Today's ad in the Apple Daily. Online users raised $100,000 HKD to campaign against Chinese mainland visitors to HK.

The locust is now synonymous for some very unwelcome mainland Chinese visitors to Hong Kong. Web users coined the term to describe the 28 million Chinese visitors now looked upon as marauders, bringing chaos to Hong Kong’s order and rule of law and consuming precious resources in the city.

Hong Kong residents are particularly vexed about the tens of thousands of pregnant mainland women who cross the border every year to give birth, obtaining Hong Kong benefits for their children and putting a strain on congested public hospitals. There is also much resentment towards the nouveau riche who come to the territory and splurge on luxury goods and apartments, driving up already exorbitant rents in the property market.

In less than a week, an online group raised $100,000 HK dollars to place the ad in The Apple Daily newspaper.

The advert, I fear, now signals that the gloves are off in an already vicious and long simmering dispute, dividing Hong Kong residents and those who come from the Chinese mainland.

But maybe the gloves were already off. Last week,a Beijing academic went on an internet talk show and went on a 15 minute rant, calling Hong Kong people “bastards,” “thieves” and “dogs” for insulting mainland Chinese visitors.

Illustrations featuring locusts, aka invading Chinese mainlanders, have gone viral on the internet.

But this recent blow up can be traced back to an incident in January when more than 1,000 people protested outside a Dolce & Gabbana shop. The fashion store banned locals from taking pictures outside, telling them only mainland Chinese visitors could do so.

Later, a video of a group of Hong Kong people angrily confronting a mainland Chinese family for eating on the city’s underground train network where food is banned went viral.

I totally get why the Hong Kong people are pissed. It’s a bit of an invasion. Out of the 42 million visitors Hong Kong gets each year, 28 million come from China. Though Hong Kong is now officially part of China, the two places couldn’t be more different. I have always marvelled at how clean and orderly Hong Kong is (even by Canadian standards) compared to cities in mainland China. Just crossing the border from HK to the city of Shenzhen gives travellers a stark comparison to see just how different the territory is from the mainland. The clean toilets disappear and we are met with dirty squatters. The orderly line ups in Hong Kong give way to frantic clambering and pushing. Everything changes. Even the air quality.

At Harbour City in Hong Kong’s Tsim Sha Tsui, where many mainland visitors shop, it is easy to spot who comes from China and who is a local. Some of the worst stereotypes come true. The mainland shoppers move in loud, boisterous packs, line up outside Chanel and LV, squat on the sidewalks instead of finding a nearby bench, and they spit, a lot.

We lived in Hung Hom, where there was a train station directly connecting Hong Kong to Shenzhen. We watched as the apartments in our neighborhood were bought up by the Chinese. Our land lady was one of them and she was impossible to deal with. She dropped by unannounced. Even stayed a night at our place after handing us the keys and signing a one-year contract with us. In the end, she refused to return our deposit and we left Hong Kong a few thousand dollars short. The real estate agent apologized profusely to us. “These mainland Chinese,” she said. “I just can’t deal with them. They don’t listen.”

And that’s why the noodle incident caused such a big uproar. I think the Hong Kong locals shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it, but when the family was confronted about eating on the subway, the Chinese mother of the family was defiant and unapologetic. “So we’re eating? What’s it to you?”

I get that a lot in China. “Um, there’s a line up here,” I would meekly say. “What’s it to you?” is the answer I usually get. “You line up if you want. I’ll do what I want.”

So obviously, I think the mainlanders need to be more respectful of Hong Kong’s rules. I don’t know how we can do this, how we can go about mass educating and enacting some kind of mass change of behaviour. It’s also important to remember not to hold all Chinese mainlanders accountable for the unruly behaviour of some and the hate speech of one loony professor. And finally, I can say for certain, that taking out a full page advert depicting locusts isn’t going to help.

That’s because, well, he’s a Chinese immigrant in Holland. The slave wages? Uh huh. The 12-hour work days? Been there, done that. The loneliness? Of course. And separation from family??! Wouldn’t be a migrant life’s without it!

I sometimes wonder what Chinese immigrants will think when they finally get the chance to read my book. They might have the same reaction as my father-in-law. That’s life, they might say.

But as for you, dear readers, I think the realities of their world might come as a bit of a shock to you. Throughout my travels in Europe, I found myself in awe, in tears, and feeling really lucky and grateful for the life I have.

Here’s a primer on a Chinese migrant’s life in Europe:

Chinese migrant workers sewing name-brand Italian swim wear at a factory near the coastal city of Rimini.

1) The average Chinese migrant worker in Europe works at least 12 hours a day.

2) You can demand more pay if you have experience, but if you’re just starting out, you can expect to make about 500 Euros a month if you work at a bar or restaurant. Even less if you work in a factory. Room and board is usually provided by your employer. Most workers are given a bed or a room in their boss’ home. While 500 Euros seems little to us, that’s already five times more than a waitress will make in China.

3) When Chinese migrant workers arrive in Europe, they usually don’t have a problem finding employment. Even in this economic recession, migrant workers of Chinese nationality often have a job lined up before even arriving in Europe.This is especially true of those who come from Qingtian. The network of Qingtian immigrants is so tight and extensive, employment is not difficult to come by.

4) Chinese employers like to hire workers who hail from the same hometown. That way, they feel there’s a better guarantee that the worker will be a good one. Or, at least he or she will be accountable for how she works and behaves.

Working for friends or family can be comforting for the worker, if the boss is nice. If not, workers often have a harder time because they are hesitant to ask for a raise or a day off, for fear of souring the relationship.

5) Many Chinese emigrants are isolated from mainstream society, working for Chinese employers alongside Chinese co-workers. As a result, they can live in Europe for a decade and still not speak the local language.

* * *

Behind the smiles, many Chinese migrant workers are overworked and underpaid.

I remember noticing how red and blistered the young girl’s hands were. She had been working less than a month, but the constant washing and scrubbing and polishing had taken its toll.

I clutched her swollen hands and found myself blinking back tears.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m ok. Really. I’m doing fine!”

Here I was, in a position to comfort her, to provide her with encouragement and counsel. Instead, this young girl was comforting me. Telling me things were going to be alright. It was at that moment I realized how strong she was.

Italy was not what she imagined. But she was determined to work hard. Her goal was to save enough money to someday run her own bar and support her entire family financially.

When that kind of responsibility is dealt to you, you have no choice but to work hard. That is the stuff Chinese immigrants in Europe are made of. Even if you’re only 17 years old.

But here I am in Italy. And this is the tourist I have become.

A Chinese restaurant run by Qingtian immigrants in Rovigo, Italy.

So before coming to Europe, I brushed up on my Chinese. Nearly all of my interviews have been conducted in Putonghua. And, getting around Europe using English has worked just fine. Until I got to Italy.

Maybe it’s just bad luck. But during our first week in Italy, we encountered at least five people who were upset we could not speak Italian and hostile when we tried, in vain, to communicate.

“Italiano,” said the man in Torino, minding the front desk that night. He glared at me sternly. It happened again in Monselice, a town near Padova. A man at the front desk of a hotel refused to try and talk to me when I inquired about hotel prices. And then again when we tried to buy bus tickets at a bar. I may not understand Italian, but I know when someone’s pissed off — it has often come in the form of one speaking rapid fire Italian to him or herself while rolling their eyes and throwing up their hands.

I should have a thicker skin. I’m a trained journalist and I know what it’s like to be sworn at, to have doors slammed in my face, to be hung up on, to battle other reporters in a scrum. Alas, it still gets to me when people are less than courteous.

To be fair, I have met a good number of nice Italians. Italians who saw us admiring a church in Verona, came over to ask where we were from, and said: “Welcome to Italy!” We have met wonderful hotel staff across the country. People who go out of their way to make us feel comfortable.

But we get shouted at a lot. “NI HAO”s in bars and on the street. Perhaps it’s just their way of being friendly. But I find it condescending. I feel, at times, I am a spectacle. For them to shout “NI HAO” and to get a response is a thrill. Sometimes, I respond with: “Hello.”

For sure, this kind of greeting doesn’t just happen in Italy. I was constantly called “China-man!” in Havana, Cuba. In China, foreigners are often greeted with a jeering: “HALLO! HALLO!” It can be really, really annoying. And when I was still living in New York — multicultural capital of the world — a friend and I were out for the evening and stopped briefly in the Times Square subway station to watch the performers who often gather just outside the famous Latin music store. A young, black performer came up to the crowd and asked everyone to take a step back. When he saw my friend and I (both Chinese), he pressed his hands together and bowed deeply to us, saying: “Konichewa!”

My friend was not amused. He stared the young man down and said: “Dude, I’m American.” The boy seemed surprised by my friend’s reaction, thought for a moment, then extended his hand and said: “Sorry, man, just jokes.”

Chinese immigrants are buying up bars in Italy. The new business venture gives them a chance to interact with Italians on a daily basis.

Growing up in multicultural Toronto, I’m used to seeing immigrants everywhere — in school, at work, on the bus, in the subway, at the parks. But here in northern Italy, I often find myself looking around and noticing ‘wow, I’m the only Asian here.’

So I have started to do something I thought I’d never do — I have, on several occasions, sought out Chinese restaurants in Italy. Please, before you start with me, just let me say: I love pasta! Rigatoni, Penne, Lasagna, Gnocchi, you name it. I love pizza! With a glass of wine? Heaven. And the fromaggio! Oh, how I do love cheese.

But there’s just something about having a warm, bowl of soup noodles and a nice helping of dumplings in my tummy. Or rice. A nice steaming bowl of fragrant white rice, with crispy stir-fried vegetables, maybe some garlic shrimp, and some spicy tofu. Slurping up the flavours! Biting into juiciness! But this isn’t only about comfort food. There’s something else: it is *so* nice to be able to go into a restaurant and order with fluency. No need for wild hand gestures. No need to second guess. No surprise dish showing up on the table.

A Chinese man pushes a cart-load of clothing in Milan's wholesale garment district.

So here I am, doing exactly what I think Chinese immigrants shouldn’t do when they are in a foreign country: Speak only to other Chinese and eat only in Chinese restaurants.

Chinese workers in a factory near Rimini sewing swim suits for an Italian brand.

It’s very easy to be unsympathetic. “Here are these immigrants coming to a new country and just building mini Chinatowns, with no regard or respect for the local language and culture…” But over the past few weeks, I have been given a small taste of what it must be like for these new immigrants, many of whom have little education and no grounding in any Western language. Already, I am at a huge advantage as a Chinese born Canadian. But I have experienced first-hand what it’s like to feel like an alien — isolated and alone. Not being able to speak Italian in Italy is a major impediment. And the urge to find someone who looks like you and speaks the same language as you, can be irresistible.

They lean over and chat with customers; they work the espresso machine effortlessly; and the coffee, the sandwiches and the patatas bravas are just as good as any other bar.

I always ask where the bar owners or waiters come from, and in almost every instance, they have told me: “I come from Qingtian.”

The phenomenon of Chinese-run bars in Italy and Spain is a fairly recent development, something that began in earnest about five years ago. Some of the earliest immigrants started off running restaurants, serving Chinese food catering to the local populations. In Spain and Italy, “almond chicken” seems to be a favourite and of course, everyone (whether you’re Italian, Spanish or American) seems to love the spring roll. Then, the Chinese started opening garment and shoe factories. As China’s manufacturing industry boomed, the import/export businesses proved to be a lucrative venture. The Chinese bring over shiploads of clothing and products that are “Made in China” and sell them for double the value in Europe.

But all of these markets are now saturated as migration from China has continued to flow to Europe.

So the immigrants are branching out. Now, bars seem to be the all the hype. I have met migrants who have left the clothing business behind for a life behind the bar. One closed down a garment factory in Rimini after more than 15 years in operation and moved to Torino this year to run a bar.

There has been some nasty talk in the streets and in the Italian and Spanish media about Chinese immigrants stealing business opportunities from the locals. But, the fact is, running a bar is hard work. The hours are long and you are always on your feet. Many young Italians and Spaniards don’t want this life, so family bars are sold to Chinese immigrants who are willing to take on this lifestyle.

The more interesting question is: What do the Chinese know about running bars? Coffee and wine are a way of life here in Europe. Can an immigrant be a part of this scene here in Europe?

I believe they can. But there are some common missteps Chinese immigrants should avoid. I sat down with a young Qingtian entrepreneur in Italy named Leo Chen. Chen has done a lot of research on the bar scene in Italy. Not only is he an Asian who can hold his liquor, he’s preparing to open a bar in Torino this month. According to him, here are some of the common mistakes Chinese bar owners make:

Kecheng "Leo" Chen, a young Chinese entrepreneur in Italy, will open a new bar in Torino later this month.

Mistake #1
Not turning on the lights. “I’ve walked into bars run by Chinese where there are 10 lights and the owners will only turn on two or three,” Chen said. “They just can’t bring themselves to turn on the other ones for the sake of saving electricity. It’s a problem because customers walk into a bar and it’s dark and unpleasant. They’ll turn around and walk right out of there.”

Mistake #2
Not turning on the heat. “Again, it’s a problem because many Chinese immigrants don’t even turn on the heat at home. They see it as a waste of electricity,” Chen explained. “I’ve also been in Chinese-run bars where the owner can’t bring himself to turn on the air conditioning during the summer.”

Mistake #3
No free food. “Italians expect that if they go into a bar and order a drink, there will be appetizers like potato chips, or bread and parma ham for them to much on,” he said. “In my bar, I hope to provide not only free appetizers, but also biscotti, and eventually maybe even sushi.”

Mistake #4
The owners won’t allow the bar tender to drink with patrons. “It’s important to establish a good rapport between bar tender and customer,” Chen said. “Running a bar is not just about pouring the drinks and serving them.”

I will be in Torino next week for the opening of Chen’s new bar. Let’s see how this young entrepreneur fairs in this new business venture!

YPRES, Belgium — Under pristine, white tombstones in the British military cemeteries dotting the landscape throughout Belgium and northern France, the graves of thousands of Chinese labourers can be found.

Chinese labourers cross a brook in Vlamertinghe, near Ypres, Belgium in 1919. (c) In Flanders Fields Museum

You just have to know where to look.

The Chinese Labour Corps unloaded cargo ships and trains, chopped down trees for timber, and maintained docks, railways, roads and airfields. Skilled mechanics repaired vehicles and even worked on tanks. Later, after the Armistice, the Chinese stayed behind to clean up the mess. As late as 1919, Chinese labourers remained in France and Belgium to help clear the rubble, bury the dead and clean up the battlefields.

Though the Corps was the largest ethnic minority group to participate in the Great War, their story is often left out of the history books, said Belgian historian Philip Vanhaelemeersch.

“In the West, the labourers were no war heroes. They fought no battles, they had no share in any of the great victories during the war,” said Vanhaelemeersch, a Sinologist at University College West-Flanders in Bruges. “Their presence in Europe during the war was, at best, a footnote in the history books on the war.”

Crucial link between China and the West

The Chinese recruits “figured importantly as messengers between Chinese and Western civilizations,” wrote Xu Guoqi, author of “Strangers on the Western Front,” a new book published this year on the Corps.

“Although most of the Chinese labourers were illiterate farmers with no clear ideas about China or the world when they were selected to go to Europe, they had a part in developing that new national identity and would play an important role in China’s internationalization,” Xu wrote.

Vanhaelemeersch agreed. “Chinese labourers to Europe during the war was China’s first ever entering the international political scene,” he said. “Today, the increasing interest in the Corps perfectly fits in the international agenda of the new superpower which China wants to be.”

Secret passage through Canada

Contrary to the recruitment campaigns that exploited Chinese labourers during the construction of the Canadian Pacific Railway in the late 19th century, members of the Chinese Labour Corps signed contracts promising daily wages, food, clothing, housing and medical support. The labourers’ families also received regular payments.

Such rewards were tempting enough to encourage thousands of men to sign up for three years of work on the front lines of a war they knew very little about. Most of the labourers recruited by the British came from the north-east provinces of Shandong and present-day Hebei. The French also recruited labourers from China’s southern provinces.

En route to Europe, more than 80,000 labourers passed through Canada, landing in Vancouver and travelling by train across the country to Halifax. Most Canadians don’t know about this for one simple reason: Their passage through Canada was a top secret operation.

Capt. Harry Drummond Livingstone, a 29-year-old doctor with the Canadian Army Medical Corps, served at a recruiting station in Shandong Province. He examined thousands of men; only the strongest were selected to be a member of the Corps. Those who passed the medical examination were given uniforms – a dark blue tunic, dark blue pants, and a straw hat and hatband marked “CLC” – before marching out to the ships bound for Vancouver.

In his diary, Livingstone described the Chinese tradition of setting off firecrackers before a long pilgrimage: “…strings of firecrackers [are] set off, thousands in all, which noise brings safe journey, no storms or submarines.”

Between April 1917 and March 1918, more than 84,000 men were shipped from China to British Columbia. At this time, the Canadian government was imposing a head tax on all Chinese emigrants coming to Canada. Fearing members of the Labour Corps might try to “jump train,” the men were locked in their train cars and put under armed guard until they reached the east coast. There, they boarded ships headed for the battlefields in France and Belgium.

The journey was a treacherous one. At least 700 labourers died en route. In the fall of 1917, Livingstone left China and accompanied a contingent to the Western Front. While crossing the Pacific, he described “mountainous seas” in his diary: “On [Nov. 11] we ran into [a] bad gale and boat listed so far over that chairs and tables all slid to side. Dishes broken in dining room and couldn’t walk on deck.”

Chinese legacies in the European countryside

There are about 2,000 Chinese graves spread out across 17 cemeteries in Belgium and northern France, though some Chinese scholars argue the number of Chinese deaths was as high as 20,000. Most died between 1918 and 1919 from the Spanish Flu; some died from wounds and injuries received during the course of their duties; others lost their lives during German air raids.

More than 2,000 Chinese labourers are buried across Belgium and northern France. Photo by Suzanne Ma

The descendants of Belgian peasants, who continue to live on family farms in the area, can still recall hearing stories of Chinese labourers setting up camp in the neighbourhood.

The field is now chock-full of Brussels sprouts, but on the evening of November 15, 1917, 500 Chinese labourers were camped here. When a labourer came out of his tent to light a cigarette, the flame attracted the attention of a German pilot in an airplane overhead. A bomb was dropped killing 13 Chinese men.

“Although forgotten soon after the war, the labourers remain present in the collective memory of the local population,” said Vanhaelemeersch, the Belgian Sinologist. “If you pay attention to the small details of the changing landscape, you can still detect the Chinese presence here.”

Suzanne Ma is a Canadian journalist currently writing a book on Chinese emigration to Europe. Her research has been funded in part by a Pulitzer Traveling Fellowship from the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism.

Classes here start two hours later than Chinese school in Toronto started — It’s 11 a.m. and outside a community college on a brisk Saturday morning, parents are putting money in the parking meters and ushering their kids through the front doors of the school and up to their classrooms.

The children, cheeks flushed and panting heavily, trudge into class and unload their backpacks.

I remember resenting having to wake up early on Saturday mornings to attend Chinese language classes in Toronto. Why did my “white” friends get to sleep in? Why did I have to spend yet another day in school? Why do I have to learn Chinese, anyway?

Back then, I had not been back to China and did not yet feel a connection to my roots. China wasn’t booming as it is now and learning Chinese just wasn’t on my radar.

The kids today are in a bit of a different situation. Chinese language classes are not only reserved for Saturday mornings, and they are no longer exclusively for second-generation Chinese. There are companies setting up Mandarin language courses for their employees, schools in Canada and the U.S. providing classes in Chinese, in addition to French and Spanish, and university students going on exchange to Chinese universities.

Children today are also growing up in a more multicultural society, a globalized and ever-connected world, and with a heightened (but just as confusing) sense of cultural and racial identity.

Most of the 600 kids who attend Saturday morning classes here are second-generation Chinese Dutch. They were born in Holland; their parents were born in China, Hong Kong or Taiwan. In one particular class, students ranged from 10 to 12 years of age. They whispered and bantered with one other in Dutch, but responded to the teacher if called upon, in good putonghua.

The class flew by quickly (for me) as the students practiced reading aloud, learned new vocabulary, and had a surprise dictation. But the most interesting lesson of the day was in the announcements.

“I need to talk to you all today about something very serious,” the teacher began. “Recently, a glass door has been shattered here in the school. There have also been problems with students damaging the faucets in the bathrooms and breaking the paper towel dispensers. The school is now negotiating rent with the community college for next year and it appears these actions may have very serious consequences. Because of the damages, the Chinese school may have to find a new home,” she said.

“We don’t want the Dutch people to say how Chinese people are miscreants. That’s something we really don’t want them to hear. We want people to say Chinese people are…” the teacher held up her hand and produced a thumbs up. “Am I right?”

Was she right to appeal to the students this way? Was she appealing to pride? To Chinese nationalism? To an image upheld by the Chinese diaspora in Holland? Does pride or Chinese nationalism exist among second- generation Chinese in Holland? Are they that image conscience? And if so, what image are they striving to uphold? Are there diverging images? And, do they differ from what their parents, first generation Chinese, have in mind?

These are some of the very questions I hope to explore further here in Holland.

Over 70,000 Chinese migrants and their descendants live in the Netherlands. The Chinese are the fifth largest non-Western immigrant group in the Netherlands after the Turks, Moroccans, Surinamese and Antilleans.

I’m sorry for my absence. I made it a priority to blog when I first arrived in Hong Kong. But things started to get busy, as I signed up for two volunteer projects – one teaching English phonics to 10-year-old kids and the other visiting a shelter for battered foreign domestic helpers – and I’ve been stretched in a few different directions. In the last week, I’ve attempted to refocus on my number one priority. This year, that priority is improving my Chinese reading and writing. This is truly a labor of love. It is something I must do every day. And so, I’ve had my head (and hand) buried in Chinese characters pretty much every day. The work is starting to pay off. Yesterday, I read through a Chinese newspaper article without a dictionary and understood it.

Teaching phonics at the elementary school has been really interesting. For one, the kids are pretty badly behaved. You’d think that the Chinese kids are disciplined, respect authority, and are good students. Well, not all of them. In Hong Kong, as the phonics teacher told us volunteers, the students are very different from the immaculately behaved children in mainland China classrooms. In this modern Asian city, perhaps the Confucian idea of respecting your elders is not up kept. Then again, it’s not like the kids in China are that much better these days. I’ve witnessed one too many “little princes” 小王子 growing up in this era of China’s one-child policy.

The kids can get out of control in this classroom of 30 students to 1 teacher. That’s why they have the volunteers. One volunteer to a table of 4 children, to help keep things in control and to help the kids with the phonics training. The boys are rascals. They can’t sit still. There is endless chatter as the teacher speaks. Fights have broken out – punches were exchanged and homework sheets were ripped up. The girls are much better. But the ruckus at the boys’ tables is distracting. The kids have a lot of attitude. It seems to come with the Cantonese culture, and the very language itself.

Still, teaching this is incredibly rewarding. By the second lesson, the girls were calling me “Missy” – which is what the Hong Kong-nese call their female teachers. It helps that I speak Cantonese, because the kids aren’t able to fully function in English. I can switch from Cantonese to English as we fill out the activity sheets or do a dictation. It’s been a stimulating challenge for me.

I’m traveling to Holland this week for a friend’s wedding and a much anticipated reunion with a good number of friends from all around the world who are also flying in for the wedding. I’ll keep twitter updated as much as I can while I’m gone.

The skylit courtyard at the center of the new museum space. AP Photo/Mary Altaffer

For years, they dreamed of a bigger space to work with.

That dream will come true when their new facility opens Sept. 22.The 14,000-square-foot space, six times bigger than its original home, was designed by Maya Lin, creator of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, and touted by some big-name movers and shakers including “Brokeback Mountain” director Ang Lee, architect I.M. Pei, cellist Yo-Yo Ma and playwright David Henry Hwang.

But despite the big names attached to the $8.1 million project, the museum is run by a small staff of nine, including newly appointed director S. Alice Mong.

“We are a very lean organization,” Mong said. “As you can see there’s no fat.”

For nearly 30 years, the museum has been housed in a 2,000-square-foot space at 70 Mulberry St. on the second floor of a 19th-century schoolhouse. There is no way to feature the hundreds of documents and objects collected over the years, sharing the history and culture of Chinese immigrants in America and the role their descendants played in constructing American society.With the new space, there is more room for the vast collection, a bigger staff and a growing fan base. There are nearly 4 million Chinese Americans in the U.S.

“It’s our story,” said Mong, who immigrated with her family from Taiwan in 1973. “There isn’t another national museum for Chinese Americans. We hope to be a cultural anchor not only for the local Chinese in New York but for Chinese across the United States and around the world.”

The Journey Wall - donors receive a plaque with their family name, where they came from, and where they settled in America. AP Photo/Mary Altaffer

The new museum, converted from an industrial machine repair shop on Centre Street, features a skylit courtyard reminiscent of courtyards found in the center of a traditional Chinese home. In the front lobby is an art installation called “The Journey Wall,” which consists of bronze tiles that show where Chinese American families came from and where they settled in the United States.

Fundraising for the new space began in 2004, spearheaded by museum co-founder Charles Lai.

“Having this new facility gives us the legitimacy and the credibility we have always sought,” Lai said. “It allows people to realize that together with our wonderful programs and strong content, we are worthy of a higher level of support.”

Lai said one donor had, for years, contributed $100 annually. When the donor recently learned of the museum’s plans to move into a bigger space, he wrote a check for $100,000.

So far, the museum has raised $12 million, and Mong said it is well on the way to reaching its $15 million goal. Mong said the museum is in good financial shape because fundraising began long before the economy went bad. So far, all donors have come through with their promised pledges.

Mong attributes the success to the museum’s niche cause.

One of the new objects that will be featured in the museum’s main exhibit hall is a wooden replica of the carvings found in the Angel Island Barracks in California. Some 175,000 Chinese immigrants were detained and processed at Angel Island in San Francisco Bay during the first half of the 1900s. During their internment, many carved poems in the walls in traditional Chinese characters, detailing their fear and despair.

“When people come to Chinatown, they are saying, ‘Oh, look there’s the Buddhist temple, the place where the ducks hang from the window and let me get to the place with knockoff Coach bags,’” Lai said. “There is another part of the story. There are complexities and realities in the Chinese American community and we want them (visitors) to experience and understand that.”

___

On the Net:

http://www.mocanyc.org

False false false. I was one of the 100,000 foreigners to “flood” into Chinese campuses in recent years. The tuition was relatively (i.e. very very) cheap compared to US tuition and yes, we did get put in nice dorms (with maid service and our own ensuite), but our teachers in the classroom were engaged, down to earth people who emphasized all aspects of the Chinese language: reading, writing, listening and conversation skills.

I learned a lot while I was traveling in China, but the foundation was built in the Chinese classroom. And let’s be very clear on one thing: it’s a huge advantage to learn a language in the mother country. It’s called immersion and it’s always the better way to go. I’m not sure where this Newsweek writer is getting her information. It seems that, like the alleged outdated textbooks, her information may be out of date.

In the 14th season of the show, in which 11 teams compete in a race around the world, the Jihs – Chinese born Americans and Harvard-educated lawyers – crossed the finish line first to win the $1 million.

They were strong competitors from the start, smart, athletic, dominating many of the challenges and coming first in five legs of the race. The second last leg of the race took place in China (Guilin and Beijing), where Tammy and Victor were able to stay at the head of the game because they could speak Mandarin. The Jihs have credited their mother, an immigrant from Taiwan, as the person who forced them to speak Chinese even though Victor and Tammy were both born and raised in America. They were annoyed as children. $1 million later, they are grateful.

Their language skills came in handy when talking to taxi drivers, booking plane tickets, and in one challenge, pronouncing the names of traditional Beijing dishes to a Chinese chef. And, over and over the siblings exclaimed to amused Chinese locals that they were overseas Chinese in a race and if they didn’t win, their Chinese parents would be embarrassed to death.

A blogger for the Chicago-Sun Times asks if the Jihs had an “unfair advantage”: Was it fair for Tammy and Victor to dominate the challenges in China, considering that they are of Chinese descent and speak Chinese? Especially considering one of the challenges was, um, to speak Chinese?

Being able to speak one of the most popular languages in the world is, of course, an advantage. It’s not only an advantage in The Amazing Race, but in many of life’s experiences — for getting into a good school, getting a good job, traveling. So why an unfair advantage? If it were a Spanish speaking team won in Spain or French speaking team won in France, would we be asking the same questions? If the Jihs were white and could speak Chinese, would that be an “unfair advantage” too? In one challenge that required the teams to swim laps in a pool, Tammy (who was smart and planned ahead) had taken swimming lessons before entering The Amazing Race. Does that give her an unfair advantage because other teams didn’t know how to swim?

No doubt, the Jihs had an advantage in the China leg, but they dominated the entire race and therefore demonstrated their strengths (besides their Chinese language abilities) throughout. To question whether the Jihs really deserved the prize is really applying double standards. It’s time people got with the program and recognized that being bilingual, even in America, is normal and acceptable these days. *rolls eyes*

Today, I’m at my parent’s home in Canada, and as I type, I listen to the sounds of the house; kitchen dishes clanging, water and soap in the laundry machine swishing, a smooth mix of English and Cantonese. I grew up speaking both languages. My parents, both university-educated here in Canada, are fluent in both English and Chinese. Having educated parents who speak and write in English has been a blessing, but it has also allowed me to get away with using English a lot over the years.

Hence, my sub-standard Chinese.

Having been away from China for almost a year now, I have been witness to lapses of what I will call temporary amnesia. It makes me feel better to classify this forgetfulness as temporary. Inside my head, the bank of Chinese characters I had painfully memorized and locked away safely after hours and hours of studying in Beijing, seems to be slipping away. There’s a leak somewhere. And I need to patch it up.  Last week, I tried to write the word “apple” in Chinese. 苹果 . I couldn’t remember how. My pencil hovered over my piece of paper for a few seconds before I had to look it up on the computer. 

The patch can be applied in a number of ways.

Point 1) Self Study

Counterpoint – Can’t find time and discipline to sit down and do this during my “free” time.

Point 2) Get a tutor

Counterpoint – When I’m reporting for the Associated Press this summer, will I really have the time? I know I won’t.

Point 3) Return to China.

Within hours of returning to Hong Kong or China, it all starts coming back. So, I think, that’s what I’m going to do.

Last week, at my Columbia graduation, I was awarded a Pulitzer Traveling Fellowship. I can travel anywhere in the world and write stories. So, naturally, this was the perfect opportunity for me to get back to China. !!! I didn’t think I’d make it back to the motherland so soon. I am super excited. Now to find a great story to write about..

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(To watch an interview with Victor and Tammy Jih, see them here on Regis and Kelly)