Choosing each apartment was a different experience. The Hung Hom estate has been open for six years, so we inspected the apartment, toured the grounds, talked to a couple of neighbors, and did everything you would do when renting or buying an apartment.
The Ma On Shan estate is not open yet, but is mostly built. We could enter the apartment, but it was unfinished, as were the landscaping and swimming pool. Since it is incomplete, they had show flats in Tsim Sha Tsui. Obviously, inspecting a show flat would be pointless, but we will be able to inspect the actual apartment once it is complete. We already bought it, but there are legal provisions in place if what we bought does not turn out to be what we get.
The Kai Tak estate is currently a construction site. We could not even set foot on the property. They also had show flats, as well as 3D models and a lot of artist's renderings. Buying an apartment that has not yet been built takes some imagination, but again, if they cannot deliver, we get our money back plus a little extra for our trouble. Some of the richest people in Hong Kong, including politicians, like to buy into new developments. They would never stand for getting robbed, and even though they spend far more than we did, the laws protect all of us.
We have six months from completion date until final inspection date, so Ma On Shan and Kai Tak are going to require two separate trips to Hong Kong. Fortunately, Hong Kong has to let us in no matter which direction the viral winds blow. The only problem is Taiwan. They never have to let us back in, though they most likely would. As long as Hong Kong does not go American, we should be OK.
The developers for the Ma On Shan and Kai Tak estates gave us books full of information on not only our apartment, but every other apartment on site. If, for some strange reason, I want to know the induction hob's brand and model number in Tower 3, 15F, unit D, I could. Even though our apartment is a different floor plan on a different floor of a different tower.
It is a Miele KM6115. I looked it up.
Since we bought the Hung Hom apartment from an estate agent rather than the developer, we only got information on our specific unit and the general estate. We know next to nothing about the other apartments, and since they are several years old, no one else does either. Until the owner puts it on the market.
Legally, the rights and responsibilities of landlords in Hong Kong are more or less the same as the United States. We have to provide a livable space and fix anything that breaks down enough to endanger that. Tenants are responsible for minor cosmetic issues. We can't evict them without cause, which are mostly common sense issues, and they have to pay rent on time. Everyone can haggle and negotiate for whatever they want in the beginning, but once a lease is signed, that is where the authorities look in the event of a disagreement.
Something different is the way Hong Kong handles utilities. Where I come from, they don't turn on the apartment's gas and electricity until you move in and pay the gas and electric company. Here, the electricity is always on. If the apartment is empty, you can turn off the breakers, but the electric company is always supplying juice. That means the owner has to pay the electric bill until someone moves in and takes over. Fortunately, utility bills, in my experience, are far cheaper in China than in Minnesota, mostly because of heat in winter and probably more than a little political bullshit. The water bills in both countries are practically nothing, but ironically, the Ma On Shan water price is slightly more than Kai Tak or Hung Hom, even though Ma On Shan is right next to one of the largest reservoirs.
One thing we will never have to deal with as owners is furniture. Since these are all family apartments, they will come unfurnished. Most families have their own furniture, and even if they do not, they all have their own tastes. The property management company at Hung Hom has a furniture package that renters can choose, but that has nothing to do with us.
How much to charge for rent was an interesting issue. When you look at websites advertising apartments for rent, you see essentially the same apartment at wildly different prices. As it turns out, the property management companies look it up on their spreadsheets and pick the highest number they can find. My first apartment in Hong Kong was in an independent building. I think that owner just picked the price out of a hat. When we were given a price range for comparable units in the Hung Hom estate, we told the property manager to go with the lowest number. That might have been the first time anyone told him to aim low.
Our goal is not to make a profit from rent. That is pretty much impossible. If you buy a ten million dollar apartment and charge $30,000 a month in rent, it would take 30 years to break even. Maybe if you own the entire building, you can make some money off rent, but independent buildings around here tend to have lower rents and the more expensive buildings are in estates that almost no single person could own. And only one of our apartments is ready for tenants. It will be more than a year before the Kai Tak apartment is habitable. Even if the property manager finds someone to move in on the first available day, that is still one year of no income whatsoever. The profit only comes from selling the apartment at the right time. The trick is finding the right time. Everyone assumes the Kai Tak estate will be worth far more after the neighborhood is fully developed, but it is still gambling. The Ma On Shan apartment is almost sure to increase in value, but there is no way to know if the neighborhood will ever become popular. The surest thing is Hung Hom, but since we did not get in on the ground floor, we will never make as much money from that one as we potentially could from the others.
Not that it really matters. We would like to make a few dollars eventually, but we did this to have a financial stake in Hong Kong. We are never going to get rich from any of these properties. To make any real money, we would have to sell them at the right time, buy something else at the right time, and then sell that at the next right time, repeating as necessary. For now, we have reached our goal. As long as we do not lose everything, I am satisfied.
Friday, April 9, 2021
Wednesday, April 7, 2021
Lord Of the Land part 2
Kevin, Lily and I, and the bank, now own three apartments in Hong Kong.
Apartment #1 is in Hung Hom, near the Whampoa shopping boat. It was built in 2015 and is up and running, ready for someone to move in. The property management company is already advertising. It is a 3 bedroom/2 bath with a large kitchen, by Hong Kong standards, tiny bedrooms, an open rectangle of a living room/dining room, and outstanding views of Kowloon Bay from the living room and all bedrooms. Since it faces east and has larger than average windows, there is plenty of natural light in the morning, except in the kitchen. No one can possibly build anything between the apartment and the bay, so that view will never be obstructed. Unfortunately, the only balconies are off the laundry room and kitchen, which face inward, toward the neighbor's apartment. Most of the newer buildings are designed that way, so no one can see everyone's laundry from the street. It makes the building look better, which probably increases the property value, so I have no complaints.
This is the largest estate we bought into, with over 4,000 units in two dozen towers. That might seem large, but it pales next to Hung Hom's largest estate, which has over 10,000 units in 88 towers. That was actually my first choice, mostly because I like the neighborhood, but the only apartments available were studios the size of closets and tiny one bedrooms. We knew it had to be at least 3 bedrooms to have any resale value. Instead, we went newer and smaller. As a private housing estate, it has all the usual courtyard/landscaping with water features, indoor playground, clubhouse, gym, a few outdoor swimming pools, underground parking for cars/scooters/bicycles and even visitors. There are a few restaurants and shopping on site, but since this is Hung Hom, the entire estate is surrounded by shopping and food. It is an easy walk to the Whampoa or Ho Man Tin MTR stations, and as a larger estate, there are usually taxis waiting on the main road. It is close to Route 5 and Route 1, which is both convenient for drivers and inconvenient because of the horrendous traffic. They are building a new highway to alleviate some of Route 5's congestion, but it will not connect to the Cross-Harbour Tunnel. I have absolutely no idea about area schools and grocery stores, but the property management company does. I know about a ParknShop maybe a kilometer away, but there is probably something closer.
Apartment #2 is in Ma On Shan, surrounded by several country parks. It is in a brand new estate and will be ready for tenants in a few months. Several apartments were available, but we went with a 4 bedroom/3 bath with a small but nice kitchen, small bedrooms, large living room/dining room, and great views of Plover Cove. Since it faces west, the sunset over the mountains should be beautiful. The living room balcony looks like a great place to sit with a drink and enjoy the view. It is physically possible for someone to build something between the apartment and the view, but that would be a major construction project that takes years. As with the Hung Hom apartment, the laundry balcony faces the neighbors, but this kitchen has an outward window facing east.
This is the smallest estate we bought into, with 500 units in four towers and a few “houses” that are a block of 3 and 4 story apartments. It has less landscaping than the Hung Hom estate and fewer common areas, but they put in a couple of “Italian” water fountains. I have only been to Italy once, so I am far from an expert, but these fountains do not look like what I saw in Rome. There is a covered outdoor playground, clubhouse, a small but nice gym, a curved outdoor swimming pool, a smaller rooftop pool, and ample underground parking. Ma On Shan is in the New Territories and nowhere near Central, but it is one of those up and coming neighborhoods that developers hope will attract people who want to get away from the crowds. With any luck, rich people will move in and drive up the prices. I would not be at all surprised if this apartment brings the most profit after we eventually sell them. It is still in Hong Kong, so there are at least two shopping centers within 2 kilometers, one of which is connected to the nearest MTR station. The estate is close to two beaches, which is not a selling point in Chinese, for some reason.
Apartment #3 is in Kai Tak, near the old airport/now cruise terminal and about 3 kilometers from the Hung Hom apartment. The estate is still under construction and scheduled to open next year, with Phase 1 opening a few months before Phase 2. It is so new that Phase 3 has yet to be announced. Though it does not currently exist, our unit will be a 4 bedroom/3 bath with a nice kitchen, two small bedrooms and two master bedrooms, and a living room/dining room larger than all of the bedrooms combined. One of the master bedrooms will have an unusually large closet and the other will have an unusually large bathroom. Every bathroom will have a bathtub, unlike most Hong Kong apartments. The living room and all bedrooms will face south toward Kowloon Bay, though the view will probably not be nearly as good as the Hung Hom apartment. The master bedroom with the large bathroom will have both south and east facing windows, so that room should get plenty of natural light. The kitchen window will face west and might possibly have views of Symphony of Lights in Victoria Harbour. Maybe.
Phase 1 will have 350 units in two towers and four “houses”. Phase 2, with our apartment, will have 250 units in two towers. Since the old airport height restrictions no longer exist, every new development in the area is going for tall over wide. This is easily our highest apartment, by ten floors. By next year, the estate will have several gardens and water features, an indoor playground/clubhouse, a larger gym than the others, a large outdoor swimming pool with smaller children's pool and jacuzzi, and plenty of parking. Kowloon Walled City Park is a kilometer away to the northwest, Kwun Tong Promenade and the new cruise terminal are 2 kilometers to the southeast, and the Hung Hom Promenade is a little over 2 kilometers to the southwest. Kai Tak and Kowloon Bay are the closest MTR stations. This estate is also near Route 5, but farther away from the Cross-Harbour Tunnel. Kai Tak is largely under construction, but everyone assumes that it will be full of shopping and food just like every other developed inch of Hong Kong. If future trends are anything like current trends, it will mostly be higher end yuppie shopping, which I think has far less character, but is much better for property values.
Apartment #1 is in Hung Hom, near the Whampoa shopping boat. It was built in 2015 and is up and running, ready for someone to move in. The property management company is already advertising. It is a 3 bedroom/2 bath with a large kitchen, by Hong Kong standards, tiny bedrooms, an open rectangle of a living room/dining room, and outstanding views of Kowloon Bay from the living room and all bedrooms. Since it faces east and has larger than average windows, there is plenty of natural light in the morning, except in the kitchen. No one can possibly build anything between the apartment and the bay, so that view will never be obstructed. Unfortunately, the only balconies are off the laundry room and kitchen, which face inward, toward the neighbor's apartment. Most of the newer buildings are designed that way, so no one can see everyone's laundry from the street. It makes the building look better, which probably increases the property value, so I have no complaints.
This is the largest estate we bought into, with over 4,000 units in two dozen towers. That might seem large, but it pales next to Hung Hom's largest estate, which has over 10,000 units in 88 towers. That was actually my first choice, mostly because I like the neighborhood, but the only apartments available were studios the size of closets and tiny one bedrooms. We knew it had to be at least 3 bedrooms to have any resale value. Instead, we went newer and smaller. As a private housing estate, it has all the usual courtyard/landscaping with water features, indoor playground, clubhouse, gym, a few outdoor swimming pools, underground parking for cars/scooters/bicycles and even visitors. There are a few restaurants and shopping on site, but since this is Hung Hom, the entire estate is surrounded by shopping and food. It is an easy walk to the Whampoa or Ho Man Tin MTR stations, and as a larger estate, there are usually taxis waiting on the main road. It is close to Route 5 and Route 1, which is both convenient for drivers and inconvenient because of the horrendous traffic. They are building a new highway to alleviate some of Route 5's congestion, but it will not connect to the Cross-Harbour Tunnel. I have absolutely no idea about area schools and grocery stores, but the property management company does. I know about a ParknShop maybe a kilometer away, but there is probably something closer.
Apartment #2 is in Ma On Shan, surrounded by several country parks. It is in a brand new estate and will be ready for tenants in a few months. Several apartments were available, but we went with a 4 bedroom/3 bath with a small but nice kitchen, small bedrooms, large living room/dining room, and great views of Plover Cove. Since it faces west, the sunset over the mountains should be beautiful. The living room balcony looks like a great place to sit with a drink and enjoy the view. It is physically possible for someone to build something between the apartment and the view, but that would be a major construction project that takes years. As with the Hung Hom apartment, the laundry balcony faces the neighbors, but this kitchen has an outward window facing east.
This is the smallest estate we bought into, with 500 units in four towers and a few “houses” that are a block of 3 and 4 story apartments. It has less landscaping than the Hung Hom estate and fewer common areas, but they put in a couple of “Italian” water fountains. I have only been to Italy once, so I am far from an expert, but these fountains do not look like what I saw in Rome. There is a covered outdoor playground, clubhouse, a small but nice gym, a curved outdoor swimming pool, a smaller rooftop pool, and ample underground parking. Ma On Shan is in the New Territories and nowhere near Central, but it is one of those up and coming neighborhoods that developers hope will attract people who want to get away from the crowds. With any luck, rich people will move in and drive up the prices. I would not be at all surprised if this apartment brings the most profit after we eventually sell them. It is still in Hong Kong, so there are at least two shopping centers within 2 kilometers, one of which is connected to the nearest MTR station. The estate is close to two beaches, which is not a selling point in Chinese, for some reason.
Apartment #3 is in Kai Tak, near the old airport/now cruise terminal and about 3 kilometers from the Hung Hom apartment. The estate is still under construction and scheduled to open next year, with Phase 1 opening a few months before Phase 2. It is so new that Phase 3 has yet to be announced. Though it does not currently exist, our unit will be a 4 bedroom/3 bath with a nice kitchen, two small bedrooms and two master bedrooms, and a living room/dining room larger than all of the bedrooms combined. One of the master bedrooms will have an unusually large closet and the other will have an unusually large bathroom. Every bathroom will have a bathtub, unlike most Hong Kong apartments. The living room and all bedrooms will face south toward Kowloon Bay, though the view will probably not be nearly as good as the Hung Hom apartment. The master bedroom with the large bathroom will have both south and east facing windows, so that room should get plenty of natural light. The kitchen window will face west and might possibly have views of Symphony of Lights in Victoria Harbour. Maybe.
Phase 1 will have 350 units in two towers and four “houses”. Phase 2, with our apartment, will have 250 units in two towers. Since the old airport height restrictions no longer exist, every new development in the area is going for tall over wide. This is easily our highest apartment, by ten floors. By next year, the estate will have several gardens and water features, an indoor playground/clubhouse, a larger gym than the others, a large outdoor swimming pool with smaller children's pool and jacuzzi, and plenty of parking. Kowloon Walled City Park is a kilometer away to the northwest, Kwun Tong Promenade and the new cruise terminal are 2 kilometers to the southeast, and the Hung Hom Promenade is a little over 2 kilometers to the southwest. Kai Tak and Kowloon Bay are the closest MTR stations. This estate is also near Route 5, but farther away from the Cross-Harbour Tunnel. Kai Tak is largely under construction, but everyone assumes that it will be full of shopping and food just like every other developed inch of Hong Kong. If future trends are anything like current trends, it will mostly be higher end yuppie shopping, which I think has far less character, but is much better for property values.
Monday, April 5, 2021
Lord Of the Land part 1
Kevin and I went to Hong Kong on a bit of a business trip. As citizens, more or less, we can go back whenever we want. But since no one is actually a citizen of Hong Kong, we wanted to make sure we kept our citizenship while living in Taiwan.
As permanent residents, we have the “right of abode”, which means we have unrestricted access to enter, live, work, and vote in Hong Kong without visas or any other government approval. Since we live in Taiwan, we will lose that right if we stay out of Hong Kong for three years or more. At that point, we would be given the “right to land”, which retains the right to enter, live, and work, but loses the right to vote. Since Hong Kong will be going through a few political changes in the next decade, we both want to vote as early and often as possible.
The easiest solution is to simply take a trip to Hong Kong every once in a while. The three year clock starts from the last time we leave the country, not from the last time we lived there. But there are rumors that the current system will soon change and people will have to be physically present for at least three to six months at a time, similar to quite a few other countries. Rumors about the Chinese government making one change or another are a dime a dozen, but at the same time, they actually do make sweeping changes with little warning. While this particular rumor might never come true, it could also be officially announced tomorrow.
China also launched a bit of a pandemic in 2019. While it never really affected our ability to travel to and fro, the next one might. There could conceivably come a time when Hong Kong and/or Taiwan blocks entry even to those with the legal right to enter.
Lily does not have to worry about any of this. While she was on a work visa in 2016, she left Hong Kong long enough to lose the visa. Even though she lived in Hong Kong just as long as Kevin, and longer than I did, she only entered in 2016, according to the government. The previous years she lived there stopped counting as soon as she lost her visa. Since it takes at least seven years before anyone can even apply for permanent residency, she would not have been eligible until 2023, had we stayed.
Hong Kong is unique, as far as Chinese cities go. Anyone who is a citizen of any other Chinese city is a Chinese citizen. They can leave their city, or even China, for an entire lifetime and retain their Chinese citizenship. Unless they formally renounce it. But being a citizen of Hong Kong does not make one a Chinese citizen. As such, there are more than a few loopholes for people who want to retain their citizenship, but do not physically live in Hong Kong, for one reason or another. All of those loopholes involve spending money that benefits Hong Kong. A good number of people own businesses in Hong Kong while living elsewhere. As long as their business makes money, they are more than welcome in Hong Kong.
Kevin and I thought about opening a store or restaurant, but those tend to go out of business quickly, and are almost impossible to get off the ground from a distance. If we were in town often enough to run a successful restaurant, we would not need to own a restaurant. We looked into investing in an existing business, but that would only help us if we were the majority owners. Eventually, we learned that owning land is just as good as owning a business, as long as Hong Kong gets their cut. But land in Hong Kong does not come cheap. The old adage “buy more land, they're not making any more” is not at all true in Hong Kong. They are literally creating more land out of the sea. But it is the opposite of cheap.
While Hong Kong may not stretch out very far, it rises up more than most cities. The vast majority live in either a private housing estate or public housing estate. Though every dwelling is generally called a house, almost everyone lives in apartments, many of which are in skyscrapers. Outside of the New Territories, there are few detached houses in Hong Kong. People who own their own houses mostly own apartments. Everyone else rents apartments. Someone else owns them. Kevin, Lily and I are now part of those someone else. We are officially landlords, or at least we will be as soon as we get some tenants. Lily did not have to participate, but as long as we were shopping, she wanted to join in. She stayed in Taiwan because the Qingming holiday only gave her a long weekend, and most of our business was conducted during the week.
Rather than do everything ourselves or go through an estate agent, we hired an estate solicitor. It cost more money upfront, but will probably save us a fortune in the long run. Not only is the solicitor supposed to know all the laws, rules, and regulations, but they have more experience than we do and they are physically in the country. Flying to Hong Kong every time something comes up would not be ideal.
One of the solicitor's first suggestions was that we buy multiple properties at the same time. We always knew we would have to own more than one apartment, but assumed that we would start with one and go from there. In Hong Kong, the stamp duty for first-time buyers is substantially lower than for everyone else. We were always going to get the discount rate with the first property, but got the low rate for everything since we turned in all the paperwork at the same time. We thought that was pretty clever, but apparently, most people do it this way. And just last year, the government lowered the minimum deposit rate for first-time buyers. The real estate market is not at its best right now and they want to motivate potential buyers. We figured we might as well take advantage of that. It is essentially a buyer's market. No one knows when that will change, but everyone knows that prices will skyrocket eventually.
Another useful suggestion was that we only buy apartments in private housing estates rather than independent buildings. Most estates are run by property management companies that handle rent, maintenance, security, and above all, paperwork. That means a small portion of the rent goes to the property management company, but doing all of that ourselves would be a pain in the butt even if we lived in the country. We will most definitely be hands-off landlords. Odds are, we will never meet any of our tenants.
Buying an apartment in a public housing estate is possible, but never really a good idea. It is a terrible investment since the government subsidizes public housing. There really are no opportunities for unscrupulous capitalists to gouge their tenants deeper into poverty. Becoming slumlords was never an option. Not only would we not want to, obviously, but people who rent in private estates tend to be middle class and more likely to go to the authorities when someone threatens their home.
Our solicitor also thought it would be a good idea if at least one of our new apartments was a first-hand property. In Hong Kong, that usually means a building that is still under construction. The downside to a new building is that no one can predict the future market or how many bugs have to be worked out of the system, while you can look at occupancy rates in an established building. The benefit is that Chinese people love everything new. Where we live, in Kaohsiung, new buildings are popping up like weeds. Apartments are staying empty for years because the supply outweighs the demand. In Hong Kong, new apartments are bought and sold before they are even built. Buying directly from the developer rather than an estate agent is supposedly easier, mostly because there is no middleman and fewer people who need to get paid.
Before we signed a single piece of paper, we had to ask ourselves if we could even afford to buy more than one apartment in Hong Kong. The answer, of course, was that we could not. Hong Kong is absurdly expensive, even in a buyer's market with tax breaks and government incentives. Fortunately, Hong Kong also has banks. Hong Kong, in fact, has many banks. I have no idea how many, but if Hong Kong is one of the world's financial capitals, there are probably more than a few. A bonus to getting a bank loan is that if any property developer screws us over, they are also screwing over the bank, which is partly owned by the government. In China, it is in your best interest to not steal money from the government.
As permanent residents, we have the “right of abode”, which means we have unrestricted access to enter, live, work, and vote in Hong Kong without visas or any other government approval. Since we live in Taiwan, we will lose that right if we stay out of Hong Kong for three years or more. At that point, we would be given the “right to land”, which retains the right to enter, live, and work, but loses the right to vote. Since Hong Kong will be going through a few political changes in the next decade, we both want to vote as early and often as possible.
The easiest solution is to simply take a trip to Hong Kong every once in a while. The three year clock starts from the last time we leave the country, not from the last time we lived there. But there are rumors that the current system will soon change and people will have to be physically present for at least three to six months at a time, similar to quite a few other countries. Rumors about the Chinese government making one change or another are a dime a dozen, but at the same time, they actually do make sweeping changes with little warning. While this particular rumor might never come true, it could also be officially announced tomorrow.
China also launched a bit of a pandemic in 2019. While it never really affected our ability to travel to and fro, the next one might. There could conceivably come a time when Hong Kong and/or Taiwan blocks entry even to those with the legal right to enter.
Lily does not have to worry about any of this. While she was on a work visa in 2016, she left Hong Kong long enough to lose the visa. Even though she lived in Hong Kong just as long as Kevin, and longer than I did, she only entered in 2016, according to the government. The previous years she lived there stopped counting as soon as she lost her visa. Since it takes at least seven years before anyone can even apply for permanent residency, she would not have been eligible until 2023, had we stayed.
Hong Kong is unique, as far as Chinese cities go. Anyone who is a citizen of any other Chinese city is a Chinese citizen. They can leave their city, or even China, for an entire lifetime and retain their Chinese citizenship. Unless they formally renounce it. But being a citizen of Hong Kong does not make one a Chinese citizen. As such, there are more than a few loopholes for people who want to retain their citizenship, but do not physically live in Hong Kong, for one reason or another. All of those loopholes involve spending money that benefits Hong Kong. A good number of people own businesses in Hong Kong while living elsewhere. As long as their business makes money, they are more than welcome in Hong Kong.
Kevin and I thought about opening a store or restaurant, but those tend to go out of business quickly, and are almost impossible to get off the ground from a distance. If we were in town often enough to run a successful restaurant, we would not need to own a restaurant. We looked into investing in an existing business, but that would only help us if we were the majority owners. Eventually, we learned that owning land is just as good as owning a business, as long as Hong Kong gets their cut. But land in Hong Kong does not come cheap. The old adage “buy more land, they're not making any more” is not at all true in Hong Kong. They are literally creating more land out of the sea. But it is the opposite of cheap.
While Hong Kong may not stretch out very far, it rises up more than most cities. The vast majority live in either a private housing estate or public housing estate. Though every dwelling is generally called a house, almost everyone lives in apartments, many of which are in skyscrapers. Outside of the New Territories, there are few detached houses in Hong Kong. People who own their own houses mostly own apartments. Everyone else rents apartments. Someone else owns them. Kevin, Lily and I are now part of those someone else. We are officially landlords, or at least we will be as soon as we get some tenants. Lily did not have to participate, but as long as we were shopping, she wanted to join in. She stayed in Taiwan because the Qingming holiday only gave her a long weekend, and most of our business was conducted during the week.
Rather than do everything ourselves or go through an estate agent, we hired an estate solicitor. It cost more money upfront, but will probably save us a fortune in the long run. Not only is the solicitor supposed to know all the laws, rules, and regulations, but they have more experience than we do and they are physically in the country. Flying to Hong Kong every time something comes up would not be ideal.
One of the solicitor's first suggestions was that we buy multiple properties at the same time. We always knew we would have to own more than one apartment, but assumed that we would start with one and go from there. In Hong Kong, the stamp duty for first-time buyers is substantially lower than for everyone else. We were always going to get the discount rate with the first property, but got the low rate for everything since we turned in all the paperwork at the same time. We thought that was pretty clever, but apparently, most people do it this way. And just last year, the government lowered the minimum deposit rate for first-time buyers. The real estate market is not at its best right now and they want to motivate potential buyers. We figured we might as well take advantage of that. It is essentially a buyer's market. No one knows when that will change, but everyone knows that prices will skyrocket eventually.
Another useful suggestion was that we only buy apartments in private housing estates rather than independent buildings. Most estates are run by property management companies that handle rent, maintenance, security, and above all, paperwork. That means a small portion of the rent goes to the property management company, but doing all of that ourselves would be a pain in the butt even if we lived in the country. We will most definitely be hands-off landlords. Odds are, we will never meet any of our tenants.
Buying an apartment in a public housing estate is possible, but never really a good idea. It is a terrible investment since the government subsidizes public housing. There really are no opportunities for unscrupulous capitalists to gouge their tenants deeper into poverty. Becoming slumlords was never an option. Not only would we not want to, obviously, but people who rent in private estates tend to be middle class and more likely to go to the authorities when someone threatens their home.
Our solicitor also thought it would be a good idea if at least one of our new apartments was a first-hand property. In Hong Kong, that usually means a building that is still under construction. The downside to a new building is that no one can predict the future market or how many bugs have to be worked out of the system, while you can look at occupancy rates in an established building. The benefit is that Chinese people love everything new. Where we live, in Kaohsiung, new buildings are popping up like weeds. Apartments are staying empty for years because the supply outweighs the demand. In Hong Kong, new apartments are bought and sold before they are even built. Buying directly from the developer rather than an estate agent is supposedly easier, mostly because there is no middleman and fewer people who need to get paid.
Before we signed a single piece of paper, we had to ask ourselves if we could even afford to buy more than one apartment in Hong Kong. The answer, of course, was that we could not. Hong Kong is absurdly expensive, even in a buyer's market with tax breaks and government incentives. Fortunately, Hong Kong also has banks. Hong Kong, in fact, has many banks. I have no idea how many, but if Hong Kong is one of the world's financial capitals, there are probably more than a few. A bonus to getting a bank loan is that if any property developer screws us over, they are also screwing over the bank, which is partly owned by the government. In China, it is in your best interest to not steal money from the government.
Monday, February 22, 2021
Year Of the Ox
My first New Year in Taiwan was not all that different from New Year in China. Technically, they both last 15 days, from New Year's Day to the Lantern Festival. In China, banks and schools close for the first three days, and people count the weekend before or after as part of their holiday vacation, even if they always get weekends off. In Taiwan, banks and schools close on New Year's Eve, the first three days, and a few extra days to make it a true vacation. Since the main days were on the weekend this year, the days off were the Wednesday before New Year's Eve to the following Tuesday. For some people, that gives them a full day to prepare and a day or two to wind down after all the hoopla has passed.
On Thursday, New Year's Eve, I went to dinner at a friend's house. It was a big family dinner, but guests are always welcome at Chinese dinners. Despite being New Year's Eve, it was nothing like a party atmosphere. We ate an entirely too large meal and played some card games. This particular family is fond of gambling, so more than a few bills changed hands. I won more than I lost, but I did not win too much to ever get invited back.
As often happens, this family was surprised that I can speak their language. Inevitably, I was asked how long I have lived in Taiwan. Everyone is amazed when I tell them I have only been here for nine months. Then they are less amazed when I point out that I moved here from China. At that point, most people just want me to tell them that I like Taiwan better than China. That is a big issue around here.
Another difference between what I think of as a New Year's Eve party was that it ended long before midnight. I was home before 22:00. Rather than a rowdy New Year, I knew it was midnight when I was reading on the sofa and heard an invasion's worth of fireworks outside. The year of the rat was now the year of the ox.
Friday, New Year's Day, was temple day. You are supposed to go to your local temple and honor your dead ancestors. I have none in Taiwan, and my grandparents would have considered burning incense and leaving food on a table as strange. My grandmother would say, “Dead people don't need to eat. That's a waste of perfectly good food.” But anything left at temples is donated either to the monks or to whichever organizations they sponsor. Nothing is wasted. Burning fake money for the dead, on the other hand, is just silly.
Dinner was with another friend's family. No gambling this time, but more than enough food for several families. The first day of the new year is when older family members give red envelopes to younger family. Generally, adults give to children, but older adults can also give to younger adults if they are not married. I was surprised when a few people gave me red envelopes. I am definitely not married, but older than most people of red envelope age. It was more of a welcome to our home on this special day kind of thing.
One of the biggest differences between China and Taiwan was made the most obvious on this day. In most of China, it is pretty illegal to light your own fireworks. Big cities like Hong Kong have enormous, organized public shows. In Taiwan, anyone can blow things up in the street. And they do. There were explosions all week, but nothing as loud or constant as on New Year's Day. Taiwan also has a large stray dog population. I don't know how they react to a week of fireworks.
Saturday, the second day, is when adult daughters go back to visit their parents. Traditionally, when a girl got married, she went from being her parents' property to her husband's property, so she spent holidays with her husband's family. The second day of the New Year was set aside so she could see her parents. China is a bit of a large country, so before planes and bullet trains, some daughters would only see their parents one day a year.
Taiwan is much smaller than China. You can fit over 250 Taiwans inside China. The fastest high speed train can get from one end of the country to the other in about 90 minutes. You can fly from Kaohsiung to Taipei in under an hour, but with all the time spent at the airport, the train is faster. Taiwanese women also put up with a lot less bullshit than Chinese women, so they don't need a special day to visit their parents.
I had another dinner with a friend's parents. She sees them all the time, but this was still a special day for them. The food was different on each day, but they were also with different families. One thing they all had in common was that they made entirely too much. I can appreciate being an invited guest into someone's home, but I can only eat so much. Chinese culture, much like so many other cultures, insists that you eat until you vomit. At least during special meals. A normal dinner on a normal day is typically pretty small. No matter the occasion, I simply do not eat all that much. I realize that I offend most hosts by not gorging myself, and they all assume I am eating less because I do not like what they have made, no matter what I say to the contrary, but I am selfish enough to think that I should have the right to determine how much I can tolerate.
By Sunday, the third day, no one really cared about the holiday anymore. There were plenty of fireworks in the street, but no more big family dinners. Probably because they all started celebrating on Wednesday. By Monday, it was business as usual, though banks and schools were still closed. Everything else was open and ready to make that sweet ox money.
The New Year ends at the Lantern Festival on February 26. I have no idea how or if anyone is going to celebrate that. It was always a big deal in Hong Kong. We will see what happens in Taiwan.
On Thursday, New Year's Eve, I went to dinner at a friend's house. It was a big family dinner, but guests are always welcome at Chinese dinners. Despite being New Year's Eve, it was nothing like a party atmosphere. We ate an entirely too large meal and played some card games. This particular family is fond of gambling, so more than a few bills changed hands. I won more than I lost, but I did not win too much to ever get invited back.
As often happens, this family was surprised that I can speak their language. Inevitably, I was asked how long I have lived in Taiwan. Everyone is amazed when I tell them I have only been here for nine months. Then they are less amazed when I point out that I moved here from China. At that point, most people just want me to tell them that I like Taiwan better than China. That is a big issue around here.
Another difference between what I think of as a New Year's Eve party was that it ended long before midnight. I was home before 22:00. Rather than a rowdy New Year, I knew it was midnight when I was reading on the sofa and heard an invasion's worth of fireworks outside. The year of the rat was now the year of the ox.
Friday, New Year's Day, was temple day. You are supposed to go to your local temple and honor your dead ancestors. I have none in Taiwan, and my grandparents would have considered burning incense and leaving food on a table as strange. My grandmother would say, “Dead people don't need to eat. That's a waste of perfectly good food.” But anything left at temples is donated either to the monks or to whichever organizations they sponsor. Nothing is wasted. Burning fake money for the dead, on the other hand, is just silly.
Dinner was with another friend's family. No gambling this time, but more than enough food for several families. The first day of the new year is when older family members give red envelopes to younger family. Generally, adults give to children, but older adults can also give to younger adults if they are not married. I was surprised when a few people gave me red envelopes. I am definitely not married, but older than most people of red envelope age. It was more of a welcome to our home on this special day kind of thing.
One of the biggest differences between China and Taiwan was made the most obvious on this day. In most of China, it is pretty illegal to light your own fireworks. Big cities like Hong Kong have enormous, organized public shows. In Taiwan, anyone can blow things up in the street. And they do. There were explosions all week, but nothing as loud or constant as on New Year's Day. Taiwan also has a large stray dog population. I don't know how they react to a week of fireworks.
Saturday, the second day, is when adult daughters go back to visit their parents. Traditionally, when a girl got married, she went from being her parents' property to her husband's property, so she spent holidays with her husband's family. The second day of the New Year was set aside so she could see her parents. China is a bit of a large country, so before planes and bullet trains, some daughters would only see their parents one day a year.
Taiwan is much smaller than China. You can fit over 250 Taiwans inside China. The fastest high speed train can get from one end of the country to the other in about 90 minutes. You can fly from Kaohsiung to Taipei in under an hour, but with all the time spent at the airport, the train is faster. Taiwanese women also put up with a lot less bullshit than Chinese women, so they don't need a special day to visit their parents.
I had another dinner with a friend's parents. She sees them all the time, but this was still a special day for them. The food was different on each day, but they were also with different families. One thing they all had in common was that they made entirely too much. I can appreciate being an invited guest into someone's home, but I can only eat so much. Chinese culture, much like so many other cultures, insists that you eat until you vomit. At least during special meals. A normal dinner on a normal day is typically pretty small. No matter the occasion, I simply do not eat all that much. I realize that I offend most hosts by not gorging myself, and they all assume I am eating less because I do not like what they have made, no matter what I say to the contrary, but I am selfish enough to think that I should have the right to determine how much I can tolerate.
By Sunday, the third day, no one really cared about the holiday anymore. There were plenty of fireworks in the street, but no more big family dinners. Probably because they all started celebrating on Wednesday. By Monday, it was business as usual, though banks and schools were still closed. Everything else was open and ready to make that sweet ox money.
The New Year ends at the Lantern Festival on February 26. I have no idea how or if anyone is going to celebrate that. It was always a big deal in Hong Kong. We will see what happens in Taiwan.
Thursday, January 21, 2021
Membership Has Its Privileges
I wanted a pool photograph, but have surprisingly few.
This is the Bali villa where I stayed a few years ago.
I love to swim. Anyone who knows me, knows that about me. People who barely know me, know that about me. If you are a time traveler and want to warn me about something that is going to happen in the future, whatever you do, don't use my love of swimming as a way to convince me that we will know each other. That would be like telling me I can breathe a mixture of mostly nitrogen and oxygen.
Special note to all you time travelers out there: You already know what to say to convince me because I will tell you later.
When I lived in Hong Kong, swimming pools were few and far between. My last apartment was a few blocks from a sports complex with a public pool. There was also a YMCA at the Cityview Hotel, but I have no idea if they had a pool. Farther south was Kowloon Park, which has an outdoor swimming pool. I always found that ironic since Chinese people hate the sun. Almost all swimming pools are indoors.
The problem with public pools in Hong Kong was never really the pools. It was the public. The first time you see a child standing at the edge of a pool, his mother holding his penis and pointing it directly into the pool so he can relieve himself, you think that is odd, and more than a little horrifying. The third time you see it, you wonder if this is some Chinese tradition for baptizing pools. Who needs a bottle of champagne when the urine of young boys is an infinite resource.
I try not to blame an entire culture whenever a single person does something insane. If we did that, where would it leave the United States? But I will definitely look for a different pool after I see it used as a piss bucket. When I saw a grown adult man use a swimming pool as a toilet, and not just for fluids, I vowed to never set foot anywhere near a Chinese swimming pool again. The only positive to any of these encounters was that I was not actually in the water at the time. I would still be in the shower if I had been.
My only safe haven for swimming in Hong Kong was the big house at Clear Water Bay. That was a private swimming pool at a private residence. The only people who ever used the pool were the owners, who probably never used it, and mostly me when we took our annual visits. The owner and his wife are an older couple who do not strike me as particularly active. For them, the pool is more likely a status symbol than a means of exercise. Having your own swimming pool at your house is something you can brag about in Hong Kong.
When I moved to Taiwan, I was wary of public pools. Taiwan is not in China, but the culture is more or less the same. Hongkongers say that Mainlanders act like wild animals, but Taiwanese say the same about both. I don't remember anyone in China saying much of anything about the Taiwanese. Unfortunately, we know no one in Taiwan who has their own private pool in the backyard. Or even a backyard.
There is a gym close to my apartment. The actual gym part is pretty half-assed, and they have yoga classes I have not taken yet, but I went to check out the swimming pool. The only way to swim without becoming a member is to pay a high visitor fee. I liked that because, in Taiwan, the people most likely to abuse the pool are least likely to pay the highest prices to get in. There are plenty of public pools around town that are far cheaper to use and require no membership. I paid too much to use the pool and immediately became a member.
The swimming pool has a dozen lap lanes, ranging from 1 meter deep to 5 meters. The weakest swimmers always stay away from the 5 meter lanes. No human alive today can touch the bottom of that one. There is a separate children's pool that does not come in contact with the lap pool, so I can easily ignore any shenanigans in the children's area. Next to the lap pool is a large hot tub area with two 10-person hot tubs, three 4-person hot tubs, and several individual hot tubs. So far, I have tested the larger hot tubs and a few of the singles. They all seem to have different temperatures and jet levels. There is also a shallow pool that is entirely too hot. Taiwan is a hot springs culture, and while none of the water here is from a natural spring, some of it is on the hotter than necessary side. Since all of the pools are indoors, in one large cavern of a room, even the coldest pools stay warm. The pool area is a bit of a steam room. Anyone not used to Taiwan's humidity might think the place is too humid, but I find it pretty mild. There are also literal steam rooms, segregated by gender.
Near the hot tubs are a wall of water massages. High pressure water drops down two meters. People sit or stand under them and let the water massage their heads and shoulders. I found the pressure too high and would never get my head anywhere near any of those jets, but older people love it. I have never seen anyone under 50 under those things.
Since this is Taiwan, there are more than a few rules. No shoes can be worn past the lobby. Between the lobby and the women's locker room, there is a smaller room where everyone can take off their shoes and put on their slippers. I assume the men's locker room has a similar setup. Not wearing shoes indoors is pretty common around here, and not wearing shoes in a swimming pool makes perfect sense.
Everyone has to wear bathing suits past the locker room. That seems reasonable. Taiwan is not exactly famous for its public nudity. But that also means parents who want to watch their children in the kiddie pool also have to wear bathing suits, even if they have no intention of touching the water. Everyone also has to wear swimming caps, which I could do without. That seems to be a nationwide rule. Taiwanese would be just as shocked to see a swimmer without a swimming cap as they would without a bathing suit.
Not only are no street clothes allowed in the pool area, which makes sense, but no towels are allowed past the locker rooms. I do not understand this one. When you get out of one pool or another, you have to go to your locker, dripping wet, before you can get your towel. This is probably one reason the locker room floor is always soaking wet. They have those rubber jigsaw pieces to keep everyone from falling down, but there is no dry floor anywhere near the lockers. This makes changing at your locker impossible, unless you want to get your clothes wet. Not that anyone in Taiwan would change in front of their locker. Everyone changes in private, and dry, changing cubicles. So to avoid any hint of nudity, we walk dripping wet to our lockers and get whatever we need, bring everything to a wet shower cubicle, bring everything to a dry changing cubicle, and then go back to the wet locker to put away whatever we want to leave at the gym.
The good news is that every member has their own dedicated locker. That means we do not have to bring a gym bag with us every time we go. Some people might keep a bag in their car, but since I walk to the gym, it is nice to have everything I need already there. No advanced planning is required.
The entire gym is open 24H, except during lunch. You can go there at 3 o'clock in the morning, but not at noon. I asked them when they clean the pools and was shown their maintenance schedule. The good news is that they clean the pool daily and completely empty it once a week. The bad news is that it is obviously not open 24H. Even the half-assed gym closes for cleaning. I don't have a problem with any of this. I think regular maintenance is a good thing. But maybe they should not advertise as being open 24H when, at most, they are open for 19.
The strangest part about the entire operation is that there is ample parking. That is rare in Kaohsiung. Unless, of course, I can walk to it. I don't need to park since I can walk from my apartment in ten minutes. This seems to be a theme in Kaohsiung. Overall, it is difficult to park in this city, outside of shopping malls and the main train station. But the places I can easily walk to always seem to have plenty of parking.
Friday, December 25, 2020
Thursday, December 24, 2020
Getting Ready For Christmas
Paul Simon, Getting Ready For Christmas Day
Sting & Mary Macmaster, Christmas At Sea
Wednesday, December 23, 2020
Sunday, December 20, 2020
How To Be a Buddhist Monk in 489 Steps
Rather than live like a monk when I was at the monastery, I lived like someone who was there to study Buddhism. The monks had their schedule and I had mine. Different groups of monks had different schedules. It was almost like working in an office building. Everyone was there at the same time, but not all doing the same things. My schedule was designed for students, but as far as I know, there were no other students there at the time.
05:00 Daban
At the crack of dawn, someone banged on the 起板 (qiban), which they called 打板 (daban), telling everyone it was time to wake up. There are no satisfying English translations for daban, anban or qiban. They are wooden boards that monks tap on to signal a specific time or event. As with anytime anyone rang a bell, there was a specific pattern that matched whatever was being announced. It was essentially a monastic alarm clock. Though there were computers and smartphones all over the place, they still followed the tradition of keeping time through chimes. Everyone knew what each pattern meant, and I knew that most of them had nothing to do with me. Daban meant it was time to wake up. Of course, people could and did wake up earlier. I always did. But tapping on the wooden board was the signal to all that the day had officially begun.
05:30 – 07:30 Morning meditation
Every morning, most of the monks went into the large Amitabha Chanting Hall to chant jing for two hours. Unlike meditation, chanting was done while standing. For two hours. Monks, in general, are not known as the most athletic people in the world. They spend a lot of time reading and meditating. I never saw any of them on an elliptical trainer. But every single one of them could stand still without straining and suffering. Or at least without showing it.
I was not unwelcome to participate, but told rather bluntly that this was a more advanced practice that I was simply not ready to learn. I was gradually taught some of the jing, but never expected to know any of them as well as the monks. Without knowing the jing, I would have simply stood there for two hours, which would have been pointless.
Instead, my morning meditation was scheduled during the morning chants. That meant Laoshi had to miss his chanting to teach me how to meditate, but he was happy to do it and I was glad he was there. I have been taught how to meditate by a few different people, and all of them taught me something different. The only real similarities were clearing the mind, controlling the breathing, and going full lotus. Different teachers will have different ideas about how to meditate, but everyone agrees that the lotus position is the only proper way to sit. Half lotus is only acceptable if you are just starting out or have joint issues, and no one approves of sitting criss-cross applesauce. Full lotus makes the most sense. If you can get yourself into position, it has to be one of the sturdiest ways to sit. You can knock over someone in a half lotus with a feather, but someone sitting full lotus could fall asleep during an earthquake and never fall down.
Fo Guang Shan practices Chan meditation, which has its own rules and regulations. You could fill a book with all the rules. In fact, people have. I read one of them. The main point is mostly about breathing and trying not to think about all of life's daily bullshit. I was given a personalized mantra, but my takeaway was that any mantra will do since repeatedly chanting pretty much anything will automatically shift your focus. But you don't want to chant jing because most of them are too long and you would find yourself concentrating on the jing rather than the meditation.
My morning meditation was not coincidentally scheduled during the sunrise, just as my evening meditation was during the sunset. On the first day, I wondered why we were doing it outdoors rather than in the giant Meditation Hall. I assumed it was because I was just learning while the monks in the hall were there for serious business. Teaching me would have been a distraction. But then the sun went down and I understood why Laoshi chose a spot uphill, facing west. It was one of those magical moments where you are relaxed and generally content and suddenly feel the sun's warmth on your face. I thought it was beautiful. Until Laoshi pointed out that if I was truly meditating, I would not have noticed the sun setting at all. The following morning was the same, except we were facing east instead of west. I felt the sun rise on my face, which is kind of hard not to notice, which only pointed out how much I was failing.
08:00 – 08:30 Breakfast
Breakfast was served in the dining hall; a large, open rectangle of a room with at least fifty long rows of folding tables placed end to end. All of the utilitarian seats faced in one direction so that no one sat with anyone facing them. Everyone sat side by side, in rows, facing the backs of the rows ahead. The reason immediately became clear. Meals were for eating, not talking. The oldest monks sat first, followed by the younger monks, then the novices, students, and miscellaneous laity. I was close enough to the end of the line where it never mattered what order anyone was in. After all the monks, it was first come, first served. Though there is a hierarchy at the monastery, seating was not about obedience to any chain of command. It was purely out of respect. In any situation where groups had to wait in a line, the oldest were always at the front.
For most of the monks, breakfast was the only meal of the day. They are strong believers in fasting throughout the day, but also recognize that people need to eat. In English, breakfast literally means break fast. That is exactly how the monks use it. But in Chinese, 早餐 simply means early meal. Some of the monks ate dinner, which was called the medicinal meal because it was for those who might have medical issues with only one meal a day. As a student, I was never expected to fast all day, and I am currently trying to gain weight, so fasting would not be ideal. In addition to breakfast and dinner, I was always free to eat at any time in any of the restaurants on or near campus. The museum down the hill has an entire food court. But I would have to pay for any unscheduled meals, and I wanted this experience to be as authentic as possible. Getting snacks from the 7-Eleven down the hill does not strike me as particularly monastic.
Breakfast was always rice porridge. Every single day. Just like dinner, for those who participated, it was quick. Everyone sat down, the monks did a quick chant, everyone ate without any conversation, there was another chant at the end of the meal, and everyone left the room in an orderly fashion. At the monastery, the purpose of a meal was to eat. Anything else was a distraction. Everyone had too many things to do.
They handed out a lot of wisdom nuggets in the monastery. Sometimes too many. It must take years just to remember all the aphorisms. But one that really stuck with me was the idea that food is medicine. You should only take what you need. In the monastery, no one lives to eat.
08:45 – 10:45 Reading
After breakfast, my reading time was pure independent study. Most of my day was spent with at least one other person, guiding me or watching to make sure I did not break anything, but when it was time to read, I was on my own. They gave me books and told me I could sit anywhere, indoors or outdoors. Sometimes I would find a quiet nook in one hall or another, but most of the time I read outdoors. A few of the gardens were on the side of a hill and not the worst place in the world to read.
11:00 – 13:00 Lecture
The daily lecture was exactly how it sounds. One laoshi or another spoke for two hours on subjects ranging from meditation to jing to Dharma to the difference between Humanistic Buddhism and Mahayana Buddhism to the Buddha's life and a lot of what he said. The lesson plan was whatever that particular laoshi wanted to talk about on that particular day. I would have preferred to know what the lecture was going to be so I could read up on that subject beforehand, but that was not the way they wanted to do it. I was not arrogant enough to tell them that my way was better than what they had been doing for two thousand years. Even so, the lectures were highly educational and entirely too much to absorb in such a short period of time.
13:15 – 14:15 Gardening
Just after what would have been lunchtime, I worked in one of the gardens. I was there to study rather than work, but manual labor is a routine part of any monk's day. There are a few gardens throughout the monastery, mostly maintained by a combination of monks and civilian professionals. Somewhere on site was a vegetable garden that provided most of the food eaten in the monastery and the museum. I never saw that one, but I walked through several gardens and worked in an herb garden. I think they had me working with the herbs because they were easier and safer. Had I killed all the basil, meals would taste slightly different for a little while. Killing an entire crop of vegetables would be disastrous. I also doubt it was a coincidence that I was working around food at the same time my mind was supposed to be thinking about lunch. Buddhist monks are big fans of denying pleasure, and for a lot of people, eating is one of life's greatest joys. What the monks never knew was that I have no appetite and can easily go all day without eating.
14:30 – 15:45 Free time
The monks were encouraged to take a nap in the afternoon. The Meditation Hall had alcoves to sit and meditate or take a nap in between all that meditating. There was always someone in the Meditation Hall, and I'm pretty sure a few monks spent the entire day inside, napping in between meditating. There is a strong work ethic at the monastery. Everyone pulls their weight and everyone does some kind of labor that people in business suits would deem beneath them. But when you wake up at dawn and work all day, you need the occasional nap. The older monks generally stayed awake all day, doing all their monk business. At nap time, I could always find younger monks sleeping here and there.
I spent nap time jogging around the monastery, or last least the parts less frequented by the public. My exercise routine was neither encouraged nor discouraged. The monks believe in staying healthy, but prefer to do so through meditation. As long as my afternoon run did not get in anyone's way, no one had a problem with it. Nap time seemed like the perfect time since most of the monks were indoors for an hour or two. Afternoons are not the ideal time to exercise in the heat and humidity of Kaohsiung, but my mornings were pretty busy.
16:00 – 18:00 Evening meditation
Evening meditation was just like morning meditation, only facing west in an attempt to block out the sunset. It took a long time, but I could eventually reach the point where I never noticed the change of light and heat. I even had a time or two where everything around me just faded away. I think that is at least mildly impressive since I was surrounded by nature, which is often hard to ignore. Birds especially have a way of mocking your meditation. I could only get to that point with a teacher. Try as I might, it never happened on my own. I never learned how to levitate or do anything crazy, and I was nowhere near the on-ramp to the freeway that eventually leads to the neighborhood next to Nirvana. At best, I would say that what I experienced was piece of mind.
18:30 – 19:00 Medicinal meal
Dinner, the optional medicinal meal, was as organized as breakfast, but with a wider variety of food. There was a different dish each day, either at random or in a pattern that I never recognized. There was usually rice, but sometimes noodles, with vegetables and a variety of soy products. There was almost always soup. The evening tea was noticeably different from the morning tea, but no one told me what it was and I never bothered to ask. At this point in my life, tea is tea. As long as it has no caffeine.
19:30 – 21:30 Dharma lesson
The evening's Dharma lesson was just like a regular class. Rather than a private lesson, like my lecture time, it was a class full of monks taught by a senior shifu. Just like in school, we were all expected to take notes, and there were periodic tests. Oddly enough, it was the most informal time of the day. The monks were always serious when it came to meditating and chanting, but they smiled and laughed in the classroom, even though everyone was expected to learn every ounce of the lessons.
Afterward, I was free to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the night. Some of my favorite time at the monastery was walking around after dark. The tourist side closed at 17:00 and that was when the spirit of the place really came to life. After the sun went down, the grounds were lit up with lanterns and more than enough electric light. It is almost a shame that the monastery is not open at night, but the lack of tourists made it far more beautiful. Monasteries are not natural tourist attractions.
22:00 Anban
At ten o'clock on the dot, someone hit the anban, which was just like the daban, only a different pattern. All the monks knew what it meant, and I figured out the difference right away. Of course, it helped that one was in the morning and the other was at night. That made it a little obvious.
Once the day was officially over, the monastery fell silent. It was never a particularly loud place to begin with, but in the dead of night, even the crickets kept it down. I went for a few walks after anban, which were always interesting. If you want solitude in the city, early morning is always better than late at night. Taiwanese generally stay up late, and the only people out before dawn are going to work. It was the exact opposite in the monastery. While I always saw at least one other person out and about at night, the place was deserted compared to the mass of motion during the day.
This was a unique experience that I can always repeat, but probably never will. Getting the most out of it requires spending more time in the monastery. If I have the time, I am more likely to travel somewhere. Studying in the monastery is a great way to learn a great deal in a short amount of time, but it is far from a vacation. While my brain was flooded with all things Buddhist, I doubt I will retain most of it. Sooner or later, I will forget most of the jing. And as much as I think meditation is helpful, there are never enough hours in the day.
Sunday, December 13, 2020
Seeing Buddha's Light
or At Least a Tiny Spark From a Great Distance
If you want to be generous, you could say that I am an expert on maybe one subject. At most. Buddhism is not it. If you want to learn about Buddhism, there are a few million people who can tell you more than I can. In fact, there are more than a few books on the subject, written by people who know what they are talking about. Some of them were written at Fo Guang Shan Monastery. They will happily give you a book or ten. Even the museum hands out free books. One of Fo Guang Shan's primary missions is to educate. They have founded and/or sponsored more than a few universities, high schools, and elementary schools. Something all schools have in common is books.
After a couple of weeks at Fo Guang Shan Monastery, I now know infinitely more about Buddhism than I did prior. Unfortunately, one of the things I inevitably learned was that I know almost nothing about Buddhism. The farther one travels, the less one knows. That is Tao, but the same concept.
Buddhist monasteries tend to be on top of mountains, when available. That is mostly for seclusion. 佛光山 (Fo Guang Shan) means Buddha's Light Mountain. It was built just off the Yushan mountain range, which cuts through south central Taiwan. While the unobstructed views are nice, it was built there to make it harder for most people to reach. But it was opened to the public over the years, with streets and ample bus access, and became a tourist attraction. More than a few monks told me that the large museum was built downhill to draw people away from the monastery while still providing a Buddhist day trip for civilians.
I know that there are different branches of Buddhism that believe different things, and more than a few disagreements within each branch. Mahayana Buddhism started in India and worked its way to China a couple thousand years ago, where it mixed with Taoism and got stirred around in a big pot until it was hard to tell where Buddhism began and Taoism ended. Fo Guang Shan practices Humanistic Buddhism, which comes from Chan, which is a school of Mahayana.
I know that Humanistic Buddhism is about living people. The temples, memorials, pagodas, and statues are for the living. The Buddha was a human who lived and died, as humans often do. Humanistic Buddhism tends to focus on improving the lives of people right now rather than killing in the name of gods and getting a trophy after death. Ironically, while the Buddha personally ordained the first female monks and Humanistic Buddhism advocates equality, education, and altruism, Fo Guang Shan's founder was a bit of an asshat and a lot of a misogynist. Fortunately, he is 90 something years old and retired. His successors are more enlightened and live in the 21st century. As with most religions, women were only subjugated in later years after some extra sensitive male egos took over. Today, just like 2500 years ago, women can be monks, be seen with the men, and even breathe without permission. That worked out better for me.
Unlike probably everyone at the monastery, I am not Buddhist and have no intention of ever becoming Buddhist. I have studied and/or am studying it for the cultural aspect rather than religious. I never mislead the monks or pretended to have any other motives. I told them upfront that since I am studying Chinese/Taiwanese culture, and specifically the differences between the two, I think I should be studying Buddhism as well. No one can ever understand China without at least a rudimentary grasp of Buddhism. That would be like studying the thousand years of war in Europe without knowing anything about Christianity.
One of the great things about Buddhism, as well as Taoism and Confucianism, is that everyone is welcome to learn as much as they want without any pressure to convert or sign a blood oath. Unlike the western religions, it is perfectly acceptable to mix and match in China. Most of the people who practice Confucianism are also Buddhist, Taoist or something else. Some insist that Confucianism is more of a philosophy than a religion, but all religions are philosophies, in one way or another. What I like is how different it all is from the Judeo-Christian philosophy of kill or be killed, us versus them. Chinese philosophy is more live and let live, we're all in this together.
The not very creatively named Main Shrine
Fo Guang Shan Monastery
Flower and Stone Garden
My favorite place to read
Tathagata Building, Jade Buddha Building
Golden Buddha Building
Golden Buddha Shrine
Dharma classroom
Main dining hall
Cloud Dwelling Building
Meditation Hall
Tathagata Building
Amitabha Chanting Hall
Jade Buddha Building
Dharma Square
Sutra Repository
Lots of Buddhas
Even more Buddhas
Overlooking the Gaoping River
Great Buddha Land
“The highest standing Buddha in southeast Asia”
Dharma Hall
A Brief History of the Buddha
The Buddha thanking his mother for giving birth to him
Fo Guang Shan Museum
Just a quick hike down the hill
Or an elevator ride for those in need
Great Path to Buddhahood
and the Eight Pagodas
Bodhi Wisdom Concourse
Home of the Eighteen Arhats
Sutra Repository Stupa
with one million Heart Sutras
Stupa of Vow
Stupa of Wisdom
Sutra Repository Stupa, Fo Guang Buddha, Stupa of Wisdom
Fo Guang Buddha
I had to pump up the contrast because I was facing the sun
But I think it worked out OK
After a couple of weeks at Fo Guang Shan Monastery, I now know infinitely more about Buddhism than I did prior. Unfortunately, one of the things I inevitably learned was that I know almost nothing about Buddhism. The farther one travels, the less one knows. That is Tao, but the same concept.
Buddhist monasteries tend to be on top of mountains, when available. That is mostly for seclusion. 佛光山 (Fo Guang Shan) means Buddha's Light Mountain. It was built just off the Yushan mountain range, which cuts through south central Taiwan. While the unobstructed views are nice, it was built there to make it harder for most people to reach. But it was opened to the public over the years, with streets and ample bus access, and became a tourist attraction. More than a few monks told me that the large museum was built downhill to draw people away from the monastery while still providing a Buddhist day trip for civilians.
I know that there are different branches of Buddhism that believe different things, and more than a few disagreements within each branch. Mahayana Buddhism started in India and worked its way to China a couple thousand years ago, where it mixed with Taoism and got stirred around in a big pot until it was hard to tell where Buddhism began and Taoism ended. Fo Guang Shan practices Humanistic Buddhism, which comes from Chan, which is a school of Mahayana.
I know that Humanistic Buddhism is about living people. The temples, memorials, pagodas, and statues are for the living. The Buddha was a human who lived and died, as humans often do. Humanistic Buddhism tends to focus on improving the lives of people right now rather than killing in the name of gods and getting a trophy after death. Ironically, while the Buddha personally ordained the first female monks and Humanistic Buddhism advocates equality, education, and altruism, Fo Guang Shan's founder was a bit of an asshat and a lot of a misogynist. Fortunately, he is 90 something years old and retired. His successors are more enlightened and live in the 21st century. As with most religions, women were only subjugated in later years after some extra sensitive male egos took over. Today, just like 2500 years ago, women can be monks, be seen with the men, and even breathe without permission. That worked out better for me.
Unlike probably everyone at the monastery, I am not Buddhist and have no intention of ever becoming Buddhist. I have studied and/or am studying it for the cultural aspect rather than religious. I never mislead the monks or pretended to have any other motives. I told them upfront that since I am studying Chinese/Taiwanese culture, and specifically the differences between the two, I think I should be studying Buddhism as well. No one can ever understand China without at least a rudimentary grasp of Buddhism. That would be like studying the thousand years of war in Europe without knowing anything about Christianity.
One of the great things about Buddhism, as well as Taoism and Confucianism, is that everyone is welcome to learn as much as they want without any pressure to convert or sign a blood oath. Unlike the western religions, it is perfectly acceptable to mix and match in China. Most of the people who practice Confucianism are also Buddhist, Taoist or something else. Some insist that Confucianism is more of a philosophy than a religion, but all religions are philosophies, in one way or another. What I like is how different it all is from the Judeo-Christian philosophy of kill or be killed, us versus them. Chinese philosophy is more live and let live, we're all in this together.
Fo Guang Shan Monastery
My favorite place to read
Golden Buddha Shrine
Cloud Dwelling Building
Tathagata Building
Jade Buddha Building
Overlooking the Gaoping River
“The highest standing Buddha in southeast Asia”
Just a quick hike down the hill
Or an elevator ride for those in need
and the Eight Pagodas
Home of the Eighteen Arhats
with one million Heart Sutras
I had to pump up the contrast because I was facing the sun
But I think it worked out OK
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)