Rationalizing Resolutions

Can economics make you a better person? By Tim Harford, Dec. 22, 2007

Economists rarely make good forecasts, but let me venture one: Most readers of this column will eat and drink heavily over the next couple of weeks (as will its writer), and many of us will, on Jan. 1, vow to do better in the future. Can economics provide a little assistance in coping with this annual ritual?

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Getting to the Point... or the possiblity of getting to the point

I never got to the point in my last post. I've been a bit preoccupied, and I'm not even participating in the holidays this year. Maybe it was obvious to my readers, but I was trying to make the point that life, like art, is up to the liver (seasonal pun?), or artist, to decide. When I say I wouldn't die for anything, I am also saying that I don't expect others to either, but that is ultimately up to them.

The humor of the Onion article is probably obvious enough to this point. I just like to say things explicitly. It gets murky when you extrapolate staying alive to maintaining a relationship. History shows that, while I will fight tooth and nail to keep something going, I am also willing to walk away completely if I feel the situation isn't beneficial to me. That is, if a relationship isn't conducive to my goals, I choose me.

Who's to say which is better: pancakes, relationship, or life. I'll buy the argument conceptually that it depends on the quality of each. But in practice, I can't imagine compromising the life card. Afterall, it is my biological imperative to live as long as possible, reproduce and then keep my offspring alive as long as possible. I'm not going to argue with biology. It's bigger than I am and can beat me up.

Pancakes and Compromise

I have 2 strings going in my mind/scraps. One’s about dating. The other, money and government. Instead, I think I will talk about the meaning of life... I mean, meaning in life. I watched Stranger than Fiction the other day. It was ok, but I love any time I can spend with Dustin Hoffman. In the movie, his character speculates about if you had to choose between staying alive or having pancakes, you would probably choose pancakes… I mean… life. But it would depend entirely on the quality of each.

A while back, I listened to a radio show (it might have been This American Life) about choice, life and survival. I already blogged about it. After discussing it with lots of people, I found that my sense of survival, or lack of inclination to sacrifice myself, was greater than most of the people I and the radio program asked. Either I am more honest or more selfish than everyone else.

Someone sent the following Onion article out on one of my lists: 30 Miserable Lives Lost In Greyhound Bus Crash. I think it was meant to be an example of negative associations with public transit, but I was thrown back into asking myself these same questions. What’s the point? What’s worth it? What isn’t?

As I told my dinner companion last night: I have learned that almost everything is exactly like dating. When considering ending a relationship, one asks oneself: what is this relationship worth to me, and is that more or less than what my life is worth to me without it? Likewise, when considering beginning a relationship: what is my single life worth to me, and how could this relationship make my life happier? Or: what are the chances I will meet someone I like more than this person? What are the chances I will get what I need from this person? What are the chances this relationship will end up meaning so much to me that I will never recover if it doesn’t workout, and what are the chances of that happening? In the words of Anne Sexton in Snow, “Someone once said: Don’t bite until you know whether it is bread or stone.” Except sometimes it is really hard to tell; so, try biting softly?

That hasn’t always worked for me -- it's all so mushy. I have heard the theory that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over it… or the whole length… or twice as long. I was recounting my romantic history to someone recently, and I realized that, if I ever get over anything, it has taken about the length of the relationship. Grayson’s former coworker Maureen had the theory that you meet someone you like about every 2 years. Grayson said 5. I don’t know what my statistic is because I don’t know how to define “like”. But I do notice that if you set yourself up right, you can manage to absolutely never be free of emotional baggage.

It’s good to have goals.

Oh, look at that. I managed to get weave dating into my thoughts on the meaning of life. What a shock.

Knowing yourself is an important and tricky thing. I work really hard at it. I know that I would not be willing to die for anything. KT’s dating checklist concept is, I guess, supposed to guide us on when to give up our single lives. Except: all of relationships are pretty mushy; how do we know when we are “ready”; and what about when you just really like people who don’t check all the boxes (more than the people you meet who do check them)?

KT’s got me watching this web-based TV show called Quarterlife about these self-indulgent, creative-type 20-somethings. A couple “parts” ago, I typed up a quote from the show, “responsibility is compromise.” The narrator’s talking about the sacrifices we make to get what we want in the future like dieting or working late. Sometimes, I get all irritated when my art sells because it means I have to make more. But then I remember that I make art because I want to make art. Because when I don’t make art, I feel like death, and I am not willing to die for anything. So, selling art is a way that I force myself to be a happy person.

It’s like constructive procrastination, where you are supposed to be doing one thing, but instead you accomplish all kinds of other things to procrastinate. That’s really what my life is all about. I create little games for myself where I’m forced to do what I know will make me happy. I know myself that well.

The string on Quarterlife doesn’t end there. In the current episode, she makes the observation that we have no choice. “Life compromises for you.” I don’t believe in luck, because I don’t believe in good (or bad). I believe in hard work and intension, and I believe in chance. Taking a good look at any situation (job, relationship, etc.), parts make you happy or miserable and everything on either side and in between. So, when examining pancakes, potential boyfriends and jobs, and what to do with the afternoon, I guess having a list, or at least a guiding belief system or set of principals can help. Or not. I’m enough of a romantic (still!) to believe that my gut will guide me.

Timothy Olyphant

...is hot. We should definitely get to know each other. His face is handsome while his expressions are intensely weird. They seem to reflect a tortured inner life, and that's very attractive to me. My life of leisure included watching Catch and Release today, and I didn't like it.

Winterfest

Every year, the SF Bike Coalition throws an awesome holiday party. For the last 3 years, I helped with the silent auction. This year, my dear friend Brian was my date.

I love the photo booth. Here are the rest of them.

Transportation Ethics

Randy Cohen, New York Times Magazine’s acclaimed “Ethicist,” on Transportation
Quotes/paraphrases from the interview:
“Ethics are the effects of our actions on other people. …
“The word we ethicists use to describe (people who drive around the city) is “selfish”….
“What civilization is is a restriction on individual freedom….
“Public parking in the city: why is it good for the city for people to be able to store their private property in public space when public space is limited….”

Chicken Feet

Do you think we have enough?
Oh, thank goodness! There are more over here!
These photos are from the super market in Shenzhen. I went there for the afternoon at Jason's suggestion to look at the city's planning and bicycle facilities. It's a special economic zone, a small fishing village that has grown up just in the last few years since China took control of HK. They thought they would try capitalism close by and see how it works for them. I took dozens of photos of the streetscapes, etc., but the short version is that it's a collision between China and Los Angeles with emphasis on the latter.

The Sky in San Francisco

La Vie en Rose

A couple weeks ago, KT came over to catch up. We had a mellow but delicious dinner chez moi. She mentioned that she'd recently seen La Vie en Rose, and the adventures of Edith Piaf and her best gal pal reminded her of us. After dinner, we headed over to Luna Park for dessert and a cocktail.
We were about to call it a night, when I suggested we take a look at Medjool bc she'd never been there. The roof bar is kinda cool. There we met random guy (whose name I remember, but I don't want to open that door. I didn't realize Medjool is such a pick up joint). Random guy bought us drinks, called me inauthentic, spun me around, and then moved on to other chicks.
As KT would say, Life is Absurd.

Juno, the movie

I saw a pre-release screening of Juno last night at the new theater in the Westfield shopping mall that I didn't even know existed. Particular fun was the cast with the mom from Married with Children, and Jason Bateman (yum) and Michael Cera together again post-Arrested Development. (I love situation comedies involving crazy American families.) The Juno character drives the story, making it a bit more special than your average teen disaster, but I really don't like it when people give babies up for adoption esp when the teen's parents are currently raising a 5-year-old. Juno may have been quick-witted and creative (to a point of feeling mechanistic in the script), but I found it difficult to believe she had such a limited concept of family.

The afterparty was fun with free-flowing Bushmills, and... yeah... I'm going to leave it at that.

Term Paper Topic: Me

I got a random phone call yesterday. Of course, I didn't answer it. I think I didn't even see it come in. Anyway, it was from a community college student in Seaside who is doing her "Women in Art" term paper on me. I returned her call, and we had a nice chat. She's going to send me the paper, her display board, and some of her drawings when they're finished. She's a competitive roller skater too. She was surprised by my age -- I look so young in the photo. I told her that I'm a vampire who never ages.

Twig Farm

Please order some cheese from my friend Emily's farm.

What Would Jesus Buy

the movie

A Practical Illustration

Amount of space required to transport the same number of people by car, bus, or bicycle

Funny

I hate Macs by Charlie Brooker

Other HK copy

"Show you have a loving heart. Please offer your seat to anyone in need."
-from the MTR

I don't know why, but that kind of copy would never fly in the US.

Ramblings from HK

A lot of advertisements here seem to focus on social marketing. I have seen many many ads for saving the planet (“Love Hong Kong. Love green.”), stoping AIDS (“keep the promise”), stay healthy/keep others healthy by coughing in your hand, etc. I wonder if it is more successful here. I should go out into the world and count, but I would guess about half of advertisements had a social rather than consumer message. I also remember a big billboard in Saigon when I was there in 1994 with Grayson announcing that it was wonderful to have just 2 children.

The Heritage Museum had an exhibition of Tibetan art, which I found somewhat ironic (or something) given China’s reputation for oppressing Tibetan culture and religion. Is this an attempt at change or retribution? The description said that before painting a Buddha, the artist had to choose an auspicious day and commit a prayer. Devotion and piety are essential when painting. I can’t help but think of artists and writers who can only work when under the influence. Is their own creatively too raw, too real to face alone? Do we need an opiate (be it religion or substance) to face it? Or maybe everything is an opiate. I mean, maybe every mechanism we use to get ourselves to do things, to make that productivity real, is like a curtain or a funnel through which we process that hugeness that we (and the world) are onto the limitations of a medium.

Anyway

The museum also had exhibitions on the development of Cantopop (which I really wish I could relate to – that would make me supercool), another Chinese painter: Lam Wu Fui (more on brush strokes and compositon… blah blah blah), Hong Kong fashion design (I don’t know enough about fashion to know what it meant), and Cantonese Opera (the coolest part was the computer program which shows you what the make up would look like on you).

In Cheng Chau, I came across a yellow building that surprised me. G commented that the Chinese have a very different sense of color than we do in the west, but this building looked normal and pleasant. Well, of course, it was a bed and breakfast for westerners.

Construction is underway to fill in (or “reclaim” as they like to say) the harbor for more development. Hong Kong is small, and the steep mountains are developed and difficult to reach (except by elevator…). So, I understand the mid-term desire to take up more water space with land development… except… except! If you keep filling in the harbor, eventually there won’t be one, and the harbor is the reason HK is here, and one of its most desirable characteristics. Plans like this existed for the San Francisco Bay once too, but now we have policies that protect the Bay.

It reminds me of the psychological phenomenon where if a person wants someone to be close to them (a parent, child, or lover), they behave in a way that makes that person want to get away. HK is a social, cultural, and economic success. So, the development reaction to that is to destroy one of the qualities that make it so great. You have to be careful with this line of thought. For example, when this happens between lovers, it indicates a problem in the relationship that both parties need to figure out together. Some of my friends object to the new tall buildings going into SF, but the city’s skyline isn’t its greatest asset, and one should expect changes to a city’s skyline over time like the figure of an attractive woman (she won’t always be so thin, but she will always be beautiful if she continues to walk to work every day). Alan Jacobs worked like hell to prevent the Transamerica building from being built and for very good reasons (protection of public space and the planning process, etc.) but ultimately it was built AND I believe it’s unusual form adds significant dimensionality to the city’s skyline. Change is natural.

You can see that I’m struggling. I believe the water space should be protected, but I am not opposed to change and development. Existing cities should be grown and densified, open space preserved (including water), natural resources protected, transportation options available…. But it gets tricky when a city like HK is already incredibly dense, land is very expensive, and there is no where to go. Like with everything, it’s a matter of priorities.

I’m not sure if the land use patterns here are the result of the economy (originally a big difference between the rich and poor), culture, or topography. We have steep hills in SF too, but that didn’t cause us to develop only on the flat lands and leave the hilltops green (although the original plan for SF did include parks at the top of each hill so that the public can get up and look out – many of these parks have since acquired private housing). Here, the hills are much steeper and longer, more significant in scale, but they developed them to a point anyway. Why did they stop where they did? I might hike up there and take a look in a minute. (Today is looking like a lazy day. J is napping. Franck is reading. G is playing with the music on his computer. I am typing up my little thoughts.) Actually, I think I’ll take a nap.

Photos of today in HK

I am very tired. Too tired to write a whole thoughtful post. (I bet you're relieved!) Today, Franck (Juliette's friend from work in Paris who is now here too) and I went to the 10,000 buddhas temple (which the guidebook says actually has 13,000 buddhas). The inside of the temple is lined with little buddhas, which probably comprises the vast majority of them, but the walkways are lined with buddhas each seemingly with a different face. (I am controlling myself in the number of photos I'm posting!) The overall effect is quite impressive.

Notice the eyes in the hands coming out of the eyes

Typical China: a Renaissance pedestrian bridge (says Franck) going to monolithic apartment buildings in front of untouched hills (remind me to talk about what I have observed greenbelt-wise)

No photos of the Heritage Museum which was rather eclectic and surprising....

At this point in the day, Franck went to explore the other side of the river, and I went to find the University Art Museum. He said it was cool. The museum mostly housed ceramics, which aren't a great love of my life, but I enjoyed seeing the campus and the regional public transit system. I wanted to get a ride on the Duk Ling, a traditional Chinese junk complete with red triangular sails (Thursday afternoons and Saturday mornings), but I didn't know you had to reserve in advance. So, I went home.
Sunset from the Star Ferry, untouched photo

Lamma Island (HK day 7)

This island is supposedly carfree, but I saw several internal congestion vehicles. In one case, a woman pulled her toddler out from in front of one zipping past on the tiny street. She scolded him. "It's very dangerous," she said. I felt sad that a child can't event toddle into the pathway on a carfree island.

My legs are about done, putting me in quite a predicament. I hobbled along the "family trail" and even climbed up to the wind turbine. Lamma has a rather large power plant (the beach provides an excellent view of it) and one large wind turbine. I didn't feel the slightest inclination to swim at the beach (very unusual for me) which was good, I guess, since I didn't have a swimming costume or towel with me.

HK Day 6

I began the day planning to go to Macau, but there wasn't space on a ferry until 1:30. Instead, I decided to go shopping. I don't shop. OK, so, in this case I got in touch with my inner girl and bought some things. But trust me, it was a struggle.

First, I went for REAL dim sum at this crowded place with a greasy table and little old ladies pushing around steaming carts. I sat with 2 couples, and we kept stealing each other's ideas, "Oh, I want on of those" we gesticulated to the ladies. Yum.

I must have taken hundreds of photos of patterns, light, colors in the various markets. Here are a few:

I fell in love with these vegetables for sale.

The flower market near Mong Kok: here's one shot of dozens

The bird market where dozens of men fawn over their birds


This little man repairs umbrellas for a living

Saturday at Shek O beach etc.

When we first arrived, we were surrounded by little boys playing in the same way all dressed in white shirts, black shorts, and red hats.

A group of girls in turquoise shirts played on the beach. Here are a few of them.

Juliette and Guillaume on the bus

Me and Juliette on on the Tram

I took a ton of photos of the tram -- it's so slow; we were on it for about a million years. But trams are cute! Here, they're also wrapped....

The other remarkable thing about Saturday was the lunch. I have fond memories of the morning glories in spicy sauce and my deep fried calamari (you know it!). Juliette got a crab.

Film in Hong Kong is booming. They were making the next spider man movie on the escalators Friday and over the weekend. J&G's office was hosting the filming of another movie, made from a cartoon and starring Kristin Scott Thomas. (G joked that he saw her in the elevator and slapped her ass.) Their employer sent an email to all employees: "you are invited to be an extra in the movie. Asians will be paid X; Caucasians will be paid 2X." I guess it's a matter of supply and demand...?

So, from the beach and the tram, G headed to the office. J and I went back to the apartment to wash up before dinner. We went to Ashvin's for dinner. He just moved into his furnished apartment on the Kowloon side of the water. His place is really nice, but it's funny to look into the windows of the other apartments -- they are all furnished exactly the same: white, modern, metalic, mirrored, sparse.... Every apartment had angled windows onto the water. He made Maracian (where he is from) food for us: chicken, onion, curry powder, cream, banana.... It was good.

Over dinner, they got me to tell some of my dating stories. I told them one I haven't posted here yet. I began telling this guy I was on a date with about my work. He said: “I don’t care what you do for work. I only care that you are beautiful.”

My companions had quite a reaction to this story. Ashvin was incredulous; he said: "that sounds like a line from a movie."
Juliette said: "did he ask you if you can cook? That’s the other thing that women are for, you know.
Me: I think he did….

Sunday on Lantau Island

I owe you a post for Saturday at the beach, etc. but for now, I am offering photos of today's trip to the big Buddha on Lantau Island. We had a vegetarian lunch at the monastery, saw the big Buddha, and then hiked back to the city. The monastery is quite unusual in that it seeks to attract tourists; they were in the process of building a larger and more impressive temple. The lunch was tasty, and their restaurant could accommodate hundreds. The bicycle facilities were well-developed in this near-suburb.

Me and Juliette in front of the big buddha.

The big Buddha is surrounded by these smaller vistales. I think they are gorgeous.


Small is beautiful -- the little altars are as lovely as the huge.

I took several pictures of the bicycle facilities at this edge of HK -- this is the one that make the cut.

Photos of HK day 3 -- Cheung Chau (pirate) Island

Photos of HK day 2

At the botanical garden

View from the top

In case you're forgotten what I look like at the top of a mountain

Crabs for sale

Pirates, tea and foot massage (HK 2&3)

Foot massage is a normal nightlife activity here. Last night, we sat in a pleather comfy chairs with huge orange pillows in a row to wait for and then receive our massages. They bring you a cup of tea to drink. They put your feet into a bucket of tea (or at least it looks like tea), then they rub your feet and calves. I could have gone for more feet rubbing. Today I have big bruises on one of my calves.

Juliette loves tea. From our comfy chairs, I commented: one sure does drink a lot of tea here – you chose well for yourself.
J: Because of the tea? Welcome to China.
OK, my comment was stupid. But her tone was pretty funny.

After our massages, she tricked me into getting a drink. That is, she said we were getting one and then ordered an ice cream. Under her advisement, I got a Singapore sling. We sat outside in a narrow passage decorated with xmas lights at a bar called the Baby Buddha in SoHo.

Hong Kong isn’t very big. It is very 3-dimentional. It’s a tall Seattle but narrow between the mountain and the water; so, there isn’t much room to build. They expanded up these steep steep hills, and I imagine this area originally offered cheaper land that was close but work to reach. As the area developed further (with more 30+ story buildings!), the city added the escalator increasing the value of all the properties up here. Juliette added that the escalator also created this very trendy neighborhood along side it. I think that’s sometimes called gentrification.

It’s very Rear Window here in the apartment. I just realized that the hugantic building across the way has ledges and spent some time imagining how I would handle it if I got stuck on one. Existential anxiety be damned. I solve problems. It isn’t enough to believe for a moment I have thrown myself in front of a train or gotten my self stuck on a ledge. I want to figure out how I would get out of a situation like that. I might have to break a window even if I couldn’t climb inside it. Anyway, someone from a nearby building would definitely see me and call for help….

I saw a bus today in need of a wrap. The copy said something like: “Get your message moving”.

I’ve had trouble getting fruits and vegetables here, but not today. The tap water tastes like dirt. I keep walking on the wrong side of the walkways. Boarding the metro is standard (boarders at the sides, alighters in the middle) but I’ve been having trouble even remembering that. About half the highrises are painted pink.

Today, I went to the former pirate island of Cheung Chau. That’s where I found all the bikes! I even saw several grown ups riding bikes with training wheels. I hiked around and saw a “cave” (really just a gap in some boulders) and a “leaning rock”, jumped from rock to rock over waves, ate fish for lunch, and explored the little town. Photos will tell more.

Once I’d pretty much worn myself out, I headed back to the ferry terminal. I had 10 minutes to kill; so, I decided to get some cake for the ride. I read in the guidebook about giving people things (business cards, in the guidebook) with both hands and bowing a little (good manners, HK style). Last night at the massage place, I noticed this is how J gave her person the tip. So, today when I received my change and cake from the little bakery man, I gave it a shot. It shot through me. Receiving that cake and change felt like a profound experience, like a real “namaste”.

HK Day 2

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahck. What did I do today? I got up late and puttered for a long time. I felt good about straightening up my room and washing the dishes. I played with my photos (as you saw). I felt profoundly uninspired to leave the house, but eventually I did.

I wandered… quickly finding the zoo and botanical gardens. Dozens of flamingos glowed a remarkable salmon color behind bars (hence no photo). I then took the Victoria Peak Tram to the top of the mountain on which I sleep. Views would have been better without the haze, but still kinda blew my mind (as did all the white people with strollers). Several constructed hikes guide you around the peak and inform you about plants, butterflies, views….

My bank was conveniently located at the base of the tram. HK is almost like Hawaii or Canada that way. I then wandered through the pedestrian overpass mazes and finally took the streets (a drastic measure!) to walk to where my guidebook said there was a tourist information center (Causeway Bay). The book also said there would be a free “happy hour” concert at the Cultural Center at 6, but no where did it indicate where the Cultural Center was.

I veered away from the main drag and found rows of truly Chinese-looking shops: hardware, medicine, tea…. A few blocks later they turned into upscale western shops. (I still have my eyes out for sweaters but not here.) I found the information center in the metro mall and learned that the performance was a children’s a cappella group which didn’t interest me at all (next week, it’s a Baptist Chorus, also not exciting – last week it was Chinese folk dance which I would have attended but alas).

Discouraged, I hopped on the metro back to Central. I thought I would find some art galleries, but I couldn’t read that map either (from the info center). I ended up shopping at the little night market – I got 3 wool sweaters for about US$15: blue, green, and pink (some with stupid little pockets). Then I took the escalators back to the house.

In the mood for Liz

"I feel the sun on my back
"I smell the earth in my skin
"I see the sky above me like a full recovery"
-What Makes You Happy, Liz Phair, Whitechocolatespaceegg

Stanley Beach etc.

J, G and their friends are all crazy about this musician, Hawksley Workman, but of course I’ve never heard of him. That doesn’t mean anything since I am hopelessly out of touch with popular music… much to my own dismay.

I gave them a framed print of my etching “True Love Frogs”, and they believe I made it just for them. They consider being called “frogs” a good thing. It seemed like they genuinely liked it, but I have noticed that they also have incredibly good manners.

Last night, we went to the Stanley Beach House for dinner on the other end of the island far from the anything you would call urban but just short distance from it all. That fact is kind of remarkable. It’s just a little beach village that takes less than an hour to reach from Central on public transportation. We ate to the tune of waves crashing rather than cars honking and construction.

I don’t remember the exact flow of the conversation, but Guillaume said was that one thing that keeps their relationship exciting is that they do a lot of things separately. Juliette balked – to her, they spend far too much time apart.

We also discussed French and American politics. Juliette has found it frustrating to keep in touch with French national politics bc she has “quite left-wing” views, and all the French people she knows here swing the other way. She prefers to get her information, or at least some of it, from people, but that hasn’t worked in HK. Guillaume asked me about a Republican candidate that I had never heard of, but who he says is likely to get the nomination.

The restaurant owner was Swiss-French. I told him I understood what he said as long as he didn’t say it to me. He said that reminded him of his girlfriend. (He also kissed my hand when we left, which I didn’t like at all.) He ranted at length about everything wrong with the world including:
1) 95% of an economist’s job is to explain why their earlier predictions were wrong. The remaining 5% is to make the next prediction which will in the end be wrong.
2) The minister of agriculture should work in the countryside in order to reduce his travel time and expenses bc he works on agriculture. (I tried to explain why this didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t much for listening.)
3) Democracy can only work in affluent countries, and only the affluent should vote. Juliette, of course, objected at this. I could see his point, but only from the perspective of our infinite California initiatives. I tried to explain this. J and G might have been interested – there was no way to tell as there were no pauses. The other thing that concerned me about this line of thought is the frequent confusion between capitalism and democracy. The 2 are not the same, but I often feel like when we are talking about democracy, we slip into talking about capitalism instead.
4) He went on for quite some time about integrity being binary -- you either have it or you don't. I, of course, strongly disagree.
I am sure there was more, but those are the ones that stuck with me. They told him to be careful with his transportation observations since he was in the presence of an expert. Later, he asked what kind of transportation. “Human,” I explained to which he suggested I meant inter-regional (not using those words – I have forgotten his words). “No, urban,” I further explained.
“Oh,” he replied the light bulb finally having gone on. “You mean mass transit.” I agreed in order to end the conversation more quickly.
“He seems lonely,” Juliette later suggested.

Photos of HK day 1

View from Juliette and Guillaume's living room (back)

From the pedestrian overpass (with escalator) to the Ferries etc.

Waterfront promenade on the Kowloon side

Social marketing in the ferry terminal

From the ferry

View of their apartment building from the front

HK Day 1

They say that if you can walk from the upper midlevels (where my friends live) to the ferry terminal without going to street level, you’re a local. I haven’t managed this feat yet, but I’m working on it. The pedestrian facilities here are extensive and were likely quite expensive, but that doesn’t make HK a pedestrian-oriented city. It isn’t. I’ve been here exactly 24 hours, and I would say they emphasize public transportation: buses, ferries, taxis, and metro (which I haven’t tried yet).

I slept pretty hard last night and woke up early. Guillaume rushed off the work, but Juliette and I had breakfast together and chatted. After she left for work too, I puttered for a few hours (my specialty) before getting out the house. Wednesday is free museum day in HK. So, that’s what I did, and this bit of ingenuity saved me a whopping US$3.

I took the Star Ferry from Central to Kowloon where the History and Art museums are. The ferry was fast, efficient, and cost about US$0.25. I took pictures. I had trouble finding the History museum, but once I did I found the first floor on natural and pre-history deadly boring. The upper levels covered the formation of the city. For example, the British interest in occupying HK was the result of a trade imbalance due to the English love affair with Chinese tea. The Chinese would only accept silver in trade, and I guess the Brits were running out of silver or something; so, they introduced opium which they were able to collect from India eventually causing widespread addiction here.

Chinese officials balked at that, but enough corruption existed that nothing was really done about it. Things stayed that way until the Japanese occupation of HK in the 1940s. When they invaded, they dropped flyers explaining to the English why it was in their best interest to surrender, and I guess that worked bc they did. How clever is that? Explain to people from afar why they should do what you want them to do… sort of like the jet-eye mind tricks that KT and I were discussing the other day where your boyfriend “explains” to you why you don’t want to breakup with him. Ahem. Anyway….

What the Brits had done right in their invasion of HK was to make it a negotiation based on trade where everyone maintained their dignity and got something in return. The Japanese had alienated the Chinese with their tactics and without trade with China, HK lacked food and water to support its population. They expatriated maybe 75% of the city’s original population but still couldn’t feed people. Photos showed bone-skinny people of both races.

You can see that I was paying attention. I couldn’t help but notice that while HK was a very long and successful British colony, isn’t colonization still disrespectful? And shouldn’t that be addressed or at least alluded to in the city’s history as provided by its own museum?

By this time, I was starving. I found a dim sum place recommended in my guidebook, and walked their via the waterfront promenade. 2:30 p.m. begins dim sum happy hour. So, I had a pot of tea and 3 types of dumplings in an elegant dining room with a view for about US$7. It took a long time, and we had a few misunderstandings, but I had no complaints by the time I left.

My next museum was the HK Museum of Art. The paintings inspired me: their compositions, story telling, and inclusion of the written word. I want to do an etching of a sail boat and water with traditional-Chinese-painting composition. I want to transcribe into lead the words I hear in my head rather than try to drive them away or understand what they mean or their source. I took a low-quality photo of a dorky gift-shop tapestry depicting a river of ducks for my future reference. Yes, I am excited.

By this time, it was about 5 p.m. So, I took the Star Ferry back across the water and again failed to avoid completely the street level on my way home. This area is the foreigners’ ghetto. I saw lots of white people, and many of them even pushed strollers. I could see myself living here in a pinch.

Posting these words will have to wait until Guillaume returns and fixes my wifi connection – it stopped working after a brief but delightful IM session with Tyler this morning. I don’t know why.

Note: this history of HK is from memory and may not have any basis in reality.

Arrived!

I checked in online bf leaving for the airport, was only 1.5 hours early, waited a short time to drop off my bag, and had an uneventful flight. 14 hours is a very long time, but we watched 6 movies (I watched 2.5 -- "I pronounce you Chuck and Larry", part of an old Harry Potter, and I've already forgotten the other), slept and ate. Anyway, I have no complaints. Guillaume has set me up with the wifi. It appears I had better get off the computer as things are happening in the kitchen....

They live on the 22nd floor of a tall building surrounded by taller buildings on top of a hill covered in cross-crossing roadways. Lots of taxis, buses, and cars, no bicycles.

another scrap

I'm off to HK tomorrow; so, I want to take care of some loose ends. This is what the scrap says (source unknown):
The bottom line is that people want authentic and transparent relationships with other people.

Starting my list early

What to get me for xmas

Photos of my sister and mother biking in Ireland

You can tell she is my sister bc of the continual scone commentary.
Photos

How Fun!

Photos by Mitch Aidelbaum of Halloween at work today... including one of me.
Photos
Slideshow

Nightmare

I'm listening to the Talk of the Nation as I prepare for tonight's hanging at the gallery. The topic is The Anatomy of the Nightmare. The definition of a nightmare is a dream so bad it wakes you up. Sleep labs found that something like 70% of all dreams are negative.

Question everything. What is a dream? What is sleep and how is it different from being awake? Let's accept for a moment that being awake and being asleep are fundamentally the same. That is, they are both mechanisms through which we process our emotions and concerns.

In college, I was briefly involved with Brendan who had a very bad reputation. I didn't care, but I heard the stories from the gossips and speculated on how they correlated with the stories of his life that he told me. I won't go into the details. This is relevant bc one of his speech -isms was to call all kinds of his life experiences "nightmares". I found it aptly descriptive and began using it too.

A nightmare, then, is something that happens (in life) that is so negative it wakes us up. It throws us out of our patterns. It bring us consciousness to our actions and how they relate to our values. My relationship (lowecase "r") with Brendan was not a nightmare; my Relationship with Jared was. I've had a few jobs that were nightmares. I even had a living experience that was a nightmare once.

If 70% of all dreams are negative, dreams so bad you wake up are nightmares, and waking life isn't nearly so negative, maybe a waking "nightmare" isn't necessarily always negative. On the other hand, maybe we need a new word for that. I've had many positive life experiences that have caused me to "wake up" to my actions and how they relate to my values.

NPR: Writer Tracks Modern-Day Pirates in Malaysia

Weekend Edition Saturday, October 13, 2007
very interesting

NEWFLASH: Indecision Hurts

"It hurts to even think of those days. The damage we do by the hopes that we raise."
-Aimee Mann

I'm goofing around so far today when there are about a million things I should be doing. I should cut myself some slack. I work a lot.

I'm listening to my podcasts. Mr. Manners just reviewed how to handle holiday scheduling. He said something I found remarkable: it can be more hurtful to waffle and then not show up than to be clear about your plans from the beginning. Thinking about this, I realize it's true of many aspects of life.

Friends/Family -- Mr. Manners covered this.

Employment -- I used to apply for every job I found, and see how many offers I could get and play them off each other. A few years ago, I learned that this is inconsiderate to my potential employers who spend time reviewing my application and getting offers approved by their board (for example) without knowing my ambivalence. Likewise, it doesn't make sense for employers to interview me once and sometimes even twice when they still have a number of candidates under review. My time is valuable, even more so when I am consulting (either for myself or for a firm). Both employers and their applicants should limit their inquiries to only when there is real interest and seek out mechanisms to determine their interest (like tests or networking) before taking up each other's time.

Promotion -- Along the same lines, employers shouldn't put employees up for promotion unless they sincerely believe the employee will get it. I've seen this happen a few times, and in every case, it has led either to the employee leaving or to needing a great deal of damage control to keep them. Save everyone a lot of time and heartbreak and communicate your opinion/concerns up front.

Dating -- We all know that that period when a relationship is ending is the worst, much worse than before and after it. Likewise, I have wasted a lot of time (and missed other opportunities) thinking about boys who just "aren't that into me" but string me along (probably to "save my feelings"). Human nature is complicated, but wouldn't it be great if we could get to know each other as friends and see if a strong emotional/physical connection evolves? ...and see if there is potential for a deeper partnership with the person?

Housing -- I've even had the experience of being delayed by potential housemates not being clear about their level of interest in joining the household. In this case, like with employment, the risk is deeper bc basic human needs (money, shelter) are involved. (Altho the stakes aren't as potentially emotional devastating as the end of a relationship.)

In sum, humans are complicated. Future needs and feelings mysterious. But that's all that much more reason to act deliberately. Get to know people. Meditate and get plenty of sleep so that you know what you really think. Don't over- or under-express yourself. Respect people's time including travel time. Pay attention and remember your observations. Keep your eye on the big picture.

What's Coming Up

My last post was about the recent past. I have a few other past posts to process. However, right now I am very excited that yesterday I bought a ticket to visit Juliette and Guillaume in Hong Kong and registered for a woodcut class in December.

Music, Language, Art

My friends and I have been doing a good job of enjoying this City's cultural resources. Two weeks ago, we enjoyed the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in Golden Gate Park. I went on Saturday and had such a good time, I decided to return the next day instead of sailing. We heard:
Michelle Shocked
Gillian Welch*
Los Lobos
Charlie Louvin
Hot Buttered Rum
Mekons -- interestingly sort of country punk
Dry Branch Fire Squad*
Jorma Kaukonen*
* indicates particular favorites

During the DBFS the Blue Angels kept flying overhead. The tall man improvised with this odd musical situation well in his monologue.

Last weekend, we did the Lit Crawl. We met first at Casanova as a woman read her personal travel essay about peeing in Antarctica. The room was very crowded; so, we dashed across the street and had a cocktail at Blondie's.

Next, Kristin wanted to hear the essays collectively titled "Girls Tell All" at the Beauty Bar. I found them unremarkable.

Finally, I thought it would be good for us to hear some poetry. At the Marsh, we heard poets read from "youth to beauty". I particularly enjoyed the first piece by a young man about his imaginary giraffe daughter and another later by an older man about "America". Of course, I didn't note down anyone's name tho I should have.

What's totally awesome about the Lit Crawl is the hordes of people who come out and run from venue to venue to hear other people's creative writing. I haven't felt like writing lately, and I only feel a poem coming on every once in while, but I came away from the event feeling inspired and good about my work. What makes a "writer", I guess, is that they write (regardless of quality or content). Not that I accept labels.

Sunday, we did the Bike Coalition's ride to the Marin Headland's Center for the Arts. I love that bike ride, and wished continually that I had remembered to charge my camera -- it was so beautiful. (I've been feeling rather frustrated with myself lately. I haven't taken an art-worthy photo in about a year, and many of ones I took a year ago I can't use bc of their resolution.) There, they have a smattering of "artists in residence" working on various interesting projects -- all ambitious, some remarkable. An example of my lack of commitment to blogging right now is that I didn't note any names.

I have a card from Danielle Nelson Mourning's show where she traced her ancestors in Ireland and took photos of herself simulating what their lives may have been like. She used large-format film on a "field camera". We discussed the unique nature of winter light. I love the idea of constructed self-portrait.

Questions Not to Ask Women

How old are you?
How much do you weigh?
Are you pregnant?

[This came up bc my birthday is soon. I gained weight in France. I am not pregnant.]

Alogny Vacation in Review

[I wrote this post a while back, but neglected to post it until now.]
The New York Century was the least pretentious bike ride I have ever been on – very few little outfits. Most people rode fairly clunky bikes (including me), wore cotton, while making that 100 miles look easy (which it was being flat). We did something like 85.

The whole competitive cycling thing irritates me. I mean, taking anything so seriously that you become gaunt and wear odd clothes is irritating. These people love New York. They love cycling. They don’t get all fussed up about it like the people in California do. Of course, I haven’t done any other east coast rides. So, I don’t have a sample for comparison.

I’m on the train from the country back to Paris for a couple final days… really just a day and a half if you take travel time and sleeping into consideration. I was there a week and a day, but it went by like a flash. I’ll post a photo of Alogny to give you an idea. I didn’t even have time to read. Nine of us + one baby stayed there – friends from grad school at Berkeley and their significant others. So, it was a lot of visiting and drinking wine on the patio. We rented bikes for the week to we could tootle around between castles and see the gorgeous country side. The area is perfect for biking – little roads, not much traffic, beautiful countryside, just enough topography to keep it interesting.

So, yeah, there was visiting, biking, walking (Keturah and I each even did a run), eating and drinking. Probably best illustrated in pictures (posted here).

My mom has 4 pet chickens… or had. Now, she has one. The second to last died the first night we arrived after a few days of illness. They are (or were) back with brown eyes, and they spend their days scratching and moving around higgledy piggledy. We tried to care for the one remaining chicken when my mother was away – but we were an inferior second.

After a few days of her being away, my mother returned and the chicken ran around with more enthusiasm than we’d seen yet. Who knew that chickens can tell people apart and feel fondness for particular ones. Last night, Ryan went out to put the shut the chicken door (she usually puts herself to bed, but the door must be shut to keep the foxes from eating her). Marshall followed, and shortly returned to inform us that the chicken had not put herself to bed. Ryan was poking around in the bushes where she usually hangs out, when I came outside to double check. Well, the end of the story is rather dull – she had put herself to bed, just not where they had thought she would be. We called Ryan back in from the shrubbery before we lost him to the foxes.

It was a vacation in the traditional sense of the word… not that I needed one. (Ryan said he hadn’t taken a real vacation in several years.) I live my life like it’s a vacation… in the sense that I stay relaxed and I don’t let myself get worn out. (I’ve tried the alternative, and it didn’t work for me. I’ll cite health reasons.) Now, I’m actually exhausted.

A Thought on the Role of Love

My friend Joyce said "I love everyone: my friends, my partner, my family, people I didn't even know. Then I realized, if I love everyone so much, why am I still unhappy?"

Another Poem I Particularly Liked

"On Faith" by Cecilia Woloch, from Late.

A Poem I Particularly Liked

"To the Man in a Loden Coat" by Deborah Garrison, from The Second Child.

Jessica

I gave an English lesson to a young French girl named Jessica. We talked about verb tenses. The “–ing” thing is very hard to explain, but I think she got it. She also didn’t know that Texas is a state and Brazil a different country. You can imagine. She said, “Brazil is in America.”
Me: yes, but it’s not in the United States
She looked confused. I tried to draw her a picture, but my geography of South America is not very good. Jean Pierre helped. I don’t think she knew that there was a North, Central and South America which seemed crazy to me. But if you think about it, young Americans don’t always know the geography of Europe.
Her foster mother was also my French family’s nanny. That’s how we know her. She’s very timid but at the same time obviously wants very badly to succeed. She just got a job working on costumes for Disney – a big opportunity, but she wants to travel, see the world. She hopes after some time she can work in their other offices. I meet a lot of very worldly people from other countries (I am reminded of Shanti saying when we were at Alogny “I sometimes forget that I am a very worldly person, and that other people aren’t like that.”). I do not often meet people like Jessica. She’s refreshing.

Notes on Velib

Ryan met with the people who run the Velib program in Paris and shared with us some interesting things he learned. He also promised to post photos which I will link to when they become available.

Paris is mostly flat which makes both it a good candidate for public bikes and the type of bike that would be needed relatively simple (you don’t need a lot of gears). In case of vandalism, they have to be indestructible. All working parts like the chain and the gears are covered up with metal casing. Even the nib to ring the bell has been replaced with a turning wheel with no parts sticking out that could break off. Each bike also has 3 gears, a basket, an adjustable seat, a small lock with its own key, and lights on the front and the back.

The system for maintenance is rather involved. If a bike is repeatedly checked out and then returned, its status changes to unavailable (indicated by a red light on the screen of the parking apparatus). Bruno told me that if you find a bike is broken, the guerilla why to indicate that is to turn the seat backwards. Tools and spare parts are kept in a compartment in the pavement under where the fleets of bikes are parked. More complicated maintenance and restocking of these compartments are handled by barge that floats from station to station along the river Seine.

The program employs 440 people – the equivalent of 280 FTE. Mechanics wear uniforms of maroon pants and black tops. All bicycle parts are identical because all bikes are identical. So, the inside of the barge is filled with piles of these parts: wheels, pedals, chains, handlebars, etc. The mechanics look very busy and professional, and the barge immaculate in Ryan’s photos. Most of the bike pods are near the Seine, but those that aren’t are served by trucks and are close to the edge of Paris anyway. I found it wise to check the chain, tires, and brakes before checking out a bike – many had a problem in one of those areas.

The cost to rent a bike increases over time to encourage turnover. The first 30 minutes is free. The next is one euro. The 3rd 30 minutes is 2 euros. The 4th is 4 euros, etc. If a person needs a bike for a day-long ride, they should rent it from a shop. These bikes are for transportation. I also heard that it was 150 euros charge if you failed to return a bike and 6 months in jail if you stole one. The night I had dinner with Tina and Bruno, Bruno took a bike so that his transportation wouldn’t cost anything. Tina and I paid for the Metro.

Like mine, Ryan and Ellen said that their experience using the bikes wasn’t perfect. They checked out one bike that was broken; so, they returned it. Then, the system wouldn’t allow them to check out another bike because it hadn’t yet recorded that they’d returned the first broken one for about 30 minutes (it supposed to take 5). Meanwhile, someone else checked out and then promptly returned that same broken bike indicating that they system had at least recorded that bikes return within its own parking system if not communicated that information to the other bicycles. After the second return, the light turned red and the bike recorded as out of circulation. If Ryan and Ellen had been in a hurry, they would have had to find another way to travel.

As with my experience, sometimes there are no bikes available. Tina said that a more common problem is having nowhere to park them once you have reached a popular destination. One time, they locked up the bikes and went for dinner waiting for a station to open up. I cost them ~3 euros.

Of course, I stood on the corner and counted bicycles. I found that slightly fewer than half of the bicycles on the road were Velib. I would like to assert that this indicates a doubling of the bicycle mode split, but Serge (Muriel’s boyfriend) said he got rid of his own bike (which he used to ride around Paris for transportation) when the program began. He said it’s easier to use the Velibs because you can take them just one way and use the Metro (or other mode) for the other leg of your journey due to rain or other inconvenience, and he doesn’t have to maintain them. His own bike always had a flat, and he didn’t know how to fix it himself.

I feel more confident asserting that the Velibs get people on bikes who may have never ridden one otherwise. I remember being amazed at how many bicycles were on the road when I visited shortly after the 1997 Metro strike. At the time, Juliette (a real parisienne) confirmed my observation that more people were riding for transportation.

But most of these people are not paying for the Metro, so doesn’t that cause a decline in public transit revenues? I don’t know, but I can cite a few advantages to the program:
• Improved public health
• Putting/keeping people/eyes on the streets – a friend recently posted to one of my carfree lists about how refreshing it was to see old ladies walking around Paris by themselves at night.
• Slowing traffic for all living things in the city to be safer.

Another important question on my mind is if this kind of program would work in the states. The Velib program does not provide helmets. Given the litigious nature of US society, I fear we would need to figure out how to provide helmets hygienically before a program like this would fly here.

My Velib Story in Pictures

Muriel and her boyfriend both have Velib cards (shown here on his apartment hammock). Muriel shows the card's back. He kindly lent me his card for the afternoon. (You can't use the bikes without a French bank card. Apparently this program is not for tourists.)

It took a while to find available, working bikes. We must have checked 5 or 10 different stations.



The first bike I checked out (shown) had no chain! The first bike I rode was broken too -- its front casing, fender, gear shifter and bell, but at least it was ridable. I learned to check the chain, tires, and brakes before checking out a bike. Even if you return a broken bike right away, it takes time before you can try another one.

Finally, we found working bikes!


Here in central Paris are all the bikes! We returned our bikes here for 5 minutes to avoid paying any rent -- the first 30 minutes are free. Muriel is reading Kristin's guide to Lost Paris.

This tree in central Paris was planted in 1601. We learned about it in the Lost Paris book.

We rode fast...

...all over central Paris.

Even after I dropped Muriel off at our starting point, I rode to the eastern-most station on the Metro-9 line before jumping on the train for the rest of the way home.