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Culture of Maid Cafés in Hong Kong

Maid cafes are not just gathering spots for otaku, but also places where people seek comfort and relaxation.

By Lorraine Chiang

Seeking relaxation, Tom Chan Wai-lun visits maid cafés once a week. 

“I am not close with waitresses in maid cafés. But talking to them is more relaxing than speaking to my colleagues because we have no clash of interests. My friends are too busy to chat with me,” Chan says. 

Sharing common interests, Chan chats about Japanese anime with waitresses, making maid cafés a rendezvous for otaku or people interested in Japanese manga and anime. 

Chan started an Instagram page in March 2022 with 1,116 followers, sharing his dining experience at different maid cafes and his interviews with waitresses at maid cafés. 

“Many people mistakenly consider maid cafés as part of the sex industry. That is a huge misconception. In fact, there are many rules at maid cafes. Physical touch is forbidden for example,” Chan says.

“A lot of waitresses are still in secondary school and they just want to gain work experience. They are hard-working,” Chan adds.

Citing a diligent maid he knows as an example, he says, “The maid puts a lot of effort into making drinks for customers. Every time I go there, she tailor-makes drinks for me, and they always taste good. I can feel her dedication to providing good services.” 

“The maids also ask you what you like and draw them on omelets with ketchup. I usually ask them to draw cats and dogs, and sometimes I ask for self-portraits,” Chan says.

Tailor-made omelet for Tom Chan Wai-lun from a maid cafe. (Photo courtesy of Chan Wai-lun Tom)

“I hope others will find joy in maid cafés like me. It makes me feel very happy when other customers tell me they go to maid cafés after checking my page,” Chan adds.

Apart from bringing joy to customers, maid cafés also help waitresses find happiness outside of their daily routines. 

Working full-time as a clerk, Mana Kong Hei-ling enjoys dressing up and playing a different character once a week at Maid Academy.

She runs a public Instagram account with about 1,200 followers, and many of them are her customers. 

“My customers learn about my updates from my social media account. They find that I have become more energetic after I changed my job. I feel touched,” Kong says. 

“It is tiring to work two jobs. But I still want to continue to work at a maid café because I can have fun while making money,” she says.

Apart from her caring customers, Kong also finds support from her colleagues. “They praise me for being charming and energetic on stage. My colleagues also teach me to be myself and remind me not to care about how others think of me. I may not be as popular or pretty as others, but I have my fans who love me for who I am,” she says. 

Kong dressing in a maid outfit. (Photo courtesy of Kong Hei-ling Mana)

Kong also shares positive vibes with her customers.

“Once a male customer wanted to dress up as a girl and asked me to teach him to do makeup. He used to cover his face in cosplay and ACG (animation, comics, and games) events, but now he has become more confident and shows his face more often,” Kong says. 

Li Mei-ting, a lecturer of Cultural Studies at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, attributes the rise of maid cafés in Hong Kong to the emotional needs of ACG fans. 

“Otakus have always been stigmatized as losers in Hong Kong and they are labeled as ‘geeks‘. In the past, cosplay was not accepted in mainstream culture so maid cafés are safe spaces for otaku to display their love for moe culture. They turn to maid cafés to share their interests,” Li says. 

Moe is the youthful and innocent quality of teenage females, which elicits feelings of protectiveness and affection. 

Li points out that the sense of homecoming is also an important attraction of maid cafés. 

“When a customer enters a maid café, the maids and butlers say ‘Welcome home, master’. This family kinship answers the need for emotional bonding of these people,” she adds. 

“The family kinship is more than just being biologically related. Though the customers know that they pay for the kinship, they still appreciate that,” Li says.

Edited by Phoebe Chu
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip

Becoming a Top Model

Challenges and setbacks did not hold Yiu Mei-Ki back from pursuing her modeling career.

By Yilie Lo

Hong Kong model Yiu Mei-Ki, who has walked on the runway for brands like Lili Blanc and Mossi in Paris Fashion Week 2023 was forced to change to another secondary school because of her modeling career.

Having been modeling for four years, the 23-year-old landed her international debut at Copenhagen fashion week this year. She also participated in VOGUE Fashion’s Night Out Hong Kong in March 2023.

But her secondary school ruled that her modeling was “indecent” and would have a negative influence on other students in the summer of 2018, after Yiu, who was in her last year of study at a secondary school, joined a local modeling training camp.

Yiu was given two choices: transfer to another school, or quit modeling for a lifetime with a guarantee letter signed by her and her mother.

“The second choice was unreasonable. They were trying to control my whole life. I know what I want for my life very clearly. I want to embrace challenges instead of having a stable life like an office worker until I retire, ” the young model says.

“I never regret the choice I made about school transfer. Every time I completed a fashion show, I feel wonderful,” she adds.

Yiu was then transferred from Hong Kong Taoist Association Tang Hin Memorial Secondary School, an elite school with over 95% university admission rate, to a Band Three school in 2018.

“It was my last secondary school year. Despite my good academic performance, no school was willing to take me in except for a Band Three school,” Yiu says.

She had a difficult time adjusting to the classes conducted in Chinese because she used to study in an English Medium Instruction (EMI) secondary school.

But Yiu’s new school fully supported her pursuit in the modeling world.

“The school told me that I could do fashion modeling after school or during holidays, as long as it did not affect my academic results,” Yiu says.

Dating back to her teenage days, the pressure from school was not the only challenge she had to overcome. Yiu struggled with weight control since she was 15 and the weight-loss journey continues as she stays in the modelling industry. 

“I was not born skinny. When other models weigh around 50 kg at 180cm, I doubled them. I weighed 95kg at 172cm. I tried every way to lose weight to meet the industry’s requirements and it was not easy,” Yiu says.

The young model suffers from insomnia, anxiety, and migraine. She has to take 5-Hydroxytryptophan (HTP) pills every day.

“I have been taking the pills for three years to treat my anxiety. Luckily, there have been no side effects,” she says.

Apart from health issues, Yiu struggled to find work. She did not have a single magazine shoot in the first few years of her career. 

“It’s all about connections. If a model starts with an agency with no connections with editors, the model can hardly get a shoot for a magazine, no matter how good the model is,” she says.

“Luckily a make-up artist introduced me to her friend who works in the fashion industry. I finally got the chance to do pictures for Tatler Asia, a magazine that focuses on fashion and lifestyle,” Yiu recalls.

Yiu Mei-Ki’s magazine shooting for Tatler Asia December 2020 issue (Photo courtesy of Yiu Mei-Ki)

Not long after Yiu started modeling full-time, COVID-19 hit the world. 

“I went to Singapore for a model placement in January 2020. Two weeks after I arrived, I completed four jobs. Then, COVID-19 started to spread in Singapore and a lockdown was imposed. Everything stopped. There was no job, no casting, nothing,” she recalls. 

“I was stuck in Singapore for three months. When I finally flew back to Hong Kong, everything in the world was put on pause for three years. I didn’t have any job,” she adds.

Despite all the uphill battles, Yiu manages to build her career step-by-step. 

She has to pass rounds of casting to compete for jobs with over 1,000 top models.

“After passing all of the castings, I have to try out sample clothes for fashion shows. Clients can still change models when doing fittings. Models can be replaced seconds before a show,” she says.

In the fashion season of Autumn/Winter 2023 that took place from February to March 2023,  she walked for young fashion brands like GANNI, Rosin Pierce, Lili Blanc, and MUNTHE with ten shows, where all castings, fittings, and rehearsals had to be done in just three days. 

“To be honest, I was exhausted. But at the same time I feel so proud of myself,” the model adds.

Yiu is now taking a break after her hectic schedule.

She plans to start her next fashion week in May or June for Istanbul Fashion Week and Milan Men’s Fashion Week. 

Yiu set a goal for herself to complete a full circuit of the “Big Four” fashion weeks, starting in New York, followed by London, Milan, and Paris. 

“I think I will stay in the fashion industry as long as I can, as I love fashion. I might become a stylist one day after I retire from modeling,” she says.

Edited by Phoebe Chu
Sub-edited by Fiona Dongye

The Charms of Hong Kong Old Stores

Old store owners are committed to run their business in the traditional way.

By Nicole Li and Hannah Tang

Preserved meat store owner Chan Kui-cheong is determined to continue running his shop just like his father did. Founded in 1958, Man Lee Lung Lap Mei Store (萬利隆臘味家) in Sai Ying Pun has a long history.

“My father taught me how to make preserved meat when I was 20. After he retired in 1998, I inherited the business. I have been running it for over 20 years now,” the 53-year-old owner says. 

The store, which sells preserved meat sausages, preserved duck liver sausages, salted fish, and other dried seafood, offers no e-payment options.  

Basic facilities at Man Lee Lung.

Chan still uses an old weighing machine, a small calculator, a simple vacuum packaging machine and a worn-down cashier register in his shop. He prefers sticking to traditions in the digital age. 

“We have our own factory in Hong Kong, so all of our sausages are made in-house,” he says.

Preserved sausages are beloved treats for many Hong Kong people, especially during cold winter months when workers for the store need to toil for long hours.

“The workers have to wake up as early as 4 a.m. to start the day-long process of producing preserved sausages. From preparing ingredients to baking sausages, each step requires tremendous effort,” Chan says.

Preserved sausages sold at Man Lee Lung.

“Survival has never been easy here. Competition is fierce in the business world but the key to survival is maintaining a good reputation,” he says.

“We make our preserved sausages with the best ingredients we can find. Customers come as our sausages are good. Our sausages do the talking for our shop,” he says.

The store has garnered a loyal following, with customers who love their products.

“I come to this shop at least once a month and spend about HKD $300 (USD $38). The taste and the quality of the food here are excellent,” a loyal customer surnamed Wong who declines to reveal his full name says, as he buys some preserved sausages from the shop.

“I’ve never been disappointed with their product quality, and I haven’t been able to find anything similar at other stores,” he adds.

Another food store with years of history in Hong Kong and is still running the business in the traditional way is Min Fong Hong (民豐粉麵行) in Tsuen Wan.  

Sesame and peanuts flavoured mochis bought from Min Fong Hong.

No Instagram account, no “Likes and Shares” on social media platforms, the store only accepts cash and always has a long queue outside.

Turning 70 next year, the store is well known for its flour-made products, from raw noodles to desserts like mochi. 

One of the current store owners, Wang Baoxiu, better known as Mrs. Jiang, is always busy chatting with her customers in her signature apron. She always greets all her customers by name even though her store is always packed.

Customers from different parts of Hong Kong travel to Tsuen Wan for their food. 

“One of our customers travelled from another district and waited here for 15 minutes for our oven-fresh leek chives dumplings and a few boxes of raw tang yuans (little glutinous rice orbs) once every few weeks,” Mrs. Jiang says. 

“We aim to make fresh products everyday inside our store. We do not use preservatives and sell them at a reasonable price,” Wang says. 

A worker is making dumplings by hand at Min Fong Hong.

She adds that their loyal customers and the reputation they built over the years keep the store kicking and alive.

Inside the 500 square feet store, six workers are always busy preparing handmade food items. As the founder’s daughter-in-law, Wang is proud of her production team. 

“Machine-made ones are all identical. They are nothing compared to ours which are made by hand,” Wang says. 

Loyal customer Mrs. Lee, who often goes to the store with her daughter, shares that the store is more than a food shop to her. “I always enjoy chatting with Mrs. Jiang and her workers every time I buy food here. They know what I usually buy and even remember what my daughter likes to eat,” she says.

A few old store enthusiasts started an Instagram and Facebook page (@hongkonghistoricalshops) in 2018 to share pictures and stories of Hong Kong old stores like Man Lee Lung.

The page has 240,000 followers on Instagram and 200,000 followers on Facebook, and is now being operated by 15 team members who hunt for old stores.

Wong Toa, who joined the team in 2021, finds shops with a long history appealing because their stories are touching and full of surprises. 

“I can find out a certain period of Hong Kong history just by knowing stories of a small old shop. This is a perspective that I cannot see from history textbooks,” Wong says. 

The team hopes to promote the value of traditional stores and increase their exposure through social media. 

“During visits and interviews, we learn down-to-earth stories and craftsmanship behind these shops with colourful history. Most of the operators of these old stores are facing a thorny question – finding an inheritor. ,” she adds.

Another team member Chim Wing-yi says the team wants to dig out more meaningful stories behind old businesses in Hong Kong. “We don’t just briefly describe what a store sells. We want people of all ages to understand the history and see the connections within a store and its customers,” she says. 

“The old stores are mediums that inherit the history and reflect the intangible culture of Hong Kong,” Chim adds.

*Name changed at interviewee’s request

Edited by Karmen Yip
Sub-edited by Yap Ying
ye

Pens to Pixels – Editor’s Note

Going digital is no longer a foreign concept to many of us, with rapid and widespread development, to say that technology is indispensable may not be so much of an overstatement. As cliché as it may sound, despite the conveniences technological advancements have offered us, it comes at a cost, whether it be abuse or loss of human connection.

Our Periscope section includes stories of those who decide to take things to their own hands with pen and paper, including stationery and handwriting lovers.

This issue of Varsity also explores various topics, spanning from the prospects and livelihoods of local and international university students to interesting feature stories of people from all walks of life, from Koi Fish expert to Consulate General of Malaysia.

We also feature stories surrounding the other side of technology, the one that we might have easily overseen as digital natives, including the struggling elders adapting to e-ordering systems and the over-stressed teacher traumatised and killed by online class intruders.

Before I end this note, just a quick question for some food for thought: If I were to tell you that this editor’s note was written by ChatGPT, would you still consider me to be a qualified editor? What differentiates us from the AI that seems to be able to do all the writing, and even the thinking?

Rest assured, all stories are written wholeheartedly by our reporters, no AI technology involved. Have a hearty read!

Charmaine Choi

Chief Editor

Elderly under monitoring cameras

Monitoring cameras are installed to ensure elderly safety in China.

By Kamun Lai

Xia Qi is encouraging her friends to install cameras to monitor elderly who live alone at home on social media platforms after she has done the same for her 89-year-old grandmother to offer immediate help in case of an emergency. 

“My grandma is old and has difficulties moving around. I always feel worried about her and fear she might injure herself if she falls down at home alone. After installing the cameras, I can check on her any time,” the concerned granddaughter says.

The 28-year-old has installed a camera at her grandmother’s home on the bedside table in her bedroom, which can rotate 360 degrees to cover the entire room.

Users can check on the seniors on their cell phones. (Photo courtesy of Huang Liuzhen)

The grandmother lives with Xia’s parents in Shandong province, while Xia lives in Jilin province, which is 1384 kilometres away from her parents’ home. 

Xia’s mother can only take care of the grandmother after 4 p.m. after work every day. The elder is left alone on her own from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. every day.

The camera can automatically make a phone call to users when it detects a human moving.
(Photo courtesy of Huang Liuzhen)

The camera monitors her grandmother’s bed and every corner of her bedroom, and is connected to Xia’s iPhone. 

“My granny did not welcome the idea of installing cameras in her room at first, as she was not used to it. But she eventually agreed after having a chat with me. I just want to make sure my grandmother is safe at home when she is alone. I do not think much about privacy issues,” Xia says.

“Most importantly, the camera is equipped with an emergency call function. The camera can automatically make a phone call to me when it detects a human falling down. I can also talk to my grandma any time using the camera,” she adds. 

The number of elderly aged 60 and above in China reached 2.67 million in 2021, accounting for 18.9 per cent of the nation’s total population and more than half of them live alone, according to the Ministry of Civil Affairs. 

The market for home security cameras in China grew from 40.4 million units in sales in 2020 to 47 million in 2022. Among the sales, nine per cent were monitoring cameras that were designed for monitoring children, elderly, and pets, according to China Surveillance Camera Market Summary and Outlook 2022. 

47-year-old Huang Liuzhen who works as an accountant, has also installed a monitoring camera in the dining room of her parents’ house in a village in Fujian province, which is 136 kilometres away from her home in Xiamen, a city in Fujian province.

“My father is 77 and my mother is 72. They live in the countryside. It takes me two hours to drive there. It will be too late when I get there in case they need my urgent help,” the accountant says.

“I installed a monitoring camera in the dining room because it is the place where my parents have their meals and spend most of their time at. Also, it would not invade too much of their privacy,” she continues.

Huang recalls her father once turned the camera to the other side to avoid letting her see what they had for dinner. 

“He does not want us to know what they eat sometimes if they do not eat well. Sometimes they are also scared of sudden camera noises or my voice from the camera as I used to talk to them via the camera,” she adds.

Home monitoring camera can be found on online shops.

Now Huang avoids directly talking to her parents using the camera. She uses her iPhone so that they know she is calling them. 

“Installing a camera helps me stop worrying about my parents who live alone.  But we have to do it without invading their privacy and also to make sure that the camera does not make them feel uncomfortable,” the 47-year-old says.

“I do not think much about the cybersecurity issue. I am not an expert and have no idea about it,” she adds. 

Professor Meng Wei at the Chinese University of Hong Kong’s Department of Computer Science and Engineering, warns there are privacy risks when using remote-control cameras at home. 

“First, the camera may use an unencrypted channel for communicating which allows the attacker to directly capture data being transmitted. Second, the camera may have vulnerabilities allowing a remote attacker to directly gain control over it when using. Third, the end users of the camera may have insecure configurations with unawareness of the security issues and lack of technical knowledge. Finally, there are also chances that the developers of cameras intentionally design some backdoors or flaws in the products,” Meng says.

Meng recommends users choose products from well-known vendors which treat cyber security and user privacy seriously. He also reminds users to read the manuals carefully to ensure that they correctly configure the devices and software.

“Finally, in situations where privacy comes first, avoid placing the camera in private spaces such as bedrooms or bathrooms,” he adds.

Edited by Lily Wang
Sub-edited by Charmaine Choi

Tough Life for Autistic University Students

University students on the spectrum struggle while there is a lack of available support.

By Chloe Tam

Diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), university student Yu, who only reveals her surname, has been struggling with her study and social life. 

“Studying at the university is a huge challenge for me. Learning academic theories itself is easy but making friends is tough, especially for autistic students,” Yu says.

The Year Three student shares that she finds it difficult to handle group projects, and she prefers working alone to avoid clashes with classmates.

“There are many group projects. I am scared of group projects and feel nervous about them, as I do not know how to do division of labour with other students tactfully. Conflicts happen all the time,” Yu says.

“Most people do not understand my situation. To avoid disputes, I stayed away from group projects in the first two years of my study by asking course instructors to let me work alone,” she adds.

Yu says it is difficult for autistic people to interpret the implied meaning of others’ wordings, leading to misunderstanding and conflicts. 

“My emotions are vulnerable to peer influence. I feel extremely guilty if I misunderstand them,” she says.

The student sometimes overreacts to unexpected incidents. 

“A course instructor’s microphone broke one time and made a loud and high-pitched noise. I cried for the whole lesson because of it. I knew it was disturbing but I could not control myself. Once my emotions are triggered, it takes me a while to recover,” she recalls. 

The social work major wants to speak for Special Educational Needs (SEN) students after graduation. She changed her major from food nutrition to social work after her second year of study. 

“I met a good social worker. She accompanied me when I was having a mental breakdown. She also spoke for me when I had a conflict with my teacher. It was a life-saving act. I want to do the same for others too,” she says.

Yu receiving a certificate of appreciation after speaking at a press conference.

A common challenge 

Professor Gary Lam Yu-hin of the Department of Educational Psychology at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) has conducted studies about ASD students’ learning difficulties.

“Although ASD students are capable of enrolling into universities, their graduation rate is comparatively lower and their mental health is worse than other students,” Lam says. 

According to the Education Bureau, there were 191 ASD students enrolling in full-time accredited undergraduate or sub-degree programs in Hong Kong.

Lam conducted research on the experiences and needs of Hong Kong university students with ASD from 2021 to 2022. It was funded by the Equal Opportunities Commission and supported by SAHK, a local rehabilitation non-government organisation. 

The study found students faced challenges in learning, social communication, emotional and sensory issues, transition and career prospects, being misunderstood by others, disclosure of ASD or SEN conditions, and varied services for autistic students at different institutions. 

“Autistic students find it difficult to adjust to changes in routines such as switching from physical class to online lessons. It is because experiential learning activities such as live demonstrations cannot be carried out via Zoom. Theories and concepts taught via Zoom are too vague for them to understand,” Lam says.

“Many people stereotype autistic people as bus fanatics who like being alone. Teaching staff are not familiar with the support measures available for autistic students as well. Worse still, discriminative behaviour may cause autistic students to struggle if they should disclose their condition. People who are not informed about autistic students’ condition may also question why special arrangements are given to some of them,” Lam adds.

 Supporting students on the spectrum 

Dr Joanne Wong Chi-yan from SAHK points out that the support for autistic students at tertiary institutions is limited.

“In some schools, there is only one staff in charge of SEN student-related affairs such as the University of Hong Kong, the School of Professional and Continuing Education and Hong Kong Community College. Yet, more and more autistic students are admitted to these institutions,” Wong says. 

Doris Tsui Ue-ting from the Equal Opportunities Commission shares Wong’s view. 

“The resources for SEN students are mainly allocated to acquiring hardwares such as learning facilities and equipment. Very little is offered to help students understand lectures and facilitate teachers to teach,” Tsui says.

“More resources can be deployed for orientation camps so that student committees of the camps can better cater to autistic students’ needs. Peer support is important to autistic students. This does not require a lot of money, but it is very helpful. The key to the problem is to offer people-oriented help and support,” Tsui says. 

Edited by Lesley Lam
Sub-edited by Victoria Fong

Liz Sargent’s Films Dive Into Identity and Family

Filmmaker Liz Sargent shares how her story as a Korean-American adoptee who grew up with ten siblings inspired a work that explores some of her life questions and fears.

By Lilou Margueron

Film writer and director Liz Sargent makes movies inspired from her own life story to explore questions about adoption, family and disability.

Sargent’s latest production, Take Me Home, was released in 2023. It tells a story inspired by her adoptive sister Anna, who was born with a cyst on her brain, leaving her with very short-term memory and various cognitive and physical disabilities.

In the film, Anna is made the main character in a fictional plot in which she needs to learn how to communicate with her sister after their mother’s death.

“I have always been really worried about what will happen to [my sister] when my adoptive parents pass away, and how I get to keep my own independence,” says the filmmaker, who became a co-guardian of her sister when writing the film.

Liz Sargent coaching actors during the shooting of Strangers’ Reunion in Hong Kong (Photo courtesy of Liz Sargent)

“I want to take care of Anna and I think it is an important part of family and human responsibility, but social services in America are confusing and complicated so caregiving can have a hindering impact,” she explains.

Sargent described the film as a learning process for her since she had to figure out how to adapt the filming set to allow her sister to perform—by shortening transitions to maximise the time of acting, and by taking long shots to create a quieter environment and avoid disturbing Anna.

“She learned it, she got it, all we had to do was to give her a little space and have a little bit of patience, and it was possible!” she says.

Liz Sargent and her sister Anna Sargent wearing tee-shirts reading “diffability, we all have different abilities”
(Photo courtesy of Liz Sargent)

Sargent’s work also touches on adoption. The first film she wrote and directed, Strangers’ Reunion which launched in 2019, tells the story of a Korean-American adoptee, Mira, who met her birth mother for the first time in a Hong Kong hostel without a translator.

“Strangers’ Reunion was written as a response to finding my biological mother and figuring out I had three biological siblings,” says the former choreographer, who decided to quit dancing for filmmaking around eleven years ago, with the hope to tell her own story in her work.

“A lot of my movies stem from personal experiences, when I feel something so intensely that I can’t really figure out what it means and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

 “It was really a sort of cathartic experience because watching these two actors perform this dialogue [meeting the birth mother] and thinking deeply about the details of reaction and the layers of emotion they must be feeling was really helpful for me to sort of disconnect myself from the intensity of my feelings around it,” the 43-year-old says.

Growing Up as an Adoptee

Adopted in Korea when she was five-months old, Sargent grew up in a family with eleven children. Among her siblings, six were adopted and five have different kinds of disabilities.

Her adoptive parents’ dream was to have a big family. “My father is an only child and his parents died when he was young so I think that’s part of his love for his family, and for my mother, it just brings her joy,” the filmmaker says.

She has built a good relationship with her adoptive family. With a smile, she recalls their big house in the suburb of Chicago as loud and chaotic, full of kids fighting for attention, where every room was packed and they had big dinners together.

“It was unique but we had nothing to compare it to, so we didn’t think much about it. Several siblings also have disabilities, and we didn’t question that either, it is just a fact that they think differently and have different physical abilities,” she says.

Liz Sargent, sitting in the middle in blue, at around 6 years-old with her siblings.
(Photo courtesy of Liz Sargent)

In Sargent’s family, the fact that she was adopted is always visually clear and talked about. As she did not want to get into a lifelong search for her birth family, she only decided to contact them during the winter of 2018.

“It felt like the right time in life and I wanted to see if it was possible [to meet] before she [my biological mother] dies,” she says.

After a couple of months of extensive research, Sargent managed to ask her birth parents to meet her through her adoption agency, with a possibility of refusal on the other side.

Her birth family quickly got back to her. Among many other unnamable feelings, she remembers being “just totally shocked, totally stressed, feeling a lot of pressure for what that relationship should be”.

“It’s hard to fully be myself when I know my biological parents might have certain expectations of me, and I sort of just want to make them happy.”

Sargent filmed Strangers’ Reunion in Hong Kong just before flying to Busan, South Korea, to meet her birth mother and three siblings.

“I only spent two days with them but there were just so many emotions in those moments, so much fear about what we wanted to tell about ourselves to one another, and so much hope to be loved and to be forgiven,” she says.

“It was complicated because you want to know all the information and all the history but you wonder if you are ready to hear about it, or tell it from their perspective. I am still figuring it out,” she adds.

Continuous Exploration on Family Dynamics

Sargent does not know what will happen to her relationship with her birth family.

“I’d like to [go back] but I still feel a lot of stress around it. I am not sure when is the right time and I do not want them to feel stressed as well. Sometimes I feel that it is not helpful for us to try to build a relationship if it just makes us anxious,” she shares.

Since her adoptive family members require great care, with her disabled sister Anna, ageing parents, and another sister who has borderline personality disorder, she does not feel ready to rekindle her relationship with her birth family yet. 

Liz Sargent with her adoptive parents and siblings. (Photo courtesy of Liz Sargent)

As a filmmaker, she wants to keep working on themes of adoption, family and disability that matter to her.

“These stories are important to me and I am always trying to explore the details and intricacies of the situation through the characters I write. I feel that bringing dimensions to tropes helps inspire audiences to live differently in the world,” she says.

Edited by Charlie Chun
Sub-edited by Charmaine Choi

Paint My City

Hong Kong artists use their brushes to record the city.

By Sunnie Wu

Born and raised in Hong Kong, Elaine Chiu explores her cultural identity by painting local cityscapes.

“I started drawing cityscapes in secondary school. Sham Shui Po, To Kwa Wan and North Point are good spots for urban sketching as they are full of local character,” the local artist says.

Chiu discovers how the city evolves when she practices on-location sketching.

“There are many organic lines and shapes in a street market, especially the overhead wires that make the picture plane look messy. Whereas you can spot repetitive patterns and straight lines in Central’s buildings. It makes me contemplate how people design and shape the city,” Chiu says.

The young artist also explores her cultural roots by painting cityscapes.

Elaine Chiu’s “Plane Over Head”, painted in 2019.
(Photo courtesy of Elaine Chiu)

“Hong Kong is a place of hybridity. You can observe its diverse culture through the neon signs, typography and architectural styles,” the 27-year-old says.

Her painting “Plane Over Head” shows signboards of Thai restaurants and jewellery shops in Kowloon City. The signboards are in different languages and design styles which reflect the city’s cultural diversity.

The painter always uses watercolour in her paintings because it can show both Chinese and Western art styles.

“Watercolour paintings appear Western style when they have a thick, solid texture. But when the watercolour is blurred, it looks like traditional Chinese ink wash painting,” Chiu says.

Other than preserving the heritage and urban identity through paintings, Chiu has also held over 200 street-sketching workshops for the public.

She collaborated with an NGO on a social art campaign called “Street and Seek” from 2018 to 2019. They held workshops in various districts, especially the ones more affected by urban renewal, such as Sham Shui Po and To Kwa Wan.

Elaine Chiu did urban sketching with her students. (Photo courtesy of Elaine Chiu)

Participant Wendy Fung says the campaign helps her better understand the old Hong Kong. She went to Sham Shui Po and Tai Kok Tsui for urban sketching.

“I rarely go to those areas because I work in Central. The workshops taught me the background behind the historical buildings and I felt as I travelled back in time,” Fung says.

She also noticed the city’s unique aesthetics through urban sketching.

“I now pay more attention to the colour tone of Hong Kong buildings. Take tenements as an example, it often has a dull grey tone which brings out the historical traces. I find it very nostalgic,” the recruitment consultant says.

Character designed by Kung based on the idea of Sham Shui Po.
(Photo courtesy of Azu Kung)

Other than portraying Hong Kong’s cityscape, another artist, Azu Kung, tries to present the 18 districts in the city in a lively way. She has created over 110 personifications of Hong Kong districts since 2019.

Kung met people from different districts when she worked as a human resources manager. It inspired her to pay attention to the characteristics shared by people living in the same district.

Azu Kung takes her Sham Shui Po doll to Leung Tim Choppers Factory.
(Photo courtesy of Azu Kung)

To design characters for different Hong Kong districts, Kung first researched the history of the district. Then she does city walks to gather first-hand information on the district such as its atmosphere and the personality of residents.

For example, Chek Lap Kok’s character has a feather-like hairstyle and pilot costume because it was inspired by Hong Kong International Airport located there.

Kung is glad that her artwork encourages Hongkongers to discover more about their home.

“Some secondary school students told me that they gained interest in Hong Kong’s geographical environment because of my artwork. That is why they chose geography as their elective subject,” Kung says.

Professor Anthony Fung Ying-him from the School of Journalism and Communication at the Chinese University of Hong Kong explains why people resonate with cityscape painters.

“Cityscapes are iconic symbols in daily life with a straightforward message, so audiences can easily relate to these artworks,” Fung says.

Edited by Esme Lam
Sub-edited by Karmen Yip

Mon Heritage Revival: Verochod Punthong’s Legacy

Verochod Punthong promotes Mon culture in Thailand through his museum, research, and a historical book to revive Mon heritage.

By Nutcha Hunsanimitkul

For more than 30 years, Verochod Punthong has been trying to let more people learn the history and culture of Mon, an ethnic minority in Thailand that contributes to the history of Southeast Asian countries but has been neglected.

Mon was welcomed by the Thai Monarchy to emigrate and settle down around the central part of Thailand for 200 years. Its customs have been embedded in Thai culture which can be seen in Buddhism, traditional musical instruments, housing style, and even the world-famous cuisine of Thailand.

“Mon brings us these proud cultures. Food like Khao Chae and Karyasand, or musical instruments such as Peepat Mon and Korng Mon are Mon cultures that most native Thai can be related to. But when it comes to Mon history, they barely recognize it,” the half-Thai-half-Mon says.

Verochod was doing the traditional Mon dessert, Karyasand.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)

Punthong, 86, is now running the Chompoo Wek Temple Local Museum (พิพิธภัณฑ์พื้นบ้านวัดชมภูเวก) with the hope to shed light on the Mon culture.

The Interior of the Chompoo Wek Temple Local Musuem.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)

“Thai historical scholars and Sukhothai University advised me to build the museum and display all Mon folk equipment including cooking tools, clothing, and Buddha statues I found in the temple so it would not be lost and people can come to learn about it,” he says. 

He believes those artifacts are messages from the past to young generations to appreciate their origin more.

“A few bricks from religious architectural ruins can tell us much information about the ages of Mon heritage and its strong relation with Buddhism.”

“All artifacts tell who we are and where we are from. I believe this museum can promote a realization of Mon history and pass down these precious memories to the next generation,” he says. 

Visitors checking out the artifcats inside the Chompoo Wek Temple Local Musuem.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)

The first call for his own origin

Restoring the worn-out Chompoo Wek Temple in Central Thailand about 20 years ago was the first calling for Punthong to trace his roots.

“My brother was the abbot of the temple at that time. It was really old and unstable that the monks could not live there. It was not about what I was supposed to do but it was a must, otherwise, it would collapse, ” he says.

Retired from his job as an engineer, he devoted all his time supervising the restoration of the temple. He became more appreciative of the Mon culture and hoped more people would also know more about it.

“Mon is a treasure of our community.”

Sharing some sweet memories of his dating life, Punthong reminds his close bond with Mon culture. 

“I rowed a wherry along the river to meet my wife when we were young. She also loves to cook Kang Matand, a Mon traditional dish, for our family, ” he says with a smile. 

Transportation by a wherry and a connecting livelihood with the river is one of the Mon cultures that is hardly seen in Thailand now.  

Through years of extensive research about Mon history, Punthong has gathered a great amount of evidence that Mon is more than a root of Thai culture but the main force fighting for Thailand in various wars throughout the history of Thailand.

“The scale of the Thai army was really small at the time. Mon people joined the Thai military and helped fight against enemies. Without them, Thailand would not have come this far. It is sad to see these memories of the Mon getting lost in our generation,” he explains. 

Last gift for the youth

The local museum has attracted local schools and tourists from different parts of Thailand to learn about Mon. It also collaborated with the Department of Tourism of Thailand as a tourist attraction spot. 

Opening Ceremony of Chompoo Wek Temple Local Musuem.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)

“I gave tours and narrations of the museum to school students and Thai-Mon communities coming from other regions of Thailand. We gained quite satisfied feedback from the public,” he says.

Verochod Punthong giving a museum tour to the visitors.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)
Verochod Punthong giving museum tours to students from local schools.
(Photo courtesy of Verochod Punthong)

“I think it is important for them to see the value of ourselves and appreciate it more. It brings self-pride to them. But I am too old now,” he continues.

Turning 86 years old this year,  Punthong’s children remind him to take care of his health. He no longer tells the many interesting stories about the Mon and walks around with students now. Without his presence, many of the activities in the museum are now suspended.

“We have more than enough volunteers to help organize the activity but none of them have the insight into Mon history, ” he says.

Worrying about fake information that devalues Mon history and fewer local children are keen on their own culture, the half-Thai-half-Mon has been devoting his time to writing a Mon historical book, which he regards as “the last gift about the Mon for the younger generation”. 

“I believe people will not repeat mistakes and will become better people by learning history. I hope my book will bring pride to Mon people, ” he says.

Edited by Charmaine Choi
Sub-edited by Esme Lam

ChatGPT Cannot Do All the Homework

When most think ChatGPT can help students do homework and cheat in examinations, it does not work for university students in reality.

By Sean Pan

University student Sam Liao Yuseng has tried using ChatGPT for his Maths coursework, but the AI fails to help him work out the correct answer.

“The latest ChatGPT version can code simple instructions and solve basic Maths equations, but it cannot tackle questions that require specific formulas or methods. I don’t think ChatGPT can do my coursework anytime soon because of its limited ability,” Liao says.

The Melbourne University student says his school has restricted students’ use of ChatGPT.

“We are encouraged to play around with the tool but we cannot use it for our coursework. Our faculty has even changed the examination format from online to handwritten to prevent students from cheating by using ChatGPT,” the computer science major says.

He says ChatGPT is a useful tool for software developers.

“ChatGPT can find mistakes in my codes and debug them. The AI can also generate codes based on the functionality I ask for so it saves me a lot of time learning coding language which I am not familiar with,” the Year Two student says.

University student Sam Liao Yuseng has tried to use ChatGPT for his course work. (Photo courtesy of Sam Liao Yuseng)

Developed by Open AI, ChatGPT is an artificial intelligence chatbot that mimics a human tone for a conversation.

ChatGPT can code, write academic papers, create marketing content, and answer all kinds of questions. Its latest versions GPT-3.5 and GPT-4 were released in November 2022 and in March 2023 respectively.

Another university student Terry Chan Songkun has used ChatGPT to do his coursework.

“ChatGPT is good at summarising articles and brainstorming essay ideas. But it cannot solve challenging Maths questions or analyse quantitative data,” the accounting and finance student at the London School of Economics and Political Science says.

“A few of my classmates used ChatGPT to write an entire academic paper. But ChatGPT is banned at our school so they ended up getting suspended. I will not take such a risk,” he adds.

An example of course work that could not be solved by ChatGPT. (Photo courtesy of Terry Chan Songkun)

College freshman Cynthia Hu Xinyu has stopped using ChatGPT after testing it a few times for essay writing because she does not find the tool helpful.

“ChatGPT has a very formulaic writing style so it cannot write with a personal touch like a human writer does,” the global communication major student says.

The student reporter of Varsity Magazine also finds that ChatGPT cannot produce good news stories.

“AI is prone to existing data biases so its work can hardly be neutral. But good human journalists can identify those biases and try to stay objective,” the student at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) says.

“Good news writing requires decent storytelling skills. But ChatGPT currently has very robotic and dull writing so it cannot craft stories in a compelling way. That is why I never use ChatGPT when writing news stories,” she adds. 

“AI is prone to existing data biases so its work can hardly be neutral.”

Professor Fang Kecheng of the School of Journalism and Communication at CUHK encourages his students to use ChatGPT as a tool to improve the quality of their course work, but not to do papers from scratch.

Professor Fang Kecheng from the Chinese University of Hong Kong says AI lacks the ability to create original work. (Photo courtesy of Fang Kecheng)

“ChatGPT cannot do literature writing, write research papers or news articles. It can be used for proofreading or polishing articles. It does not have the ability to create original work or express opinions that stand in articles,” he says.

“Subjects like computer science aim to create codes with higher efficiency and less wastage. ChatGPT can’t do that,” Fang adds.

Edited by Karmen Yip
Sub-edited by Victoria Fong