Conquering Ebay

Ebay Observation #1

A very high percentage of all luxury handbags and accessaries listed on Ebay is fake. Think about this, how do people get their hands on the most current season's Balenciaga handbag, especially when there is always a waiting list of a few years.

I have searched for years for a genuine supply of luxury handbags sold at a discount. Only a few suppliers were found.

The first one is Bag Borrow Steal, which was featured on the Oprah website. You can rent the luxury brands such as Andrea Brueckner, Kooba, Hermes, Balenciaga, Gucci, Fendi, Chanel, etc. You can also join their email distribution list and purchase used rental handbags. Believe, the prices are still steep. The other web site is no longer available. But, I did know of this lady in New York who bought shelf-pulls and last season's designer accessaries. Then, she sells them to you in bulk. I suppose she discontinued the website because she really doesn't need it. She has enough clientales in New York.

The other day, I saw tons of Thomas Wylde grey skull handbag for bids on Ebay. The sellers all claim they are real, but that's unlikely considering that the Thomas Wylde handbag is elusive to the general public.

Also, I found some direct agents of Francis Tse the other day. After some email communications, they sent me their distribution list of luxury designer handbags and the price list. For those of you who don't know Francis Tse, the manufacturer has the most sought after mirror image designer handbags and accessaries. The rumor is that the mirror image product is indistinguishable from the real thing. I also see a lot of Francis Tse products on Ebay. It's truly buyer be aware. Use your common sense and spend a bit more money to buy the real thing instead of taking your chances on Ebay.

Ebay Observation #2

From a seller's point of view, and I have sold on Ebay numerous times, it is essential to find a wholesale supplier in China. Everything is manufactured in China for a cheaper price, and I mean everything. When the Play Station 3 frenzie took the pre-Christmas sale by storm, Chinese suppliers already made fake PS3s. They look exactly like the real thing, but of a poorer quality. I have also seen fake PS3s on Ebay being sold just like Sony's real Play Station.

My mother will be leaving for China next Tuesday to have dinner with some local politicians in what used to be the capital of Manchuria. I asked her to also take a tour of some local factories to see what I can possibly import to North American. Ideally, I am looking for dropshipping opportunities, meaning I never receive the inventory, but the factories ship it to my customers on their end. There are websites that list Chinese manufacturers, but I can't just communicate with them through emails. I will either make the deal face-to-face or do business with factory owners my family knows.

One Sour Note

A Christmas party is not an open invitation to consume copious amounts of alcohol and pass out. Well, I did not get that memo, did you?

Passing out and vomitting in the car did not shock me. What shocked me was the crying! I mean, I was really really crying.

A reliable source, my fiance, told me apparently I was crying uncontrollably for about one hour.

The alcohol was not the culprit, just the catalyst. The culprit was the Malaysian singer Guang Liang's "Fairy Tale" song. This song is precisely the reason why I avoid listening to Mandarin music. The MTV video is depressing, typical of Chinese music and movies. After the first brilliantly composed piano chord, I was a mess. In the haze of drunkeness, I decided to put the song on repeat.

This is the part that draws out the waterworks:

"You said to me with full of tears, inside the fairytale are all lies".

Please do psychoanalyze me. I am an emotion suppressor. It takes a bit of alcohol and one sour note, and years of suppression comes out all at once. It happens once every few years, but once I have had a good cry, I move on by supressing some more. I am unable to express any real emotions without alcohol. This is simply not healthy.

For the record, my take on love fairytales is that they are all lies. It's a combination of two idealists, unattainable romance, overcoming obstacles, and happily ever after. Except, what exactly is happily after anyhow?.

Homeless Vancouver Website

Instead of giving presents this year, I will be sponsoring the homeless on my family and friends' behalf.

The Vancouver Homeless website has profiles of the homeless along with their Christmas list. Most of the items are everyday necessities like blankets, shoes, and cooking utencils.

Helping is easy. Just print out the form, fill it out and send it along with the items listed.

I am officially banning Christmas. I can't stand the consumerism any more, so no one will be getting presents this year. There will be no Christmas decorations, no tree, and no Christmas dinner. I don't understand why we need Christmas to feel giving and kind. We can all do this throughout the year.

Reflections on the International Baccalaureate Program

Awhile back, I wrote an article titled "Unexpected", where I explained the reasons why I refused to be a panel member at the International Baccalaureate recruitment session.

I feel I have been extremely unfair in only bring up the negative side of this program for gifted children. Perhaps, a full reflection on the International Baccalaureate program would have helped more people in their decisions.

For those of you who are not familiar with the program, it is a meticulously developed curriculum for gifted children and teenagers. Often, it is the side-branch of a typical high school. This means, you are fully intergrated into the high school environment; however, you do not take high school curriculum, but do have the option of socializing with regular kids. The classes are similar to advanced placement classes, except you are asked to be well-rounded. The goal of the International Baccalaureate program is to produce "perfect" beings, self-aware, articulate, knowledgeable in multiple areas, multilingual, and adventurous.

For starters, instead of the regular high school orientation, the IB kids went camping with the school councilors. It was a 3 day workshop over the weekend, where the students kayaked, dived, and swam. It wasn't all fun, as we were expected to complete assignments during the workshop. As you can see, we all bonded right from the beginning.

In French classes, instead of learning French the traditional way, we went to French restaurants with the teacher and were sent to Trois-Rivere in Quebec to stay with homestay families. For homework assignments, we composed and wrote lyrics for French songs. Johnny, my partner at the time, and I went to a Karaoke bar to sing and record our homework. Now, you don't get to do that everyday.

Theory of Knowledge classes were the most amusing. We talked about everything and anything that don't have answers. It made us realize that the universe is pretty grey.

In English classes, we read university level novels and wrote critiques. After each novel, the test was not in written format, but oral. We were expected to quote lines without referencing the book, and this by far was the most challenging task. The idea was if we were truly familiar with the books, we would be able to quote it. Often, these oral exams were one hour long, so you better have plenty to say in front of the whole class. The final exam for the class was actually a 3 hour long oral exam on all the novels examined during the year. That experience was absolutely frightening. Imagine being in a tiny room, with nothing but a desk and a microphone. Your teacher is the only other person in the room, and he is drilling information out of you that you didn't think you possessed. It is all recorded.

I actually enjoyed my time in the International Baccalaureate Program. Some life-long friendships were formed, and I was truly prepared for 3rd or 4th year university straight out of high school. The biggest advantage, however, is that I am forever identified by the program. It links me with others who are just like me. Basically, you are in the club for life...

After all these fond memories, why did I refuse to be on the recruitment panel?

Good memories are not enough to make up for what the program lacked. In reality, we were all pretty troubled kids facing enormous pressure at home, and there was no real help for us. It was the Pascal Contest, then the International Biology Olympiad, then the IB Profound Pursuit, then the SATs, then the Ivy League applications, then the scholarship applications, etc, etc. It never ended. My calculus teacher was sympathetic and offered kind words, but others didn't care. I ran away from home twice before permanently leaving. My friend Anthony didn't even bother to have a "trial-run", he just left. Kay moved out when she turned 16 and never returned home. Ironically, the three of us ended up working for the same company a few years later.

I don't blame the program entirely. If I accepted the position on the panel, I would have said to the parents....

The IB program will always be a part of me. It is only through extraordinary hardship that people build self-confidence, and IB was mighty hard! But, I think hardships can be experienced in other ways, and it is not only limited to a school for "genius" children. The hardest episode of my life was being on my own for the first time, sleeping in rat infested rooms with broken windows. At night, the rats came out and chewed on my toothpaste, and they built highways around my futon on the floor. Often, I heard my roommate screaming next door after shooting heroine with the money he stole from my room.

The only comfort was from Jamie who kept me sane by talking to me on the phone until early morning. He wired me money without me asking, and he justified it by saying that the universe owed it to me for my struggles. Even my mother was quite impressed with that line.

So, send your children to the program, or don't send them. Just ease off a little bit....let them build their own dreams of greatness rather than living out your own.

Exercising Extreme Patience

I have issues with my mother.

Most days, I think of my mother as a cartoon character, somewhat cute, spits out witty yet venemous one-liners, memorable while I am watching, but easy to forget until the next episode.

The next episode will take place in the Dominican Republic. It will be the climatic episode of the season because I have not really seen my mother in 8 months, by choice of course on both of our parts. The phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder" does not apply to our relationship.

In fact, I am positive she has taken this time to compile a list of things to "discuss" with me. My mother is highly predictable, so after some thinking, I have concluded that the list will look like this:

Why will this be the climatic episode of the season? For one, my fiance and father will also be there. This means my entire immediate family, and it's a dangerous mixture. I am already trembling with fear. Usually, I can take on my mother alone, but now I have extra variables.

My father, for one, will be on her side. My fiance will face the firing squad for the first few days, but his lack of experience in combating my mother will surely bring his demise. This means, I will be on my own facing two sets of canons.

I need a game plan.

You must understand, I was foolish. In my moment of weakness, mother whispered sweet words in my ears, appealed to my fragile heart, and somehow convinced me to co-purchase a 600 acre farm in the Dominican Republic. She must have sharpened her manipulation skills. If I weren't so weak, I would have seen through her evil plan.

She doesn't need me to buy a farm?! It is nothing but a total ploy to keep me around! Well played mom, well played.....

Yes, I am impressed by her skills. It has taken time, but I am now accustomed to the idea of having a financial stake in this venture. It's okay right? They will retire there, I will be here, and at most I only need to see her once a year, right? Then it happened again....

That.....little......%$&#$......evil.....woman.....went and bought 4 return tickets to the Dominican Republic behind my back!

This is how the conversation went:

Ring.....Ring.....Ring......

Me - "Hello?"

Mom - "Why did you say no to John Hopkins University? What's the point of applying if you were going to say no! I mean, you are 27, and they won't offer this again! Nevermind...... how do you spell what's-his-name's last name?"

Me - "Umm......Hi Mom, how are you?"

Mom - "How do you spell what's-his-name's last name?"

Me - "Whose name? You mean.....my fiance?"

Mom - " Yeah, whatever.....just tell me how you spell his last name."

Me - " O...........K.........it's L.....A.....B.....O......N...., why?"

Mom - " I have to let my travel agent know so she can print the tickets! "

Me - "What tickets? Are you going somehwere? And why do you want my fiance's last name?"

Mom - "We need to go to the Dominican Republic to sign the papers. We all need to be there...."

Me - "Ummm......okay........ummm......don't they fax that to us?"

Mom - "Whatever, I don't trust faxes, so we are going. The tickets are booked, the hotel is booked, and what's his name is coming too. "

Me - "You mean my fiance?"

Mom - "Yeah, him. So, one of my friends' son, you know the one that went to Stanford? He is back in town, and apparently, he has started a very successful business. So, anyhow, you haven't seen him in awhile, and you know he still remembers you, and wants to go for dinner sometime. Why don't you go?"

Me - "You know I am engaged right? And, I bet you had something to do with this. It's not like you just "ran" into him? Isn't he the one that was divorced? Why is that okay all of a sudden. Wait, what is this about all four of us going on a holiday? You never asked me."

Mom - "He is not divorced, who told you that??!?"

Me - "You did!! (I am fuming by this point) Remember, you said that when you were trying to set me up with the other one???"

Mom - "Oh, no such thing. He is perfectly fine!!!"

Me - "Whatever mom......back to what I asked, why didn't you tell me we are all going together?"

Mom - "That doesn't matter. We are all going, it will be fun!! I have some things to talk to you about anyhow (see list above) , so it will be fun!! What's his name will have a good time too."

Me - "But, I don't even know if I can get the time off work...and..."

Mom - "I am your mother you know. You left home young, and that was so devastating for me. Remember I told you I cried in front of the cats for 3 months straight . I was so worried about you and what you were doing. No child should put their mother through that....(By now, I can hear sobbing)"

Me - "Mom, that was like 12 years ago. Aren't you over it?"

Mom - "No, I am not! (The sobbing instantly went away) And you are coming. I already bought the tickets. I even bought a ticket for what's his name just in case you won't come. So, you are coming! What I mean is.....well.....it will be fun!! Okay, I gotta go, your dad is calling me (nobody was calling her). You are coming, okay? Bye!"

Click.......

See! See! She is pure pure evil. She is always one step ahead of me, and she is relentless.

I love you mom, but you are an evil.....evil....evil....person.

Chaos and Peace

1. "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -- Mark Twain
   
   What can I say? I am in love......
   
   It was 3 am, the palm trees were swaying to the wind storm, and lightning filled the sky in the distance. Yet, lying on the boat dock wrapped in a thin bed sheet, all I could see was billions of stars above, the arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, and the mesmerizing flashes of blue from the glow worms in the lagoon below.
   
   I have sailed 3 hours on a catamaran to the middle of no where. All that surrounds me is the chaos in the distance and the peace that is in my soul.
   
   Then I realize, this is where I want to be.
   
   Love is nothing but an amalgamation of the feeling of chaos and peace. Belize provided both ends of the spectrum.
   
   The Chaos
   
   Guards with AK 47s (Kalashnikova) were everywhere, guarding resorts, compounds, and highways. Recent robberies of tourists prompted more security measures all over the country. Guatemalan from the border are getting smarter and more bold; they are often in bands, and target tourists regardless of whether they travel in groups or individually.
   
   While traveling on a chicken bus from Belize City to Hopkins Village, passengers were passing around wanted posters of 5 Guantamalan bandits. The reward was hefty by Belizean standards, and the fund was put together by resorts desperate to win back the terrified tourists.
   
   With all this going on, I wasn't about to give up on trying something unorthodox. Hitchhiking...
   Now, I am pretty sure it's not recommended, but since there were no deterrent signs, we did it anyhow. As you can see, there were no cars in sight, and 2 hours later, we were still sitting on our backpacks on the side of the road.
   
   Finally, a Belizean man picked us up in his tractor. This thing was going maybe 20 miles an hour at its peak efficiency, but considering how dehydrated we were, it was good enough to get us somewhere with water.
   
   He offered us his lunch: plump oranges from his orchid. I must have died and gone to heaven.
   
   It was during a conversation with him that I heard about the gross inequities in pay and treatment in Belize. On average, he makes $75.00 a month working as a guide for a resort. This is good pay, as he is capable of supporting his family and save a little to build his home. The resort he works for averages $500,000 net a year. I asked him why he does not start his own business. He replied by saying that he does not understand marketing and how to get customers to come.
   
   This hit a nerve. I was in Belize to look at the possibility of building a non-profit educational camp for the local children. I want to incorporate computer training, adventure tourism training, business training and medical training so that children in Belize can be equipped with the same skills that North American children take for granted. The funding would come from donations from local Canadian businesses and foreign owned Belize businesses. If this man had received internet training, especially in search engine optimization, he would be able to market his business to the rest of the world.
   
   Maybe this may not be such a bad idea!
   
   Everywhere I have been, it is the same story. Whether it is tracking gorillas in Rwanda, snorkeling in Mozambique, or riding elephants in Sri Lanka, most of these business are foreign owned. Fear of the unknown can be crippling, and the typical xenophobic tourist wants a safe 4 star hotel with a bit of culture thrown in. Most locals, if given the opportunity and knowledge, can create something that is more genuine. Pick any third world country with unbelievable natural beauty or market advantages, you will find foreign owned businesses.
   
   Growing up in North America, I have realized that we are educated to smother third world countries: build a hotel in Belize, employ the locals, but don't give them any means of creating their own economy. Start a factory in China, pay taxes to the government, employ the local farmers, but don't provide them with an education. The problem is two fold. On one hand, most of us believe that foreign businesses provide much needed jobs to the locals. Albeit grueling work hours and conditions, the pay is better than farming or fishing. In parts of the world where medicare and social security is non-existent, people take any job they can find because there is no safety net. On the other hand, most locals actually think they are better off.
   
   This is where I feel conflicted. How do I tell them that they can live better lives? And that their way of life is just not good enough?
   
   The Peace
   

Sherri, the Belizean maid who works at Tipple Tree Beya, invited me to her 300 square feet home she rents in Hopkins village. She offered me water, some traditional Garifuna food made with freshly caught barracuda, plantain and coconut milk. Afterwards, we took a quick bicycle ride to the home she is building in the jungle. It has taken her 3 years to build the shell, no windows, no stairs, no electrical wiring or plumbing.

She is quite happy with the progress!

In fact, she is happy period.

It doesn't matter where I go, people in other parts of the world are generally happier. I have yet met a Belizean who knows what Prozac is, or an anorexic in Istanbul.

Growing up in Asia, I remember taking leisurely strolls after dinner, weekly family gatherings, eating the cucumbers and tomatoes right off the vine on our farm, or curiously watching my grandfather slaughter a goat for the neighbours. In North America, most people are just a mess. There is no emphasis on deriving happiness from the family unit. Most of our happiness comes from external sources. Last year, I was quite happy with my tax return.

In Belize, I was happy for the simplest reasons: a good fish meal, chatting with the villagers at The Watering Hole, listening to Reggae music on the beach, waking up to roosters, quivering to the thunderstorm that shook the house, smelling the scent of mango everywhere, sailing on the catamaran that brought me to that 9 acre atoll, where I aired out my soul in the sun and everything just fell into place.

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UPDATE on other postings: My Mother has Manipulated me AGAIN!