Fourth Floor between 1st & 2nd Period

Insurance Discount

Hey, if you live in Chicago-land, and you call your insurance guy, and tell them that Jack VanNoord is off the road for two years, you can get a discount on your car insurance.

Say What? (part 1)

Annika and Elise are both taking Mandarin in school. They are learning how to both speak and understand it. Be careful of your inflection, because ma can mean either mother or horse.

You wouldn’t want to accidentally call your mother a horse now would you? Mandarin actually has four tones, so depending on your inflection ma could also mean flax or to scold.

A&E are also learning how to read and write those fancy Chinese characters. Fortunately, the Chinese implemented a simplified version of the characters about fifty years ago. None-the-less, some of characters can be pretty elaborate. The other night when she was doing her homework, I said to Elise “At least you’re working with the simplified versions, eh?” She replied “These are the simplified version!? I sure would hate to see the complicated version!”

There really is no language called Chinese. There is Cantonese, Mandarin, and so on. When most people refer to Chinese, they are generally talking about Mandarin which is the official language of China and is required in all schools. This creates a conundrum for me, because, Cantonese – not Mandarin- is the language spoken here in Hong Kong. And it’s what is most commonly spoken by Chinese-Americans, so it would be most useful back in the States.

So, do I study Mandarin, or try to pick up a little Cantonese while I’m here?

Of course, there is always option “c” where I do none of the above and be the ugly American who makes little effort to pick up the local language and stumbles along with English.

Anybody want to take bets on which way this is going to go?

-Jack

The other day –out of habit- I dismissed my class by saying “Adios.”

My classroom full of Chinese students all just stared at me.

Oops.

About the Picture: Chinese characters for Hong Kong.

Rice, Rice, Baby.

It’s true, you do end up eating a lot of rice in China. Sooo many dishes are rice-based.

Julie’s already fired up the wok several times since we’ve been here, so we're are even eating a lot of rice at home in the apartment. In fact, for dessert for the last two nights, she has made . . . yup, rice pudding.

We have acquaintances of ours who recently moved back from East Asia after living here for a decade. When my friend told her kids that we were moving to China, the first words out of her ten-year-old’s mouth were “Hope they like rice!”

Good call, kid.

-Jack “Hope They Like Rice” VanNoord

. . . but then I’d Have to Kill You.

I have a really cute story about Nurse Julie, a first grader, and a loose tooth. But Julie says I can’t post it as a blog due to patient confidentiality (for pete’s sake, she’s six!).

Sorry, it was a really cute story. You’re just going to have to trust me on this, so say “Aww” and smile warmly to yourself.

Stop, You're Ruining Everything!

The other day, I finally had a moment to sit down and turn on the tv that came with the apartment. Currently we only get four channels. After flipping through the first two Cantonese-language stations, and a local news station that broadcast in English, I switched the channel and there she was: Hannah Montana. Season 4, episode 7.

I felt like yelling at the tv. What are you doing here? Go away! You’re ruining everything. Don’t you know that we are supposed to be on an exotic adventure in a far away land? Stop being here, please.

I felt like an explorer working his way through uncharted territory in order to conquer the untamed wilderness, only to come upon a discarded, rusting washing machine.

Miley Cyrus, don’t you know that you’re the reason we moved here? We were trying to get away from you. You weren’t invited on this adventure! Go away! You’re embarrassing me.

I shut off the tv and walked out of the room. I came back an hour later only to find Annika and Elise watching The Suite Life of Zach and Cody.

After they finished watching America’s Got Talent, I made them turn it off before America’s Next Top Model came on.

Palm Frond Silhouetted Against Office Building

From I.C.U. to I.C.S.

I’ve been asked to give a burn recovery update. As you know, on July 7, I sustained first- and second-degree burns over 15-20% of my body. My accident was six weeks ago today. Interestingly, the time since then breaks down as follows:

2 weeks in Loyola hospital burn unit

2 weeks at home watching Julie pack

2 weeks in China

It’s a little surreal to realize that six weeks ago, I was in the ICU unit hooked up to an IV and receiving regular doses of morphine. China seemed all but out of the question. The fact that I am here is no credit to me, but rather to the body’s ability to heal, the help and support Julie and I received, and God’s goods grace.

I am quickly approaching a full recovery. While some areas have almost fully healed, my right arm and the back of my right leg still have a way to go. At this point, wound care consist of simply applying moisturizer to my arm, calf, and shoulders twice a day and then putting an elastic sleeve on my arm and leg. The sleeve protects the damaged skin, promotes circulation, and keeps the aloe vera off my clothes. And it spares my students and colleagues from having to look at my burn wounds.

Plus the bandages have garnered me more than one offer of a seat on the subway –all of which I have turned down. Although I have been tempted.

I seem to get tired quickly, but its hard to know if that is the rest of my body trying to heal or if it’s residual jet lag, the long work days, or me just getting old.

If I stand in one place for too long, my leg starts to hurt. But other than that I am good to go. Ironically, walking doesn’t hurt as much as simply standing still.

It turns out that laying in bed and loafing on a sofa for four weeks does not make for a very effective fitness program. Sadly, I had managed to get myself into pretty good shape in the months before the accident. The other day I tried to do a few pushups. I had to stop after seven.

About the Picture: 1) this was the only unused picture of me in China I had available and 2) this is the hat that Julie bought me to keep the sun off my face and neck which I will probably have to do for the rest of my life. So get used the hat; it’s going to be around for a while.

Although, I do promise not to make that face anymore.

Promise.

Chinese Man Eating Lunch Under a Bridge

The British are Leaving! The British are Leaving!

Well, the girls finally got their first ride on a double-decker bus. Gostick –bless her heart- took us out for lunch on Saturday. After the meal we parted ways, but not before she got us to a bus stop and told which bus to wait for. We rode on the top level of course. As we rode around the city high above the masses, it was hard not to pity those plebians below who are walking or riding a bike or, worse yet, riding on the lower level of the bus. What are they doing down there? Don’t they know that they are on a double-decker bus!?

Double-decker buses are just one of the tell-tale signs of the influence Great Britain has had on Hong Kong.

In the 1800s, Great Britain, established Hong Kong as a major trading port. In 1898, after they defeated the Chinese in the second Opium War, the British managed to finagle a ninety-nine-year lease from Peking. In 1997, that lease expired. Good to their word, the British –with great pomp- lowered the Union Jack and handed Hong Kong over to China.

The British may no longer be in charge, but their influence is definitely felt everywhere you go. For starters, English is widely spoken. This has worked to our advantage on multiple occassions. We have had to stop and clarify directions several times, and every time, the person we’ve asked has spoken excellent English. Of course we pick out the most cosmopolitan looking young person we can find.

And it’s not just English, it’s British English. Therefore no one here goes on vacation. Everyone goes on holiday. “Hey kids, you have to take the stairs down this morning the lift is out of service.” And it’s not your backside, it your bum. And of course we see that tell-tale spelling around town with all those extra letters in harbour and programme.

Steering wheels are on the right and everyone drives on the left.

And Saturday, while riding through town on our double-decker bus, we rode past some squash courts.

And then of course there’s all those Brits hanging about who didn’t get the memo that the party was over.

-Jack