagon here in Hong Kong. He reminds me of my own red-faced — ‘sorry I didn’t realize…!’ — moments.

Thinking back, I can recall several times when a “sorry, I’m new here” notice could have been helpful. Here is but a small sample:

• Being ‘over-friendly’ during my first weeks of English life and attempting far too much eye-contact with neighbors and semi-strangers.
• Assuming that check-out clerks would bag my groceries in Holland.
• Thinking that any Hong Kong Island ‘red’ taxi would happily drive me to the middle of nowhere in the ‘New Territories.’

What about you? What mistakes have you made as a novice expat that could have been softened by an “I’m new to this” notice?

*****

Notes: For those who are hooked on Chinese, I translated the ‘new driver’ sticker into both Cantonese and Mandarin:

新手駕駛: Novice driver (In Cantonese: san¹ sau² gaa³ sai.² In simplified characters and Mandarin: 新手驾驶, xīn shŏu jià shĭ)

请多包涵: Please bear with me/I feel apologetic! (In Cantonese: cing² do¹ baau¹ haam⁴. In simplified characters and Mandarin: 请多包涵, qĭng duō bāo hán)

If censorship is a blunt tool used to sway public opinion, propaganda is its softer twin. As a long time watcher of North Korea’s (unintentionally) highly entertaining Korean Central News Agency of the DPRK (KCNA), I was treated to a hearty laugh in early April.

The KCNA’s news typically focuses on: commemorative wreath-laying events for Kim Jong Il and Kim Jong Sun; inflammatory bashing of the United States, South Korea and Japan; and, of course, on delusions about North Korea’s grandeur.

On April 8th, 2013 (or Juche 102 using the North Korean calendar), a particularly amusing story popped up about Kim Jong Un’s determination to:

 ”turn the beautiful country … into a splendid and highly civilized socialist fairyland and socialist land of bliss where the people’s ideals becomes a reality and they enjoy happiness.”

A completely insane aspiration and skewed view of North Korea’s potential given its present state of affairs. A “socialist fairyland” where millions of people do not have enough to eat…

Pondering Kim Jong Un’s delusions of grandeur, I am reminded of my own tendency to sanitize my expat experiences through selective Facebook propaganda. Viewed generously, expat life is full of travel, new experiences, foreign friends and funny anecdotes involving miscommunication with ‘the locals.’ I, for one, often leave out the true (and unfunny) negatives when talking about my own life abroad.

Here is a possible Facebook post of my own from May 2008, but with the negative subtext added:

Three months after this picture of me was taken, our daughter was twice hospitalized and we finally figured out why she was so ill: celiac disease. This discovery came after months of being told by her pediatrician overseas that she simply had one stomach illness after another and that it was all nothing to worry about. An American pediatrician finally figured it all out when we were on “home leave.”

One year after this picture was taken and after months of alternately thinking that we might move to Singapore/Hong Kong/Eindhoven/Seattle, we moved from China to Cambridge, England. Our expat life, despite what many might think, is not a case of being asked by “the company” to move to a new place. No, it is more a matter of my husband looking for a new job within his global company every two years.

I had been consumed with worry about both of these topics for months. Until it was all settled, however, I never shared a peep of true concern with anyone other than very, very close family.

Fortunately, unlike Kim Jong Un’s, my propaganda does not impair the lives of millions of people.

Hong Kong pro-democracy activist Martin Lee. (Photo, doctored by me, from Wikipedia Commons)

Sipping coffee and watching CNN in Mainland China, I would occasionally see the broadcast switch suddenly to an autumnal scene featuring a stream running through a golden, forested hillside.

Seconds later I’d go to my desk, fire up a VPN to skirt the Great Firewall of China and scan the international news sites to determine what news the Beijing censors found objectionable that morning.

Eerily, for a few seconds on Friday evening I thought that I had been transported out of Hong Kong, which maintains its own way of life and press freedoms, and back to Mainland China.

I was listening to a rather interesting but politically sensitive interview about the prospects for true universal suffrage in Hong Kong, as was promised in the handover agreement between the UK and China. The interview was with Martin Lee, founding chairman of the Democratic Party in Hong Kong and former Legislative Council member.

Near the end of the segment Mr. Lee was talking about the potential for a proposed pro-democracy protest to turn violent, but not violent because of the protestors themselves, but because of other forces. He said “But of course violence could be generated by certain people. I’d like to remind listeners what happened…” And then the interview was abruptly cut and the broadcast switched directly to another story.

Having lived in Mainland China and being a cynic, I thought he was about to reference Tiananmen Square, where a different peaceful protest for democracy turned violent due to the actions of the People’s Liberation Army at the direction of hardline Chinese leaders.

Of course, he may have been about to talk about some other event, but since the interview was abruptly cut, one can only imagine.

I can find no reference to this strange occurrence in the English Hong Kong media, but the podcast of that night’s interview is available on-line and I am able to confirm that the interview was clearly cut at a very odd moment.

The interview aired on RTHK Radio 3‘s program ”Newswrap” on Friday, April 12, 2013. The entire program can be listened to here. The Martin Lee interview segment begins at minute 13:16. These quotes start from minute 14:40. Bold emphasis, of the more interesting quotes, is my own.

Q: “…do you believe there will be universal suffrage in 2017?”

Lee: “Yes, if Beijing says yes. Very simple … Hong Kong people may still be allowed one-person, one-vote in the CE [Chief Executive] election in 2017. But they could only elect one out of two or three puppets pre-selected by Beijing. And that’s not election, because the Basic Law, Article 26 says very clearly that Hong Kong permanent residents have the right to elect and be elected. But this sort of thing will rule out more than half of the people of Hong Kong so that they could never become a candidate.”

Q: “So in other words there won’t be universal suffrage then?”

Lee: “Well [small chuckle] there will be universal suffrage with [unintelligible in podcast but in live broadcast he said "Chinese"] characteristics. You have one-person, one-vote, but you can only vote for one of their pre-selected candidates. That does not accord with international laws.”

Q: [Interviewer asks question about the proposed "Occupy Central" protest which would occur in 2014 if it seems likely that universal suffrage will not be achieved in the 2017 Chief Executive election.]

Lee: “It’s a last resort according to the organizers. And it will be a sad day for Hong Kong if we have to take this step because that will mean that Hong Kong people have completely lost confidence in the future and they are prepared, they are driven, to take the future in their own hands by sacrificing their own liberty…. So that’s a respectable thing. But Hong Kong people would not be driven to take this step if the Beijing leaders were to see that so far what is happening is not right. But they could easily change course. They [unintelligible].

Q: [Interviewer asks about concerns over Occupy Central leading to violence.]

Lee: “I think he [Lau Siu-kai] is right, but the fault would not come from the Pan Democrats or the people who actually participate in such an event because the organizers insist that everybody who participates must, must promise that it will be a peaceful demonstration. But of course violence could be generated by certain people. I’d like to remind listeners what happened… [broadcast of interview stops abruptly]

At  minute 17:21 the interview cuts directly to a story on the air bridge failure at Hong Kong’s Chek Lap Kok Airport. There is no customary closing “thank you” to mark the natural end of the interview.

Extremely unfortunate technical error? If you work for RTHK’s “Newswrap” do chime in. Regardless, the interview with Martin Lee is well-worth listening to for those interested in Hong Kong politics.

The pair of tan, sandal-clad travelers carried black backpacks slung over their shoulders. Onto each backpack they had hand-sewn small, but prominently placed, Canadian flags.

They spoke like Americans, they looked like Americans, but they did not want to be mistaken for actual fat, loud, gun-loving American heathens. They were Canadians* and they wanted everyone to know it.

As an American, if I felt compelled to display an instant-disclaimer, a sewn-on patch like the following would be required:

But instead, I’ll just proudly hold my family’s stack of American passports in every immigration line and try to demonstrate through my actions that many of us are not “Ugly Americans.”

*Or perhaps they were Americans who thought they’d receive better treatment from locals and fellow travelers alike, if they were thought to be Canadians. 

Post-script: Having just written this post in the morning, I spent the evening watching Argo, where Americans pose as Canadians to escape post-revolutionary Iran. It appears pretending to be Canadian can be frightfully useful!

Row of “reserved” but unused sunbeds

Absorbing stereotypes from the English. During the three years I spent in England, I sometimes listened to a call-in chat show on BBC Radio Cambridgeshire. It was the kind of local call-in show where folks talked about the weather, local festivals, and loose livestock. One morning, an hour was set aside to moan about summer holidays.

German occupation. A large portion of the moaning was devoted to complaining about Germans on the Mediterranean Coast waking up early and claiming all of the sunbeds with towels, books and hats. After marking their territory, I suppose the Germans wandered off to the breakfast buffet. Indulging in a few more stereotypes, I assume that this chain of events occurred because: (1) the British woke up late because they had to sleep off the previous day’s sunburn and night’s drinking; and (2) their unfailing politeness kept them from removing the items reserving the seats and simply throwing them into the sea.

Enter the Russians. Poking fun at Germans is a favorite English pastime, one fed by Monty Python (see for example either their “Mr. Hilter on Holiday“ or “The Funniest Joke in the World” sketches), but the callers that morning were ready to turn their holiday fury on a new group: the Russians. Not only did several callers agree that the Russians hogged up the sunbeds, but also that the Russians were so shockingly impolite (in the English callers’ opinions) that they would remove the Germans’ hats and books and take over their “reserved” sunbeds.

Prelude to sunbed wars? So I was delighted when upon entering the resort I heard English, German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Japanese being spoken by the guests. Would there be a World War III of sunbed occupation? I was further thrilled when I noted that the sunbeds had “polite reminders” in English and Russian that sunbeds should not be reserved:

Was this a tip-off that the emerging Russian stereotype was correct?

Our young children rise early, and therefore we were saved from the trauma of sunbed-less holidaying. But, as we sat pool-side slathering on sun block, we watched every morning as: (1) some people “reserved” sunbeds with copies of cheap paperbacks at around 8 am; and (2) some circled the pool in search of empty sunbeds at around 10 am.

I am (almost) sad to report that no one nationality dominated either group.

The Outliers. I did hear about one Chinese woman who went into total meltdown because she couldn’t secure a sunbed, but I didn’t see it with my own eyes (and once the day wore on, sunbed turnover was quite frequent, so I’m sure she swiftly found a pool chair). Also, I saw a pair white hats occupy two well-placed sunbeds for the entirety of one morning. Despite having my own chair, the passive-aggressive, naughty side of me was sorely tempted to remove the hats to the shrubbery, just to see what would happen.

Harmony Reigns. Schadenfreude be damned, the holiday-makers were mostly happy and no one nationality dominated in sunbed occupation. There was only harmonious, multi-cultural holiday-making for all and everyone was equally, but only very mildly, annoying.

Related posts:

Ugly American, Ugly Chinese: the tourist trap

Ten Tiny Tales from Chiang Mai, Thailand

冰水人: The loud American wants ice

2. Small children are highly portable, but very loud. You can check quite a few sight-seeing boxes while holding a six-year-old’s hand and carrying a 2-year-old on your back. Do take them to noisy places to help drown out the whining and screeching.

3. Both satisfying and head scratching wisdom can be found in sprinkled in the trees around Wat Phra Singh.

4. American tourists are more annoying than Chinese tourists. Or maybe it’s just that I understand every single trivial, annoying word that they say about the Green Bay Packers and the slivers stuck in their feet. (See these old posts for more background on the annoying tourist wars: Ugly American, Ugly Chinese: the tourist trap and Do expats judge their “own” more harshly?)

5. Tex-Mex should not be ordered outside of select destinations in North America. I’ve previously laughed at blue-cheese-filled enchiladas in Groningen, Netherlands. This trip I fooled myself into risking a Tex-Mex meal only to be presented with a plate of tacos covered in sweet vanilla yogurt. Because it’s the same thing as sour cream, right? Wrong. I have only myself to blame.

6. Tuk-tuk rides are thrilling. In our six-year-old’s estimation, tuk-tuk rides fall below swimming, but above elephants in the hierarchy of holiday highlights.

7. For the sub-three set, chasing pigeons trumps viewing ancient temples.

8. Thai massage in a mosquito-filled room is an agonizing tug-of-war between heaven and hell.

9. The groovy backpacker trek around South-East Asia is alive and well. As a former follower of the “banana-pancake-circuit” through the foothills of the Indian Himalayas, this trite sentiment seems to ring a bell.

10. There might be more Mandarin spoken in Chiang Mai than Hong Kong. We’ve seen a large number of Mandarin-speaking independent tourists in Chiang Mai. Is it all to do with the recent Chinese blockbuster comedy, “Lost in Thailand” (人再囧途之泰囧)? Regardless, it’s nice to see a shift in tourist faces.

Next up: Phuket. Will the Germans hog all the sun-loungers? Will Mainland Chinese — gasp – hang their laundry from the balcony and talk too loudly? Will Americans be overly familiar and talk too loudly?