We head to Sheung Wan in Western for snake soup. A giant escalator, labeled “travelator,” takes us uphill away from Victoria Harbor. The travelator divides Western and Central cutting through the trendy SoHo district (stands for South of Hollywood Road).
Still close to the bottom of the travelator, locals direct us to a nearby restaurant selling snake soup. I have trouble differentiating the snake from the chicken in the soup. The waitress says the snake is the darker meat.
We wander the local street markets and stop at a Lin Heung Tea House for “yum cha” (飲 茶), another way to say “having dim sum” that literally translates to “drink tea.”
I find a $2 coin at the top of the steps.
We crowd into the table area and search for two empty seats. Clattering of dishes fills the room, and old women push metal carts around the room stacked with bamboo baskets, which hide steamed dumplings and other dishes.
A man beckons. He is about to leave the table, offers Joyce the empty seat beside him. We sit, and a waitress takes our tea order.
Nowadays, Joyce tells me Hong Kong tea houses aren’t so boisterous. Usually, tea house patrons would mark their orders on a paper form and give it to the server. The process saves money for tea house owners due to fewer employees. Lin Heung Tea House exhibits the more traditional, and chaotic, method of cart-pushing women.
We share the table with two men, apparently strangers. Both are very kind. One helps search for har gau (the shrimp dumplings I ate at yum cha with Joyce’s family). I have trouble pouring tea from the large porcelain cups without spilling. The man on my left shows me how to do it.
The tea and four or five dishes cost $70 HKD only $5 HKD more than the one bowl of snake soup, which we had shared.
Back on the street, we continue walking to Sheung Wan and the local wet market. We pass Hillier street and notice a dark cage. A creature writhes within. Snake. We stop to inspect. The shopkeeper smiles. He goes to the back wall and takes out an enormous cobra from a wooden drawer. The snake hisses and tries to strike. He holds it strong. He offers it to me. Joyce asks if I want to hold the cobra. I grasp the cold body. It hisses. Very cool.
Afterwards, we visit the nearby Man Mo Temple (文 武 廟), which was built in the 1840s. The temple honors the god of literature, Man Tai (文 帝) and the god of war, Mo Tai (武 帝). Coils of incense hang from the rafters, drop ash on our shoulders. You can buy incense for a blessing, or there is a free pile at the front of the temple. I light three sticks and place them in a central vase. Joyce tells me to say something. I say, “Thank you.”
I want to donate the $2 HK that I found earlier in the morning. “Good,” Joyce says, “If you find money, or fortune, you'll lose it if you don’t spend it.” None of the items sold in exchange for donation cost $2. I drop the coin in a collection box as we leave.
We peruse art galleries in SoHo and return to the travelator. We stop for drinks at 7-11. Joyce buys a yogurt drink. I spend about $1 USD on a big bottle of San Miguel beer (brewed in Hong Kong). We reach the top of the moving walkway, visit the free zoo, then enter the Central district to pass by St. John’s Cathedral, expensive shops on Queen's Road, and hip club area in Lan Kwai Fong.
The bus takes us home. We eat a pile of durian and jackfruit. I swallow one piece and gag a bit. I can’t continue with the durian. I eat the rest of the jackfruit and Joyce finishes the durian. She begins her bitter tea prescription. I finish my second dose.
I kiss Joyce goodnight. Even after her bitter tea full of crushed bugs and strange herbs, she stinks of durian.
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