Day 5: First Day of Work

Today, I finally went the studio which will be my home-away-from-my-home-away-from-home for the next six months.

But first I had to walk to Ken's apartment, because he had offered me a ride in the company car for my first day. I navigated to his apartment the best way I know how in a city of randomly angled streets: wander a few blocks until I find a street sign I can read, check the map, backtrack a bit,  choose a better angled street, and thus eventually converge on my destination.

Hopped into his car, and his driver took us to our building in Chai Wan, which is at the far West end of this island... it's an industrial area, and one of the only areas on the island where tourists never seem to go.

I probably can't talk about work much, so I'm going to leave that part vague. Suffice it to say that the working conditions here are subtly different from my hometown studio's lushly landscaped mediterranean villa with the waterfalls and the koi ponds and the free food and the free lattes and the clean, airy hallways with the sizeable individual offices with the windows and the doors in each one and the clean carpets that I'm used to.

Subtly different.

They showed me to my particular two-foot portion of a long counter at one end of the huge room with the 64 other people in it...  But hey, work is work, right? So I sat down and made myself comfortable; I surveyed the extent of my elbow room, which, though less than I have in my car back home, should be enough to type, as long as I keep my elbows tucked to my sides. Yeah, I'll be okay, I thought... This won't be too weird. And then I looked down at my keyboard:

What th'...?

That's all I can say for the moment about work, except that apparently the concept of "coffee" is not universal.

For lunch, about ten of us went out for Dim Sum, which was basically a rotating tableful of stress for me... Not only did I have to ask what each thing was, but what animal it was from, and which part of that animal, and whether it was a euphemism for something far more revolting... then I also had to carefully read the body language to see if the person was kidding. The best item was the tofu-covered Krispy Kreme (that's how it was described to me, and that's pretty much what it was). (I hope.)

The "mango pudding" dessert was a relief. One more mealtime down; only about 629 to go.

After work, I took the MTR subway back to my home base, Times Square, where I grabbed a nice, safe "ham and corn pastry" and a custard tart... But much later, after walking around Causeway Bay for a while, I got hungry again, and I broke down and -- I admit it -- I went to KFC. But it was sooo good to eat chicken again, American-style, with all the normally missing parts missing. The biscuit was WAY better than any back home. Or so it seemed; maybe I'm just getting desperate.

Day 4: Walking Around As If I'm In Shape

It seems there's this escalator which people use to get from the city up to their homes... so today I decided to check it out. Turns out everyone calls it an escalator, when it's actually many of them, strung together one after the other. I took it all the way up to its top, and discovered that... there's nothing there. Just a sign that says you can walk to the tram from there. (The tram is another way to get up and down that mountain; it goes up at about a 45-degree angle.) So I walked... and walked... and climbed some of the steepest sidewalks on Earth. And kept climbing. Thinking this might be a way to start getting back into shape, I continued my ascent up the mountain... it seemed I was nearing the top (thank god; I was almost dead), when I looked to my left and saw some apartment buildings towering over me by about 20 stories. Remembering that, from The Peak, all buildings were below us, I realized that I had to at least do the equivalent of climbing the stairs of that building from its midpoint to its top. Further realizing that, in this case, trying to get healthy was likely to kill me, I did the wise thing and started back down the mountain in defeat.

Still wanting to take the tram down the mountain, I flagged down the first cab I saw, and asked him to drive me up to it. I said "take me to the top of the Peak tram," and he smiled, nodded, and started down the mountain. Down!? Well, you see, Hong Kong is full of one-way streets, so sometimes you have to go away from what you're trying to get closer to. Only in this case, not. So I ended up at the bottom of the tram line, and rather than stick to a plan that was obviously not working for me, I made the best of it and explored Hong Kong Park instead.

I explored the aviary first, a soaring arc of steel supporting some webbing. What's most interesting about it is its setting; it's nestled into a lush hillside, between skyscrapers and a mountainside.

Then, in the Tai Chi garden, I found a freestanding corkscrew tower spiral staircase with a lookout observation deck at the top, and a sign at the bottom warning anyone not in shape not to attempt the climb; it's 105 steps without any landings! Still smarting from the mountain climb defeat, I launched right up those steps and made it to the top without any problem. Hah!! Hah. No mere 105 steps is going to defeat one such as I.

After that, I walked to a tram stop (not the Peak tram; a super-skinny double-decker bus-like thing that runs on rails), and took that home.

Back at my apartment, I got call from Ken Tsumura, a Producer on the TV show; we agreed to meet for dinner. When he arrived, we decided on California Pizza Kitchen, which was delightfully identical to the ones back home... except that here, they don't serve bread beforehand. Barbarians.
After dinner, Ken gave me another whirlwind tour of the surrounding area; we saw everything from the ritziest stores like Gucci & Luis Vuitton, to the HK equivalent of our 99 cent stores: the $10 stores (which translates to about $1.25). He showed me several decent restaurants, several Starbucks, and the local Ikea.

Day 3: But Seriously, Where's the Food?

Slept in 'till about 10:30; I guess I'm still not quite in this time-zone.

Walked around; made huge expanding loop; ended up in Wan Chai, took the MTR home; walked some more around Times Square; Sogo dept. store, etc... bought myself a bag to carry around, so I don't have to keep so many things in my pockets anymore.

Had lunch at a McDonalds, because (I figured) I'm going to be here a looong time, and if I don't find nourishment, I'm going to die. So I figured I'd better establish my "fallback" foods first, and then gradually branch out to the offal that passes for food around here. The burger was remarkably non-unusual. The french fries had a slightly different taste... probably from being boiled in pig livers... and the meat might even have been cow. The whole experience was (I'm embarrassed to admit) too comforting.

But man, it was hot out there... Back at home, changed into cooler clothes & relaxed for a few hours; dreading the arrival of dinnertime...

Eventually, I needed to go back out to find me some food; found myself wandering in circles looking for something remotely edible that wasn't an American chain (I'm going to try to limit myself to one cop-out meal per day). Ended up finding a "deli" in the supermarket; got a ham & cheese on tortilla sandwich wrap. It came with jam on it, for some reason... but hey, that doesn't qualify as a weird food choice to me anymore.

Stopped in the Communist bookstore & coffee shop, and found a couple of good books; one on Cantonese and one on Chinese writing. The proprieter was very friendly; he suggested I come back for some coffee and relax and read. What does it mean that the most comfortable hangout I've found yet is a Communist joint? I guess it's only a matter of time before I'm marching to oust the bourgeois pigs.

Walked around some more, bought some nice sunglasses, some snacks, etc... then came home.
It's amazing how many people are out on the streets at any given moment. Whether or not it will start to grate on me in time, I don't know. For the time being, I find it exciting. That'll probably all change when I get mugged, though.

At this point, I'd like to point out a "Ripley's Believe It Or Not" kind of thing about all these buildings in Hong Kong. They're all built with no metal scaffolding at all... the workers build them while standing on scaffolding

 made of nothing but bamboo... tied together! It's hard to believe, but when tied using their methods, the bamboo goes up quickly, supports everybody's weight, and disassembles quickly. Apparently, there's a special group that knows how to do this, and creates the scaffolding for all the projects in the entire city. And it's only occasionally that one of them accidentally drops some bamboo and skewers a pedestrian below.

Day 2: Exploration... Where's the Food?

Woke up fairly early, got dressed, and went down to find myself some breakfast. Across the street I found a place called "Starbucks," where I discovered an interesting variety of coffee known as "Espresso." Apparently, it's of Italian origin, but made popular by a company in Seattle, of all places! These Chinese are always surprising me.

Called home (it was yesterday afternoon there), and again heard the much-missed voices of my Margie and Nicole. Someday soon, I'm going to have to figure out how much those calls are costing me... but right now, it doesn't matter, because I'd pay any price for them. I can't call my son, because his only hour in which he can receive phone calls is (to me) 3am. Any other hour, and he's either in class or at work or sleeping. Or misbehaving.

I had an hour or so before the lady was going to show up to show me around, so I walked around the local neighborhood, and was astounded by so many things... For one thing, it turns out that my apartment building

is located between a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a 7-11 with a communist bookstore over it. Across the street is a California Pizza Kitchen. I wasn't expecting that.

Also across the street is a multi-story mall,

 a grocery store, and a subway station. It's hard to imagine a more modern location. But the really cool thing is that if you go around the block the other way, you see these streets.

As scheduled, at 10:00 Connie Francis (her maiden name; she then married a guy named Bob Barker!) called to say that she was downstairs in the office on the 7th floor. She was hired by Crown Relocations, who were in turn hired by DreamWorks. Her job was to make sure that I was convinced that I had chosen the best place to live, and that I felt comfortable with my surroundings, and that I knew my way around Hong Kong. She did a great job; I do feel that I understand where things are now. Connie has a distinct upper-class British tinge to her accent; between that and her facial features, it was like being shown around by a Eurasian version of Tracey Ullman.

We took the MTR (subway) over to the first of the other apartments, then another... they were okay, but then she showed me one that used to be a hotel room in a very large, modern hotel... nice view, but the carpet was green and pink, in one of those horrible patterns that must be designed to distract from whatever disgusting stains have accumulated. It had that cheesy "hotel" look, feel & smell. It could have been any hotel in any city in the world. Not for me. I want to feel like I'm in China when I'm in China.

We also walked through some of the local open-air markets,

filled with what could only have been fruits from other planets, exotic roots and vegetables and, surprisingly, given the stifling heat, huge sides of rotting pork. We also walked around the antique district.

Then she showed me another ex-hotel room, which was far classier, and ritzier, but still felt like a hotel anywhere. We ate lunch at a fancy schmancy buffet at that hotel, and I was impressed by how everyone who worked there seemed to know her. Turns out her husband runs that hotel, so I'm glad I didn't bag on it too much.

After lunch, she "stole" her husband's car, and we drove all around the island: to the beaches on the south side of the island (we stopped at a bar where, again, everyone knew her)... to Aberdeen,

 where the people live on their boats... to the best hospital, where they do everything including dentistry... to The Peak, the only place I've ever been where you can stand on a mountaintop and look almost straight down at a city...

We looked at another place or two, then met Shaila (from Crown Relocations) for a drink in Wanchai. I walked to the nearest MTR station, and took the subway home. I still hadn't had dinner, though, so I wandered back out onto the street, and found a fairly innocuous-looking noodle house on my block. Sat down and expected to find some sort of chicken & noodle dishes, but instead found nightmarish combinations of words I simply don't identify as food items. I was faced with a choice between (I'm not making this up):

• Beef Tendon Noodles
• Pork Knuckle Noodles
• Fish Ball Noodles
• Cuttle Fish Ball Rice Noodles
• Congee with Squid, Pork & Fish
• Congee with Meat and Thousand-year Egg, and
• Plain Noodles

What would you choose? I chose Plain Noodles. Stuff came, and I still couldn't eat it. The broth tasted like everything I just listed, plus extra fish. So I slapped a twenty down, walked right out and bought a microwave pizza at 7-11. I guess I don't want it to taste like China when I'm in China.

Day 1: Arrival

After a fitful night of bad naps punctuated with bad movies, I'm now watching China's "New Territories" slide under us in the dark; I can see tiny amber streetlights marking out roads, laid out like tangled pearl necklaces on black velvet... now I see the first hints of sunrise, and... a bazillion tall buildings.

Observation #1: In Hong Kong (and I know this sounds racist, but) all the buildings look alike. There are countless high-rise apartment blocks, all identical to my western eye, all stacked to the same height, the same distance apart, with the same percentage of people home with their lights on. There are literally hundreds of these towers that I can see, and I can discern no difference between any of them. I'm immediately impressed by the sheer verticality of this city; how many people can fit into it due to these ubiquitous high-rises. Some even seem to be linked at levels other than ground-level! They remind me of Paolo Soleri's "arcologies;"

theoretical utopian cities of the future that would house millions of people without overcrowding, through effective utilization of an overall three-dimensional design.

Plane lands

Taxi to Hotel/Apartment

When I got to the apartment, the Filipino night manager "Jess" showed me around, explained how to use the hot water (a bit more complicated than at home), etc... Then he informed me that there's usually another person helping at night, but he's in the hospital, and it looks serious... There was an ominous silence, then I timidly asked, "Could it be... one of those flus?" He responded, "Very likely," and didn't seem to want to talk much about it anymore.

Great.

Nice place, though...

It has a good view of "Times Square", the shopping area across the street.

I'm exhausted, and will collapse into bed now... but I'm looking forward to going exploring tomorrow.

I'm Off!

I woke up this morning and took my teary-eyed teenage daughter out to breakfast on the way to her school, and was quite strong as I told her not to cry; I won't be gone that long, I said. Dropping her off at her school, and watching her walk off to her class, my facade started to crack -- by the time I got out of the parking lot, I could barely see through my tears. But there wasn't much time, so I raced home, using one hand as an eyeball windshield-wiper, the other hand steering a path between all the car-shaped blurs.

In a mad panic, I tried to cram the last few forgotten items into the last few pockets of my luggage, and do the last of the chores around the house that I knew I wouldn't be able to get to for quite a while... agonizing over the fact that all I really wanted was to spend a few quiet moments with my wife.

And then what must have been the Zen master of chauffers came to pick me up in the kind of black non-stretch limo that actual rich people take, and now I know why. It was very comfortable, and quiet. Maybe being rich wouldn't be so horrible after all.

Got to the airport, through security, onto the plane, and settled into my Business Class seat (much more legroom than coach, much more seat adjustment, and a private video screen).

I had to change planes in Tokyo. My first and only experience in Japan was watching the TV in the lounge; Larry King was interviewing the contestants from "The Apprentice." So... THAT'S what Japan is like. I had enough of a stopover to buy a few trinkets for my family, dash off a quick email at an internet kiosk, and then get onto another 747, this time an upstairs seat! (I'm still enough of a rube to get a kick out of there being an "upstairs" on an airplane.)

No, wait -- Cantonese!

My departure date has backed off a bit; it is now about five weeks away instead of two. In the intervening weeks, I'm to absorb as much as I can about the production process and workflow of the show I'm being assigned to. They're going to throw me into a lot of meetings as an observer.

Meantime, on the language front: I've been trying to get used to the Mandarin "language" (I still can't quite believe it's a real language) by listening to the tapes in my car. But today I learned from one of my coworkers, who has already spent some time at our Hong Kong studio, that I will have to learn Cantonese; apparently, reports of widespread English usage among our employees in Hong Kong are greatly exaggerated.

Wonderful.

So I cranked up the iPod and started playing the Cantonese language lessons I had given up on weeks ago. And I've decided: it's not just harder than Mandarin; it's WAY harder than Mandarin. Forget hamsters and frying pans; this sounds more like a cat choking on a squeeze toy while coughing up a fur ball. As the random-sounding, alien gargling sounds spilled out of the iPod, I just sat there, stunned. I tried to imitate some of them, but... man. This is going to take a while.

I'm Going to Learn Mandarin!

Spending time in a foreign country without trying to learn the language is (in my opinion) rude, so I've decided I should at least attempt to learn the Chinese language before I go. Unfortunately, there is no "The Chinese Language;" the various languages and dialects spoken in China have less in common than, for instance, French and German... and we consider them different languages.

That said, though, Mandarin and Cantonese are the most widely-spoken dialects, in that order. So I should definitely learn one of those two. Mandarin is spoken in more places, and is the "official" language of China, so it would be the obvious choice, right? But wait -- Hong Kongers mainly speak Cantonese, so that one would make more sense. Except -- they also all speak English, and since Mandarin is easier to learn, and it's a second-or-third language to most Hong Kongers, maybe that one makes more sense to learn? I've gone back and forth on this many times... and I've landed on trying to learn Mandarin. It's easier, and covers a wider area, and may even -- who knows? -- someday become the official language of the USA, the way things are going.

So Mandarin it is! Got me some language tapes at Barnes & Noble... But so far, all these one-syllable, sing-song noises just sound to me like hamsters ricocheting off frying pans ("Ping! Zing! Ka-Pinggg!")

Nonetheless, I am seriously starting to look forward to this trip... It'll be an opportunity to experience another culture, meet new people, find new ways of creating acid indigestion... plus, I'm looking forward to my first dental emergency in a land where they solve every health problem by sticking needles into your flesh...

You're Sending Me... Where!?!?

A few days ago, one of my studio's personnel executives called me into her office, and asked if I'd be interested in working at their Hong Kong studio for six months, supervising 60 animators working on a TV show.

I've seen Jackie Chan films, and I read newspapers, so I know the place is teeming with violent Chinese Mafioso types, and that every deadly flu originates there... With disease and corruption lurking around every corner, Hong Kong was quite literally near the very top of my list of places never to be.

So with a smug little chuckle, I said, "No-o-o... but thank you anyway!"

Whereupon I learned that if I didn't take this assignment, they were not going to pick up the option on my contract. If you're not a lawyer, here's what that means in layman's terms: "You're going to Hong Kong or you're fired."

Since "fired" was even farther up on my list of places never to be, I chose Hong Kong.

She assured me that the animators there all speak English, and the studio will cover all relocation costs, rent me a hotel/apartment, give me a per diem, and she threw in a few other "perks" designed to make it all seem like a good idea. I'm not even sure I heard everything; my world was kind of spinning...

After thinking about it for a while, I decided I'm going to make the best of it, and keep a live travel journal to let all my friends know what it's like being uprooted from your comfort zone and transplanted into a foreign environment.