Singing with the Dragon

For some unknown reason, Matthew entrusted a cast of "Seussical" to my charge for an educational expo. They performed the first three songs of the show in snazzy bright orange polos.
I can't arrange the photos, I think because my aerobics instructor sent me a virus, so here they are in a lump. I hope:






The one with a kid and me was taken by his mother. She wanted a picture with me and I told her that my mom probably would want one too. Some things are universal.

I saw Seussical at my university a few years ago, but I didn't really get it. I wasn't too hard on myself, though, realizing that a bona fide Doctor wrote the literature on which Seussical is based.


I crooned (not coronered) again at the posh wine bar. I can't wait to take my parents there in July. They will feel so comfortable and at home. Romain and Nicole (two French friends) came to support, so I sang Autumn Leaves partly in French for them. It was a little nerve-wracking. With non-French people, I can fake it and no one is the wiser, but with legit French people, I actually have to say the correct French words, not mumbling with a French accent. Romain said it's his favorite song and he understood every word. Elvis and Michael (potentially a potential) also came out and as I sat there with the 4 of them, I realized that I was the only one whose native tongue is English...but the language of the evening was, of course, English. What a bully my language is.

I also auditioned for The Merchant of Venice, but the director, with great remorse, was unable to offer me a part. However, I will be learning how to play the tuba for a holiday band this year. Everything in life evens out.

So, You're Like Zac Efron.

Above is a photo of the cast of "A Night on Broadway," the adult musical produced by the studio where I work. When I say "adult" musical, I do not use the term in the same way American video stores use the term. I could tell it was an adult musical the moment we entered the theatre and I didn't have to tell any of the actors to stop running, jumping, or hitting each other.
Matthew added me to the cast a couple of weeks ago to fill in for someone who had a work conflict. I sang "The Color Purple" which was fun, but the best part was being on-stage with my friend, Angel. She sang a rousing rendition of "Thank You for the Music" from Mama Mia.

Friend support was at a high: Joan, Vera, Tim, Nicole, and Cara all came out.
Kazumi (my roommate, for those just joining the jocularity of AaWaE) and her boyfriend, Kenall.
Of course, my grandma was in the 3rd row, center.
Elvis and company were there. He always travels with an entourage. He even brought people who had never met me. But of course we all went out to eat after--about 13 of us. One of them was Michael, who is also a magician. He dazzled us all with his mind-blowing illusions. Elvis wants to be a tour guide for my mom and dad when they visit in July. I think it's a stellar idea.

At Last

My dream of being a crooner has finally come to fruition. After a day of conceptualizing and writing synopsis for two new shows for next year, my first Putongua class, and a rehearsal for the cabaret musical, I stopped by the wine bar where my friend/church organist plays. It's the only really good live music I've found so far in HK, and Cedric (the pianist, who for the record and to quench the curiosity of my family, will NOT be participating in the "potentials" reality show to be held in July) planned several English songs for tonight. I met the other combo members--wildly talented oboist/singer and guitarist. They showed me the songs they were going to play and when I saw "Fly Me to the Moon," I expressed great delight:

"That's by far my favorite jazz standard."
Cedric: "Okay, you will sing that one."
"What? No, that's really ok."

After hearing several amazing renditions of some classics, Gordon the Oboist announced:
"And now, we have a special guest from Chicago to sing our next piece."
Cedric added:
"Her brother went to the same school as LeBron James!" (This inaccurate statement is residue from a misunderstanding in the far distant past.)

After an intro like that, I really had no choice but to sing--thus fulfilling my latent dream to be a crooner. I plan to sing with them again; next time in Cantonese, which will fulfill yet another hitherto unrealized dream.

Do you have your costumes? Do you have the swine flu?

Nothing really beats a deportation blog, so I'm not even going to try.
I have no pictures this time because I'm going through an I'm-Not-A-Tourist phase again. It's working out well. I'm finally able to communicate with the people who work at the noodle shop near my apartment.
Speaking Canto with my friends is one thing, because they know what I say all the time and can speak English to help out. These ladies don't speak a word of English, so I'm on my own. I refrained from patronizing the noodle shops in the past due to the language barrier. I have an unfounded fear that people will spit in my food if I don't speak Cantonese. That's the main reason I'm trying to learn the language; decrease saliva intake.
The pertinent information in AsWaE is never ending.
Life updates--
I'm filling a void in a cabaret-style show next week, the 19th. If you're in town, don't miss it. I sing a solo that only a robust African-American woman should sing. I also play the sister of a Chinese girl about a foot shorter than I. Who came up with the term "suspension of disbelief"?

It's official: I'm staying with Dramatic English for another year! Upcoming projects shall be grand.

The, Dad and The Mother plan to visit Hong Kong in July. I spend nearly every free moment planning their itinerary and trying to figure out if HK is NYC on steroids or Valium.

Speaking of steroids, another "potential" suitor of the moment is what I would call a body-building enthusiast. This is not the reason he has "potential," and is in fact a bit of a deterrent.

I went to Lamma, the island with unwashed washed-up hippies (and Tim) to see some dragon boat races, but we were distracted by a hummus cafe and missed all the races.

I'm assistant directing Seussical--The Musical! with the incomparable Mr. Matthew. Our group will be featured at an upcoming education exhibition or something soon. They'll have an audience of over 400, so we're working them hard to get them ready.

I'm starting Putongua lessons this week at the same place I do Cantonese.

My friend Rita who is living in Beijing was planning to visit last weekend, but she had to cancel due to the swine flu.

I can recognize and write about 50 characters. I proudly disclosed this information to a technician for one of our shows, but the pride quickly gave way to desperation when he told me that there are about 10,000 characters. Only 9,950 to go.

Denied! And BUNS!

I hesitate to tell this story, for it necessarily makes me appear quite irresponsible, but the humour of it all is too much to keep to myself.
For the May Day holiday, a group of us planned a trip to Macau. Tim and the Irish girls were to jump off the Tower, we would see Cirque du Soleil, and then dance the night away.
I used my smart HK ID card to exit Hong Kong, but when I reached Macau immigration, they required a passport, which I had left in the safety of my apartment.
Upon hearing this news, a uniformed officer quickly escorted me into the questioning room where despite my pleading, I was told that I must go back to Hong Kong. I was unable to reach my friends by telephonic communication, which upset me greatly, so my new Immigration Officer friend took me outside and I told Joan and Tim the whole story. I’m pretty sure Tim was laughing when I turned around and went back to the Holding Room to hang out with the drug dealers. I wanted so badly to ask the guy next to me, “What are you in for?” but I figured something would be lost in translation. After about 45 minutes of being detained, another officer escorted me onto a HK-bound ferry where he made sure I did not attempt to flee.
Calculations revealed that I would not have time to go back to HK, collect my passport from my apartment, and take another ferry back to Macau to see Cirque. As my heart sank, I remembered that I have an awesome roommate. Kazumi met me at the ferry with my passport and after profuse thanks, I ran back and managed to jump on the next ferry. It was in fact the very same vessel, for when I boarded one man said, “Hey, it’s you again!” and another said (in Chinese), “That’s the white girl who speaks Cantonese.” Yes, I practice at any and every opportunity.
I arrived in Macau for the second time that day 45 minutes before the start of Cirque. I met the group and we took a couple of taxis to The Venetian to see Cirque du Soleil’s “Zaia." It was spectacular, as expected. And all the music was LIVE. Hong Kong severely lacks in the use of live music anywhere, particularly for stage performances. It was grand.
After the show, we went dancing. I found some single-serving dance-floor friends and immediately impressed them with my Cantonese, which according to the most attractive one was “so (expletive) good!”. It's really not, but I'm not going to kill his dream.

I got back to Hong Kong at about 4:30 the next afternoon after sleeping in one of those Japanese pod things. I rushed home and immediately back out to catch a bus to the ferry pier to Cheung Chau. Yes, it was the day of the world-famous BUN FESTIVAL. I met Matty, Meaghan, Chris (juggler, not gym guy)and Lawrence to go to the island. There, we walked around to view the spectacle. Unlike my deportation adventure, I have photographic evidence of this escapade (they don’t allow cameras in Immigration Interview Rooms).

Above: The BUN TOWER!! In Cantonese it is roughly "Bao Shan" or Bun Mountain.

Some of us with the BUN TOWER!: me, Matty,Meaghan, and Lawrence
The BUNS close up.

A busy BUN bakery. The line to this place was epically long.

There is a purpose to this festival. It involves a god of the sea and eating the essence of the buns. Clearly, I'm an expert on this. Here's some video footage of the main event:

Yes, so they climb up the tower and throw as many buns as possible into their dorsal bags. This is why I love Hong Kong. And of course, we each ate a bun. I chose a fresh one rather than one that had been sitting out for several days for the gods to eat. Proud, Mother?

They also had Cantonese Opera:

Lion Dances:

And it was a public holiday for Buddha's Birthday, so some Buddhist stuff:

But the ubiquitous BUN remained the hero of the day:

They had special ferry services to accomodate the 20,000+ people who went to Cheung Chau (the island usually has only about 2,000), so I didn't get stuck this time. Elvis joined us later and we visited Mah Mah again. No pictures because she was already in her pajamas. In line for the ferry home:

These giant papier mache guys were there too:

Two Bowls of Painful

Many "firsts" have happened in Hong Kong: recording a hip hop song, rolling a giant ball down the highway, swearing in Chinese, and ingestion of chicken feet just to name a few. And now we add to that list: survival of my first loathsome disease.

I contracted some sort of respiratory infection which I, in true Carpenter form, pointedly ignored for several days. The day I decided to see the doctor, something of a medical miracle occurred. As I drew close to the doctor's office, my symptoms quickly and mysteriously diminished. I think that the aura of Dr. Kam Yue was so strong that it reached me before I even entered his office. Nevertheless, I went in and paid less than $8US for consultation and 3 different medications (which they have directly at the doc-o-man's office). 'Doc-o-man' is how we say "doctor" in my family. It's a bit sexist, but we're generally not concerned with political correctness.

Anyway, back to the excitement of my affliction. I tried to heal myself with soup one night, only to discover that my stove is broken. So I went out to buy soup. Soup in Canto is "tong," but I forgot which tone. When my "tong" was met with a confused look, I said "tong" in every possible tone. Therefore, I asked for 2 bowls of 'sugar,' 'rubbish bin,' 'painful,' and probably other stuff too.

I went to far northwest HK to load a truck with chairs, clothes, school supplies, and toys to be sent to Kazakhstan. They basically collect donations and send things out where people need it. It was the first project for the new "outreach" group that I helped to start at my church. Our group after we finished packing the semi:

The guy on the far left with the pink shirt used to be in a gospel rock band and once shared a stage with U2. "They were on the way up and we were definitely on the way out." Hip dude.

Tim, Man, and I recorded a CD (music and poetry) which will accompany a new English language book Man wrote. I can start taking orders now.

Last week we finally had our first voice recording for "Hollywood Road," the film where I'm a sarcastic florist. I probably last mentioned this in October. Things are moving now.

At last, I met my neighbor. His name is Boon and he's old, which is great because geriatrics are cool.

I met with my tutee at--get this---Choco Cat Cafe. Devon, get over here. This cafe specializes in chocolate and has about 10 cats roaming freely. They also have a giant stuffed Garfield. Unfortunately, I can't ever go back there because I picked up a cat, which I now know is against Cat Cafe law.

Yesterday, I went on a bike ride with a potential suitor, Chris. We biked about 10km to this place, Ma On Shan ('horse mountain', I think):

And post-ride:It was not Halloween, but 80s night. The picture really says it all:

Singapore, Or "Shoot that where?"

Fact: Chewing gum is illegal in Singapore, punishable by a hefty $1000 fine.
Joan and I ceremoniously discarded our Orbit, along with all other illegal items of which we were in possession, at the KL airport.
The iconic symbol of Singapore is this:The Merlion. Half-lion, half-fish. It was created in 1972, which seems young to be iconic, but this is how tourism survives--make something up, take enough pictures and voila, you have an instant cultural attraction. This is representative of the fishing past of the city and the legend that someone saw a lion there once, granting the name "Lion City" to the republic. Singapore is a city-state, with a president who lives in what appears to be a jungle.

On our first day in Singapore, we went to the zoo, proud care-takers of my favorite primate, the Orang Utan.

They had this informative sign, talking about how each orang utan (which means "wild man" in Malay) is unique. My favorite was Satria, who often refuses to go back to his night quarters. Perhaps he needs to set some goals. After the day at the zoo, we went on a "night safari" which is riding a tram through another, different, zoo-type thing in the dark. After that, we killed some time before our bus departure by seeing a fire show. We watched as men in tribal Malay garb breathed fire and swallowed fire. Soon, they had opened the gate and pulled me onto the stage. In no time, I was holding a long spear, surrounded by 3/4 naked sweaty fire-breathers. Fairly typical at this point. I, of course, threatened to dismember them with the spear they had bestowed upon me. They recoiled and indicated that the spear was a blow-dart and I was to shoot the dart near the nether-region of a fellow tribesman, in a effort to pop a balloon which he had placed there. I indicated my reluctance, but they assured me that they would guide it.
Photographic evidence is unavailable at this time, as all pictures are on Joan's camera. I believe she took a plethora.
This place advertised a pink dolphin show:We settled for pink jellyfish:Japanese Something Crab. And Joan:White tiger on the prowl:Hanging out with giant fruit:

Almost every neighborhood in Singapore looks like this architecturally:Hindu temple; we don't have these in Hong Kong. I have seen innumerable Buddhist temples, but this was a first:And at night:Speaking of religious places, this mosque was just down the block from our hostel in Little India:
Speaking of Little India, Singapore's is legit. In our quest to find authentic Singaporean cuisine, we pretty much just ate curry and masala.

The second day, we toured the city, ate at Chocolate by the Bald Man (NYCers know), and went out dancing that night.

The last day, we went to Sentosa Island, just south of Singapore. We did touristy things, and then relaxed on a beach until we went to a show that night:
Considering my geographical obsession, imagine my excitement when I saw this sign:On the bridge:

Back in Singapore that night, we tried to cross another bridge:

If our cattle and horses can't come with us, no one goes. And we weren't sure if we exceeded 3cwt and didn't want to risk it.

Then we found some friends:

Our last morning in Singapore, taken in front of The Countryside Cafe, where we befriended the staff and ate several meals and had a Singapore Sling:

Laurence Olivier VS The, Dad

SINGAPORE post coming soon, probably tomorrow.

For now, a story, which I already reported to my sister via the spacebook.

This morning, I woke up and realized it was getting too late at night to call my grandma to inform her of my safe arrival. I quickly threw wrinkled, yet semi-clean clothes and a hat to cover my mangled and on the verge of greasy hair. I brushed my teeth quickly, inadvertantly leaving toothpaste on my face and bolted to the elevator (I still have no internet, and must go to a cafe to write magic like this). The lift stopped on floor 19 and a dashing young man entered. He commented on my hip headgear and we bonded until the ground floor. He told me his English name was Laurence because he likes Laurence Olivier:

"My dad looks like Laurence Olivier."

"No way! He must be very handsome."
"Well, more like the 1980s King Lear Olivier."

Malaysia, Or "Where'd you get those glasses?"

Joan and I set out on our excellent adventure after work on Thursday. We first sailed the high seas to the land of Macau, taxi to the "aeroporto" (this was a Portuguese colony), only to discover our flight was delayed. We took the time to find internet and book a hostel for that night. A 3 -hour flight later, we landed at the Kuala Lumpur (KL) airport, which is actually a Morrison building. We split a taxi, or "tecksi" in Malay, with a self-important Canadian banker from HK for the 73km ride into the city. We dropped him off at his posh hotel and then the driver had a difficult time finding our humble accommodation. Around 2am, we arrived at this beautiful place:This innovated design combines a shower and sink in one easy-to-use facility:We weren't sure, so we ate Corn Flakes:Malaysia is a strongly Muslim country, and this was the first time I'd ever visited one. I was initially apprehensive--mostly a fear of being feared, but that proved to have no grounds, as no one ever seemed to judge the fact that Joan and I didn't have burkas on like every other woman in the city. I'm so thankful that the U.S. has a president with sympathies to--or at least an awareness of--the Muslim community.

Understanding is the essential first step to peace. We don't have to agree--I certainly don't agree with Islam, but ignorant hate on all sides cannot possibly end well. Malaysia, at least on the surface of Kuala Lumpur, seems to have the harmony thing (between Indians, Chinese, and Malays) working. And the food looks like this: Almost every meal looked identical to this. And is was delicious and cheap. The above cost the equivalent of 95 U.S. cents.

A minaret to call Muslims to pray:

The Petronas Towers. The tallest twin-towers IN THE WORLD!:
It was the tallest building from about 1998 to 2003 when Taipei 101 overtook it (and I hear that in a few years, there will be 7 buildings in Dubai taller than that). We even walked across that "Skybridge" between the towers:

We only had a few hours in KL before we needed to go back to the Morrison Building to fly to Singapore, so we did a "Hop On, Hop Off" bus tour. For a mere 38 ringgits (Malay currency), we hopped on a pink bus and periodically alighted, or hopped off, to see the sights. However when.we hopped off in Little India (which was not very Indian, except for a Bollywood song I heard coming out of a cycle shop), we were unable to locate the next place to hop on and ended up taking a tecksi back to the hostel, loading our belongings into the tecksi we had booked, and headed to the airport. En route, I practiced my Malay with the driver. My Malay consists of "please," "thank you" and "dugong", the three things which will get you by in any country.

But I get ahead of myself...more pictures, mostly from the bus.

For The, Dad. A sultan lives here:
For anyone who speaks French:
The Petronas towers as seen from "Little India" which wasn't Indian at all:

A street sign, for those who relish in the ordinary, but do not particularly like relish:Our budget airline, Air Asia, not only provided cheap flight for us (2 round-trip flights for under $300 US total), but also neat umbrellas for the walk in the rain to our plane to Singapore: