tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30069309433535197092012-01-23T10:07:56.590+08:00Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.comBlogger1741100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-10250383576684614172012-01-20T20:01:00.001+08:002012-01-20T20:12:48.697+08:00

During Chinese New Year,  people get enamored with hyacinths, daffodils, plants with globular flowers, and funny-shaped fruit that are not edible. Don't shower on New Year's Day, cautions the online Hong Kong Timeout magazine, because showering will wash away your good luck. The magazine also lists other traditional Chinese New Year do's and don'ts, including: Don't buy shoes because "shoe"

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-18004175416733302822012-01-12T17:36:00.006+08:002012-01-12T20:13:18.413+08:00

The boys and I went to Taiwan for a week after Christmas. We played the tourists, studied guidebooks, took lots of pictures, bought souvenirs, and walked until our feet had blisters. However, I had this comfortable, buoyant feeling the whole time I was there--something I haven't felt in a long time--something like having a gigantic downy mattress just a foot below me, so that no matter where I

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-23611275754270014632012-01-07T17:50:00.000+08:002012-01-07T17:50:04.834+08:00

I bought Ian an ant farm. I thought he would love having some living things to look after. Ian is not one to let on about his feelings, but after reading his recent essay about our cat, I know he misses her a great deal. So for his birthday, I found a modern ant farm kit that looks convincingly scientific and easy to manage. There is no prep work involved, no assembly, no dirt; all we need to do

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-78108080049207811912012-01-04T10:37:00.001+08:002012-01-04T10:41:02.866+08:00

This morning I went up on the roof early to hang up some summer blankets that need to be bagged and stowed. Since it promises to be a cold and cloudy day, the clothes lines are deserted and looking limp and forlorn in this colorless morning. From a distance, some odd shapes caught my attention. Dangling from a clothes line are three objects that look too large to be socks, but seem more in line

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-36749460760120055532011-12-15T04:50:00.000+08:002011-12-15T04:50:04.137+08:00

I think there might be some general agreement among Sam's colleagues that my social life or the lack thereof might be a cause for concern. Within a month, I've been asked twice by two separate persons about my social life. The first time was at a dinner at my house. I'd invited a couple of Sam's colleagues over for dinner since both of their wives were out of town. Over dinner, one of them asked

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-3462185608741204312011-12-12T23:27:00.001+08:002011-12-12T23:28:36.089+08:00

One straightforward, unadorned idea that makes it across the water is better than ten fancy ideas stranded in a beautiful, lonely island. That is what I've learned while teaching the Psalms to an audience whose mastery of the English language range from thorough comprehension to none whatsoever. It amazes me, to tell the truth, that some of these ladies keep coming, week after week, when they

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-29397731092478626252011-12-03T22:54:00.002+08:002011-12-03T23:05:33.078+08:00

Truism #20715: There is no such thing as a Chinese minimalist. No, there isn't. One may as well abandon filial piety and call Confucius a lunatic before embracing minimalism or simplicity. For the Chinese, it's all about quantity and excess, especially when it comes to celebrations. When I was in my twenties I attended a Chinese American church. Over the summers, there were always a series of

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-49380051505046659992011-11-18T13:45:00.003+08:002011-11-18T20:24:46.927+08:00

Last year I had this idea that I'd write a letter to my teenage son for his birthday. Okay, I didn't exactly "write" it; I typed it up, printed it, and signed it. But it WAS on a piece of paper. I realize that these days all too often our communications are lost in an inundation of information--or, as Aldus Huxley would put far more eloquently, "truth [is] drowned in a sea of irrelevance". Our

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-59132733841293707342011-11-09T17:11:00.001+08:002011-11-09T17:13:29.055+08:00

My palms hurt. I think I bursted a few capillaries when I tried to kill a impudent mosquito that actually zoomed in front of me in its moment of recklessness. Well, I missed. And as a result, I am declaring war on the brazen pests. A monkey does not tap dance in front of a lion without incurring consequences--a new Aesopian idiom. I just made that one up. Anyway, I shouldn't be writing about

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9288158100276368052011-11-07T18:26:00.002+08:002011-11-07T21:49:01.216+08:00

I'm standing in line with two bags of groceries under a pedestrian overpass for the bus home. It's twilight, that exact moment when light suddenly morphs into dark. There's a soft drizzle that gets blown everywhere so that everything is evenly damp. Suddenly, a small child in front of me jabs my grocery bag with her elbow. She looks up at me, a naughty, teasing smile on her face. She is cute.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-28381796301945470382011-11-04T17:27:00.004+08:002011-11-04T18:15:47.665+08:00

Recently I made a cultural faux pas in my Thursday ladies' Bible study class. For an ice-breaker question at each table, I asked the ladies, "What is your least favorite cleaning task?" The women stared back at me with a blank look on their faces. It took me a few minutes to surmise that most of these women probably do not clean their homes at all, because they have full-time domestic helpers to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-20884745587487025762011-10-12T06:43:00.002+08:002011-10-12T17:19:48.198+08:00

It's easy to get used to it. As soon as someone flushes the toilet and leaves the stall, the cleaning lady rushes in to wipe down the seat, sanitize the door handle, and mop up the spill. You won't see a toilet clogged with... never mind... neither will you have to stand in yucky water from who-knows-where. To be honest, I do appreciate the ready labor force that is available to man or "woman"

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-29297797602627295372011-10-05T17:50:00.003+08:002011-10-06T15:51:15.200+08:00

Being a homeschooler, I've had to wrestle with the nature and purpose of education. One does not simply pick up a grade-level-appropriate textbook and start teaching. There's more to it than that. You need to find your own  philosophy of education, the whys and the hows, before picking curricula and choosing your teaching methods. I've always been a bit of a purist when it comes to home

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-82459365316869645622011-09-29T04:18:00.000+08:002011-09-29T04:18:03.447+08:00

Let me just say I like Facebook. It's very handy for keeping loosely in touch with my friends. Even if they are thousands of miles away, eight hours ahead or eight hours behind, I can still track the big and small happenings in their lives through Facebook, roughly in real time. I get to find out what my friend made for last night's dinner or see her new haircut or follow her on vacation through

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-78155835842689210782011-09-15T23:59:00.001+08:002011-09-16T00:01:05.695+08:00

When I was studying in UC Berkeley, we had a lecturer named Clancy in our introductory computer programming class. He was the sort of guy you'd assume, had you run into him on the street, was probably one those homeless persons who roamed the campus and slept in People's Park. He was lanky, pale, with long scraggly beard and disheveled hair. And he always wore sandals to class. When he began to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-61299090629714799682011-09-12T13:41:00.000+08:002011-09-12T13:41:38.139+08:00

It is always scary to jump in something with both feet without enough prior knowledge of what you're getting yourself into. I felt that way when we signed up for K12 International Academy. Even after the initial sales pitch with a real person at the other end of the web link somewhere on this planet earth, the idea of a virtual school still seemed a bit suspicious to me. Nevertheless, with

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-1314465563594023492011-09-07T20:56:00.004+08:002011-09-07T23:16:19.463+08:00

Sam asked me to accompany him to the biennial Golden Medallion Book Awards banquet. This will be fun, I thought, we get to dress up and parade in front of reporters and cameramen and shake hands with many important people. And who knows? Maybe Sam will win something and get up on stage to make an acceptance speech like those Oscar celebrities. Of course I know that the entire ceremony will be

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-72500957192223492132011-09-04T23:02:00.000+08:002011-09-04T23:02:36.330+08:00

Once upon a time a Christian girl fell in love with a Christian guy for all the wrong reasons. She thought he was cute, fun, exciting, and different. Above all, he treated her like a princess. I suppose this last bit is not horrible; still, it should not be a deciding factor in a relationship as far as a Christian relationship goes. Nevertheless, that's what happened. Married life was not all

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-13980139756417752912011-08-28T23:52:00.004+08:002011-10-12T05:24:43.311+08:00

Question: In Hong Kong, which of the following three persons is most likely to have the best command of the English language? A. Well-dressed, beautifully made-up sales lady in her twenties working at a popular fashion clothing boutique B. Tidily-uniformed waiter in his late teens or early twenties, working at a Pizza Hut (not a take-out, but a full-blown sit-down restaurant) C. Scruffy old

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-79500709304561869632011-08-22T01:28:00.006+08:002011-08-22T11:17:46.455+08:00

When I was a teen, I was really into music. I'd listen for hours to Rick Dees' Weekly Top Forty Countdown on the radio, trying to find out who made it to the top. I'd write out my favorite artists and rank them according to how much I liked them. Whatever money I spent, I spent it on records (yes, I am talking about the dinner-plate-sized flying saucers). Eventually I would learn that a girl

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-52763660494954855092011-08-04T23:21:00.000+08:002011-08-04T23:21:34.156+08:00

**This post was written more than a week ago, but had somehow fallen through the cracks.** While in Phuket, we took a boat tour to the Ao Phang Nga Bay, which is dotted with forty-two islands. I'm not sure what size of rock would count officially as an island, but each and every one of these rocks rising out of the sea has a name. When we got near an island, we'd climb aboard canoes in

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-62008142799177958582011-07-28T22:35:00.002+08:002011-07-28T22:44:00.274+08:00

One cannot travel to Thailand without an encounter with elephants. Elephants are part and parcel to the consciousness and landscape of Thailand. Though their numbers have been dwindling due to deforestation, they are nevertheless a symbol of Thailand, ubiquitously represented in statues, art, crafts, religion, and, of course, tourism. Ever since logging has been banned in Thailand (a good thing)

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-90768585354095473572011-07-24T01:35:00.004+08:002011-07-24T21:47:49.164+08:00

I'm ploughing through a book called The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I have to, because my kids want me to read to them, and we are running desperately low with our list of well-written young-adult (Is that an oxymoron?) fiction books to read. After Tolkien's Trilogy and The Hobbit, Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, and yes, even Rowling's Harry Potter books, where do you go from there? We have

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21224566785548297432011-07-22T09:53:00.003+08:002011-07-22T10:21:48.379+08:00

We've been freshly inundated with beauty in this past week. We admire the ocean views, the crashing waves, the rock formations, the butterflies, and even the hotel cats who come so willingly to nestle at our feet. Yet, I am ashamed to admit my eyes and hearts have stopped there, lingering on and loving whole-heartedly the Creation, and forgetting the Creative One. That's the dilemma of the human

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-29964550487431934992011-07-20T09:28:00.003+08:002011-07-20T10:05:15.493+08:00

Sam has gone back to the States, but his dad passed away while he was still inflight to San Francisco. I'm sad that Sam didn't make it in time, but everyone seems to be doing okay and accepting the facts as they are. (I think we are all in a state of shock, but the realization will come in time.) Meanwhile we're still in Thailand and still on vacation. On the day Sam boarded the plane to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-10259853769140492892011-07-16T01:40:00.001+08:002011-07-16T01:49:24.606+08:00

You are wandering down an unfamiliar street. The sidewalk is wide enough, but it is unevenly paved, and here and there slabs of pink bricks poke out wobbly at odd angles. You walk gingerly, keeping an eye out for hidden steps and sudden slopes. You cross the street, dodging motorcycles and cars that seem to stop and go in unpredictable ways. You pass the shops, the convenience stores, the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-84038614394950902302011-07-14T10:16:00.002+08:002011-07-15T05:01:53.507+08:00

We stopped in Bangkok on our way to the Andaman Sea. It was a busy, fun-packed couple of days. We crammed in sightseeing during the day, along with shopping and dining in the evenings. Needless to say, we acted the quintessential tourists, speaking English everywhere we went, and never wandering off the beaten paths. Still, we learned a lot in these couple of days, not as seasoned Thai

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-58832194096706897922011-07-07T00:43:00.001+08:002011-07-07T00:45:24.159+08:00

I've written a couple of posts recently, which I decided not to publish for various reasons. As a result of this self-censorship, my muse has decided to go on strike, refusing to do any work because it's miffed about its wasted efforts. It's like having a drain blockage: water won't flow until the pipeline has been cleared. There are posts sitting at the loading dock, and I refuse to let them go.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-1315720210357469262011-06-20T16:36:00.002+08:002011-06-21T01:56:03.190+08:00

Chinese people love to eat. We accept that as a universal truth. Chinese Christians love to eat as well. What's more, Chinese Christians love to eat together. It is not uncommon to find Chinese churches in America that share a meal together every week after the Sunday worship. While the practice has its merits (e.g., allowing people more time to fellowship and develop closer relationships), it

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-8800115369105155362011-06-20T01:49:00.002+08:002011-06-20T08:44:06.152+08:00

In the movie Notting Hill, the love story between the characters played by Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts is set amidst a backdrop of interesting and likable characters who are the close and long-time friends of Hugh Grant. These friends and their involvement in the main character's life are what set the story apart and make the film worth watching. These friends know each other intimately. They

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-5238183926214859062011-06-09T20:29:00.003+08:002011-06-10T08:13:05.974+08:00

The church in Beijing where it all began Ever since I can remember, my dad had had all of us singing. I guess it came from his fond memories of growing up in a Catholic school back in Beijing. In reality, those years probably didn’t last very long because Granddad died when my dad was ten, and the family had lost most of its fortune by then. But those were vivid memories for him—and important

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-11731158767117482162011-06-04T01:47:00.003+08:002011-06-04T14:39:18.017+08:00

I'm meeting N for lunch. She is one of the most elegant and ladylike women I know. So I thought I'd try to look elegant and beautiful for the day. Let me just begin by saying that it is not easy to feel elegant under ninety-degree heat and ninety-percent humidity. I think Southern ladies manage it well because they've had plenty of practice back home. For us West Coasters, we don't do well in

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-34217260999526993882011-06-02T01:16:00.004+08:002011-06-02T23:21:16.128+08:00

When someone mentions such phrases as "get a new identity and a new name," "relocate," and "start over," one probably conjures up some Hollywood movie scenarios like families living incognito under the witness protection program, or some clever lawyer who, after outsmarting the crime boss, ends up re-inventing his life in the Bahamas with untold riches. Our lives were not all that exciting. We

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-78644931012390993622011-05-30T23:36:00.002+08:002011-05-31T13:22:24.008+08:00

I got two free tickets to go to the Hong Kong Art Fair, but I can't find anyone to go with me. So I decide to go alone. As I set out, it occurs to me that this is the first time I've gone out on my own for personal pleasure in a really, really long time. Sure, I've gone out to run errands or to meet up with friends, but to go somewhere for fun all by myself? Not so much. As a mother and a wife,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-55339104927705887102011-05-20T13:48:00.004+08:002011-05-21T12:20:28.121+08:00

People assume that Chinese-Americans have their own identity and characteristics which are shared evenly by all persons with that designation. What's more, all Chinese-Americans should have an equal degree of Chinese-ness and American-ness, and that we'd all wash out somewhere around 7 on the pH scale between two cultures. When people look at my husband Sam and me, they probably think that since

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9271247058705029192011-05-18T21:17:00.002+08:002011-05-18T23:26:47.956+08:00

One strange phenomenon I have found about Hong Kong is its lack of places to sit in public areas. Whether it's a park, a shopping mall, or a bus stop, no matter how roomy a place is, it seems that the powers that be want to make sure people will keep moving, and that no one should sit down and linger or take up more space than necessary. I guess the rationale is that a place will not look nearly

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-11269181237380346622011-05-11T03:27:00.000+08:002011-05-11T03:27:26.298+08:00

I'm not a hyper-motivated person when it comes to exercises. There are always some other things I'd rather do. And given the number of priorities in my life, exercise tends to fall off the plate by the end of the day. However, recently, I have started speed-walking and jogging in the morning a few times a week--knowing that if I don't do it early in the day, it will not happen. While physical

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-66023508198723107542011-05-08T21:17:00.003+08:002011-05-11T02:05:27.053+08:00

If there's one time in a year when I actually miss having my children attend a regular school, it is during Mother's Day.  Mother-and-child party in first grade When my son attended school way back when he was little, Mother's Day was always something very special. For a whole week, he would come home loaded with hand-made crafts for me: tissue-paper flowers, melamine plates with personalized

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-25278273238845685552011-05-01T22:15:00.002+08:002011-05-01T22:25:50.295+08:00

At church worship, I sit next to E, a Filipino woman whom I've known superficially because we generally sit around the same area and say hi to each other. Because I am a few minutes early, I ask her how she's been. Great, she tells me, cheerful as usual. Then she asks me if I have a helper (i.e., a full-time live-in domestic helper)--a default, I guess, for most Chinese families in our church.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9543117817968721082011-04-21T07:01:00.003+08:002011-04-21T08:36:49.006+08:00

My husband just got hospitalized for snapping his Achilles' tendon while playing soccer. It so happened that our vacation to Macau was supposed to take place in less than two days. Now our spring break will be spent in a completely different fashion. Such is life. While I sat in the hospital nursing my disappointment at having our vacation plan ruined at the last minute, my son was at hubby's

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-43107572269998407172011-04-13T11:18:00.001+08:002011-04-13T11:22:46.033+08:00

Haircut lesson #1: Never go to someone you can't easily communicate with. #2: Never go to a haircut wearing your glasses, because, having to remove them for the haircut, you can't see what's being done to your hair. #3: Don't bother getting a haircut. **** When I moved to Hong Kong, I forgot to pack something very important and irreplaceable. My hairstylist, the Korean lady who'd been cutting

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-47628578126410143652011-04-11T14:56:00.002+08:002011-04-11T15:02:10.770+08:00

It promises to be a hot and sunny day. The weather forecast says it will reach a high of 83 degrees. I get up early this morning to start a load of laundry in the hopes that I might be able to squeeze in a second load afterwards. After a whole week of being cooped up due to a cold, I decide to go for a jog even though the sun is already on full blast. Along the dirt road towards the beach,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-68742348419425256522011-04-10T17:21:00.003+08:002011-04-10T18:04:26.984+08:00

It typically takes over a year for a person moving to a new locale to truly call it home. Sure, you can like a place for its novelty, its unique tourist appeals, its potential for starting anew. Eventually, however, all the "newness" wears off, and you have to look at the place for what it means to you as you begin to live, not as a temporary visitor, but as a long-term resident. At that point,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-73715065266951591772011-04-09T20:58:00.004+08:002011-04-09T23:00:06.622+08:00

As some of you know, I also keep a homeschooling blog. However, following Emily's footsteps, I've decided to consolidate the two blogs. It is just too much work trying to maintain both. From now on, I will flag all my homeschooling posts in the title so that those of you not interested in homeschooling can skip right over the post.****** My son's private school Prior to coming to HK, I'd been

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-74726292597931415972011-04-07T23:42:00.000+08:002011-04-07T23:42:22.793+08:00

When I shop for groceries in Hong Kong, I don't want people to talk to me. For one thing, I don't know what they're saying, so it makes me feel very foolish. Moreover, for me, shopping is a private affair, and having anyone staring and pointing at my shopping cart always makes me cringe. Yes, my cart tends to bulge with several cartons of eggs, multiple liters of milk, boxes of cereals, and 

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-75028435980394676422011-04-06T23:33:00.001+08:002011-04-06T23:37:45.564+08:00

After posting yesterday about the behavior of people in a crowded city, I ran across a passage in a book I'm reading that practically paraphrases what I said in my blog. The book is called A Geography of Time: The Temporal Misadventures of a Social Psychologist or How Every Culture Keeps Time Just a Little Bit Differently, by Robert Levine. It is a great book if you love to meditate on the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-31882866208715944232011-04-06T01:18:00.002+08:002011-04-06T01:30:19.055+08:00

The Christian band Kutless has a song called "Sea of Faces". It begins with these lines: I see the city lights all around me; Everyone's obscure-- Ten million people each with their problems. Why should anyone care? If Kutless were to do a music video for the song, I think Hong Kong would be a pretty fitting backdrop. It is a city filled shoulder-to-shoulder with people. Unlike many large

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-84989050864434901612011-03-31T23:54:00.001+08:002011-04-01T05:29:08.193+08:00

I was on a bus watching a commercial. You've seen it too, I'm sure, or something like it. A beautiful woman dresses up in a low-cut blouse to go out for a walk. As she bounces down the sidewalk in her alluring feminine form, the men on the street invariably turn to look and comically pile into each other. She exits the elevator, and every pair of eyes at the door follows her figure down the hall.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-34972103916096559992011-03-29T00:28:00.005+08:002011-03-30T09:28:35.569+08:00

It's 9:15 a.m. And my washing machine hums a resounding baritone note as it squirts water into the load, churns away slowly as if ruminating a philosophical question. Overhead my neighbor's machine picks up the pace as it bounces, hurtles, and rattles through the spin cycle. Elsewhere another machine chirps a ready signal. All over the residential complex, washing machines are working away

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-89882261252967945512011-03-20T20:30:00.004+08:002011-03-20T22:50:31.499+08:00

Alright, I admit it. I'm a little vain. I actually do care about how I look. Maybe not as much as most, but certainly more than some. When you get to a certain age, it is almost unseemly to care nothing at all about how you look--so some men tell me. Thus, I made up my mind to go into the store in search of some facial scrub and eye cream. Never one to splurge on expensive, name-brand cosmetics,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-37306283899165362292011-03-19T22:27:00.004+08:002011-03-19T22:58:26.070+08:00

I've gone back to reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It is one of those books I would rather read a little section at a time, put away for a while, and go back for a little more. It gives me time to enjoy and reflect. Like dark chocolate, you don't want to gobble up the whole slab in one setting. So here's a little something to chew on. She's talking about writing, but I think it applies to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-2910377187485289782011-03-17T20:32:00.004+08:002011-03-18T11:31:02.785+08:00

Hong Kong is a place where cultures and peoples are forced to collide and mingle. Its colonial past has given it a legacy of British institutions, culture, and ethos--including its educational system, Marks & Spencer, Cumberland sausages, and roads (i.e., driving on the left side. Ack!). It also means that, because of its bilingual and bi-cultural heritage, there are more Westerners living here

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-59608551110323518382011-03-14T14:49:00.002+08:002011-03-14T17:08:23.082+08:00

My last blog entry was so popular compared to all my previous entries (it's risen to the top place for being the most viewed) that I find it difficult to write something new without it seeming a complete let-down. A recent idea I had was to caricature the way Hong Kong'ers cut in lines with a series of cartoons (the impetus being unvented frustration of course). Then I realized how pathetically

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-59798327713437727462011-02-28T23:06:00.004+08:002011-03-01T08:41:49.616+08:00

Our wedding photo. It looks like happily-ever-after, doesn't it? I have a number of girl friends who are single. Some of them are quite happy being independent and free. Some, while happy and productive, would really like to get married if the right opportunity comes along. And there are some who pine for a married life and live their days in limbo, feeling incomplete and dissatisfied. Being

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-50488818860377564022011-02-25T17:03:00.001+08:002011-02-25T17:08:04.071+08:00

My husband is an extremely skillful encourager. He calls me the "kitchen goddess," perhaps in the hope that I will someday live up to the epithet, but after nearly twenty years, I suspect it's pretty hopeless. A glimpse into my kitchen will tell you I'm neither a proficient nor a diligent kitchen goddess. I blame my beloved mother for that. She never prepared me to be a full-time homemaker. A

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21892073107957191242011-02-16T05:46:00.007+08:002011-02-18T10:06:37.542+08:00

I just love Annie Dillard. I don't know many writers who can do figure skating with words and ideas. She does, perfectly. In her book, Teaching a Stone to Talk, there's a chapter called, An Expedition to the Pole. In it, she weaves together two seemingly unrelated narratives, one about expeditions to the North Pole, and the other about congregations worshiping at various churches she's

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-39960497974909765122011-02-08T16:47:00.003+08:002011-02-10T12:03:44.261+08:00

Lord of all pots and pans and thingsMake me a saint by getting mealsAnd washing up the plates!~The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence To me, that exhortation from Paul in Colossians 3--Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. (NIV)--has always seemed like a lofty dream cooked up by someone who spends his days sitting on a pole and has his meals and drinks delivered to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-37756113018501321672011-02-05T17:51:00.005+08:002011-02-06T10:10:08.593+08:00

Money god bobblehead, a kitschy way to welcome in the year Because we have a few days off, and because the rest of Hong Kong are taking the days to visit with families, we decide we might venture some outings, try places we've never been, and hopefully not get crushed by the stampede that comes with Hong Kong holidays. We ride the train to Tai Po Market station and look for signs to the bus

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-7149265820322639582011-01-28T00:04:00.004+08:002011-01-28T00:41:02.667+08:00

Okay, I might as well confess. I collect stickers. Before you conclude that I'm a forty-six-year-old looney with stacks and stacks of Mrs. Grossman's fabulous, metallic, laser-cut sticker sheets, I just want to clarify that those are not what I collect any more, not for many years (although I did get pretty excited when I visited Mrs. Grossman's sticker factory a few years ago and couldn't

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-68876273895985672402011-01-24T13:41:00.000+08:002011-01-24T20:28:16.026+08:00

Since I came to Hong Kong, I find that I've acquired a new kind of obsession or neurosis. I call it the "sunshine greed" because it is entirely related to the weather. You may think it trivial or petty, but it's what happens when you have a chronic need that is not regularly fulfilled. It happens the minute I wake up in the morning. If it's a sunny day, a mental switch immediately kicks on and

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21786398684736668142011-01-20T13:23:00.001+08:002011-01-26T21:48:23.335+08:00

Before I started homeschooling, I used to take writing far more seriously. I was living in England in a semi-depressed state. I had no friends (none that I could call up to hang out with--this was before I met E). With two small children, I was housebound most of the time in a part of England that was forever gloomy and drizzly. And I had just quit my career as an engineering consultant and was

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9082101138615192202011-01-17T14:57:00.000+08:002011-01-17T16:39:44.984+08:00

I live in a remote corner of Hong Kong. Although it's rather inconvenient for most purposes, I am thankful for one important thing--it's right by the beach. It means I can go for a stroll whenever I want. I can go on weekdays when everyone else is imprisoned in their concrete offices. I can go early in the morning before the sun rises. I can go, too, in the dark to see the moon reflected on the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-90346734749761807092011-01-15T13:45:00.000+08:002011-01-16T23:16:48.066+08:00

I don't usually use my blog as a soapbox, but there comes a time when I just have to let off some steam. Yesterday I was with a few moms who brought their children to play together--a "play date" for those of you who are unfamiliar with the concept. One of the kids, a five-year-old boy, was clearly not interested in playing with the other children. Instead, he was far more into molesting our

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-88254105021575231992011-01-09T20:35:00.001+08:002011-07-28T01:27:25.666+08:00

The Formosan Aboriginal Culture Village introduces visitors to the nine aboriginal tribes that had lived in Taiwan before the Chinese came and took over the island. It is a living museum that brings you face to face with a way of life that carried on for centuries. Modern aborigines live in small villages scattered throughout the mountains of Taiwan. Many operate tourism-related enterprises,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-6515375348605368522011-01-07T16:30:00.000+08:002011-01-07T16:43:33.198+08:00

We went to Sun Moon Lake to take a vacation from our vacation. I went there often as a child, and in truth it has not many great qualities to recommend it. It does not have the stunning beauty of, say, Crater Lake or Lake Tahoe, neither does it have that serene dreaminess of Windermere or Derwentwater. Instead of reflecting the sky in a brilliant turquoise hue, much of the time, it's just the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21879827331021874242011-01-07T00:54:00.000+08:002011-01-07T10:28:22.753+08:00

Having lived in Hong Kong for almost a year, I've just about acclimatized myself to rudeness and indifference from strangers. I've gotten used to the dull eyes and stony faces on subway trains. And I've come to accept that in a big city like Hong Kong, you don't make way for anybody. You brace yourself and harden your soul everyday to go outside. Show no kindness. Smile at no one. It's each man

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-3895175806067506702011-01-05T13:18:00.000+08:002011-01-14T15:13:43.185+08:00

The Chinese have a simple term called Shun Jiu. Literally, it means "searching the old". However, as most Chinese phrases tend to be, it's loaded with nuances. One can just as well translate it as "tracing one's roots" or "reliving the past" or "going on a quixotic quest for that elusive something which is no longer there." Okay, I made that last one up. Shun Jiu is what I end up doing on the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9027216427807178582010-12-24T23:24:00.000+08:002010-12-25T01:56:06.040+08:00

I left Taiwan when I was fourteen. Just how long it's been I won't tell you, lest you be tempted into doing some mental math, which is detrimental to your health on Christmas Eve. I will tell you though, that the last time I went back to visit was 1989. Since then I had not had any real desire to return. Taiwan had become, to me, an entirely foreign country. And the longer that time lapse grew,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-15445596147409254632010-12-22T13:35:00.000+08:002010-12-23T11:43:00.595+08:00

Today I had a most surreal experience since coming to Hong Kong. It all began with my need to find French's French-Fried Onions for my traditional Thanksgiving green bean casserole. I looked in all the fancy expat supermarkets all over town and found nothing. Then I heard it through the grapevine that you can buy a huge bag of French's onions at this place called Gateway. The name rang a bell.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-59248700808390580792010-12-21T00:27:00.000+08:002010-12-21T20:08:02.360+08:00

My niece came for a weekend visit, and she wanted to see the street markets and the night markets which are so famous in Hong Kong. So we decided to go on an adventure--yes, shopping in Mongkok, the densest square mile on earth according to Guinness World Record, is an adventure not to be taken lightly, especially on the last weekend before Christmas. On Saturday we already had a foretaste of

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-67728798294703872202010-12-17T13:45:00.000+08:002010-12-17T13:45:25.827+08:00

Yesterday was one of those days, and it didn't take much to set off a chain of negative thoughts until I just had to blow off some steam on this blog. Thanks for listening and for your encouragements and prayers. Although I still feel the same way about Hong Kong, every monsterous thought shrank back to its proper size once I got it all out and received your affirmations. And boy it felt good to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-44261740339854223252010-12-16T17:11:00.000+08:002010-12-16T17:24:23.596+08:00

I'm trying to maintain a positive outlook. I really am. And if you stumbled onto this blog hoping to get some holiday cheer, please move on because this is basically a gripe session. It all started this morning when I was checking prices on a camera. I broke my Canon PowerShot recently. Just dropped it smack on its lens in--what do you know--a shopping mall. Now I'm one week away from our much

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-69919698307698675282010-12-15T18:54:00.000+08:002010-12-15T20:08:02.862+08:00

With Christmas only ten days away, and my body entombed in a 800-square-foot concrete cocoon and my mind in an antihistamine-induced stupor, I was hanging up another load of washing in the bathroom (the weather being grey and damp lately) when I suddenly get in the pit of my stomach a funny sensation resembling something like panic. Of course, it couldn't have been panic, since you can't possibly

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-52013853973162182432010-12-12T23:07:00.000+08:002010-12-12T23:23:47.012+08:00

I've been doing a whole lot of baking lately. I've baked three birthday cakes in three weeks. (Note to prospective mothers: if you are the type that prefers home-made birthday cakes, do schedule your children's birthdays so they can be a few months apart, and most importantly, keep them away from your husband's birthday.) For next year, I'm seriously considering combining all three celebrations

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-75828345448924437492010-12-08T11:30:00.000+08:002010-12-08T12:17:25.135+08:00

Ian, when he was in Bug Garden (Sunday school for pre-schoolers) When we left our San Jose home last year (shortly after Christmas), we gave away both of our Christmas trees: a seven-footer all strung up with lights and a four-footer. We had no idea just what our new home will look like, what it can or cannot hold. Along with most of our possessions, we donated boxes of Christmas decorations,

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-9134319887156562322010-12-01T22:26:00.000+08:002010-12-01T22:29:19.784+08:00

I feel rather guilty that I have not been blogging much lately. And I have let Thanksgiving go by without sharing with you just how our first Thanksgiving in Hong Kong went. The fact is, the weather has been so nice (yes, it's true) that all I want to do is go out as much as I can. Somedays I even do extra loads of laundry just to have an excuse to go up on the roof to hang out clothes. I'd do it

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21658343082693266112010-11-20T00:34:00.000+08:002010-11-20T00:38:59.284+08:00

My 10-year-old has ADD. He is highly distractible. On his way to fetching a pencil, he will stop to finger the leaves of a ficus tree. While reading, he always manages to spot a bug in flight. While eating, he will leave the dinner table to take the trash out or sort out the laundry. It is a full-time job trying to get him to focus on his studies and the tasks at hand. However, many of us have

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-19570802064405401672010-11-18T15:58:00.000+08:002010-11-18T15:58:30.988+08:00

Hong Kong people love to eat out. Many people eat out three meals a day and never, ever cook at home (and I don't mean just the bachelors). As much as I love to eat out once in a while, I certainly do not qualify (yet) as a seasoned Hong Kong'er. I enjoy the peace and quiet of my dining room too much. From the neighborhood diners that serve up simple rice and noodle dishes cheaper than you can

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-56396893274504976552010-11-17T19:44:00.000+08:002010-11-17T19:48:13.269+08:00

Today, I went to Central, which is in Hong Kong Island. We make the 45-minute bus journey out there quite often. Lately, it's been twice a week, and we've just about memorized the entire "scenery" along the way. Since I had a camera with me today, I decided to snap a bunch of random pictures on the way home from the upper-level seats of the double-decker bus we were on. I thought it'd be neat to

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-81409088562381963212010-11-16T14:16:00.000+08:002010-11-16T14:19:57.230+08:00

As you may have noticed, I have been less than prolific in recent weeks. It's not that I have nothing to write about, but every time I have an idea that I'd love to share on my blog I find it too taxing to sit down for an extended period of time to sort through the thoughts in my head, organize them, and find the words to communicate them in a logical and coherent way. In other words, I've gotten

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-62009405955058407472010-11-06T12:31:00.000+08:002010-11-06T12:48:14.420+08:00

In Adam Sandler's movie, Spanglish, there is this scene where he, a Micheline-rated gourmet chef, makes a warm sandwich for himself. It is encased in what looks like freshly cut, lightly toasted country bread, filled with loads of grilled vegetables, possibly some parma ham or pancetta, and the best part, a soft-cooked egg, with golden, gooey yoke dripping and drenching all over the rest of the

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-23123543964774907052010-10-24T18:35:00.000+08:002010-10-24T18:57:26.216+08:00

I recently joined the Christmas choir at our church. It's the first time I've been in a choir in almost twenty years. I used to sing in the choir all the time as a teen and in my twenties. And then we went to a church that did not have a choir. Later we went to the contemporary service at another church, which used worship teams. Even though they did have a choir that sang occasionally, my habit

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-38496348226785724932010-10-21T22:34:00.000+08:002010-10-21T22:56:11.961+08:00

I was in a study group with a couple of ladies, and we got into a discussion about how one grows in character and maturity in Christ. There arose some seeming disagreement as to who is responsible for the “growing”, we the believers, or God, or both? Now I concede that you can definitely grow in knowledge by studying. You may even change your behavior, habits, and lifestyle through spiritual

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-32444214264660434082010-10-20T01:55:00.000+08:002010-10-21T08:49:02.188+08:00

While Sam was studying for his doctorate, we lived in England for three years. So we were somewhat familiar with the British way of speaking when we arrived in Hong Kong. Over here, people don't "phone" or "call" you, they "ring" you. They don't use a cell phone; they use a "mobile". Instead of zucchinis, you buy Italian squashes. Instead of restroom or bathroom, you ask for washroom or toilet.

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-17055579048763874892010-09-25T14:59:00.000+08:002010-09-25T19:12:31.410+08:00

I’ve been doing a whole lot of baking lately. Partly, it’s because I’m not very mobile, and it’s one of the few things I can do (see blog). However, I think the more compelling reason is that my thirteen-year-old has started going to high school (he’s been homeschooled for the last seven years), and it just occurred to me one day, “Now wouldn’t it be nice to have some homemade snack, fresh from

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-82253184152714793982010-09-18T15:40:00.000+08:002010-09-18T15:42:48.725+08:00

My husband and kids are all out of the house for the day, and I had wanted to do some blogging. However, when I sat down to write, I realized I am simply not in a communicative mood today. So I decided to do some cartoons instead. What is a day like for a housewife who can only stand on one-foot? Some of you can probably relate to this. Crutches are clearly not designed for housewives, because

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-56035140984243823322010-09-12T15:34:00.000+08:002010-09-12T15:51:52.044+08:00

I am housebound for six weeks due to my foot injury, and that means no church for me for the longest stretch of time as far back as I can remember. This morning, hubby left early to guest-speak in a church, while two sons left later by themselves to attend our regular church service, leaving me, alone, on a Sunday morning. I knew this morning that I had a meeting with God, and there was no

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-84122939589359667192010-09-10T12:02:00.000+08:002010-09-10T13:16:46.210+08:00

Note: This random blog is even more random than my usual random thoughts. Conversation over breakfast: My ten-year-old son is excited about the fall. “There’s your birthday, and there’s Halloween, and…” “I don’t think people do Halloween here,” I said casually, taking a bite out of my English muffin and scanning my facebook status update. “If they do, we can all dress up as fours to scare

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-55478705305905489752010-09-05T13:20:00.000+08:002010-09-05T13:26:24.179+08:00

I had a minor accident while stepping onto a curb and broke a little bone in my foot (5th metatarsal, for those of you who enjoy technical details). It’s really not a big deal, except the doctor had to put a cast on my foot, and now I cannot walk any more and have to stumble around in crutches or scoot myself around the house on a swivel chair. I received many get-well wishes from friends near

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-17410898865437956072010-08-31T22:12:00.000+08:002010-12-12T18:21:22.144+08:00

My girl friend Audrey from New York City came to visit us. I’ve known her since I was fifteen (she was several years younger), and when you have a friend who’s known you most of your life, you know it’s going to be a blast when you get together. She came in on Saturday afternoon after a fifteen-hour flight. So we didn’t do much other than taking her out to dinner. We tried out a nearby Chinese

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-88673118081343460962010-08-27T14:52:00.000+08:002010-08-28T00:21:59.654+08:00

Back in California, going outside for an errand usually meant grabbing 1) my purse with the wallet in it and 2) my car keys. Two items were reasonably manageable for my scattered, aging, housewife-with-two-kids brain. Here in Hong Kong, however, I find that unless I make a checklist for all the things to bring when I go out, I am bound to leave something behind and regret it. So here is my

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-76359562223858284262010-08-17T00:49:00.000+08:002010-08-17T09:30:16.976+08:00

It isn't easy being friendly in Hong Kong, not even in a church setting. The first Sunday we visited our church, no one spoke to us, nodded to us, smiled at us, or even so much as looked us in the eyes (except for the pastor, who is friendly to everyone and shakes everybody's hand at the door). We left the church thinking what an unfriendly place it was. However, we persisted in going and

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-21148479996207243502010-08-16T01:20:00.000+08:002010-08-16T01:20:42.558+08:00

After six months of eating apples, oranges, and the occasional grapes, I’ve finally ventured out of my comfort zone and got ourselves some unusual tropical fruits. Yes, I’ve had my share of papayas and mangoes even back in the States, but these other tropical fruits are entirely foreign to me. The fruits in the photograph are called rambutans. They came from Thailand and look like underwater

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-12100607299499099922010-08-04T21:38:00.000+08:002010-08-09T00:05:34.892+08:00

Recently we went to an amusement park on one of the hottest and sunniest days in Hong Kong. Not surprisingly, many women brought out their parasols—a weapon not only against the sun, but effective against other visitors. During one of the open-air shows, I saw below me a sea of parasols stretching from one end of the theater to the other. Under the sun, they looked very pretty with their silky

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-55148345337576109772010-07-29T10:14:00.000+08:002010-08-04T22:00:14.504+08:00

Maria* sits in the far right edge of the fifth pew—alone. The other Filipino ladies tend to sit further back in the sanctuary in little chattering groups, but Maria likes her place close to the front, where she can worship singled-mindedly and concentrate on the sermon. She’s petite and bony. The short, black, and curly hair accentuates her high cheek bones and her dark and deep-set eyes. When

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-75326758507846979182010-07-11T03:33:00.000+08:002010-12-12T18:23:11.773+08:00

During my vacation in the United States this year, I've had to take a number of discount commuter flights between cities. All told, I flew on Frontier, Midwest, JetBlue, and AirTran. While the experiences are still fresh in my mind, I thought I'd share them with you. Since Southwest is another favorite airline for many travelers, I will throw that one in also for comparison. Worst: It's always

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-59463157691073978262010-07-05T14:49:00.000+08:002010-07-05T15:14:04.804+08:00

Once in a while I need to get away from civilization and go hide, if only for a few hours, in some place peaceful, beautiful, and primeval, a place devoid of crowds and human noises. In all my years living in San Jose, I had discovered two places that I loved and always returned to again and again. I call them best kept secrets because many locals I know have never been to them or even heard of

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-70758034829105868832010-06-14T12:30:00.000+08:002010-06-14T12:38:59.278+08:00

I've been thinking about just what I appreciate about Hong Kong, and it's been a little hard to pin it down. I guess we've spent so much of our time just getting acclimated, there really hasn't been much energy left for enjoyment. In order to enjoy something, you need to be comfortable with it, and to be comfortable, you need to become familiar, and familiarity takes time. Nevertheless, here are

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-911673641031520372010-06-13T14:03:00.000+08:002010-06-13T14:11:10.838+08:00

I'm here in California visiting friends and family. One of the most frequent questions people ask me is "What do you miss the most about California?" and "What do you like the most about Hong Kong?" To answer the former, I can rattle off a long list; to answer the latter, I have to think really hard. Here are some of the things I miss about California (or America) which I had taken for granted

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3006930943353519709.post-6679637517695302602010-05-21T00:18:00.000+08:002010-05-21T00:32:53.042+08:00

I went to the optometrist’s to pick up my first pair of reading glasses. The Cantonese optometrist acted as if he had not seen me before and that he has hordes of customers each day, though the place was completely deserted both times I’d been there. “Loh-fah-jang?” he inquired. It stunned me for a fraction of a second. Then I realized that was exactly what I asked for. “Loh” means old, and “fah

Helen of SJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17694766280105983877noreply@blogger.com1