That’s a Complete Croc part 2 of 2

Once we had all of our games purchased for the orphans, Mr. Hong Kong said he would swing us by the Croc “store” on the second floor on our way out of the warehouse. The store was more like a 30-foot by 12-foot stall. Crocs were piled everywhere. In fact, Tim inadvertently caused a Croc avalanche while searching for a pair in his size.

First, as a guy who made a portion of his living for twenty years creating copy-righted images, I am pretty hesitant to support the trademark-infringing grey market. Second, I have never really been a fan of The Croc. People who own them invariably tell me “Yes, they’re ugly, but they are so comfortable!” Me? I never hear anything past the words “Yes, they’re ugly . . . “

But those piles and piles of brightly colored plastic combined with those low, low prices proved too much for even me to resist. I found a pair of the newer generation Crocs that look decidedly un-Croc-y.

And then I became the not-so-proud owner of my very first pair of Crocs.

The question then was did I buy fakes or real Croc? Now, before you accuse me of wishful thinking, please realize that unlike strutting around in a convincing Burberry knock-off, there is absolutely no social cache in shuffling around in a pair of Crocs. I couldn’t care less if they are “real” or “fake.” Either way, I have on my feet what are quite possible the front runners for the ugliest footwear of our generation.

But with that said, I think –seriously- that I got myself a genuine pair of Crocs for about the cost of a gallon of gas.

It’s a little hard to say what lead me to this conclusion. The tag feels right, they actually came in a bag with "Croc" printed on it, the stamping on the bottom of the shoes looked legit. But beyond those tangibles, there was just something that looked and felt right about them.

And yes, all you Croc owners are right, they are incredibly comfortable. None-the-less, I am not completely comfortable when I wear them.

I don’t know what makes me more uncomfortable, knowing that in a small way I supported the Chinese grey market

or

simply the fact that I’m –sheesh- wearing a pair of Crocs.

-Jack

That’s a Complete Croc part 1 of 2

Recently, we were just over the border in China in the megalopolis Shenzhen where you can buy just about anything and everything. There are legal markets in the world and there are black markets. And then there is Shenzhen with it various shades of grey. Mostly light grey, but grey none-the-less.

In Shenzhen, when you see that US$2.00 Nike hat or those US$5.00 pair of Converse Allstars there are two distinct possibilities. One is that it is an unlicensed knock-off. This is definitely the case with all of the “copy handbags” and “copy watches.” If you buy a cheap Coach purse it Shenzhen (or in Hong Kong), it’s a fake.

But that’s not necessarily true of every cheap brand-name item. Here’s what sometimes happens: VanHeusen shirts gives an order for 10,000 shirts of a particular design. But the factory in China will actually make 15,000 and sell the extra 5,000 through its own grey market outlets. So that QuickSilver shirt you bought for a fraction of the regular price isn’t necessarily a fake. It could very well be from the exact same factory, made with the same materials, to the same specifications as the one on the rack at Macy’s back in Chicago retailing for $29.99.

The trick (if your conscience allows you to buy merchandise on the grey market) is to try to figure out the difference. It’s not easy. You have to really look for tell-tale signs and sometimes, in the end, you just have to rely on your intuition.

A few years ago colleague of mine was doing some pretty brisk business buying brand name golf equipment in Shenzhen and then re-selling it on E-bay for four or five times his costs. In the beginning, he was pretty convinced that he was dealing in the real McCoy. But over time, he became less and less convinced that he was brokering in the genuine article. Out of hundreds of customers, he never had a complaint. None-the-less, he has since scaled back his little import-export side business.

Shenzhen part 4 of 4

We stopped at a magic shop that Tim knew about (and where they knew Tim) because he wanted to pick up a new trick because naturally Tim is an accomplished amateur magician and of course he’s planning on putting on a magic show for the orphans.

As planned, we met up with the rest of our crew at 5:30 for a Peking duck dinner. People who know nothing about Chinese culture all seem to know about Peking duck; its reputation is legendary. I was pretty stoked to finally be having some authentic Peking duck. Tim of course knew exactly where in Shenzhen to get the best duck at the best price.

I must say, it was pretty extraordinary. Plum sauce, duck with the crispy skin. Mmmmmm. So good. And all for the price of what I am used to paying for a McDonald’s combo meal.

It had been a full day (and all this after spending the morning at the school for the Academic Fair).

Annika and I made our way home exhausted, full, and with no more China entries left on our passports until we ponied up more money.

Like I said to one of my colleagues on Monday morning “If you haven’t done Shenzhen with Tim “Mr. Hong Kong” Wong, you haven’t really done Shenzhen.

-Jack

Shenzhen part 3 of 4

The warehouse was a five-story building serviced by a series of escalators in the center.

The other four people left us to do some non-warehouse shopping and to get manicures and massages. One of the major draws for many Hong Kongers is the lure of cheap manicures and six-dollar-an-hour massages in Shenzhen. We made arrangement to meet up with them at 5:30 for dinner. So that left Tim, his wife, Annika and me. (My rule is: just get behind Tim and try to stay in his wake.)

The warehouse building was subdivided into hundreds of mini-stores each half the size of my classroom. Each store was packed floor to ceiling with one type of item. One store was all fabric. Another was all die-cast toy cars and trucks. Another was all beach toys. We went up to the fourth floor to the game store Tim had in mind where the lady recognized Tim. Of course.

It was a little like waking up in a parallel universe. Look, there’s Blockus. Same primary colored box, same picture of the game pieces, same lettering. But it wasn’t called Blokus; was called Squares. And there is Rush Hour looking exactly how I know it, except it’s called Smart Driver. I really wanted to understand what I was seeing, but Tim was busy negotiating shipping with the store owner. By the time he was free, I’d decided that it was better not to ask questions you really don’t want to know the answers to.

Tim bought dozens of games for the orphanage with some of the money we had all chipped in. I bought four games for my classroom which cost less than twenty bucks total.

As we were walking out, I mentioned in passing to Tim that we had promised the girls in-line skates for Christmas but had been unable to find them in Hong Kong. Tim said “Hold on a sec, I got a guy.” He led us down to the third floor and sure enough, fifteen minutes later I was walking out with two pairs of skates, two helmets, and two full sets of safety pads. Total cost: just over US$50.

Shenzhen part 2 of 4

I had no idea where we were going. Tim knew exactly where we were going. He’s done this before. Lots of times. Our primary goal was to buy lots of inexpensive games for the kids in the orphanage. We -off course- couldn’t buy games where the rest of Shenzhen would buy games and –heaven’s forbid- pay retail. Nope, we had to work our way to a mall/warehouse deep in the urban maze where Tim has a connection. Tim, of course, has a connection for everything.

The building looked old, but isn’t really. It only looked old. Everything in Shenzhen is new, it all just looks really tired. Thirty years ago, Shenzhen was a tiny fishing village just over the border from Hong Kong. But then, in the late 1970s, China declared Shenzhen and the surrounding area a Special Economic Zone. In other words, the loosened the strictures of a planned economy and unleashed unfettered, free-wheeling capitalism. And you can guess what happened. Fortunes –both large and small- were made and Shenzhen grew like crazy. It quickly swelled to eight million people. Shenzhen is China’s second fastest growing city. There hasn’t been much time to worry about aesthetics or planning in general.

On one hand, Shenzhen is an ugly, concrete, 800-square mile megalopolis; but on the other hand, Shenzhen stands as a beautiful testament to what happens when you allow people to do good for themselves.

Shenzhen part 1 of 4

Along with two other families, we have plans to visit an orphanage over spring break. One of the other dad’s is our elementary school principal Tim Wong a.k.a. Mr. Hong Kong. Tim was born and raised in Toronto but has since immigrated back to Hong Kong where he learned to speak fluent Cantonese. To say that Tim can wheel and deal with the locals is an understatement.

Tim has always got something cooking –he was the one who suggested and then put together the orphanage visit. I have learned that when Tim invites you along on whatever he’s got going, you don't take a pass. You say yes, lace up your sneakers, and then make sure you’re in the car park on time ready to go.

So in the middle of last week, when Tim said that he was running up to Shenzhen in China after Saturday’s Academic Fair in order to buy games for the orphanage, you can imagine how quickly I said yes. Annika and I each have one entry visa remaining on our passports leftover from our trip to Yangshou in November. So Saturday after the Academic Fair, Tim, his wife, Annika, myself and four others got on the local train and headed north toward the boarder.

Even though I have been through this drill before, it was just as exciting as the first time–all those uniformed guards everywhere and those immigration officers looking so serious. It gives me a little tingle in my spine. (Note: If I come back from my two years in China and haven’t spent several hours being detained by The Regime, I will have considered my time is Asia an abject failure. Just kidding. Well, mostly kidding.)

Once we had crossed over the border and were in the huge train/bus/taxi depot on the other side, Tim started haggling with a van driver over price. Tim of course got the price reduced. Turns out that wasn’t the driver; that was a broker who hustles business and then walks the customers over to the waiting van and driver.

We were on our way to some serious shopping Shenzhen-style.

Man Under a Bridge

Hot Pot

This past summer and fall it was hot. All the time. And humid. While I was melting and the local people around me seemed to be doing just fine, this West Michigan-born-and-breed boy consoled himself by thinking “Oh yeah, well, just wait till it get’s cold around here. Then we’ll see who is equipped to survive.”

And sure enough, as soon as the weather was less-than-tropical, out came the boots, parkas, and hats. Sixty-five degrees and these people were wearing mufflers. Ah, not so tough now are we?

But I now know that the fifteen-degree drop in temperature was simply an excuse to break out a new season’s wardrobe. Instead of wearing those Ug boots with shorty-McShort shorts and a t-shirt, they could now start wearing those Ug boots with the crop pants and that new orange puffy vest they had been dying to debut.
Turns out the people of Hong Kong are champs at not only surviving the hot weather, but the cold(-ish) weather as well.

It’s pretty standard for many of the restaurants throughout Hong Kong to spill over onto the sidewalks. This summer, I assumed that those tables would all disappear as the weather cooled. Not so. Even as temperatures dropped into the forties, it’s been a regular sight to see groups of Hong Kongers gathered around sidewalk tables.

The favorite dish by far is Chinese hot pot. As the name suggests, it’s a pot (or two) of spicy chicken broth in the center of the table. You order whichever ingredients the people at the table agree upon and then -fondu-style- you dump everything in. At this point it’s every man, woman, and child for him or herself. Using chopsticks, you fish out whatever meat or vegetables or mushrooms you want.

The fact that the pots are heated by little Bunsen burners that throw off a little heat helps to endure the cold.

After being here in Hong Kong for almost eight months, Julie, the girls and I finally got around to having some hot pot. My principal, his family, a second family, and we went to “the restaurant with no name” where Bobby works. Bobby speaks English and will hook you up. Which is exactly what he did last week Tuesday night.

It was a great evening of fun, food, and fellowship.

And this boy from the Windy City only shivered a little bit.

-Jack

March Madness Comes to ICS Hong Kong