1. 6 May



    保洁：sanitation.

    Or that one word that ruins a perfectly good conversation because you didn’t know what it meant which messes up the meaning of the sentence and you say something completely off because you thought it meant something else and the guy you are talking to realizes your Chinese sucks and then both of you get hella awkward and quiet.

    —  FB Post
     

  2. 26 Apr


    To feel local in a city.  It was 7am in the morning and I was walking to school. I was daydreaming. I was absorbing the reality of being part of the mundane morning madness of the city.  I felt like a platelet traveling through the veins of Beijing.  I was helping her start the day by being one out of millions and millions traveling from Point A to Point B, crawling in and out of her, creating a sense of purpose to her existence. I felt local.  There was no need to blend in.  I am part of her.  I was 15 minutes away from school. I decided to stop by a local bakery for a pastry.  Upon entering the store, I stubbed my toe and tripped on concrete stairs.  To protect my face, I put my hands in front of me.  I was holding a glass bottle.  When I fell, the bottle shattered in my hand.  Glass cut my skin.  I began to bleed.  Like, BLEEED.  When fear and pain hits you in a foreign land, your speaking skills get exponentially better.  I also learned that no matter where you are, humanity will follow.  Strangers bought me band-aids, handled my blood, made me milk tea — all for free. I didn’t make it to Point B.  But this is one out of many scenes that make a city. Sometimes people get to their jobs just fine and have their morning coffee without any problems. And sometimes…people trip and bleed all over a bakery.  Shit happens.  But I’m glad that shit sometimes bring out the best in people. As for me — I’ll be more careful next time. 

    To feel local in a city. 

    It was 7am in the morning and I was walking to school. I was daydreaming. I was absorbing the reality of being part of the mundane morning madness of the city.  I felt like a platelet traveling through the veins of Beijing.  I was helping her start the day by being one out of millions and millions traveling from Point A to Point B, crawling in and out of her, creating a sense of purpose to her existence. I felt local.  There was no need to blend in.  I am part of her. 

    I was 15 minutes away from school. I decided to stop by a local bakery for a pastry.  Upon entering the store, I stubbed my toe and tripped on concrete stairs.  To protect my face, I put my hands in front of me.  I was holding a glass bottle.  When I fell, the bottle shattered in my hand.  Glass cut my skin.  I began to bleed.  Like, BLEEED. 

    When fear and pain hits you in a foreign land, your speaking skills get exponentially better.  I also learned that no matter where you are, humanity will follow.  Strangers bought me band-aids, handled my blood, made me milk tea — all for free.

    I didn’t make it to Point B.  But this is one out of many scenes that make a city. Sometimes people get to their jobs just fine and have their morning coffee without any problems. And sometimes…people trip and bleed all over a bakery.  Shit happens.  But I’m glad that shit sometimes bring out the best in people. 

    As for me — I’ll be more careful next time. 

     

  3. 24 Apr


    theatlantic:

    In Focus: Sichuan Earthquake Recovery

    Last Saturday, a destructive earthquake struck China’s Sichuan province, near the epicenter of the devastating 2008 earthquake, damaging thousands of structures and triggering landslides in the mountainous region. As of yesterday, the death toll stood at more than 200, with nearly 12,000 injured, 23 still missing, and tens of thousands made homeless. The quake was measured at magnitude 7.0 by China’s earthquake administration and magnitude of 6.6 by the U.S. Geological Survey. Rescue teams and government aid personnel have struggled to reach the affected area, as many roads were damaged.

    See more. [Images: AP, Reuters, Getty]

    (via chinatowndo)

     

  4. 21 Mar


    I know I’m incredibly behind, but I’m in the process of catching up. My memories in the Philippines are treasures.  Only poetry can capture their essence.  Here’s the first one. Intramuros*Sampaguitas drape your wallslike silk on charred skinburnt from protecting your brown children. But the venom has already sunk into the soillifting people’s spirits that they, too, can be whiteand lightdespite the bronzeand the goldyou already provide them. Even your name rings Spanish.How can you defend something, someonealready lost? —- *oldest district in Manila, Spaniards constructed defense walls at the time of colonization, pillaged and burned by the Japanese during WWII. 

    I know I’m incredibly behind, but I’m in the process of catching up. 
    My memories in the Philippines are treasures.  Only poetry can capture their essence.  Here’s the first one.

    Intramuros*
    Sampaguitas drape your walls
    like silk on charred skin
    burnt from protecting your brown children.

    But the venom has already sunk into the soil
    lifting people’s spirits that 
    they, too, can be white
    and light
    despite the bronze
    and the gold
    you already provide them. 

    Even your name rings Spanish.

    How can you defend something, someone
    already lost?

    —-

    *oldest district in Manila, Spaniards constructed defense walls at the time of colonization, pillaged and burned by the Japanese during WWII. 

     

  5. 1 Mar


    Snippets of Hong Kong. 
    Still processing the madness that transpired during this trip.  More soon. 

     

  6. 25 Feb



    i never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person…
    — franz kafka; from a diary entry dated 23 March 1914 (via moaka)

    (Source: violentwavesofemotion, via heartbreakmonday)

     

  7. 23 Feb



    Listen above to Stork & Owl by TV on the Radio.  

    Songs hold fragments of my history.  
    Frank Ocean is forever intertwined with the image of the sun peaking through the gray clouds of San Francisco (Lost, Thinking about You).  TV on the Radio witnessed my lovestruck days in U Street, DC (You, Will Do). Beirut is synonymous to Sallyport, Reed College, Portland, Oregon (Elephant Gun, A Sunday Smile). Vampire Weekend will always remind me of crackling Carmel leaves under my feet (Diplomat’s Son). 

    I now associate loneliness in Beijing with Stork and Owl.  Not that I consider this a bad thing.  If anything, I’m surprised that it took this long for loneliness to strike.  I’ve been enjoying more solitary walks around the city, but these explorations  forced me to confront the fact that I am inhabiting a country void of a single soul who knows and cares about the history of my being (Drzzl doesn’t count, especially when he’s out of town).  I feel finite and small.  I can disappear into the cracks of this city and it will press on with its hustle.  I’ve moved many places, but I’ve always been blessed with a sense of familiarity.  Now, my loved ones seem galaxies away.  This brings me a profound sense of sadness and awe.  Shit that I use to stress about to the point of tears don’t mean shit here.  That’s worthy of awe, I think.  

    Despite the loneliness, there is a unique beauty to the traveler’s life. At a packed Beijing subway train during rush hour, I managed to grab a seat and continue reading a copy of The Alchemist a friend gave me before I left home.  When I opened the book, I found Carmel sand trapped between the pages.  Stork and Owl began playing in my iPod. It was sadness and awe and beauty wrapped in one.   

     

  8. 21 Feb



    在南池子大街

    I was planning to reflect on my mind-blowing adventures in 香港 (Hong Kong) today，but I’m completely distracted.  Right now, I’m sitting at what seems to be a time warp: a cozy coffee shop [15号南池子大街] with the cutest trinkets, hella indie music (like, Sufjan Stevens indie), and a big glass window showcasing the harsh reality of the Beijing hutongs — jagged sidewalks, dirty brick, half-demolished homes.

    ***

    On my way here, I passed by an old woman desperately trying to find a cab.  Every available taxi that she flagged rejected her. She yelled 他们不要停因为我看病了(They don’t want to stop because I’m frail) while pedestrians giggled at her demise.  I hesitated for a couple of minutes before helping.  My delayed reaction wasn’t about overcoming apathy, but being caught off guard.  I don’t know how to articulate it…it’s like witnessing an overwhelming misdeed that you don’t believe it’s happening, and then realizing  that your very inaction is contributing to the injustice in front of you.  

    This is not a criticism of Beijing.  This has happened to me many times before in many different places.  I guess it was more of a reminder that humans are humans.  We are brilliant.  We are cruel.  

     

  9. 17 Feb


    In Hong Kong.我去香港旅行。BRB.

    In Hong Kong.
    我去香港旅行。
    BRB.

     

  10. 17 Feb


    Made in HK. drzzl: Hong Kong survival kit.

    Made in HK.

    drzzl:

    Hong Kong survival kit.