CERS Mandalay House

By Wong How Man Mandalay
Along a tributary of the Irrawaddy

Almost seven years ago, CERS launched the HM Explorer, a 106- foot explorer vessel with seven air-conditioned guest cabins. This purpose-built boat allowed CERS to explore waterways of Myanmar, in particular the upper Irrawaddy and its main tributary the Chindwin River. To date, many river trips have been conducted each year, including several cruises involving students and guests.

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CERS ARTIST RESIDENCY AND AGENCY

By Wong How ManHong Kong

A new model in supporting and representing artists

“I appreciate art, but I do not appreciate artists,” I said bluntly to the impassive face of Zwe. He looked back at me blandly as if I was talking to a wall. I double-majored in Journalism and Art in college, and know well how artists are, or pretend to be. For me and most of us, we have the left brain to supplement the right. The better the artist, the more right-brain leaning he or she is, and the harder to manage her or him, if even at all possible. I elaborated on decades of knowing artists with right brain in surplus, and left brain in deficit. In the early 1980s, through the University of Southern California where I worked, I even brought two Chinese artists to the US, resulting in their success and ultimate immigration into the country. Zwe and a woman artist Phyu have been taking up my former residence on the hill here in Zhongdian. The wooden building is a three-story villa looking down on pine forest and fish ponds, the scene descending beyond to an ensemble of buildings, pavilions and kiosks, including a writer/composer residence, a multi-function main premises and a museum. Altogether eleven buildings make up the CERS Zhongdian Center on the outskirt of what today is known as Shangri-la. I have moved down to a small one-room abode which still provides enough sanctuary, but spares me from the ups and downs on the hill several times a day just for meals or meeting visitors.

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The black pearl of Bhutan – first contact with the Monpa people

By Astor Wong Hong Kong

The first thing that came into view after the plane soared
through layers of thick cloud was the snowcapped
mountains. Traces of snow sprawled from the top of the
hills to the foothills, eventually melting into rivers - the
arteries and veins of the country running through and
nourishing the land. Welcomed by a gust of cold wind after a few hours’
flight, I wrapped myself in a thick scarf to keep warm. It was early
December, the prologue to a few months of bleak cold winter in Bhutan.

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