Blog 3 (VIET) and NAM!

Apologies for my lateness in bloging-ness… It was all because of the most bonding and relaxing, crazy and exciting, refreshing and informing voyages ever to have taken place in my life that I remembered very little of any responsibilities that lay over my shoulders—that being until the moment I stepped off the plane in Hong Kong. Surely, as the myriad of painful realizations set in, horror was in action deep within my soul! I was crying in my lonely room, looking at a planner with no checks of anything completed (that’s a lie, I had no planner, I wish I did).

· Yes, I was crying.
· I was lonely, so lonely for the first time in five days.
· I had a bag overflowing with stinking, dirty clothes—meaning I needed to do laundry.
· I had no minutes on my phone to contact any of my friends that I haven’t seen for five minutes—longer than any span of time during my trip in Vietnam.
· I needed a shower so so SO bad but I was butt-lazy.
· I started to remember a bunch of sad incidences in my life—God knows why—that put me in depression mode all the more.

I have to admit, was it not for good old Kris to pass by me and later deciding to order pizza, I would have been sick in my bed refusing to go on with this Hong Kong experience (over-exaggeration)… But why was I so upset and depressed and heart-broken and CRYING FOR THE FIRST TIME HERE?

Well, the answer is: because I had the most unbelievable trip in Vietnam, my home for five days, with the family I’ve known for only a month…

Our red bus—sniff, sniff…sniff. The bus rides were our life in Vietnam. I wonder if my chair still remembers me. I miss it dearly, hope it does too. That bus! I ate Pringles and chocolate and coconut on it, I danced to Ricky Martin and Techno on it, I slept and maybe even snored on it, I laughed my head off and talked my tongue away on it, I learned so much in so little of Vietnam on it, I watched the hours pass away as details of Saigon and the Mekong Delta and even a speck of Cambodia rolled by on it…I grew closer and closer to all my friends on it. It was the bus that greeted us, and the bus that saw us leave goodbye. Ok, enough about the bus, or it may seem as if I grew fond of nothing but a machine on my trip to Vietnam.

So I was shocked to see so many motorcycles in my life. My eyes widened to images of old and young, two hands strapped on motorcycle handles, in a damn crowded country, moving along so freely and comfortably as if breezing along an ocean side on a beach-buggy. When later I would walk the streets (specifically cross the streets), well, that was a whole new adventure staring at center lights of motorcycles barging my way ready to take me over. At one point, I started singing “I will survive” running across every intersection, hand in hand in a straight line of 5 people. And I thought Hong Kong was bad?!

Precious moments passed by at the speed of light. One of which was the time I had 2 million with me, in one wallet, just one wallet, my wallet, and my wallet alone… unfortunately, it was Dong! It could buy so much, yet so little. Right outside of the ATM machine door, we ran into all the little Vietnamese poor kids and they took my breath away, maintaining a smile that spread across my face. Truly they are excellent business people: daring, confident, interesting, sweet, and not to mention, multi-lingual. Their English was absolutely perfect. I feel bad now that I never even bought one flower from any of them, but I did get silk letters the first day there. Beautiful—and they say Vietnam on them too.

I got the first massage in my life in Vietnam! And it was excellent, cheap, and oh, did I mention that it was excellent? Some people, unfortunately, had more than a massage—enough said. My first (yes I did go back for another one) was $9 and the second $20. It was soothing and perfect—OH MAN! I made friends with Ha too, she gave me my first massage and boy is she serious about her massaging abilities.

Vietnamese people are so awesome. They are energetic and humble, forgiving and happy. The

War Museum I could never forget: in it of itself was nothing grand, but all it spoke seemed to be coming straight from a memorable agony filled with dry hardships and harsh losses to what we thought was a civilized world today. The pictures, the tanks, the army, the flags, the guns, the artillery, the memories—all so real, and I can’t find the feelings to describe it. Simply, a real experience was revealed in this simple place. The baby in the bottle—I still see it now.
Not to mention, the ChiChi tunnels- uhh, so hot. I was in it at one point with Evy’s butt in my face. I was sweating, I was disgusting, I was dirty, I was wet- EWW- the thought of it makes me itch, but fills me with the loneliness and darkness of war-images and what Vietnam had to do to finally succeed in this long-drawn out battle for their—what exactly, maybe not a good enough answer.

Saigon market! I’m kind of worried I got diseases from this place. The ladies were grabbing my hand as if feeling my body. Heartfelt yearns to get me to buy something, just anything, was evident of course that at several points I felt no need to bargain, because Yaum was doing all the bargaining for her products! But I loved them and I think they loved me too. As soon as I gave them a smile in an attempt to let them know that I respect what they are doing for me (or themselves) I earnestly felt that they were interested in who the hell I was too—“where are you from”, “what you do here”, “how old are you?” I mean this is a people who yes, want to give you their stuff because they want your money, but a society so cheerful, compassionate, and fervent it reminded me of my own Egyptian people. Night lights that keep you company, locals that walk hand in hand, little shops everywhere that invite you, and a culture that lives with a smile at the lips and in the heart no matter how rough things might get.

The Mekong Delta was the bomb. The highlight of my voyage, I learned most about Vietnam, the people, my people, my friends, and even myself from the excursion to the delta! It’s amazing how we travel to Europe, Hong Kong, or Dubai and think “Oh wow, different place (oooo)”, “different people (aaaaah)”, “different everything,” when really a huge part of it is all the same—a mass of buildings and a society with jeans. Now what about those who live steps away from a river, wash their clothes in the water, let chickens and snakes run around in their gardens, and not invite anyone for their weddings because the whole village is expected to come and make the food anyway! And oh, they are not just any people really, but farmers! Skipping on the stones with the river on the one hand and the little huts on the other, I was immersed in a Vietnamese local village. I loved it, I absolutely did. It was Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

The boat rides, uhhhhhh, the boat rides in the Mekong Delta... no words whatsoever… The breeze, the vast expanse of pure nature that lay ahead, the trees and vegetation, the waves to the locals who answered back, the games that we played, the songs that we sang, the dances that we made, the jokes that were said, the Chica BOOM BOOM bootty shakes... I felt more kid than I ever did when I was one. I forgot that that I was enrolled in a respected institution with undergraduates who attended some business classes in suits. I forgot that I was far away from home. I forgot worries, hunger, and responsibilities. I was somewhere else, la-la land, with everything I could ever dream of within my reach—friends, water, nature, and a whole lot of games to play, with so much more to see.

What about our nights? To keep things straightforward, they were as colorful as could be. Some people really brought out their true selves—a lot of NEVER-HAVE-I-EVER game playing and confession hearing and Chica Boom Boom on-the-bed playing. My personal favorites! Along with some other things of course… Oh, the French guy incident screaming in the face of—I won’t say who—he obviously hated loud Americans; he couldn’t go to sleep.

Quote- Brian: “Saacrebleuuu, can we just have WORLD PEACE?” My gut ached so hard from laughing at that I thought I would suffocate, I love you Brian!

Another quote- Leann: As Kris was admiring Leann’s suite (which is beautiful on her—damn) he told her “You’re getting me ready to do some work!” She replied walking away (and oh it was sooooo well said), “Yeaaa…….. but I’m not sure if you can handle it!” Oh yeah Leann, I love you!

Vietnam was awesome- people, places, food, and Viet! Viet, our tour guide, was as good as they get. I’m so glad his name is Viet because there is no way I could forget the name of the person responsible for guiding us through the best trip of (VIET) nam ever!

Blog 2

Dryer #8—I hope no one is standing there right now, cursing the person who still has their stuff in there (and that person would indeed be me). Give me a break guys! Let me introduce you to my place of residence in Hong Kong Baptist University—Soong Hall, Room N1422R. Translation: North Tower, 14th floor, room #22, on the bed to the right! Emphasis added on the floor number because after all, the laundry room is on the 1st floor. ~Sigh~ It sure is Sunday already, September 23! Is time flying or what? I have done laundry three times now, finally my sheets today. I feel a little relaxed, although a wave of overwhelming thoughts fill my jammed brain.

Hong Kong has changed so much in me, thought-wise, career-wise, feelings-wise, and I don’t know-what-wise… It is very reasonable to understand the more one sees of the world, especially a whole new environment, one grows wiser and more appreciative, but does one change? After a long freshmanyear in Pepperdine, alone overseas for the first time in my life, I grew to become more me than I ever was. What???? In other words, I didn’t change one tiny bit, or so I feel; I was more that Schutz (my high-school) happy-secretary-Calculus Sarah girl everyone knew more than ever. I didn’t do anything different in a world so seemingly peculiar and far away from home. But am I that same ol’ Sarah here in Hong Kong? Mind you, this is not about what I do, but what I think. I’m not sure if I’m wanting those same things I wanted before—suddenly I want international business politics, a missionary sort of living, a reaching out sort of life, a communal community sort of environment. But come to think of it, I think I just never knew what I wanted to begin with; I only had the “I wanna go back home to mommy and daddy” sort of mentality, on a constant-continuous-winning level.

Enough about my confusion-crisis! Let’s get down to some solid Hong Kong business. So I finally went to the Night Market. Brian hooked us up with that video place and I can’t say I went crazy, but I did get all the F.R.I.E.N.D.S episodes! I didn’t watch any yet- no time, no place. It’s a whole new world out there in the market—simple, cultural, lights-camera-action style! Not to mention, live prawns twitching their feet about ready to die overcrowded the mini-restaurants. Just incredible! We ended up eating in a nasty place as usual, but that’s ok. I don’t know why I am gaining weight here though, must be my chocolate cravings.

Speaking of food, Todai was just to dai for :-). Convo this week was definitely a treat and I ate like a pig! Oh, maybe that’s why I’m gaining weight. That same night got even better as I explored, talked, danced, and played cards at this new area I don’t remember its name. For some reason Evy, I think we tend to gravitate to Spanish-music scenes in Hong Kong (and drag others with us), and we have the times of our life for it!

As for the hiking tour with dr. s, Kowloon Walled City Park proved to be inspiring, informing, and relaxing! The gorgeous Chinese architecture amidst the mini-ponds sprinkled with water lilies, the rich-green vegetation backdrop, and the cultural significance of the area, was purely delightful. I could meditate there if I would. Although, I still can’t believe that Micheal climbed all the way up the cemetery—he was but a speck of water in a rainy sky, as I strained to spot him from where I was hoping he’d come back down (beside that annoying dog sniffing my feet). Kowloon Park definitely got me all revved up; areas that remind of death probably made me over-analytical, tiring my weary head!

Ok so that same Saturday, we were looking for Kris who had POOF…disappeared. He had to close his phone, walk up flights of stairs, stink in his white clothes, to finally find him in Lan Kwai Fong that night! Talk about fasting? No, he really did it! And he ate Middle-Eastern food in the Temple and didn’t save me any. Talk about friendship too!

It was a good week. I can’t wait for Vietnam already as I ponder in my roommate-less room. YESSS! I hate to be so cynical, but is it fair that she not accept my friends being in my room when she sleeps over in her friends’ rooms at least three times a week? DOUBLESTANDARD! But I still love her, and she does too. (She just thinks Americans are loud—thanks Michael and Kris and Brian :-) It’s good though to have an empty room, especially a room so big like ours!

I still love it here, I love you Hong Kong, I really do! Bahebaaaaaakk!

Can you believe it??? It's HONG KONG!!!

The gravitational force that encouraged me to finally sit on my hard desk chair and write this blog, which I meant to do a very long time ago (and of course didn’t), are many memories: none of which are here in Chinarrr. Side note: I say China “Chinarrr” while it’s freshly stamped in the back of my brain like gum pressed to the floor, after a three-hour international business lecture with Professor Wai Sum Siu. Why is it that in Hong Kong they don’t pronounce ChinAA the correct way in English, drive on the “right” left side of the road, and why do I have to run to cross every intersection, every time, because the cars are driving up (fast) from the side I’m not expecting? I guess everything is relative, ha? (Ok mom!) God, may You protect my life-long English education, pronunciation, accent, and grammar, as well as my life—that I have a feeling will be shattered here in my overseas experience!

Before I get too carried away, what are the non-Chinarrr memories that prompted me to be writing this blog (finally)? Well, it was one of these ridiculously insignificant and frequent moments in my life when nineteen-year-old, Pepperdine junior me was arguing and wining to her mother: “Mooommmmyyy I can’t believe I did this to myself, why am I going to Hong Kong?! What in the world was I thinking? A different place, a weird room of course, a God-knows who roommate, and oh (my personal favorite), Pepperdine sophomores?!!! AHHHHH!”

Here I am today, finally in Hong Kong, after a long time of wondering exactly how much I was going to regret my decision. Looking out my 14th floor window in an effort to remember a time in my life when I was even a little tiny bit happier, I receive an F for the meaningless attempt! I fail terribly in a struggle to remember a better place I’ve been, kinder people I’ve met, incredible friends I’ve known, and any more fulfilling, breath-taking adventures I’ve experienced. Although, that doesn’t account for the food because I am sick to my stomach here— cafeteria-wise and elsewhere!

Tempted to bullet point every street corner, MTR stop, Chinese hotpots, 7-elevens, and hot club destinations in Lang Kwai Fong—simply everywhere I’ve been—I can’t hide from the fact that all the encounters, episodes, and incidents to occur would not have been as memorable to me had I not been with my foursome-favorite Pepperdiners. Even amongst the one-hundred something something exchange students here in HKBU—from all over France, Germany, Sweden, Finland, Malaysia, Japan, Taiwan, the Philippines, and more—I have found a very personal international experience in my four-favs from little old Pepperdine: EL Salvador, Columbia, Israel, and of course my Egyptos!

So Evyyyy! The sister I never knew about, Evy and I finally meet up in Chinarrr. Not only do most people think we look alike, but Evy is as good (and crazy and vibrant and fun and incredible) as a friend gets. Not only does Evy make my days here race by, she always understands me, even when she is constantly sick fighting alongside her immune system Chinese hotpots and HKBU cafeteria. And Krisyyy! Now Zack is a whole other story because he has a picture with Sharon in his room—yes, and they are shaking hands. Even though we always bicker like an old-married couple over more than simply demographical identifications, Kris has it all—looks like a European, thinks like a Jew, lives like an American, and has this I don’t know from where vibrancy in him! But of course, since I’m from Egypt (and he loves it so much), he imposes on me his very dear and frequent physical exercise: that being¸ farting. And now Mikyyy! Well, without Michael any place is simply bland and tasteless. Anything he says or does tickles me inside and ends with a laugh. He is an expert with everyone and anything, except he calls me an aneuploid—or, bad ploidy! Enough about you guys, I just love you.

What about Hong Kong? It’s one of two things: I have either been here for a day or my whole life, for I have found comfort here that hasn’t hit me anywhere but home. Chinese people are the best—polite, reserved, and insightful, they are somehow full of constant energy. Indeed, their city tells the same story. Streaming lights that seem to last for eternity, buildings that soar to pinch the clouds, and bundles of markets and businesses that outnumber the eight million Hong Kong people themselves, is the essence of their culture. This city is not a world, but a million in one. Victoria Peak was a rare gift packaged in gold with Hong Kong’s technological prominence screaming in the midst of lovely surrounding islands, waters, and this pure sense of nature. So diverse and spectacular, Hong Kong grapples with my mind when I step into Festival Walk’s (mall) Chanel and Polo boutiques to then go eat dinner in a simple Kowloon City Thai restaurant, a district hovered with traditional Chinese cultural extravaganza. Oh dear God, am I really here already… in HONG KONG?