The beauty of being an English-speaking foreigner in Hong Kong is you can always find someone who speaks English. The exciting and certainly curious thing about traveling to Mainland China is there are very few people that speak English especially those involved with the basic services travelers rely on including taxi drivers, hotel personnel and restaurants. I suspect that my lack of knowledge of Cantonese and Mandarin will be frustrating; I look at it as a challenge. A challenge to communicate. A challenge to learn to communicate using something besides words. Even the Roman alphabet is useless here. At least in other foreign countries reading the words and using phonetics with a decent phrasebook or dictionary can help. But not in China. Not really.
Arriving at the Airport Express train station in Hong Kong we schlepped our bags the China Southern Airlines check-in desk to Check in for our China Eastern Airlines flight. Hmmmm. How'd we figure that one out? I've commented briefly before on the Hong Kong metro and transportation system, but this airport express train deserves praise. With its new airport Hong Kong has dialed in the process of ushering passengers to and from its new international transportation center. Simply take a quick cab ride to the airport express terminal and buy a couple tickets for about 150 Hong Kong dollars (I've begun to refer to these as Honkies; picking up the expression from Phoebe) and proceed to a wall lined with airline check-in counters. Simply check your bags, get a boarding pass and hop on the train to the airport. Simple and clean.
Of course, arriving at the metro less than 30 minutes before departure the chances of actually getting on that flight and taking advantage of such efficiencies would be unlikely. But why not play a bit dumb and give it a shot.
"Sorry. Flight finish. You go airport standby more flights. Full. All full."
Soon I'd be speaking this broken English even to my travel companion. No luck in losing our baggage. So the schlep continues. At Hong Kong airport after unsuccessfully standing by for a later flight we decided to take a bus. I would have preferred a train. But the train station was an hour away and then we'd take a 2.5-hour train ride. The bus would leave directly from the airport and have us in Guangzhou in a couple hours.
Guangzhou is a big Chinese industrial city where some 8 million people call home. Taking a bus or a train offers the traveler so much more than simply hoping into a flying tube where you land in just a few hours to a land far removed from where you left. You lose the experience of segueing into the geography, culture and climate. But transporting oneself this way does have its price. Yet with patience, understanding and a genuine desire to culturally immerse and integrate yourself with the local people it's simply the best.
So with my nose and forehead pressed against the window of our bus I watched the steel, glass and modern city of Hong Kong disappear as our modern bus hauled us toward China. In less than 45 minutes we were stepping off the bus at the Hong Kong immigration stop. Handing our immigration cards to the Hong Kong officials and ushering down a hallway lined with posters depicting loose line drawings of suspected pickpockets and suggesting a watchful eye be kept on all belongings.
Twenty minutes later we stopped again. This time the Chinese border. Another immigration card and stamp in my passport and I'm in China. An x-ray machine for luggage sat against a wall of a short passage way. Some people placed their luggage on the conveyor others simply walked past. I put my bags on. I looked but couldn't find anyone monitoring a screen. Must be simply a test. Some sort of placebo. Who are sheep and whose independently minded. Funny.
On the other side of hallway is China. Fast speaking Chinese representatives waved me onto a different bus than I exited. This one much older and perhaps never attended to with a keen eye for cleanliness or basic superficial maintenance, yet I noted the tires seemed adequate and assumed this would safely take us to Guangzhou. The newer and cleaner bus would make its u-turn and head back to Hong Kong and bring the next batch of travelers to China.
Through the glass of my window my eyes were glued to the Chinese landscape. Subtropical without the sun. Palm trees. Rice fields. We passed small towns centered around industrial factories. White tiled block buildings of 3-5 stories. Sometimes simply just bricks. Some without windows looked like they should be abandoned but the drying clothes hanging outside each window was evidence of life. Every town, every dwelling people hung their clothes to dry. They gave this buildings color. As I looked closer I noticed most apartments were drying similar clothes most lime green or sometimes reddish pink colors depending on the town, I realized these were the uniforms warn by workers in the factories.
The factories had signs facing the roadway. Most simply Chinese lettering impossible for me to decipher. Occasionally, mixed with Chinese letters signs would scream attention for ratings (ISO 9001 or ISO 9002). Sometimes a few English words: quality manufacturing, factory. The only familiar name I noted was Adidas. Or was it Puma. Either way it said the same thing: tennis shoes. Well maybe running shoes, basketball shoes, gardening shoes or walking shoes? We seem to have shoes for every activity these days. And plenty made in China.
Every town is under construction with either more housing, warehousing or factory space in development. At first I thought these factories and housing were very strategic with their close proximity to the road and on the main rag toward between commercial and shipping ports of Shenzhen and Hong Kong. But by the time I was in Guangzhou I realized that the massive economic explosion in China is fueling a construction boom not seen perhaps since the industrial revolution in the U.K. and Europe in the 18th century.
Perhaps most odd to me that surrounding the factories, the cranes, the scaffolding, the bricks and mortar and the clothes lines were farmers working rice fields ' rice fields in the shadows of both heavy and light manufacturing facilities. Also dotting the highway we'd whiz by chicken and duck farms. And most curious to me were the palm plantations also in the shadow of heavy industry. Groves of closely clustered palms winding around the three story tenement buildings and small flat roofed structures. Hanging precariously from the branches of each tree was a plastic shopping bag that bulged with something. What was the bag collecting? And how long had they been there?
Good god. I was watching the innocence of simple life of old China slowly dissolve into an industrial landscape that in less than 10 years has contributed into making China 'the factory of the world.'
Before I continue with my move from Hong Kong to Mainland China I must share with you the most amazing phenomenon I've ever seen in a big city. It was Sunday late morning and we were moving a bit slowly from several late nights.
With so many cars, double decker buses, motorcycles, scooters, taxis and pedestrians the city has gone to great lengths to make crossing streets easier and more efficient than many other cities. Pedestrians crossing streets cause traffic to stop. While there are plenty of red light intersections, there are also a number of pedestrian skyways that cross over the busiest streets. Not only to they offer congestion relief but they also provide great protection when the torrential typhoon rains rip through the city in the summer months.
I was crossing one of the busiest roads in the most congested part of Hong Kong in Causeway Bay when I first noticed them. Young girls and women sitting on cheap plastic table cloths or blankets on the sidewalk. We were on our way to the MTR to head toward SoHo for lunch and didn[base ']t think much of it until I saw the next group, then the next. As we walked through entrance of Victoria Park we found more. Hardly any men. Simply hundreds and hundreds of girls sitting on the concrete park benches, lingering around light posts or sitting on those makeshift blankets. Some seem to have wares scattered about as if this were some kind of swap meet. As I passed through this section the language was clearly not Cantonese nor Mandarin. It was Tagalog. Most of these women were Filipino.
We made our way to the central district to meet with Phoebe for a beer then a Thai food lunch. Walking between the steel skyscrapers and through concrete city plazas we kept running into them. Now it had to be thousands. Phoebe explained it. They are all Foreign Domestic Workers. Nearly 150,000 Filipino women are employed as maids or caretakers. They work six days a week. On Sunday, their day off, they have nowhere to go except the streets. Walking through one crowded plaza the high-pitched conversations seemed elevated to angry shouting echoed off the buildings. The sound so strong and fierce it reminded me of birds and animals in the jungles of Java or Sumatra. Rising and lowering with a dynamic that seemed prime for a chant or an upheaval chorus. But these girls were just talking. Enjoying their only day off. All on the streets of Hong Kong. On Sunday.
Photo: (1) Not the greatest shot on the blog, but a quick glimpse at the scene of Foreign Domestic Workers (FDW) on their Sunday day off in Hong Kong.
Then there's Kowloon. Kowloon rests on a small peninsula less than 1km across the bay from Hong Kong Island. Many years ago a Hong Kong rice magnate started a ferry service to usher his workers to and from their homes in the less expensive Kowloon. Over the years as Hong Kong spread and with little real estate left to develop the tall buildings started to spring up on Kowloon. Today it's the shopping capital of Hong Kong. With many five star hotels, high-fashion shops and restaurants, Kowloon also houses the ubiquitous hawkers of knock-off watches and the infamous Hong Kong tailors.
There are three ways to get to Kowloon. First, via car or taxi through a tunnel. Second and quite easy and popular is using the Hong Kong MTR metro system and finally you can take the Star Ferry. And at less than twenty-five cents it's simply the most well spent money in Hong Kong bar none.
Cruising across the bay at night gives you a technicolor view of the lights of Hong Kong. The colors that light the sky and ripple and reflect in the bay change nightly. Perhaps urban legend, but I was told there's one man in a lone room with a computer who has sole creative license and capability to change the colors of Hong Kong on a whim. I'm thinking that could be more fun than a Pink Floyd concert if the music, the vibe and energy were right. Perhaps a future project.
One night on Kowloon we sat in the bar on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel. The ultra-chic Felix restaurant and bar perhaps earned its reputation with great food, beautiful people and a hip bar. But really it's the men's bathroom that eeks into more conversations at the dinner table or bar. High tech and quite minimal the men's rest room's focal point are three marble urinals that sit like iris shaped pods growing out of the marble tiled floor. But instead of facing a blank wall, mirror or some advertisement on an LCD screen as you do your business, you simply gaze across the bay and feast your eyes on those Hong Kong night lights. Apparently, the bathrooms of this hotelier/restauranteur are his signature.
On a daytime trip to Kowloon Bryan and I walked up and down Nathan Street (famous for shopping -- especially electronics and cameras) looking for the China Travel Service. Eager to pick up airline tickets to Guilin in mainland China we found ourselves on Kowloon Island without the exact street address of the travel service. Shit. I thought it would be easy as our man Wu told us no problem -- they are in the building next to the Hyatt Regency. And with my usual confident self I figured no worries -- this will be easy. Not quite. After walking past a dozen stores selling phones, cameras, cosmetics and ore cell phones and cameras we started getting a tad frustrated. And after shrugging off another dozen watch hawkers and eastern Indian gentlemen passing out cards with information on the great suits they could tailor for us using the finest Italian fabrics.
I finally turned to one of them and said, we don't wear suits anymore. "But if you can tell me where the China Travel Service is, I'd be much obliged." So there goes Johnny from Bombay weaving me and Bryan through the narrow alleys of Kowloon past the soap vendors, shoe stores, salons and who knows what else. We finally came to a stop, ironically enough at his brother's tailor shop. Turns out his brother is really his cousin. And I'm not even sure he is his cousin. Another Bombay-based businessman walked in and was introduced to us as the owner's brother. Nothing is as it seems or communicated in Kowloon. We'd take this lesson to heart soon enough.
We did finally pocket our tickets from the China Travel Service. But only after looking at just one more fabric. And, "do you wear tie?" Even, "you need shirts even if you no wear suit?" And finally an order for a chinese jacket and a few shirts Johnny marched us to our destination.
On our final and fateful trip to Kowloon, we decided to test the odds and see if we could make one last purchase before we headed to mainland China. With 4 hours before our flight would take off from HK International Airport to Ghoungzhou we hurried through the busy streets of Causeway Bay and went underground. Rising out of the street at the Tsim Sun Lin MTR station we started our assault on the electronic stores in search of phone and camera. Not that either of us are predisposed to shopping, but with one Chinese Jacket, a couple shirts and a few collectables from the Stanley Market we couldn't leave enough alone.
We learned quickly why everyone seems to have the same products in the window displays. And even after handling what we learned were simply dummy products we never really understood that none of these stores stock anything save a few low dollar items and a few accessories. You can imagine how on a time schedule to catch an international flight from an airport that is an hour away the impatience that builds when after negotiating and agreeing to a price the salesman says, "I'm going to get that for you right now," yet sits there and talks to you about accessories and makes no moves toward the "back room." Even after telling him that we were interested in no further items, he just sat there.
"Are you going to get the phone?"
"Yes. I'm getting it."
Didn't look that way. He was sitting there poking away at his own phone while I was sitting there tapping my foot and watching the clock. And the clock ticked. Fifteen minutes. Then another five. Then he says, "sorry. sold out."
Geeez.
Even worse. Bryan who was in another shop down the street had the exact same experience. We soon met together at another vendor. The time was still ticking. We were dangerously close to making the cut off to catch the airport express train. Our new vendor had a good price and after asking him at least six times, "do you have these products?", he assured us. "Yes. Of course. I tell you I have. I have. I have."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
After kissing our flight goodbye we were still sitting in this guys shop waiting for our products. While I usually remain composed and rarely ever get angry or raise my voice, I asked this guy the tenth time, "Where is the product? If you don't have, you don't have. I have to catch a plane."
"I have. I have. I get for you right now."
Good god, I'm thinking: You are sitting right there in the same seat you were in 30 minutes ago when we agreed to this sale. You aren't getting shit. He told me the product was upstairs. Then he told me the product was coming from his office. After asking him just a few more times he told me it was coming from his office on another street. Liar. Just didn't want to admit he didn't really have the product. Just that he could get it. While contributing to our tardiness for our flight.
The products finally did arrive. But a word of caution and warning to anyone finding themselves in Hong Kong on Kowloon island. Don't buy anything there but a Chinese jacket and a few shirts. Unless your desperate and need to have something for a leg of your trip that starts in more than a few hours, just stay out of the electronics stores. There are no deals and the product will likely come from someone elses store or in a warehouse clear across the Bay in Hong Kong. Exactly where we should have stayed this morning and caught a few extra winks of sleep.
On to Guoungzhou.
Photos: (1) The urinal in the mens room at Felix on the top floor of The Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon, Hong Kong. (2) Bombay Johnny from Wear Nice Fashion tailor shop in Kowloon, Hong Kong. (2) This guy was getting our stuff. Even though he sat there and wrote our receipt out in the slowest handwriting ever experienced by this writer. Don't buy electronics in Kowloon unless you have a lot of time and patience.
Hong Kong is busy. We're staying in Causeway Bay which I've learned is the most congested part of Hong Kong. Funny thing is half of this island is a National Park. And anything is a 30 minute cab ride away. The city rolls with steel and glass high rises from the Hong Kong bay uphill to Victoria Peak, the highest point of the island. As in any urban landscape the city is divided into small sections. The Central District is exactly that -- the center of the city. Complete with a Bank of America and other financial powerhouses providing a gateway to do business with China and the rest of Asia.
With all the people hustling and bustling in Causeway Bay, Central, Soho and more I found it interesting that the metro (MTR), busses, hotel elevators and even throughout Hong Kong's new and very architecturally impressive convention center the painful use of watered down Muzak. I guess it's simply an attempt to soothe and create a sonic peaceful ambiance. But it's enough to make me sick.
The cabs are rather interesting. Red with white roofs. And when you flag a cab down the driver pushes an eject button and bam, the door flies open. Just climb in. When you reach the destination and have paid your fair eject again.
This night we decided to start our night life adventure toward the top of the hill near central in SoHo. Littered with nice shops, cafes and a full range of ethnic restaurants the area seems to cater to ex-pats -- a sea of round eyes unlike anywhere else in Asia -- as expected after more the 150 years of British rule.
Starting in SoHo for a cocktail where we were quite surprised to have a second martini dropped on the table the second the first was downed. In a thick Asian accent the gal said two for one. A guess happy hour. As the adage goes, we starting going downhill from there. Thai food in the Lan Kwai Fong district followed by more drinks at Insomnia, a club featuring a really good cover band from the Philiippines. Here the streets are closed every night and you can roam from club to club. And if you haven't finished your beer or cocktail it's fine to take it with you onto the streets. Just can't take into the next bar.
And it went downhill from there. Next we hoofed it to Wan Chai where more clubs, strip clubs and bars that tend to have a bunch of Southeast Asian women waiting around. Many of these women work as domestic help and look to connect with new friends -- sailors, travelers or ex-pats looking to cure their own symptoms of the 'Asian Flu'.
After roaming the streets, bars and feeding on the energy of the Hong Kong evening Bryan and I fell into our beds in our hotel around 5am. Geeeeeez. I better stort making moves toward China. This could get crazy.
Photos: (1) Nightlife scene in Lan Kwai Fong; (2) Live music at Insomnia; (3) Tan from Tan from Thailand, girlfriend of our host these evening, Michael.
What a treat to be in Hong Kong and discover an old friend is living here. One who I haven't seen in nearly 10 years. After playing phone tag and exchanging text messages over my now Hong Kong phone number equipped Sony Ericsson P900 phone Phoebe guided us up to her pad on Victoria Peak. Victoria Peak is the highest point on Hong Kong Island. At the very top of this mountain is a park with a hiking path that offers expansive views of Hong Kong, Kowoloon and the new territories.
Phoebe moved to Hong Kong nearly 3 years ago after getting married. She and her husband live in beautifully decorated flat with a balcony that offered us the best view yet of Hong Kong at night. Photographers from an Asian art and design publication had been there earlier that day shooting their apartment for a feature in an upcoming issue.
I carried a bottle of 2000 Alban Lorraine Syrah with me from California -- one of three bottles I brought to Asia. The first, A bottle of Ricolma from Tuscany never made it off the plane. I had corked and decanted the wine and returned the precious juice to the bottle before the taxi picked me the morning I left the United States. Replacing the cord with a simple bottle stopped I packed in carefully in my carry on. About half way into the flight during one of United's questionable meal services Bryan and I killed the bottle. With empty bottles wine, water and a bag of trash remains from other snacks purchased in San Francisco, I asked the flight attendant to take away our bag of trash. In a sarcastic and playful manner she asked, "and why do you boys have so much trash?" Remarking something about the food and then pulling the top of the neck of the bottle out of the bag a few inches said, "the wine bottle takes up quite a bit."
Her demeanor changed suddenly. Her eyes from beaming bright and friendly to worried and accusing. "Did you drink that on the plane?" She told us that we are not supposed to this and we coulda got kicked off the plan -- or more appropriate -- deplaned. So I thought, hmmmmmm, miles over the Pacific and they'd deplane us where? She took this serious and several feet ahead of us she disappeared into one of the 747's galleys. Then reappearing and glancing my way she motioned her eyes to her male colleague in our direction. I had explained to her that I'd flown Delta and Air France and had success and even support from the crew in getting a bottle of wine opened. She simply just stared and said, "This is not Air France."
I knew that.
The Alban was the first of many wines consumed over 10 years of catching up, reminiscing, laughing and living. I learned that Phoebe has been designing, importing and selling exclusive housewares items from throughout Asia. The next day we took a tour of her studio in the Central district of Hong Kong and learned that these items could be found in many top retailers in the US.
Next dinner with another ex-pat hanging his hat in Hong Kong - a friend of Bryan's whose been living her a couple years. I'm sure that will have more to say about the night life her in Hong Kong as we plan to take on SoHo, Lan Kwai Fong and Wan Chai. Stay tuned.
Photos: (1) View from hiking path high atop Hong Kong on Victoria Peak. Typical fog and smog combo obscures what would be a lush tropical view with jutting skyline of steel and glass; (2) The hike on Victoria Peak takes you through a botanical journey of discovery. This is an Indian Rubber tree; (3) Bryan taking the Star Ferry from the Kowoloon Island to Hong Kong Island.
The good thing about traveling west from California is arriving in the evening with just a few hours of exploring then falling into bed. It's a sure cure of any jet lag issues. So waking up yesterday at 6am was easy and I felt completely refreshed.
Last night is another story. As dinner guests with a group of Taiwanese and a frenchman I was surprised as we sat down at the huge round dinner table in a Shanghai cuisine restaurant when our host planted a bottle of single malt scotch on the turnstile. Soon the waiter was lining up the glasses. This was especially curious to me because I had toyed with the possibility of bringing one of the few bottles of wine I hand carried from California. After conferring with a few "locals", I figured that I'd rather not risk a total cultural faux-pas (my apologies to Phillipe, the Frenchman) and show up to dinner with simply a smile.
One of the first things I learned from my Taiwanese host was the matter-of-fact point that I shouldn't "clink" my glass when toasting a drink. "Don't touch the glass..." I quickly learned. Unless of course, I'd be prepared to "bottoms up" and down the entire contents. In this case, we're not talking sake. Bottoms up. The theme of the night.
The weather has been rather dreary with the cities skyline shrouded in a cloud of fog, clouds and smog though late yesterday it appeared to clear up a bit. I'm told that there are green mountains and a sense of a subtropical island here. Just haven't seen it yet.
Arrived in Hong Kong several hours ago. My first time here so getting the lay of the land, transport and the basic geography is taking some time. City is vibrant and electric. Though for the first night we noticed across the street of our hotel a restaurant called Petit Pomerol. Safe to say a bottle of Pomerol and a tad of French food isn't the most authentic take on the regional cuisine and drink. But then again. After nearly 20 hours of traveling we took the lazy route. More later.
It's late. And it's April 19th. Does the date ring a bell. Bells? Anything?
Ok. Well it's historic for a number of things. Good and bad.
So here goes:
1) Lexington & Concord - The first shots of the revolutionary war were fired.
2) Waco Texas - Fire and more shots fired.
3) Oklahoma City Federal Building Bombing.
So this is the date I choose to fly...
I'm still crossing things off my to do list. Getting ready for yet another journey. This time to Hong Kong and mainland China. A bit of business with some adventure thrown in. All of it a big discovery. I've travelled throughout Southeast Asia extensively. But this trip marks my first to Hong Kong and China. And this, of course, is very exciting.
There are a lot of other exciting things these days. And while I've got much to write, as the clock ticks down and thoughts of long security lines at the airport tomorrow weight heavy on my head, I'll keep this short. But with nearly 20 hours of flying tomorrow, I hope to find some time to catch up on a number of topics.
Early out of John Wayne Airport where I'll fly to SFO. In SFO I'll connect with Bryan who'll be my partner in travel and discovery on this stint. We fly together to Hong Kong.
Check into The Digital Tavern. I'll try to keep the travelblog running in full force. And technicolor.
Ok. So maybe my title is a bit on the tabloid side of media hype. But according to an article in tomorrow's New York Times Rob Glaser, Real CEO offered to create a "tactical alliance" with Apple in an e-mail message to Steve Jobs.
Apparently there was a bit of "and if you don't" message in the e-mail indicating Glaser maybe knocking on the doors in Redmond next. I'm not sure what's happening behind the closed doors in Cupertino, Redmond and Seattle, but it's clear that Real is under Real pressure to perform.
I've never liked RealAudio, Real Player, or Real anything. Except the reality that there are too many media formats on the net and there needs to be a shake-up. Real Networks has been struggling to find its position and has had mild success. However from a practical user point of view, the Real media that I listen or watch on the internet litters my desktop with a slew of .ram files. And maybe there's a preference or setting that would stop this annoying behavior, but as a user I shouldn't have to worry about such things. Both QuickTime and Windows Media Player run much more smoothly for me.
Another problem with Real is that they gotta generate revenue from users. And while a free Real Player is available for Mac OS X, finding it on their website is nearly impossible. They do everything they can included the smallest possible font to lock you into a commitment to buy the non-free version. Sure you can buy a PRO version of QuickTime, but Apple doesn't try to trick you into the Pro version when all you need to do is download a player app to watch a movie trailer.
As for Windows Media Player, I've got no clue. It works. Was simply to download and works transparently. Bravo.
But what's really at stake here is the music sales online. Apple clearly nailed this market and developed a slick solution. And they're selling a boatload of music. And along the way Apple developed a beautiful Windows application and clearly has the best MP3 Player/Jukebox for both Macintosh and Windows. And key to the online music sales is Apple's Fairplay digital rights management system. This is how Apple got past the red herring that was plaguing the record companies and holding them back from online music sales. Instead of focusing on a solution for the problem the record companies and RIAA went after users with fear tactics and witch hunt like law suits. Moving in its shadows, Apple came up with a system that works and the record companies have bought into. And it's just want Rob Glaser wants.
Glaser and Real want to be able to sell music through an online service that will play on the number one selling MP3 players in the business. In a licensing deal that Apple could ink, Glaser would then make the iPod the standard music device sold through the Real online store.
I'm not sure what the traffic or revenue stream generated by Real and its online store. But if it's significant this could be a coup for Apple while forging a path toward defacto standardization. And we all know what's at the end of the proprietary technology path. Darkness and defeat. Ask Apple. Ask Sony.
But if Jobs wants to keep his exclusive and be the only game in town for selling music that will play on the iPod, he won't ink a deal with Real. And it's here where it gets complicated. I think Jobs learned his lessons log ago. He has already established relationships relating to iTunes and the iTunes Music Store with Hewlett-Packard and AOL.
Pundits will likely draw on Jobs past and predict he'll turn down Glaser's offer. And according to the Times, Jobs hasn't' responded. The fact that this memo was leaked caught Glaser by surprise. So he says. I'd bet that's not the case. No matter what this is going to be an interesting story to watch.
One week from today I'll be hopping on a big bird and making my treks to Hong Kong and South Western China. It's interesting to note the responses from those who I've shared details about my trip. Typically the trivia rolls off the tongue.
1.3 billion people (about 25% of the world's population)
2.5 million Military Service Personnel
There are 666 cities in China (11 of these have a population of more than 2 million while 393 have less than 200,000
Others warn me of SARS dangers while still others eager to point me to the major attractions: Terracotta Warriors, Great Wall, The Three Gorges (now flooded). But interestingly enough barely anyone I know (excluding those doing business in or with Chinese) haven't been to China. Just last month Liz made her way to Shanghai.
But even more interesting to me is the news that spread around the net last month about the Chinese Government's action toward its localbloggers. Seems that it shut down a number of major hosters of Chinese Weblogs.
If there are any bloggers in Hong Kong or Guang Zhou that will be in town between now and the first week of may, please drop me a note through the link in the sidebar. It'd be nice to connect with some locals or ex-pats in HK or China. Plus, anyone want to point me to some good blogs I should be reading prior to my arrival?
The amazing thing about my blog is the fact that I've been "uncovered" or "found" by a number of friends who I've not spoken to in years. This is kinda an undocumented feature or benefit of blogging. Of course, if you're into alternate realities, pseudonyms or are a graduate from the FBI's School of Protected Witnesses this simply wouldn't matter.
So last week my face stretched obtusely with a smile as I lit up and reveled in the great feeling when you hear from someone that made some sort of impact on your life. The email had a subject line that read "can't believe I found you here!". Over the next few days we caught up over email. Reminisced about the past, talked about the future and the events that led each of us to where we are today. Managed to dream about our possible pasts and the potential of our future. Soon the conversation moved offline to the telephone. Exchanges our words for voices. And how the internet and my blog made this possible.
Just a few days later I received another email through The Digital Tavern, my blog. This one came from one of my first clients when I hung my first shingle for my ad agency in Orange County. We chatted and then made plans to meet a watering hole we used to frequent in those early days. The days where we'd chow on bar food, drink pitchers of draft beer and throw darts. Walking into Malarky's we both remarked that it seemed to smell more like beer than it ever did before. And the large screen project television was fuzzy and out of focus and must had been the same one from 10 years ago. The next day we both agreed and committed to replacing the beer soaked Irish bar, beer and television with a modern steak house, good bottle of wine and live music.
How do they find The Digital Tavern? They google me. An these are just two very recent and very closely connected events. This has happened before. And will happen again. So cool.
I've tried to google some old friends. Found some, lost others. Why not take a moment out the day and try to find an old friend. Maybe he or she has a blog. Maybe you'll find an article from a small local newspaper celebrating his triathlon win or community service. Who knows.
I did just that. Looked for an old roommate from college. No blog. But did find such a newspaper article. I went to the White Pages in Sherlock on my Mac and found his address. No email. No phone. But an address. So I scanned an old drunken photo of our college days, printed it and sent it in the mail with a CD burned from iTunes featuring some of the music I'm listening to today. I dropped in the mail yesterday. I wonder what kind of impact it'll make when it lands in his mailbox? I hope the same kind of smile and warm feeling I got after Brad found my blog.
So go ahead. Take a chance. Reach out and find an old friend. Make their day.
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I used to love those client meetings where the VP of Marketing in his self-important, authoritarian and demanding manner would remove his eyeglasses and shake them at our team when he explained he wanted to create a marketing campaign that would drive more eyeballs to his company's website. And the site itself would have to be "sticky" and that we really need to "do" something very "viral".
Ah for all the fodder of the hey day of the internet bubble this lexicon was incubated and bred by those who elevated themselves to experts and pitched and peddled answers and wares to solve the "toughest" advertising, marketing or technology problems. These words and many more like it are all but buried in the backpages of internet style guides, glossaries or history books (are their internet history books yet?).
So when I followed Casper'slink about a British television ad created by Ogilvy & Mather that shows a cute and cuddly tabby cat getting decapitated by the sunroof of a compact Ford I had to laugh. From what I understand the ad never ran on television. Yet somehow this video clipped has leaked its way to the internet and has spread faster than the SARS virus or the proverbial wildfire.
According to Snopes, which I find to be the definitive squasher of all internet rumor, exposure of virtually all urban legend and internet police of chain email and bogus political rants, Ford was appalled when it found that the ad, "done in poor taste", had made its way across the globe and back again.
But then again Ford released a statement indicating that the offensive decapitation was computer generated and that "no animals were harmed" during the filming. Like the viral nature of a conspiracy theory du jour, perhaps as one ad industry exec claimed, this was simply no accident. A classic example of "viral marketing" designed to attract sticky eyeballs for commercial purposes. So here I am. Just another drone contributing to Ford's successful effort -- or not.
Watch the ad here. And watch the real ad that ran on television in the U.K. here.
This just in. Clear Channel announced a few hours ago that it would permanently pull The Howard Stern Show from its airways and has been fined $495,000 for indecency stemming from the Stern Show. Clear Channel who last month temporarily pulled the show from its roster of stations after the FCC began its witch hunt for indecency, pointed to the fact the "congress and the FCC are even beginning to look at revoking station licenses, that's a risk we are just not willing to take."
I've been outspoken about Clear Channel and how it is the largest contributor to the sterilization and homogenization of radio and the music we hear for well over a year. To be sure, I'm no fan of the Howard Stern show which I find sophomoric, silly and a waste of time, but personal taste aside, I think this is sad message communicated by both Clear Channel and the FCC about restriction of personal liberties, freed speech and is simply an end around move to censor. And for this I cannot sit silent.
I'm not going to jump on the blog and mainstream press bandwagon that have been active since Clear Channel temporarily pulled the show in raising the conspiracy flog. Stern has publicly accused the Clear Channel folding under the pressure of the Bush Administration because Stern, a self-admitted republican, has been extremely harsh and outspoken about Bush and his performance as president. Yet one can't help but wonder why Stern's successful radio show that has been on the air for nearly 20 years is now the subject of such scrutiny about decency. Good god, did Janet Jackson inspire all this? Even The New York Post finds hypocrisy in Clear Channel's effort to clean up its act.
Whether Clear Channel is spineless and not interested in fighting for personal liberties or free press or is a political gunslinging assailant or victim is beyond the scope of this post. But one thing is for sure, this is another nail in the coffin why Clear Channel ought to be taken off the air instead of Howard Stern.
You can read my past posts and criticisms of the Clear Channel machine here, here, here and here.
Plus, check out this good article from Reason on media consolidation.
One night on Kowloon we sat in the bar on the top floor of the Peninsula Hotel. The ultra-chic Felix restaurant and bar perhaps earned its reputation with great food, beautiful people and a hip bar. But really it's the men's bathroom that eeks into more conversations at the dinner table or bar. High tech and quite minimal the men's rest room's focal point are three marble urinals that sit like iris shaped pods growing out of the marble tiled floor. But instead of facing a blank wall, mirror or some advertisement on an LCD screen as you do your business, you simply gaze across the bay and feast your eyes on those Hong Kong night lights. Apparently, the bathrooms of this hotelier/restauranteur are his signature. 
The good thing about traveling west from California is arriving in the evening with just a few hours of exploring then falling into bed. It's a sure cure of any jet lag issues. So waking up yesterday at 6am was easy and I felt completely refreshed.
Ok. So maybe my title is a bit on the tabloid side of media hype. But according to 
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