Tag Archives: Cambridge

The unexpected joy of driving in Hong Kong

Posted by expatlingo in expat life, Hong Kong and tagged with , , , , , , , , ,

Don’t snort out your coffee in disbelief, before noting that I live in Hong Kong’s relatively rural New Territories.

I haven’t felt so free behind the wheel of a car since I left Utah, USA and its wide, open freeways 15 years ago. As a new driver there, I adored driving my ancient, yellow beetle up and down I-15 with my window rolled down, waiting for good songs to pop up on X96 FM. My left arm was tanned all summer.

Then I left Utah and forgot that driving can actually be a pleasure.

Until now.

I drive in Hong Kong and I love it. Music playing, sunroof open, kids in the backseat, we curve up and down Route 9 and enjoy the freedom of getting places quickly on open, off-peak-hour roads.

Do I feel like a former bike-riding, environmentalist hypocrite? Only a wee bit and mainly because I don’t really drive that much here. But when I do, really, really like it. I barely dare to admit this.

But I said it. Under the right conditions, driving feels good. Like a drug.

So how have I gotten around the last 15 years with minimal (and really only un-fun driving)? The break-down:

Seattle: I lived in-town and took the bus downtown to work. I learned to avoid the 358 (too many drunks and/or unstable people at any time of day) in favor of the 5 Express (mostly others like me with headphones on, ignoring each other). Driving, when I did it, was mainly within the city, with lots of stopping and starting, searching for parking, traffic jams, etc. Even when we left the city for the weekend, we almost always got stuck in a massive Sunday evening traffic jam as all the other hikers, skiers and campers tried to get back home too.

Zhuhai, China: I never bothered to get a license, never drove, and took insane taxi rides everywhere.

Cambridge, UK: Rode my beloved Dutch “bakfiets” bike and loved it. Flat, open and free, but on a bike. My range was limited, but I built my life around that. I did have a UK driving license, but there was absolutely no joy in driving there, as I was alternately terrified of side-swiping cars on tiny streets or stuck in a traffic jam on the motorway.

Here in Hong Kong: Yes, I can take the neighborhood mini-bus to the MTR station and take the train. It’s a schlep and takes 45 minutes to make a journey that takes 10 in the car. I do it when I’m going to Kowloon or Central sans kids when I can listen to my i-Pod and people-watch.

But if I need to dash someplace, I drive. And like the red-blooded, Western-state American I am, I love it.

There I said it. Driving in Hong Kong is my dirty vice.

My favorite stretch of road: The slopping curve of highway that passes through Ma On Shan if you’re driving back from an afternoon in Sai Kung at sunset. Steep, green mountains on one side and tall apartment blocks on the other with a view of the water.

Goodbye England: 10 quirky things that I love about you

Posted by expatlingo in Britain and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Three years in Cambridge are at an end and we’re soon back to China’s Pearl River Delta. To celebrate this milestone, I’ve pulled together a list of 10 endearing English oddities.

Warts and all, I love that the English:

1. Are happy to watch “Lambing Live.” Several Aprils ago I stumbled upon a broadcast of a lamb being born. Jolly English commentators stood by in wellie boots chatting with a farmer. Odd, but I was even more astounded to see that the program was live and was broadcast for two hours during prime time every weeknight for a full week. They must have spent a lot of time waiting and chatting about which ewes were showing signs of imminent labor. Did I mention this was on BBC Two, a major channel, not just something way up the cable dial?

Sharing a "cuppa" with a robber in "Mog the Forgetful Cat."

2. Teach their young the importance of a good cup of tea through children’s literature. For example, the classic, “Mog the Forgetful Cat” features a scene with a robber, who has just been caught stealing the silver, sharing a cup of tea with the victimized family, still in their nightclothes. Every visitor, even burglars, must be offered a proper cup of tea!

For more on tea, see also the following classics: “The Tiger Who Came to Tea,” “Mr Gumpy’s Outing“, “Meg and Mog” (several), “Winnie the Pooh”  ”The Green Ship“, etc., etc.

3. Feel very separate from “Europe.” As an American, I’d previously made the mistake of lumping Britain together with “Europe.” I’ve since learned that they view themselves as quite separate from Europe. You know, because they’re on this island way over here across the English Channel.

Downton Abbey

4. Are taken far too seriously by Americans simply because of their accents. I missed Downton Abbey on ITV in England and am playing catch-up via my American iTunes account. This means that each episode is packaged for an American audience by PBS’s “Masterpiece Classics.” The packaging is complete with lofty soundtrack, flipping book pages, and a serious announcement that this is a presentation of “Masterpiece Classics.” The audience is being told that it is about to watch something refined, high-brown, and artistic. Fancy period clothes, English accents and an “upstairs-downstairs” storyline means the American audience must be sufficiently impressed and in awe.

Too bad ITV is not BBC Four and Downton Abbey is essentially a soap opera in period costume with posh English accents. It’s good TV, but it’s not fancy. Naysayers, come on, the second season even had an “amnesia” storyline.

5. Must be very good at budgeting. When I look at prices in pounds and consider them 1:1 as dollars, then prices seem reasonable. Twelve for a paperback book, three for a latte, ten for a plate of pasta. Then I do the math and realize that it is really the equivalent of eighteen dollars, five dollars and fifteen dollars. Plus 20% VAT. My hats off to you for making ends meet.

English fondness for patterns: "Cath Kidston" bowl and bag with "Laura Seaby" tea towel.

6. Have a special fondness for patterns. Patterns on curtains, patterns on throw pillows, patterns on bags, patterns on wallpaper, patterns on tablecloths, patterns on sofas. I was stared at with shock when I said I hadn’t heard of “Cath Kidston,” the famous pattern designer.

7. Love privacy. Every house has a hedge, fence, or some other “screen” in front of it. Privacy is paramount. In America, unless you have a dog or live on a very busy street, putting up a fence in your front yard is viewed as a bit unfriendly. But it’s really the thing to do in England, with a hedge being preferable.

8. Live with contradictions, including serious invasions of privacy. They love privacy and yet CCTV cameras are everywhere. See for example, this strung together set of CCTV clips following a very, very drunk man on his walk home from the bar.

9. Think America = NYC + Orlando. Being from the West Coast of America, I’d never actually viewed the States at such an odd and narrow angle before. I’ve also heard radio commentators refer to American cities as generally “grim” on several occasions. So perhaps America is NYC, Orlando, Detroit and small bits of LA? Oh, and they will also occasionally talk about the South, mainly for the opportunity to poke fun at Southerners. See for example this Top Gear Special or Jamie’s Food Revolution. England, may I introduce you to Seattle, Portland and other great gorgeous swaths of the American West.

10. Like the BBC to guide their day. BBC Radio Four’s “Women’s Hour” starts at 10 am: time for ironing. Ceebebies (BBC for the under 8s) goes off air at 7 pm: children’s bedtime. The credits just rolled on EastEnders (serial drama): time to “put the kettle on.” The National Grid actually has to make special plans for the huge spike in electricity demand at precisely this time: “No other country in the world switches on so many kettles at the same time.” You can see a clip of the National Grid meeting this EastEnders-electricity-demand-spike here.

England: you will be missed! Thank god that, even in Hong Kong, I’ll still be able to ponder the strangeness of Marks and Spencer which simultaneously sells some of the poshest food and dowdiest clothes.

I thought it would be different (mis-anticipating destinations)

Posted by expatlingo in Britain, China, expat life, India, places, travel and tagged with , , , , , , , , , ,

I once spoke to a woman who was moving to Layton, Utah from someplace in the east of America. She looked at the map, saw the giant lake (“The Great Salt Lake”) and thought that Layton would be delightful because it’s right there on the edge of that big lake.

The Great Salt Lake, is, as it sounds, a giant salt water lake. While it can be lovely from a distance and sunsets across it are startlingly beautiful, go anywhere near the shores and you are accosted by brine flies and the smell of dying brine shrimp. It is not a recreational lake. I still wonder what that woman thought when she finally arrived in Layton, Utah. I hope she took up skiing or mountain biking.

Both for the better and the worse, here are some of my own top wrong guesses:

For a moment, Europe was just as anticipated cow bells and all.

“Europe” is a muesli commercial. Before embarking on my youthful, cheap backpacking trip around Europe many years ago, I think my expectation was something like green hills, ancient cobbled villages, and young blond women with braids. Basically some muesli commercial I’d seen on TV. I did see plenty of “quaint” that trip, but I was also surprised to see that so much of Euopre is, like America, roads, big stores, and teenagers acting cool.

India: completely overwhelming

India is a romantic National Geographic spread. When I did the bigger, longer, even cheaper backpack around India, I thought, hey, maybe it will also be more like home than I anticipate, but with pretty saris and spicy food. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I have never been anywhere more different in all conceivable ways: showing your midriff is fine but don’t show your ankles or you’ll but called a slut on the street by a 10-year-old; take jam-packed, sweaty, smelly, buses and trains; haggle over everything until your head hurts and you’re afraid to go out again; look out from the never-ending bus ride at a countryside from 200 years ago; become terribly, terribly ill. Thirteen, mostly work-related trips later, I have learned to accept and enjoy India, but it is no less overwhelming and I know I will only ever understand it’s barest edges.

Perfect road in Zhuhai, China

China is an unknowable, frightening place. By the time I knew we were moving to China, I was relatively world-weary. I braced myself for the worst and was very surprised to find it easy. Hey, the taxi drivers use their meters! I can walk on the street as an individual woman and be left alone! I haven’t gotten ill from food! The roads are so wide and look ladies in straw hats are sweeping them! My expectations were so low, that I could only have been delighted (plus I moved to the relatively easy city of Zhuhai).

Australia is “Crocodile Dundee.” No. It’s almost exactly like Northern California (well at least the stretch from Sydney to Melbourne). Beautiful, dramatic coastline, wineries, laid back, beaches, etc.

Cambridge (UK) is just like college towns I know. To me, universities are open, welcoming places of learning. Fancy an afternoon using the library as a second office even though you’re not a student? Fine, no one cares. Wander wherever you like without question and lounge on the green lawns? Also fine and normal. Neither of these things are fine and normal in Cambridge and everyone cares very much if you try to do either of them. Colleges are guarded with big, imposing, wooden doors and stern porters. Don’t even think about asking to enter a library, well except the Wren Library and then only a few hours a day to see the original Winnie the Pooh book and you’d better be absolutely silent. And never, never walk on the college lawns, unless you want to be made to feel like a naughty child.

Joseph Needham: lover of China, women, fast cars and Morris Dancing

Posted by expatlingo in Britain, China, read and tagged with , , , , , , ,

Needham in China during WWII. (Care of NRI. Non-commercial use.)

I had not heard of China-hand Joseph Needham until, direct from China, I moved into his former house in Cambridge. Needham lived in this house for decades with his wife, Dorothy. At some point, his long-time paramour bought a house just around the corner (he and Dorothy at #1 and Lu Gwei-Dje at #28). The three were apparently rather open-minded.

Needham was a biochemist who shifted fields mid-course to obsessively study, research and record the history of science in China. He was the one who learned that the Chinese knew just about everything (gunpowder, printing, navigation, etc.) before the West did. His life-long curiosity was why China seemed to stop making technological advances as the West raced on. This question itself became known as “The Needham Question.”

“Attractive woman on a boat.” Needham WWII photo. (Care of NRI. Non-commercial use.)

Needham started his research on China in the midst of World War II, when Japanese occupation had plunged the country into utter turmoil. The Needham Research Institute (NRI) has made Needham’s wartime photographs available on-line here. Do note how the pictures of machinery and universities are interspersed every so often with a picture of a randomly spotted lovely young woman.

For more on Needham, and his many idiosyncrasies, pick up Simon Winchester’s book, alternately known as “Bomb, Book and Compass: Joseph Needham and the Great Secrets of China” (in the UK)  or “The Man Who Loved China: The Fantastic Story of the Eccentric Scientist Who Unlocked the Mysteries of the Middle Kingdom” (in the US).

Needham WWII Photo in China. (Care of NRI. Non-Commercial Use.)

Needham’s is a great story and there are plenty of nice anecdotes and interesting tidbits in Winchester’s book. One does wonder, however, if Needham’s story would have been even better told by Peter Hessler, who is such an interesting China-watcher and entertaining storyteller.

Needham’s master work itself is the twenty-seven volume, “Science and Civilization in China.”

(One final aside: somewhat eerily, I read about the death of Dorothy Needham in the room where she actually died. Despite not being superstitious, I wonders again, as she types this, whether Dorothy is around someplace. If so: “Goodnight Dorothy.”)

English Panto and the American Prude

Posted by expatlingo in America, Britain, spotted and tagged with , , , , , , , , , , ,

Flyer for 2010 Cambridge Arts Theatre Panto

I got myself out of Utah, but it takes awhile to get the Utah out of the girl. It was a revelation to watch “Priscilla Queen of the Desert” in 1994 and realize that homosexuals, cross-dressers, and transvestites were just regular people “like the rest of us.” The heavy weight of being raised in a prudish place lifted.

Even so, I was still slightly shocked (and delighted!) to watch English pantomime the first time.

In a theater full of organized school groups, a man dressed as a woman performed lead in a show chock-full of sexual innuendo. I get gleeful just thinking about the shocked(!) letters to the editor and funding cuts that would have resulted in Utah (or much of red state America).

Panto takes a well-known, simple story and fleshes it out with a tremendous amount of singing, dancing, audience-call-back, slap-stick and costume changes. It’s good family fun without being sickeningly cute (the naughty winks to the grown-ups help a lot). Every town with a theater has a yearly panto show (I’m sure they’re a dependable annual influx of cash).

Panto is rather racy to American eyes. During one production, the author was (pleasantly) jolted from a second-act snooze by the sight of a man in a dress and Union Jack boxer-shorts give a full-moon to a jolly audience full of 10-year-olds.

Here in England, the only thing controversial about panto seems to be the frequent use of Royal Family members’ names for the evil step-sisters in Cinderella (this year the obvious choice was “Beatrice and Eugenie”). Men can wear all the frocks they’d like, but for God’s sake don’t offend the Royalists.

Hats off to Brad Fitt: a great “dame” who will be known forever in the author’s family as the “strawberry lady.” Thank you Cambridge Arts Theatre.

Corruption: one man’s Cambridge fiefdom

Posted by expatlingo in Britain, lingo, spotted and tagged with , ,

“That which you call corruption I call influence.” – John Mortlock

Calling all far-flung expats bemoaning local corruption and bureaucracy, I give you John Mortlock, “Master of the Town of Cambridge.”  Local amateur historian, C. Hadley, fleshes out the following details:

“He served as mayor 13 times over the next twenty years, alternating in the post with his sons and business partners. During this period he ran the city as a private fiefdom, selling off city property (and some property that wasn’t strictly his to sell) to friends at knock-down prices, and diverting taxes and city funds into his own pockets and those of his cronies. The amazing thing is that he made no secret of it, using city money to buy the influence that made him mayor, again and again. A banker and a politician called Mortlock – you could just tell he’d turn out to be a baddie. The only positive side of the story is that the freeholds of several premises were sold to cronies on extraordinarily long leases, which has in some cases prevented their subsequent redevelopment, preserving buildings which would otherwise have long since been bulldozed.”