Gwai Tzai in Hong Kong

Hiatus

2008-05-31T04:22:00.000-07:00

June 1: Gone to China...

Prep for China Backpacking Trip

2008-05-30T23:14:00.000-07:00

May 31: We leave tommorow for the Mainland.

The June itinerary:

Enter Shenzen by train, fly to Xi’an, fly to Chongqing, boat to Yichang, bus to Wuhan, fly to Nanjing, train to Suzhou, bus to Tongli, bus to Shanghai, train to Hangzhou, bus to Huangshan area, train to Shantou, bus to Guangzhou, train back to Hong Kong.

There might be a large influx of evacuees leaving earthquake affected areas as we begin our trip. Dams have formed enormous lakes in Sichuan Province, and the government is ordering areas evacuated . Xi’an and Chongqing are big cities with relatively easy access from the devastated areas. I’m not sure, but we might witness some of this.

Joyce recently finished an internship with CNN.com International, and we are planning to work on a travel blog during this backpacking trip. I’ll post the link in the comments below if and when it turns out.

Here are the rest of my plans leading up to September:

I’ll be in Hong Kong July 1-4, then I fly to Bangkok from Macau.

I have a Thailand “Lonely Planet,” but I haven’t started planning. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for the trip. I’ll be in Thailand until Aug. 1 when I fly to Beijing.

After a month in Beijing, on Aug 30. I return to Hong Kong, where I will depart for San Francisco on Sept. 2.

I don’t have a flight or bus booked to Omaha, but if anyone is heading that way, do you mind if I bum a ride?

Hong Kong Travel Insurance Bargain???

2008-05-30T09:56:00.000-07:00

May 30: Big savings on travel insurance if you depart from Hong Kong (maybe). Joyce and I both purchased a year's membership to Hostelling International for $100 apiece at the Hong Kong office in Shek Kip Mei. The membership gets us discounts on Lonely Planet guides and a %20 discount on Blue Cross (Asia Pacific) travel insurance plans (only available when you purchase in person from the Blue Cross office in Millennium City in Kwun Tong, Kowloon.

The “Super Diamond Worldwide and China” insurance costs $1,840HK normally for 95 days of coverage. With our IYHA membership, we pay $1,477HK apiece (it’s still expensive, but compared to alternative travel insurance, it’s the cheapest by far – that we could find - less than $200US for 95 days).

If we weren’t concerned about insuring our digital cameras, Blue Cross offers a less exclusive plan (about half price) that only covers $5,000HK instead of $20,000. After we bought the plan, I continued reading the small print in our paperwork. Any single item or set is redeemable for only $3,000 HK in the case of theft or accident.
Buyer’s remorse begins with this clarification.

What are your thoughts on travel insurance? Is there a better bargain for traveling in Asia?

After securing our insurance, we visit Joyce’s grandmother to watch Cantonese Soap Operas and eat lunch at a nearby diner. She shares her congee with me and Joyce, and I try coffee with lemon (very acidic).

Kung Fu Surrounds Historic Star Ferry

2008-05-29T10:13:00.000-07:00

May 29: Star Ferry offers ideal transport across Victoria Harbor for both locals and tourists – providing transport between southern Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon and Central District on Hong Kong Island. However, if you don’t have time to spare, or don’t want to sightsee, take the MTR.

The ferry has a special connection to Hong Kong history, and was the primary means Hong Kong’s cross-harbor commute from its beginnings in the early 1900s until 1972 when the first underwater tunnel spanned Victoria Harbor.

Tonight is clear, and one of my most memorable trips on the Star Ferry, which I often ride (because I have time to spare).

After arriving at the ferry pier, an elevated walkway takes us into Central, past the ongoing reclamation process. An enormous ship swings earth into piles. Land forms over Victoria Harbor in front of our eyes.

As I wonder at modern engineering at work, a black t-shirted man walks past. He mutters into a microphone. A fedora, pulled low, casts shade over his eyes.

His perfect English grumbles from a handheld speaker, crackling with static: “Kung fu is everywhere. It’s not behind you, it’s not in the bushes, Kung fu is everywhere.”

Losing Money at Happy Valley Racecourse

2008-05-29T10:12:00.000-07:00

June 28: I visit Happy Valley Racecourse for the Wednesday night race with Joyce and her mother.

Early in my trip, a fortuneteller advised that I don’t gamble. I will lose, he said.

I didn’t gamble at all when I visited Macau,. I usually never gamble. Even so, I thought I’d try my luck in the last race of the night.

I had already dropped $120HK on a pitcher of Stella Artois (still cheap by American sporting event standards). Wouldn’t it be nice to win it all back with a profit? Of course.

Mrs. Choi goes to help me place my bet, and she makes a wager of her own.

We wait around for the race to begin. The horses run past. They speed down the grass out of view. My heart beats fast. The crowd screams. I'm not wearing glasses, can't see the results.

We return to the bet counter. Of course, the fortuneteller was right. My $90HK disappears into the Jockey Club coffers.

Mrs. Choi, however, is smiling. She wins about $150HK.

Here’s a link to one of the three videos
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/3a8d8761061/video.html

North to South: Tap Mun Island, Jumbo Floating Restaurant

2008-05-27T23:41:00.001-07:00

May 27: I visit far-removed Tap Mun Island (塔門, or Grass Island).

The “Public Transport Atlas” proves invaluable or navigating Hong Kong’s massive (although straightforward) system of public transport from Ap Lei Chau to northeast New Territories.

After bus 592 to Causeway Bay, I take the MTR to Diamond Hill (after two line interchanges), bus 90 to Sai Kung, bus 92 to Wong Shek, ferry to Tap Mun. The trip takes close to two hours, but the bus departures seem to be synchronized, which saves a potentially long wait in between. I wander Tap Mun, a small island known for its camp grounds, wandering cows and seafood. The trail around the island’s perimeter takes about an hour and a half, very leisurely.

The sprawling Sai Kung East and Sai Kung Wset Country Park preserve the natural integrity of vast swatches of mountainous and oceanfront land (with plenty of well-maintained trails). I save these trips for a future day. I’m hungry, and don’t feel like eating alone. The long return trip back south takes me to Joyce and her mother for dinner at a Hong Kong culinary legend, the Jumbo Floating Restaurant, moored in the middle of Aberdeen Harbor. A slew of small private junks and sampans offer onboard meals along the main stretch of Aberdeen’s waterfront. These places would undoubtedly offer a lower price, and completely different experience, than Jumbo (albeit, better suited to my sweaty white t-shirt and baseball cap).

Captains of different walla-wallas tout transport to Jumbo. WARNING. Don’t be fooled. Jumbo offers free ferry service. Look for the flashing Christmas lights and the enormous “Jumbo” sign.

Jumbo is notorious for its pricey fare. Joyce and her mother pour over the menus and order a dinner set of their own design – not on the menu – pasta in cheese sauce with lobster, Peking duck (my first time eating the dish), and to make full use of the duck, lettuce wraps of minced duck, soup boiled from the bones, and a plate piled with the leftover parts. The quantity of food is overwhelming. So is the quality. And, unfortunately, so is the bill – around $1,500HK (including cucumber/tofu appetizers and tea) – but most of the cost came from the lobster pasta at around $850.

Mrs. Choi treats us. She’s been winning in mahjong, says it’s a reason to splurge.

Thank you!

In Cantonese, “mm-goi (唔該)” means “thank you (for a favor),” as well as “please,” and “excuse me.” When someone gives you a gift, like buying dinner, bigger thanks are needed. Use “Do je (多謝)” in this instance (“many thanks”).

I can’t say “do je” enough – for both this meal and my stay in the Choi family’s home.

多謝, 多謝, 多謝, 多謝, 多謝!

Here’s a link to the video that Joyce’s mother took at Jumbo:
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/d02e8760449/video.html

Before leaving Jumbo, we pose for photos on the throne in the center of the enormous third-floor dining room.

My camera lens fogs over when we leave the air-con. It creates an interesting effect.

Four Random Anecdotes

2008-05-27T23:40:00.001-07:00

May 26:

Anecdote 1: The metro is crowded. I sit on the bench between two people. The woman on my left exits. An old Chinese man sits beside me. I try not to take up too much room, I realize that my shoulders are wider than the average MTR passenger, my legs are longer than the average Hong Konger. The old man, short and fat, spreads his legs. After a few minutes of rubbing against me, he asks in perfect English, “Do you mind moving your legs closer together? I want more room.”

Anecdote 2: On a bus, a boy plays with a package of Trident chewing gum. He wears a blue and white elementary school uniform. Tired of the game, he reaches into his mouth. The chewing gum becomes silly putty in dirty fingers. The bus hits a bump in the road. The gum falls onto the bus floor. The boy picks it up, examines the speckled crumbs, brushes them off, pops it back into his mouth. I laugh, and the mother wakes from her daze. She appears to scold the boy without conviction. The boy continues to chew his gum. I laugh. People give me dirty looks.

Anecdote 3: Men and women fish from the South Horizons oceanfront. I sit for a few hours around sunset. I see one man catch a three-incher. He puts the fish in his cooler and leaves.

Anecdote 4: Nighttime pedestrians walk and run along South Horizon’s oceanfront path. An elderly man speaks in an American accent to a young Chinese woman. He’s balding and wrinkled. She has a luxurious black mane and tight pants. “Baby, I wanted to talk to you about…”

Visit Maternal Ancestral Home, Victoria Peak Tram

2008-05-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

Meet with Joyce’s mother’s family at a shopping mall-based teahouse near their ancestral home in Hang Tau, Sheung Shui in New Territories.

Everyone is impressed that I can hold chopsticks. They practically clap when I pick up a dumpling from the communal bamboo containers piled with dim sum at the table’s center. No one seems to notice that my chopstick prowess ends with piling my plate. Transport of food vertically to my mouth is more difficult.

Showing appreciation for your hosts’ culture goes a long way. When I take a picture of the family, I count down from “three” in Cantonese, “yut yee sam.” The table seems very surprised and happy. “When did you teach him Cantonese,” Joyce translates an uncle’s question. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh – she knows how much Cantonese “I know” (or don’t know, rather).

The tea drinking tradition of dim sum provides insight into the group/family-oriented traditional Chinese culture. Food sits at the center of the table, people spin the center dolly so others can reach, they rinse off each other’s chopsticks and bowls in tea, they pour cups of tea for one another (To show respect and thanks when someone pours your tea, bend your index and middle fingers into an arch, as if they were bowing, and tap them on the table gently. Or, you can simply say, “thank you, or, mm goi (唔該).”).

An aunt offers tissue to everyone at the table before we eat. Afterwards, an uncle offers toothpicks to everyone. The actions further represent Hong Kong’s modern communal eating/drinking culture.

We go to Hang Tau village by minibus. New three-floor Spanish villas surround .We walk the street. A shiny black Mazda Miata passes, and a group of old homes materializes. Aunts and uncles still live in them. Her grandmother’s brother occupies the home where he and Joyce’s grandmother were born.

Joyce’s Grandmother is the eldest sibling. Here she is with her younger brother and sister in front of their childhood home.

We tour the village. Drumming sounds fill the air. We come upon some of Joyce’s distant cousins practicing their lion dance for the Guan Yin festival – an event of special importance to the local people living around the area.

Here’s a link to video that Joyce’s mother took:
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/b3022758375/video.html

They welcomed us into the paved back yard to watch. During a break, they even let Joyce and I pose for photos with the lion costume. The dancers invite us to return and learn the moves.

We visit what’s left of the family’s farm land, and retire to an aunt’s house.

The family catches up with one another. Joyce hasn’t been back to her mother’s ancestral home for more than 10 years. Joyce translates bits and pieces of the conversation. Talk turns to Guan Yin and the household altar beside the dining room table.

The great-uncle says he knows she’s real, Joyce translates. Once, after he had left his home (the one where Joyce’s grandmother was born) for an extended vacation, a thought appeared in his head. He should go back to the house. So, he did. He found the fire had been left on. If he hadn’t turned back, surely, the home would have been consumed in flame.

On our way home, in Kowloon City, we say “hi” to aunt Daisy, then head to a block of Thai and Vietnamese restaurants nearby. The pineapple fried rice with shrimp is new for me, and the tom yum koong soup is super hot.

The night has cleared as we part company – a perfect opportunity to view Hong Kong from Victoria Peak. We take one of the street trams to Admiralty, where we board the Peak Tram to the mountaintop. Clouds creep in slowly, but the view is still spectacular. lights for Bank of China and IFC Two turn off around 11:15 p.m. We take the last tram down at midnight.

Foot Massage

2008-05-27T20:41:00.000-07:00

May 24: A man caresses my feet with oily hands. This is my first time paying a man to touch me. In the couch next to me, Joyce drink complimentary herbal tea while a woman kneads her calves

Hong Kong is famous for massage parlors, and not all of them are brothels.

We visit one in Aberdeen for a more economical massage (compared to the wrinkled touts milling around TST) Even so, with weekend prices at $148HK per 45-minute session, it’s not so cheap. If you want cheap, go to remote towns in New Territories or enter the Mainland.

The man smiles sheepishly. He rubs the arch of my left foot.

“This is a meridian,” he says. “In traditional Chinese reflexology, there are six meridians. This is the meridian for stomach. If you have problem with digestion, it will hurt. Do you feel pain?

“It’s kinda sore.”

In Cantonese, he asks Joyce about my bowel movements. “Mo mun tai.” No problems.

“I climbed a mountain yesterday.”

“Oh. Maybe just sore feet.”

Near the entrance, a giant foot explains reflexology points in the human foot.

From Suburban Valleys, Tourists Take to the Hills: Hong Kong’s Highest Mountain – Tai Mo Shan

2008-05-27T17:25:00.000-07:00

May 23: Mountains ring the horizon. Homes crowd the valley. Urban sprawl creeps across New Territories in the form of cheap 3-floor, Spanish-style villas. Vegetation (trees and grass) line roadways, but an absence of personal lawns differentiates the area from American-Dream-style suburbia.

Kam Tin Kat Hing Wai Walled Village is a relatively short walk from the Kam Sheung MTR station. We pass beat-up trucks and junk piled behind fences. Constructions workers dig pipelines in the street. Old women shuffle their feet. The local lifestyle seems more relaxed than in the city.

A swampy, thin moat separates the walled village from the rest of the suburbanites in New Territories. A solid stone wall protrudes from a different millennia. In the 1100s, a century after the Tang clan first moved to New Territories, a villager married a Sung princess.

Kam Tin walled village is one of New Territories’ best preserved. The walls surrounding the city date back to 1650, with significant repairs completed in 1725. According to a historical market nearby, around 50 walled villages remain in New Territories; only 12 still have their walled entrances.

Four Hakka women notice our approach. They shuffle outside and line up for a photo, Each dons the signature wide black-rimmed Hakka hat. “Photo. Photo,” they chant. I take three photos. “$10 dollar, $10 dollar,” goes the chorus. The lead woman continues, “Four photos, Four photos,” and she waves four fat fingers in my face. Joyce gives the women $20. The woman continues after me. “Four photos! Four photos!!!! $10 each!!!” We prepare to enter, and another woman points at a sign, “For charity purpose visitors entering the village are requested to contribute HK $3.00 to the ‘Kam Tim contribute box.’” Joyce hands the woman $6HK in coins, and she seems to urge the other, still chanting woman, to quiet.

Inside, we pass a room full of mahjong playing women. Joyce laments, “We should have put the money in the box instead of giving it to them.” Most likely, it will end up on the mahjong table instead of the village’s much needed renovations.

Narrow alleys separate buildings identical to many of the 3-floor suburban villas outside the walled village. Some older residences remain mostly intact. Some have totally collapsed - filled with garbage, old bicycles and splintered roof timbers.

After walking back to the station, we take a bus to the Lam Tsuen Wishing Trees. Once we arrive, more old women offer services. Here, it’s prayer. Traditionally, especially around the Lunar New Year, oranges attached with written wishes would have been thrown on the tree’s branches. After an accident in 2005, a branch collapsed under the fruits’ weight and a woman was injured. Now if you throw any oranges at the injured tree (propped upright with countless bamboo poles), you’ll be slapped with a $1,500HK littering fine.

She wants us to buy prayer papers to burn in incense. Joyce bargains for two papers for $10HK down from $20HK. But there’s a catch. After she takes us behind the main banyan tree to a booth, we write our names on the paper, and she springs a hidden fee. The package of three incense sticks costs $60HK. “No way,” Joyce tells her, politely (I think) in Cantonese.

The woman become angry. Joyce translates her comments, “Why not pick up a rock in the street and decide your own fortune…” “People come all the way from Tibet to make their wish here…” “You can owe me money, but you will have to pay back sometime, your boyfriend can pay for your incense, but you’ll have to pay him back too. This sort of offering must be made at your own expense. It’s a duty.” Etc…

We take the papers, quite pretty as souvenirs, and walk the opposite way around the tree – to avoid the women. A minibus takes us to Tai Po Market, where Joyce introduces me to some new flavors of herbal tea at a local shop. Beneath the glass is a list of food combinations that are toxic for the body.

A nearby minibus takes to the base of Lead Mine Pass (part of the Wilson Trail), which we climb to access the MacLehose Trail. Mosquitoes bother Joyce for the first two-three hours, but once we reach a boulder-covered hillside, the bugs are gone, the forest disappears, and the sky opens to a spectacular view of Tai Po, Sha Tin and distant Kowloon. The new danger is cow pie, which covers large portions of the path. An ocean breeze whips a thick fog up Hong Kong’s tallest mountain, Tai Mo Shan (958 meters). The mountain’s name (大霧山) translates directly to Foggy Mountain. The fog makes poo navigation more difficult.

Sunset arrives just as we reach a paved portion of the trail, which makes hiking in the dark easy. The sun has fallen entirely by the time we reach the summit. A weather station sits at the top in a shroud of creepy pinkish-orange fog. A dog barks hysterically. A shadow appears at the gate. We pass and begin our descent.

Aside from a white line that continues to materialize from the night, we are engulfed in inky fog. At the bottom of the mountain, under the fluorescent glow of street lamps, we meet the wild cows who had made the organic landmines along the trail. They watch us suspiciously as we leave Tai Mo Shan Country Park in search of a bus or taxi.

Wandering: Qin Fengling, Cattle Depot Artists Village, China Visa Advice

2008-05-26T08:18:00.000-07:00

May 22: I am returning to the U.S. on September 2, when I arrive in San Francisco. At the moment, I’m not sure how I’ll get to Omaha – whatever is cheapest I guess. I bought a ticket from Beijing to Shenzhen, will take the ferry into Hong Kong and leave from there (this saves roughly $2,000HK. Hopefully, I don’t spend that much on one-way transport home). On Sept. 3, I will begin work on the O. O. McIntyre Postgraduate Writing Fellowship.

Today, an exhibition of Qin Fengling draws us into the Opera Gallery (Hong Kong). The gallery boasts an impressive unrelated collection in a carpeted room adjoining the main gallery - contains a Warhol, Klee and Lichtenstein among a few other works I didn’t recognize.

The Fengling exhibition of painting and sculpture is amazing. Peculiar acrylic canvases built-up with thousands of little people dominate her body of work (I ask the price for “Abundance” and “Pile-up.” In a French accent, a gallery employee says, “$480,000HK, but even if you had the money, I can’t sell, They’re sold.”

“Plastic Bags” had caught my eye (thanks to the recommendation of a graphic designer working in the area) while passing the glass storefront in Central. We’re not alone. More passersby continue to stop on the street to look.

Joyce and I visit the Cattle Depot Artists Village, an art commune converted from an old cattle pen and slaughterhouse in Kowloon City. Two exhibits are open – some mediocre multimedia exploration of ink titled “Movement,” and an interesting video installation titled “Mobility-Chinese is a Plus.” The video installation included two full wall video projections on opposite ends of the room. On one end, video of ethnic Chinese students born and raised in Germany talk about why they want to stay and work in Germany, where their language skills will give them an edge in the 21st century. They speak perfect Mandarin (according to Joyce) from alanguage school in Germany, and the English subtitles translate a picture of China as foreign and intimidating, where rude people supposedly work/study endlessly. In contrast, the other video screen shows adult Germans speaking Mandarin very poorly, and the subtitles express a very romanticized and simplistic view of China where the Germans dream of working, and where eveything is promising.

We wander massive computer markets southwest of Shek Kip Mei, buy inexpensive 8 gigabyte SD cards. Go to Hostelling International office near the Shek Kip Mei metro stop, order a city guide for Beijing at a 20% discount (I had already bought a year’s membership).

Booking hostels here can save money off online booking fees with a flat 10% upfront cost, in contrast to an online 5% + $2-3US service fee. Since any traveler to China must have booked each night and a planned itinerary to attain a visa, booking here at 10% can save a lot of money on a month’s travel (compared to the online option) when each night costs less than $6US. This was my method for providing documentation for my visa application – with copies of my purchase receipts. The same strategy could be applied to any international HI office.

I attribute my visa application’s success to thorough documentation. I had every day itemized with sightseeing plans and everything (although I know these plans will change). The guidebooks say this itinerary is nonbinding.

On the metro to Causeway Bay to do shopping, Joyce poses for photos before we head home.

Beer Ranking: Tsingtao

2008-05-25T23:38:00.000-07:00

May 21: Tsingtao is China's oldest and most popular beer. I like it too, especially the price in Hong Kong

Draft Beer Tsingtao – smooth, but very watered down. Better than domestic light beers in the states. I like the taste of regular Tsingtao much better.

Tsingtao Premium - a similar evaluation goes to this “premium” beer. It even tastes like it might have been brewed rather than mixed up with chemicals. Still the flavor seems a bit watered down compared to what I expected from the “premium.” Tastes like a mild corona. I miss the little bite from Tsingtao. Tsingtao premium is good. I can imagine buying a six-pack of the beer in the states if the price were comparable, but considering price alternatives, I won’t buy it again.

Tsingtao Dark - quite a step away from the breed of beers generally easy to find in Hong Kong. It’s a dark ale. Tastes solid, and sweet aftertaste. This beer is quite different than anything else Tsingtao is selling. I’m not a huge fan of dark ales, but it tastes good, although not as good as American microbrews.

Tsingtao (regular) – some might prefer the “premium,” but this is my favorite all around Tsingtao beer, only partially paying attention to cost. When cost becomes more important, HuiQuan sounds even tastier.

HuiQuan – Drinking HuiQuan immediately after Tsingtao regular, I am disappointed by what had become my new favorite beer. It’s not as crisp as Tsingtao regular and doesn’t taste as fresh. Regardless, for the price, it’s still my favorite. Superior, I think, to the Pearl River budget options.

GA YAU, YUM BEH JAU!

加油飲啤酒!

Visa Approved!! Happy Birthday Alex!!

2008-05-20T04:32:00.000-07:00

May 20: Good News! My visa to China was approved, AND, it was approved for two entries between today and August 15. This means, I can enter on June 1 for the 30-day trip from Xi'an to Guangzhou. I have to leave the country, which I am doing by traveling to Thailand, and I can return to China for 30 days in August. I have to buy my ticket from Bangkok to Beijing.

Yesterday was Joyce's second brother's birthday. Tonight, we eat hot pot to celebrate. Lots of good food, meats and vegetables. Two of Joyce's cousins join the dinner party.

Fancy Fruit Stall

2008-05-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

May 19: Joyce’s aunt (Daisy) runs a high quality fruit shop in Kowloon City.

The store, Yuen Hing Fruit Shop, is located across from the municipal market, at G/F, 110B Nga Tsin Wai Road, Kowloon City.

Aunt Dasiy gives us each a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice, then she offers a tray of yellow pitaya ("selenicereus megalanthus"), a Colombian fruit, which is very similar to dragon fruit (or red pitaya, "hylocereus undatus") - before arriving in Hong Kong, I’d never seen or tasted either pitaya.

The yellow pitaya’s are significantly more expensive than any of the red dragon fruit available across Hong Kong. The Colombian fruits sell for $78HK, which is about $10US - the most expensive single piece of fruit I have ever eaten.

Aunt Daisy also shares some of the ice cream from the freezer, and she gives me a vacuum-sealed, ready-to-eat ear of corn from Japan.

She sells everything here, and all imported from the premier producers. Apples covered with designs/characters made from shadows (they look carved), extra-stinky durians, peeled palmellos, jackfruit and all sorts of fruits to which I don’t know the names, even pumpkins and pineapples from China that were shipped to Japan, emptied and filled with ice cream before they’re shipped back.

Beer Ranking: Pearl River Delta

2008-05-18T11:23:00.001-07:00

May 18: From the Park 'N Shop Supercenter at Marina Square South Horizons, the Pearl River brand is available in three options (from left to right, cheapest to most expensive): 1. Pearl River Lager Beer (635 ml, green label, $5.90HK). 2. Pearl River Lager Beer (635 ml, gold label, $6.90HK). 3. Pearl River Draft Beer (600 ml, also lager, $7.50HK).

Here’s a little history of the beer, courtesy of Guangzhou Zhuiang Brewery Group. The company “was established in 1985 and is a large state-owned enterprise which is deals mainly in beer and its relative products such as label, carton, crate, etc. The group is national civilization enterprise and friendly environment enterprise. Now, with the capacity of 15 million heliolater, the group is the biggest wine making center in the whole world. Zhujiang beer is one of three national beer brands and in the second places of the national brands sale, and underling its national leadership status in brewers as ‘Zhujiang Brewery at South’.”

Some of those sentences don’t make sense. “National civilization enterprise”? What? Whoever is writing their copy (or translating the text) has been spending WAY TOO much time with the brewmeister. And I have doubts about the “biggest wine making center in the whole world” claim. However, I’ll put faith in the company’s claim to be #2 of three national beer brands. Pearl River beer is, after all, dirt cheap (although not the cheapest).

I’m no beer expert, and my ranking is far from scientific. I decide to start with the middle-priced beer (#2) and then go to the most expensive (#3) before finishing with the cheapest (#1).

Pearl River Lager Beer (635 ml, gold label, $6.90HK): I like it. Very okay. But something is uneven about it.

Pearl River Draft Beer (600 ml, also lager, $7.50HK). I like it better. More smooth. Puts Budweiser’s Natural Light and Milwaukee’s Best to shame. Maybe comparable to Rolling Rock, the cheap pilsner equivalent in the States, but this is a much better bargain.

Pearl River Lager Beer (635 ml, green label, $5.90HK). No 3. It’s less expensive than the $7.50HK draft beer, but it tastes the same. And my desensitized taste buds don’t taste any of the funny flavor from the gold label (Here’s where my science is falling apart. I should have opened all three beers simultaneously to compare flavor, but I didn’t want them to get warm while I drank).

The verdict. Buy Pearl River Draft Beer (600 ml, also lager, $7.50HK) if you are most concerned with taste and your only option is the economical Pearl River brand. HOWEVER, if you want to drink more than one beer, you might as well buy the green-labeled Pearl River Lager Beer. It’s bigger, and if you buy three, it’s the same price as buying two of the more expensive draft beer (Still, for good cheap beer, I prefer the cheaper versions of Tsingtao).

GA YAU, YUM BEH JAU!

加油飲啤酒!

Changed My Mind About Hong Kong Beer

2008-05-18T11:22:00.003-07:00

May 17: I didn’t have a great impression of southern Chinese beer when I first arrived in Hong Kong. Everything tasted like a watered-down or bittered-up Heineken.

Cheap pilsners and lagers with nearly identical tastes fill the beer aisles of Wellcome, Park 'N Shop and 7-11.

Tonight, a cheap, tasty version of Tsingtao and a bag full of wasabi-roasted green beans change my mind.

The Cantonese phrase for encouraging hard work echoes in my head, “Add oil, Add oil, Add oil.” With each handful of crunchy wasabi beans, the echo bounces back, “Drink beer! Drink beer! Drink beer!”

The five words rhyme in Cantonese, “GA YAU, YUM BEH JAU! GA YAU, YUM BEH JAU! GA YAU, YUM BEH JAU!” (加油飲啤酒)

...Ho mei-ah

I love wasabi-roasted green beans.

Visa Application to China

2008-05-18T11:22:00.001-07:00

May 13-16: A massive earthquake rocks western and central China. When I wake on Tuesday, I respond to e-mails from family and friends. Hong Kong was not physically affected. The local news streams continuous footage of the devastation. The city's thoughts and prayers focus on the disaster survivors.

The hassle of preparing my visa application to the Mainland absorbs the week. By Thursday, I'm ready to submit.

All the guidebooks say, Hong Kong is the easiest/best place to obtain a tourist visa to China. In the past, this may have been true, but leading up to the Olympics, I’m not sure.

Earlier, when Joyce tried calling the Chinese consular office in Hong Kong, she explained that her American friend was seeking a passport into China. They told her, in Cantonese, “Go back to America and get his visa there,” and hung up the phone.

The “L” visa, which usually costs around $25-30US in Hong Kong, now costs $150US. It used to be available from all the travel agencies around the city (local or international), but it’s now only available to foreigners in Hong Kong through China Travel Service (H.K.) Limited.

I tried calling one branch, and they hung up the phone. After this attempt Joyce has been helping me contact the agency regarding my visa questions. Even she has trouble at times, though.

When we got past the ever-busy dial tone, different employees of China Travel Service offered different visa requirements over the phone. After multiple phone calls, we learn that multiple entry permits are no longer available (in theory, maybe). So, I only have 30 days to see as much of China as possible, then I must leave the country.

China in 30 days, only 30 days, having already visited Hong Kong and Macau, with plans to visit Beijing in August, here is my itinerary for June:

Enter Shenzen by train, fly to Xi’an, fly to Chongqing, boat to Yichang, bus to Wuhan, fly to Nanjing, train to Suzhou, bus to Tongli, bus to Shanghai, train to Hangzhou, bus to Huangshan area, train to Shantou, bus to Guangzhou, train back to Hong Kong.

In order to obtain my visa, I first need to secure purchase or reservation receipts for the following:

RECENT PHOTOGRAPH: Easy. I took it at the photo studio in the shopping mall next to Joyce’s home.

LODGING DOCUMENTS: I have hostel/hotel rooms booked all along the way, for each night in China. Private residences are not eligible, according to those travel agents we spoke with, as they don’t offer any proof of lodging. My Fodor’s guide to Hong Kong mentioned this, and said that the bookings are not binding for your itinerary.

ENTRY TO CHINA DOCUMENT: I don’t need a ticket into the country to show the travel agency, because I’m already in Hong Kong, and I can use the ferry or the KCR to enter Shenzen inexpensively.

DEPARTURE FROM CHINA DOCUMENT: I’ll buy a ticket from Guangzhou back into Hong Kong when I go to the travel agency (but that’s not enough). Also, I need an air ticket out of China’s Special Administrative Regions (ex: Hong Kong – which, evidently, no longer counts as leaving the country for visa purposes). So, I bought a cheap ticket from the Web site “airasia.com,” which operates cheap flights from Macau to Bangkok, and I bought a Turbojet ticket from Hong Kong to Macau.

...So, I guess I’ll be in Thailand for July. Sounds Good. I have family living in a beach town outside Bangkok, and a friend from the University of Missouri lives in the city. Hopefully, everything will work out, and I’ll then be able to spend August in Beijing.

After assembling my documents, I take a bus to northern Hong Kong Island, and I catch the Star Ferry to Tsim Sha Tsui.

The offices of China Travel Service (H.K.) Limited in TST and in Mong Kok are supposedly the fastest to return visa applications (Joyce learned this from one of her numerous calls to the travel agency).

I have everything ready, so the process is fast. I’ll find out the application results on Tuesday.

The woman helping me submits my application for a multiple entry valid for three months (because it’s the same price as the single entry, she says). However, on the phone, we had learned that only 30 day visas were now available. I leave the office hopeful, but a bit confused.

...Crossing my fingers for Tuesday.

Cheung Chau Bun Festival

2008-05-18T11:06:00.001-07:00

May 12: At 11 a.m., the parade for the Cheung Chau Bun Festival (長洲太平清醮) begins. The island’s patron deity, Pak Tai, leads the way. Twenty-thousand expected spectators surge against police barricades all along the old winding alleys of Cheung Chau. Today, the population for the tiny fishing island southeast of Lantau Island is upwards of 50,000.

Small children dressed as local heroes and Cantonese opera performers nervously wave their hands and smile. Hoisted in the air atop metal poles, they hover above a rabid mob of snapshot-crazed tourists. The children must wait; a procession of drumming and gong-banging ushers gyrating lion and dragon dancers – a tradition thought to scare away evil spirits.

The sun drips hot on the neck of drummers stuck at the back of the procession. The parade slows to a stop. The drumming continues. Lion/dragon dancers and villagers carrying flags wait for the parade to resume momentum. After about an hour, police force a passage for the children’s parade.

After another hour the parade is over. There is already a line stretching 500 meters along the harbor. Joyce already left, in order to beat the line. She goes home to study, and I wander the island.

I wander very nice beaches (very crowded today), quaint village settings (similar to the main street on Lamma Island, except more sincere), lots of locals selling street food, neon orange, green and red flags all along the waterfront, the occasional dragon or lion dancers lead a drummer and group of laughing children through the crowd...

...and of course, BUNS. A number of stalls sell steamed buns. Bun lines stretch almost as long as the line to the ferry.

The Cheung Chau bun festival is one of the must-see local Hong Kong festivals (on the eighth day of the fourth month in the lunar calendar). The Festival culminates after three-days of vegetarian diet leading up to the final celebration (which I attend).

The morning parade is linked to the festival’s supposed origin, when fishermen brought an image of Pak Tai to the island in the 18th century, with hopes of ridding Cheung Chau of plague and pirates and marched around the island dressed as deities to drive off evil spirits.

In the evening, villagers climb giant, phallic bun towers in a race to grab the most buns.

Here, the tradition has changed most in the past century. The government banned the bun scrambling competition after a 1978 bun tower collapse. The event was resurrected in 2005; however, the bamboo towers became artificial shells over steel pillars, while contestants wear safety harnesses and are required to complete training in preparation for the race. Three days of training and time trails also serves to narrow the field of competitors to 12 contestants. After two years of resumed competition, in 2007, the bun tower was further altered – the steamed buns were replaced with plastic replicas – supposedly “safer” and more “environmentally-friendly.”

I get in line for buns twice - once after the parade, and again in the evening before I plan to head back to Hong Kong. By the time I’ve gotten through the second line (and snapped photos of the bun preparation and selling process), it’s 2.5 hours till the tickets become available for watching the bun race in (limited to 1,500 people). So, I put a bun for Joyce in my backpack, and I get in line.
According to my ticket, I’m No. 327. I trade my ticket at the gate of the park for another ticket that entitles me entrance to the closest section, where I stand/sit/wait for the race.

One of the contestants comes by me in the viewing area to say hi to friends. He leaves, and joins the other contestant around the pillar with a sack contraption attached to his back for filling with buns.

At midnight, a gong clangs, and the race begins. Nine-hundred buns at the top of the 15-meter tower are valued at 9-points, 1,700 buns at the second highest portion are valued at 3-points, and 6,400 lower buns are valued at 1-point apiece.

A climber in orange quickly zooms to the top and takes the lead, which he holds on to as all the climbers meet him. A relay climbing competition and an awards ceremony follow on the other side of the tower (but I can’t see, and I can’t understand the speaker).

Workers scurry to raise some sort of metal grid over the tower, and as I’m leaving, I hear, a “bye bye,” and the surrounding mob begins clapping wildly, Fountains of fire shout from five points of the tower just as I turn around. I snap a few photos as fireworks explode in an impressive finale. Then, I rush to join the mass of festival goers running to the Hong Kong ferry.

Tam Kung Festival

2008-05-18T11:04:00.000-07:00

May 11: The Tam Kung Festival overtakes Shau Kei Wan district on Hong Kong Island May 11-12, 2008. My bus arrives at the Shau Kei Wan terminal just as Dragon dancers lead a paper serpent from Tam Kung Temple into a nearby park.

The park hosts a shadow puppet show, puppet show, Sichuan mask-changing, Chinese magic, lion dragon dance, thousand-arm Guanyin dance, Chinese music/ orchestra.

The lion Dance is especially cool. Muscular youths and small children dance underneath lion/dragon costumes. The older boy at the back of the costume often lifts the child high into the air to shake the costume’s monster head. Two pair of lion/dragons circle the crowd. They climb atop metal pillars and continue their routine, dancing and leaping.

The R66 Revolving Restaurant: Tea Buffet in the Clouds, Above Hong Kong

2008-05-18T11:03:00.001-07:00

May 10: The R66 Revolving Restaurant, located in the Hopewell Centre, once sat atop the highest building in Hong Kong (the Hopewell Centre held this title between 1980 and 1993).

Dinner buffet costs $300HK, and the lunch buffet costs $100HK. We arrive at R66 for the lunch/tea buffet, which starts at 3:00 p.m.

The view is amazing. Buildings huddle all around us, and I’m amazed to think that most of the city stretching toward the harbor USED TO BE Victoria Harbor. The buildings stand on reclaimed land, including Hong Kong’s current tallest building, the Two International Finance Centre.

R66’s floor rotates so that we see all of Hong Kong Island, Victoria Harbor and the green mountainside leading up to the peak. Through the hazy sky, we can see most of Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon. I imagine that the night view is spectacular. The view during the day certainly is.

Unfortunately, the food is not… nothing especially noteworthy, with a small-to-medium variety of choices. Even so, it’s well worth the price for the scenery.

I join Joyce and her second brother to meet with an old friend visiting from Japan.

Planning Trip to China, Eating Fast Food

2008-05-18T11:01:00.001-07:00

May 8-9: I bought the “Lonely Planet” for China, and I’m planning the Mainland trip.

Joyce’s parents have been in Vancouver for the week. I’ve been cooking a little, but not very much. Deprived of Mrs. Choi’s home-cooked meals, my instincts resort to the lessons from collegiate living - hunting in the cupboards and gathering from Hong Kong fast food restaurants. Here’s some of the recent catch:

Boiled pig’s blood congee from the fast food congee joint in the food court of Marina Square South Horizons. The flavor is bland, but it’s energizing (and piping hot). Joyce says her mom would never order here, too much MSG; there are much better congee shops elsewhere in Hong Kong. The fried rice balls and fried rice wrapped in glutinous rice are all great, greasy additions to the meal. The rice in this congee is quite soft, mushy like porridge, in traditional Hong Kong style. Chiu Chow style congee, in contrast, would leave the grains of rice less cooked.

Japanese noodles. Much fancier, and tastier, than the Ramen I used to buy at Super Wal-Mart.

Golden King Premium Beer. Crappy beer, lager. But for roughly $1.5HK per can, I can’t resist (I buy six cans... converts to little more than $1US for all six). The bitter flavor goes well with the strong MSG flavor in the cup of noodles.

Peking duck pizza from California Pizza Kitchen, high above Causeway Bay on the 13th floor of Times Square. The fried wontons are a nice variation from traditional pizza toppings, and the duck in brown sauce is quite tasty.

Vietnamese noodles with beef. WOW! Very good and inexpensive. Raw beef is placed in the practically-still boiling water. There it cooks, while the meat juice mixes with the soup broth.

Diving for Pissing Shrimp

2008-05-07T08:32:00.000-07:00

May 7: Dive bars don’t seem to exist in Hong Kong. Exorbitant rental costs paired with expensive liquor licensing results in sky-high drink prices in the cool bar districts (albeit, cheaper than nice bars in large U.S. cities, like Chicago). Aside from the afternoon happy hour specials, there don’t seem to be many places to get a cheap drink and relax with friends in Hong Kong.

I haven’t been going out much during my trip here, but this was my observation until today.

District markets provide the solution. These markets are provided by the Hong Kong government in districts around the city. Tonight, we have dinner in the Aberdeen Municipal Market. Like the other large municipal market where I’ve visited (Sheung Wan), it has a number of restaurants on the top floor. The food prices are cheap, as are prices for beer. The restaurant opens 6 p.m. till 2 a.m.

Joyce and I don’t actually order any beer – only complimentary tea for us – but there are a number of tables full of people drinking. Pretty beer girls decked out in “Carlsberg” and “San Miguel (a local brew)” refill their glasses. A table of girls plays a dice drinking game between their dinner plates. A table of men talk about the ongoing horse races at the Happy Valley Racetrack.

Also, seafood here is a great price – possibly in part because Aberdeen has historic ties to the fishing community. We order sweet and sour pork, vegetables rice and “pissing shrimp (攋尿蝦 or laaih niuh hā).” The shrimp aren’t on the menu, so Joyce makes a special order. The staff does not appear to speak any English, so if Joyce weren’t here, I might be paying far more for the meal (if I managed to order at all) – and not eating any special orders. Altogether the dinner is $160 HK.

Covered in garlic, the shrimp are especially tasty. I’ve never eaten such shrimp before – more like crawdads or tiny lobsters. In English, they are known as “mantis shrimp.” Joyce asks the waitress if we can see the live creatures. The waitress asks the owner, in Cantonese, “Do they really piss?” “Of course,” Joyce translates his words, “why else would they be called pissing.”

The restaurant owner scoops a small net full of the squirming crustaceans. He selects one by the tail, dangles it in the air. Scared, it pees. The urine drips onto the thin plastic table covering.

Don’t Eat The Lemon Dessert Soup

2008-05-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

May 6: Ferries from either Aberdeen or Central regularly depart for Lamma Island (I leave from nearby Aberdeen). Aberdeen Harbor was once home to Hong Kong’s boat people, fishermen and traders who spent most of their lives aboard their floating homes. Thanks to the government, public housing projects have relocated this socio-economic/ethnic group to land, while the area surrounding Aberdeen Harbor (Ap Lei Chau in articlar) has been transformed under the shadow of the South Horizons residential towers. Some lingering junks in the harbor suggest what used to be.

I arrive at Pak Kok San Tsuen, pass expat villas overlooking the sea, then walk the easy, paved “family trail” to Yung Shue Wan. There, excellent-looking seafood shops line the main street, and a pleasant beach overlooks a massive power plant. I take my time, about an hour and a half, to reach Sok Kwu Wan and the ferry home. On the way, I pass WW II “kamikaze grottos” (which would have been used by the Japanese military to stage suicide boat missions against U.S. battleships – had the war not ended first) and plenty of beautiful scenery.

From the mountain, I catch a glimpse of Sok Kwu Wan. The ramshackle town of restaurants is surrounded by fishing boats and aquatic breeding farms. Seaweed covers the nearby beach. An old woman collects a pile of this green muck into her boat.

One of the many seafood joints, The Lamma Mandarin Seafood Restaurant (which seems identical to the alternatives) offers a great view of the harbor and reasonably priced fare. It’s still a bit expensive ($100 HK) for me, while the set meals for larger groups offer a better bargain. I order set #1: fried shrimp with black pepper, deep-fried squid with sweet and sour sauce, steamed jumbo scallops, Lamma seasonal vegetables (thank God it’s not the seaweed!) and fried rice with sliced vegetables.

I don’t remember the menu listing a “lemon dessert soup” on the menu. Even so, the waiter sets down a bowl of “lemon soup” down next to my final dish. After finishing the solid food, I look at the soup. I pick up the bowl, and I take a drink. Totally bland! Just like water. Hmmmm… Maybe, this isn’t for eating... The bowl sits on top of a towel, which also seems strange. ...Why would a waiter put food on the table if it weren’t meant for eating?

I’m thirsty. I pick up the bowl and gulp the liquid.

I hear people laughing.

I call Joyce by cell phone. “Ya, that’s for washing your hands….”

The last ferry from Sok Kwu Wan to Aberdeen has departed, so I wait for the next boat to Central.

I leave behind the snickering restaurant staff.

Happy Cinco de Mayo

2008-05-05T11:17:00.000-07:00

May 5: Feliz cinco de mayo del Hong Kong (mi fiesta vino mas temprano que tuyo... 11 horas en frente del Nebarska)!!!

Para celebrar, comimos tortillas con carne, frijoles y arroz (tambien tequila).

Yo pienso que Joyce lo piense muy sabroso! Ella dije, "Ho mei-ah." En ingles, traduzco para ti - "very tasty!"

Ahora, tu ven al Hong Kong, tenemos más comida para ti...

…no sé español nada bien (lo siento para mis problemas de escribir).

Temple of 10,000 Budhhas, Ammah Rock and Lion Rock

2008-05-04T19:46:00.000-07:00

May 4: Either entrance to the Temple of 10,000 Buddas is tucked away nearby the KCR Sha Tin Railway Station. I had trouble finding the entry last time I visited Sha Tin. Now, I’m prepared with a map: I walk out the station’s northwest exit, I walk straight. Where the road becomes an overpass, I turn left, cross a mud alley, find the lower temple gate.

According to the official Web site, “The Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery was constructed beginning in 1949. At that rough time, (its creator) Reverend Yuet Kai, despite of his old age, carried the building materials personally from the foot mountain together with his disciples to build this monastery. It spent eight years to complete all buildings and another ten years to finish the all more than 12,000 Buddha's statues."

Even with the path paved up the mountain, the walk can be exhausting, with more than 500-some steps. Bring water, or, you can purchase refreshments at the top (along with souvouniers).

The southern entry takes me back to Sha Tin station, from behind the pizza shop. I cross through New Town Plaza and over Lek Yuen Bridge and the Shing Mun River Channel. A bus takes me to Lion Rock Tunnel Road near World-Wide Gardens), from where I hike to Ammah Rock. This is a different spelling for A-Ma, also known as Tin Hau.

Legend has it that a local fisherman's wife went to the mountaintop every day, carrying their infant child on her back, to wait for her husband’s return. The fisherman had been killed in a storm, but she remained faithful. The goddess Tin Hau/Ammah took pity on her and turned her to stone. Thus, Ammah Rock's distinctive shape.

Graffiti now covers the base of the rock, but the site provides nice views of Sha Tin Below.

The sky is quickly turning dark, but a sign says “45 min.” until Lion Rock, the namesake for the country park and geographic formation separating Kowloon from New Territories. By rushing, I make it to Lion Rock in closer to 15 minutes. Still, it’s dark when I reach the top.

I should have started my day earlier – I got out to the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas around 3:30 p.m. – it took about an hour and a half to reach Sha Tin from Ap Lei Chau... for this reason, I’m slipping on the muddy stone path, and creepy green frog eyes (I think frog eyes) are shining at me from the water rivulets coursing through the surrounding forest.

Korean Barbeque

2008-05-03T08:33:00.001-07:00

May 3: Like meat? Like buffet? You’ll like Korean barbeque.

“Ngo bau wor!” (我飽喎) is Cantonese for “I’m stuffed.” The phrase applies.

At 漢和韓國料理 Chon Wo Korean Restaurant, located in Causeway Bay, Joyce and I spent $280 HK to get stuffed.

Ox tongue and squid head are excellent, as is everything else here – from assorted steaks to pig’s blood to green tea-flavored ice cream.

Korean barbeque is a bit like Mongolian barbeque, which has sprung up all over the Midwestern U.S. thanks to the Hu-Hot franchise. However, unlike (Americanized?) Mongolian barbeque, where you select ingredients for cooks to prepare on a giant cooking surface, in (Hong Kongized?) Korean barbeque, each table is equipped with its own metal cooking plate. Chon Wo Korean Restaurant lacks the selection of sauces present at Hu-Hot, but this is compensated by a greater variety/quality of food and shorter wait to eat. Eating time is restricted to 1.5 hours, though.

The oil spits from time to time, so don’t dress too fancy.

Torch Relay

2008-05-02T07:19:00.000-07:00

May 2: Men and women look at their feet and shove into the mass of bodies. Unable to move forward any faster, I turn around to see who is pushing me with both hands. An old man looks up. “Sorry,” he says, looks down again and continues to impersonate an NFL linebacker.

I stop on the Gloucester Road beside a Wan Chai metro stop. Seems like a good spot; 45 minutes remain until 4 p.m., when the torch relay is supposed to pass through Wan Chai.

Police block the metro access for security. Flags and arms wave in a sea of red. A police squad pushes through the crowd with a white kid in tow. He wears a yellow shirt bearing the Tibetan Flag. He has Tibetan flag stickers on each cheek as well. Stickers on his chest say, “HUMAN RIGHTS IN CHINA.” Someone from the crowd slaps the boy with a miniature Chinese flag. Another person tries to rip the Tibetan sticker from his face.

“You can’t do this,” he protests to the police holding his arms. “I have a right to express my message.”

The red mob claps and cheers as he leaves in police custody. A man jeers loudly; I recognize, “Gwai lo…. “free speech”….hahahahahaha.”

I’m not sure exactly why the protestor was removed, but I’m certain that both Beijing and Hong Kong want the Olympic flame to receive an embarrassment-free arrival to China. In defense of the police, if they weren’t “protecting” this protestor, the nationalism-enflamed mob might seriously injure the boy.

The single protest attempt diffuses in celebration. The countdown till 4 p.m. continues.

A small child squeezes past my legs.

His mother and father tell him to keep going. “We can’t help you get to the front,” the mother says. The boy turns back. Nearby parents are lifting children onto shoulders. The father is shorter than my shoulder's height. The mother helps the boy onto his father, but he can’t see over the crowd.

She looks at me and speaks to the boy, in perfect English, “Hey, he looks pretty tall, huh?”

“If he wants to sit on my shoulders, it’s okay,” I say.

Happily, both parents agree. I kneel, and the mother places the boy on my back. He yells, “Stranger! Stranger!” and the mother tells him to keep quiet. He settles in and begins waving two miniature flags in the air – one for China, and one for Hong Kong.

The torch relay clearly means more to the child and his parents than it does to me. Besides, the Olympics represent international goodwill. This “gwai lo” is glad to help the local family.

As the crowd volume increases, I sense the torch bearer approaching. A convoy of vans passes. Everyone goes crazy. I reach into the air as high as possible to snap photos, but I’m not sure if I’ve caught any image of the torch.

I catch a brief view of a flame, hidden behind a swarming tangle of camera-laden arms, then it disappears. Screaming and clapping fades down the street. Suddenly, the crowd changes direction. Men and women run around the block to cut off the procession and catch another glimpse/photo of the torch. I set the boy down, and his parents thank me before I disappear in the human tide.

Thousands of people flow toward the Hong Kong Convention and Visitor’s center. I arrive and the guard turns me away. The relay finale is invitation only. Thousands of people meander about the area. After an hour or so, I meet Joyce near a barricaded street. Men and women celebrate, clap, take photos, wave flags. A loudspeaker shouts instructions in Cantonese. Joyce translates, “The ceremony is over, please leave.” I spot the yellow-shirted protester again. He walks through the crowd without stopping. The police must have let him go.

Hong Kong Style Steak

2008-05-01T07:33:00.000-07:00

May 1: The residential complexes of South Horizons surround the Marina Square shopping mall. Anything and everything is available here, from electronic appliances to groceries to a fitness club. The high density neighborhood is an independently functioning organism, lacking only in source of bulk employment (which is readily accessible by public transit).

Joyce takes me to a local Hong Kong diner, 怡庭軒 Family Restaurant, on the outside of the Marina Square mall. I order the fast-grilled steak on a hot plate, smothered in onion gravy. The dish is a modification of a Japanese cooking method mixed with Hong Kong style marinade and American presentation (french fries on the side!).

“When you order this, it always attracts a lot of attention,” Joyce says. “It’s so loud.”

Our neighbors stare at the crackling steak, which arrives on a cast-iron plate shaped like a cow.

If you see “鐵板" (tie ban shao) on a menu in Hong Kong, try it. The dish can come in the form of beef, chicken, fish or even mixed meats as well. At 怡庭軒 Family Restaurant, the meal with chicken broth soup cost $45 HK (just over $6 US).

Torch Arrives in Hong Kong

2008-05-01T07:31:00.000-07:00

April 30: The Olympic torch arrives in Hong Kong today. Tomorrow marks the first leg of the relay in China, and the second time that the torch has passed through Hong Kong since the 1964 Tokyo Olympic Games.

Since I arrived, promotional material for the Beijing Olympics has been omnipresent in Hong Kong. My favorite PR material is the team of mutant panda athletes, who decorate street corners and posters around the city. One of the panda-looking creatures is named “Ying Ying,” which is also Joyce’s real name!

Here, Ying Ying smiles at Tsim Sha Tsui in southern Kowloon. I’m not sure where the horns come from... Maybe she’s part mutant dragon, too.

Tin Hau's Birthday, Wandering Maccau

2008-04-29T23:58:00.002-07:00

April 28-29: The Special Administration of Macau is Las Vegas in China. The city may be synonymous with gambling, but its landmark is a crumbling relic of imperial Portugal - the Ruins of St. Paul’s. The Cathedral of St. Paul was built at the end of the 16th century (more than a century before Britain secured a foothold in Hong Kong). The cathedral burnt down during an 1835 typhoon, and the remains provide Mainland tourists a backdrop to the same classic tourist snapshots that Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower might offer in Paris. We take the obligatory self-portrait at St. Paul’s and visit the nearby Fortaleza de Monte.

Free shuttles run from most hotels and all casinos. We booked the Metrople Hotel at a travel agent near the Turbo Jet ticket counter for a discount - although I’m not sure about the savings. For the record, we paid $900 HK for two nights (just over $100 US). A form behind the door listed a price higher than $1,000 per night.

Joyce returns to Hong Kong, and I head to Taipa and Cologne (islands south of Maccau that have been joined by reclaimed land). A free shuttle crosses the bridge to the Crown casino, and a $2.50 bus fare takes me to the base of Coloane Hill. A-Ma Cultural Village and Tian Hou Palace near the summit of the 560-ft. hill.

Today, April 28, is the birthday of Tin Hau – also known as A-Ma. The goddess of the sea or “Queen of Heaven” is especially revered in Macau and surrounding areas (including Hong Kong). According to the Macau Government Tourism Office, “Legend has it that centuries ago the goddess, posing as a Fujian girl, saved several fishermen from a raging tempest off the coast of China, in gratitude for which the survivors built the famous A-Ma Temple.”

The village at Alto de Coloane is actually an enormous Qing-era temple and courtyard devoted to A-Ma (or Tin Hau) Inside, a group of women bang gongs and sing sporadically. Worshippers light firecrackers on the side of the temple. Giant incense sticks (more like logs) burn in front of the regular incense burners.
Nearby, at the hill’s highest point, an enormous white statue to A-Ma looks across the island.

A free shuttle transports tourist up and down the hill every 30-minutes, but you can hike up (about 30 min.). I choose to hike up. For the sake of time, I’d recommend the free shuttle to the top, and hiking down. I take the shuttle down.

Another $2.50 bus. Taipa Village offers the cobblestone sidewalks of a displaced European village, surrounded by towering residential complexes and casinos. I wander then walk to the Venetian, the world’s third largest building at 10.5 million sq. ft. (after the Netherlands’ Aalsmeer Flower Auction and Beijing Capital International Airport).

The Venetian is huge. Canals snake about both outside and inside. Gondoliers sing under an artificial sky as families peruse fancy boutiques. The gaming floor stretches as if falling off either horizon. Even the food court is modeled after an Italian square beneath a constantly azure sky. The casino shuttle takes me back to the ferry pier, where another shuttle takes me back to the Macau city center. I walk to the far west of the island, to visit the A-Ma temple supposedly built by the fisherman saved by the goddess.

The temple hosts a Cantonese opera in a make-shift bamboo structure. The practice is common throughout the region in Hong Kong and Guangdong Province. At the back of the theatre, close to the ceiling, an altar to A-Ma (Tin Hau) allows the goddess to view the performance in her honor.

Another bus ride, and I’m near Senado Square again. I return to the Metrople and stop at the Portuguese restaurant across the street. Macau is popular for food tourists from Hong Kong. Shamefully, I have only $110 HK in my wallet, $7 has already gone to bus fare and $95 goes for a Portuguese baked fish. The meal is amazing. The fish is baked with gobs of onions, tomatoes and green peppers atop a potato shelf, all doused in olive oil, with a single green olive on the side.

The next morning, I return my room key for a $200 HK deposit. I wander the island more, walking till my legs ache. I eat a pastry, drink a Pocari Sweat (essentially Japanese Gatorade).Ready to crash (and eat) I use the deposit money to buy the $142 return ticket. After a short nap on the boat, I’m home for an early dinner.

Rebecca's Concert in Maccau

2008-04-29T23:58:00.001-07:00

April 27: The “Turbo Jet” boat speeds across the South China Sea, and the Pearl River Delta passes in a flash. Hong Kongers use the phrase, “crossing the big ocean” for the 30-minute boat trip to Asia’s gambling capital - Macau. After a quick run ‘round historic Senado Square and environs, we head to Rebecca Pan’s concert at the Wynn casino. We pass a ridiculous flaming pineapple, the Grand Lisboa, and other giant flashing casinos.

Rebecca performs at the birthday banquet for a wealthy Hong Konger. The man had attended her previous Macau concert in 2007. The banquet offers eight amazing courses; although, I pass on the ducks leg/foot. If I weren’t in such a formal setting, I’d try to eat it, but I’d rather not embarrass our host. The leg/foot is too big and slippery for me to maneuver with chopsticks.

One of the banquet guests (from Singapore) at our table says I look familiar, "Clark... Clark... Clark Kent! Hey Clark, there aren't many telephone booths for you to change in Hong Kong, are there? Hahaha!"

He's correct. Public telephones in Hong Kong are all placed on the wall, with no space for privacy.

The Big Buddha

2008-04-29T23:57:00.000-07:00

April 26: Off to see the world’s tallest seated, outdoor Buddha statue – the 242.5 ton, bronze Tian Tan Buddha.

A ferry from pier #6 in Central takes me to Mui Wo, where a bus leaves for Ngong Ping and the Tian Tan Buddha. We pass Cheng Shan beach, a large strip of white surrounded by tropical foliage (and maybe less garbage than other Hong Kong beaches, maybe).

Tourists stream up the steps to the Buddha like ants on an anthill. I go up, then down, and visit the Po Lin Monastery. The Monastery dates back to 1927, while the giant statue was built in 1993.

The monastery features a restaurant, but I merely pass through, look at the environs and snap a few photos.

A hostel sits by the base of the Buddha, near a path that leads to the “Wisdom Path” where 38 tree trunk slices exhibit the Heart Sutra (a 5th century Buddhist prayer exploring the virtue of emptiness, or so my guidebook says). There is no translation, but the little circular path is pleasant, and it sits beside the trailhead for accessing Lantau Peak (If it weren’t already late afternoon, I’d like to do this, as well as visit the beach!)

The 360 Skyrail runs to Tung Chung from the Ngong Ping (tourist) Village (full of trinkets and souvenirs). I take the bus. The gondola lift has both an expensive ticket price and a bad reputation (delays on the 2006 trial run, in 2007 an empty car fell 50 m to the ground, and a too-recent suspension of operation) to dissuade me.

From Tung Chung, the metro return to Hong Kong Island.

Rehearsal and Lan Kai Fong

2008-04-25T21:24:00.000-07:00

April 25: Rebecca Pan practices with her band for a concert at the Wynn casino in Macau.

Rebecca, 78-years-old, has performed with Louis Armstrong, but her brass section is far more familiar today. The trumpeter has performed with her for more than 40 years.

I leave the studio in the Wan Chai neighborhood. Bars and strip clubs line the street. An old woman wraps her arms around my body. “Cheap drinks, nice girls,” she repeats. “I have to go,” I say. She struggles to maintain her grip, then I’m free.

In the evening, at Lan Kwai Fong, I meet with Joyce and friends. It’s my first night out in Hong Kong. The Lan Kwai Fong bar district is one of Hong Kong’s most popular (along with Wan Chai). I’m surprised by the laid back atmosphere on the ground floor bars. I don’t dance, so I can’t comment on discos or upper-level clubs (which I assume are the places that earned Lan Kwai Fong its wild reputation. But I don’t really know).

Searching for the Temple

2008-04-24T20:02:00.001-07:00

April 24: In Sha Tin, I look for the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas. A block away from the metro station, a paper sign points down the block. I walk farther. No more signs. So I turn where my map suggests that the temple is located. A massive tiled-entrance appears, looks like the gate to a temple.

Inside, I find pools of fish and turtles. Buddha statues abound. This must be the place, I think incorrectly. I wander the enormous hillside complex of shrines, statues, incense burners and burial walls. The facility is rapidly expanding, and a giant crane towers over the construction scene. I wander until women slide the burial-room doors clanging shut. The place is huge. Heading back down, I feel like this is not the temple I was looking for. I watch an escalator take elderly men and women down the steep hill. As I leave, I notice a sign that confirms my suspicion. Po Fuk Shan (寶福山,or Treasure Fortune Mountain).

It’s late, so I head back to Ap Lei Chau. When I show Joyce my photos, she’s surprised. “Three of my ancestors are buried there!” she says. This is where her mother went to sweep her family’s graves for the Clean and Clear Festival.

I will return to Sha Tin to find the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas, but I’m glad I visited the graveyard. Now I know what the final resting places look like after bodies finish their 6-year burials in Hong Kong’s crowded cemeteries.

If you visit the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas while in Hong Kong’s New Territories, take time to wander this graveyard as well. It’s an interesting place, so close to the metro.

The Ghost of South Horizons

2008-04-22T06:17:00.001-07:00

April 22-23: I’m the ghost haunting South Horizons. Lately, I’ve been spooking about the residential area and nearby Aberdeen.

White people are ghost people, to the Chinese. A Caucasian male from Europe or the States is often referred to as, “gwai lo, 鬼佬" (ghost man). Because I am young, I can still be called a “ghost kid,” or “gwai tzai, 鬼仔," hence the title of this blog.

The pronunciation of the term confuses my English-accustomed ears. “Gwai” is also the transliteration for both “good” and “strange.” Change your pitch at the end of the pronunciation of “gwai,” and you could say “good kid, 乖仔" instead of “ghost kid.” I try to be that, too (rather than the strange kid (怪仔) bumming around the house).

Stanley Market and Temples

2008-04-22T00:34:00.001-07:00

April 21: Past the stalls of Chinese kitsch, Stanley Market is surrounded by subtle spiritual tributes. A temple to (the “Queen of Heaven” and patron goddess to fishermen) Tin Hau and a smaller temple flank the market, while another temple is tucked away beside the ocean at the beginning of a forest trail.

I follow a trail through the woods, reach a bus stop and entrance to a monastery. Inside the grounds, a statue of a goddess watches over the Stanley Market waterfront, tourist shops and surrounding residential buildings.

Back at Stanley Market, I consider buying presents for friends and family. A “Bruce Lee is my Homeboy” shirt seems funny. Lots of chopsticks, tea sets, miniature Buddhas and paper lanterns look cute/cheap. Ties cost only $10HK at one stall. I probably should buy a bundle as security for next Christmas, but I don’t regret saving my money.

Tourists and their children fill the market alleys. A film production team films a kung fu scene. Some ridiculous-looking white guy in long sleeve shirt sports a doofy green rat tail. A girl kicks him in the face, and he does a front flip and then a back flip. He repeats the scene over and over. In the scene, extras crowd around snapping photos and recording videos from camera phones. They follow him as he chases after the girl martial artist. I join the real tourists taking photos of the scene, a mirror of the scene being recorded. The rat-tailed guy looks exhausted.

Hardcore Museum Day

2008-04-22T00:33:00.000-07:00

April 20: Chinese Cake Baking Class: Can’t find Wing Wah’s shop in Kowloon, where the Hong Kong Tourism Board organized the class. I’m late. Can’t participate in making “wife cakes.” Get to make egg rolls – seem more like rolled pancakes (but taste great!).

Hong Kong Science Museum: Located next to the Hong Kong Museum of History in Kowloon. The museum is amazing. If I were still 10-years-old, it would be my favorite place in the world. Lots of interactive exhibits attempt to educate, and provide great fun for screaming kids running circles round the building. Cost is covered by weekly pass. I feel too old for the place, but with a companion, it could make a fun day (too bad Joyce is at school!). The museum also hosts the Shell Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. Oil company sponsorship seems strange, but the work is spectacular.

Hong Kong Museum of Art: Located beside the Star Ferry in TST – walking distance from the science museum. Ceramics don’t thrill me. Even so, the extensive gallery of ceramics offers a good sense of different styles throughout the various Chinese dynasties. About half of the museum’s exhibits are closed for changing, and my weekly pass doesn’t allow me into the special exhibit on jewelry. Oh well. Jewelry is lame anyway. A bit like this museum (I’m thinking), until I view the “New Literati” exhibit.

The introduction to the exhibit explains that “New Literati” is not a formal school of painting in China. The term is used to encompass art in the late 70s through 90s; rather than painting political works or propaganda, New Literati artists take inspiration from classical Chinese painting styles while also experimenting with stylistic innovations. The name “New Literati” came from two touring New Literati exhibits in the 80s and 90s. The artists featured here at the Hong Kong Museum of Art showed in these exhibits, and they represent the variety of artistic style during the period.

Hong Kong Space Museum: Could be a good museum, but most of the exhibits are closed. Also, some basic typos or flaws in translation disappoint early: The museum is covered by the weekly pass. An IMAX theater is attached, but shows cost extra. Maybe they, at least, are worthwhile. Be sure to check availability of shows in English (there are a couple each week).

Typhoon Brings Rain, Opera and More History

2008-04-22T00:31:00.000-07:00

April 19: Typhoon Neoguri crept north from Hainan over night, and mariners south of Hong Kong filled Aberdeen Harbor.

Yesterday, a white card at the front desk of the apartment announced the No. 1 typhoon signal. This morning, when I left the building, it had upgraded to No. 3.

Typhoon Neoguri brought the earliest warning to Hong Kong since the No. 1 standby signal from Typhoon Violet on April 9, 1967.

Today, everyone scurries to escape the rain. Most carry umbrellas. The wind whips the umbrellas inside-out.

I wear a raincoat, but my pants aren’t protected. I appear at the Hong Kong Heritage Museum as if dipped in the ocean. The museum in Sha Tin hosts the Cantonese Opera Appreciation Class (organized by the Hong Kong Tourism Board).

The guide is late, and he has to change from his wet clothes. Introduction, “My name is Paris.” He explains some of the motions that represent scene. Cantonese opera stage setting does not use props. He demonstrates the male singing voice at a normal pitch. Very pretty. He demonstrates the female singing voice, a high-pitched song. Wow. Paris says he performs opera. It shows. He explains that male and female roles are played by either sex, depending on the ability of the actor or actress’ voice. We watch a segment of performance in the museum theatre – a bride argues with the groom. Unfortunately for me, there are no subtitles.

Cantonese opera came to Hong Kong from Guangdong Province, just north of Hong Kong. The entertainment flourished in the city as Mao’s cultural revolutions suppressed Chinese opera elsewhere in China in the mid-20th century. Cantonese opera is one of many regional opera styles in China, and it combines elements of symbolic body language, kung fu, singing and dialogue.

The Hong Kong Heritage Museum is a great museum. A special exhibit on Canto-pop explains the regional pop music’s rise to prominence over Cantonese Opera. The exhibit on Cantonese opera is interesting. An exhibit on poster art, also nice. Unfortunately, I run out of time to view the ancient Chinese artifacts. Very disappointed, I head back into the rain.

Sewage drains overflow, like volcanoes erupting with water.

City History, Tea Appreciation and Three Kingdoms

2008-04-22T00:30:00.000-07:00

April 18: The Hong Kong Museum of History is big and good. Located in Kowloon, you could stay here all day. If you are a history buff with kids, there is also the family-friendly Hong Kong Science Museum next door.

Special exhibit: discussed banking in Hong Kong and Shanghai. I’ve been carrying Hong Kong dollars in my pocket, but until the exhibit, didn’t realize that they are issued by three separate banks – HSBC, Standard Chartered Bank and the Bank of China. Also, all coins and $10 notes are issued by the Hong Kong government, while the head of Queen Elizabeth II still adorns many coins in circulation.

Permanent exhibit: “The Hong Kong Story” explores Hong Kong’s history since the beginning of time. The replicas of folk life are neat – the diorama explaining how the Hoklo cultivated rice, village settings and early 20th century city scene.

The Tea Appreciation Class, courtesy of the Hong Kong Tourism Board, provides free tea, but I wish I’d remained at the history museum. The tea master is absent. A girl leads the class. The boiling water drowns her out, her voice is so soft. We try different teas. I try white tea for the first time. White tea is unique for being sun-dried, it takes longer to prepare, and is cultivated predominantly in Fujian Province (China’s tea capital). Good taste.

Afterwards, I take the tram to Causeway Bay and Times Square. I meet Joyce for a fancy Japanese dinner and Mandarin movie. We tour the supermarket below the square - taste free samples, buy wasabi-flavored green beans (my favorite) and ice cream (taro and tofu ice cream with walnuts, cake and cinnamon mixed-in).

The movie, “Three Kingdoms: Resurrection of the Dragon,” packs an all-star cast of Maggie Q and Andy Lau, but it doesn’t live up promo posters shellacking all of Hong Kong. The period of the three kingdoms is great history, Joyce’s brother later tells me. However, he says this movie was a disaster. When he saw the movie, it put him to sleep. Because I lack knowledge of the historical events and characters, I must not appreciate how bad the film really is. I thought character development weak and plot dissolved, but the fighting was cool.

Feng Shui: Domestic and Urban

2008-04-22T00:29:00.000-07:00

April 17: Master Alex Yu begins class by defining “feng shui,” (風水).

Feng shui literally translates to “wind water.” The name stems from the Taoist belief that wind and water are the two most basic forces affecting the harmony of energy in nature.

“Feng shui is not a science, feng shui is feng shui,” Master Yu says. He explains that it’s more like interior design soaked in superstition. Feng shui seeks to maximize positive energy from arrangement within the home, as well as in architecture or even agriculture.

Following the rules, buildings should face water, with a mountain at the back. Mountains are stable forces good for relationships. Bodies of water bring wealth (open space, like a parking lot, can also symbolize water). If your home has a swimming pool in the backyard, the flow of energy is disrupted. Bad fortune will likely follow, according to principle. Master Yu suggests moving to a new home, or if that isn’t an option, place a very tall object in the back yard to offset the water. A tree might work.

Numbers 1 through 9 are important for determining feng shui.

8 = the best number

9,6,4 = also good numbers. 9 is good for romance. If you are lonely, Master Yu says, place your bed at #9. You will be very busy at night.

5 = the worst number

2,3 = also bad numbers

1 = change. Can be good or bad
7 = neutral

The following chart shows the positive and negative positioning for the year of the rat (2008). Note that each axis is flipped from the standard Western compass. The difference results from Chinese geography. Traditionally, the north represented mountains and the south (with the South China Sea) represented water. The chart changes every year with the farming calendar. Subtract one from each square to determine the number arrangement for 2009. Subtract one again for 2010, etc.

If you want good energy, follow the chart. Make a map of your home. Find the approximate center. Draw eight lines from the center, like spokes on a wheel, to divide your home (floor by floor) into nine segments. Make another map that includes your yard and consult both.

If your bedroom is on a bad number, Master Yu says, change your bedroom or move to a different house. It’s that simple. However, if you can’t change your sleeping area for some reason, there are ways of neutralizing the negative energy. For example, in our current classroom, at #5 in the south of the room, he has hung a circular wind chime with six metallic cylinders. For this location, he says, “Placing heavy and round-shaped metal objects can reduce inauspicious energy.”

From this number theory and calendar, last November, Master Yu used feng shui to predict that Barrack Obama would become the next president of the United States. Here’s his logic: The number 1 sits at the center of the chart for 2008. Number 1 is a number of change - the slogan of Obama’s campaign. Number 1 is also represented by the color black. Obama has dark skin. No wonder Hillary Clinton has had such a hard time this primary. Cosmic forces are conspiring against her.

After class, I take a ride on the Duk Ling, a traditional Chinese junk that the Hong Kong Tourism Board says was “originally owned and manned by Chinese fishermen, the Duk Ling is typical of the junks which used to crisscross Hong Kong’s waters for hundreds of years.”

Supposedly, it sailed for 25 years before restoration in the 1980s. The ride across Victoria Harbor is nice. It’s sorta fun to ride on a junk, but I’m not sure it’s worth the price - $50 HKD (about $6.4 US). The gray sky doesn’t make the price any more attractive.

From behind the fog, architectural use of feng shui appears on Hong Kong Island. My guidebook, Fodor’s, includes an article that cites two case studies – the Bank of China Tower and the HSBC Main Building. The Bank of China building, designed by famous architect I. M. Pei, is dominant over Victoria Harbor. According to Fodor’s, the giant triangles that form its outer-walls are bad feng shui (“3” was one of the bad numbers discussed in class), and some say that, “it resembles a screwdriver – one that’s drilling the wealth out of Hong Kong, others prefer the metaphor of a knife into the heart of the SAR.” On the other hand, the HSBC headquarters, designed by Sir Norman Foster, seems to have nothing but positive feng shui. Fodor’s reports that the escalators were supposedly redesigned at an angle because “evil spirits can only travel in a straight line,” thus preventing evil sprits from entering from the Victoria Harbor (while they also resemble the whiskers of a dragon, “sucking money into the bank”).

Politically-charged feng shui energy? Maybe.

“Atop the (HSBC) building and pointing towards the Bank of China Tower are two metal rods that look like window-washing apparatus. The rods are a classic feng shui technique designed to deflect negative energy – in this case, of the Bank of China’s dreaded triangles – away and back to its source,” according to Fodor’s.

Oranges, Yin and Yang

2008-04-22T00:27:00.000-07:00

April 16: I'm probably the only tourist in Hong Kong packing Tupperware full of pre-peeled orange slices. Thank you Mrs. Choi!

Waiting for the Traditional Chinese Medicine class, I sit outside a skyscraper in the Central District. I eat pre-peeled oranges and wonder if any other tourist is so lucky. Over my shoulder, a man is frowning. Jealousy? I think he wants my orange slices. Based on his ugly look, I think he needs some yin medicine quick... I finish eating and head to class.

The class, hosted by Eu Yan Sang
(余仁生, which means “Eu” - the founder Eu Kong Pai – “caring for mankind”) outlines some of the basic ideas of Tradtional Chinese Medicine while offering promotional time for the expensive TCM pharmacy.

Important points:

Yin and Yang (陰陽).
Yin = female, darkness, cold, water
Yang = male, brightness, heat, fire

Together they represent the balance and harmony of chi (energy,) in life. The two are inseparable and mutually dependant. Both are strongest where the other is weakest. When one is in excess, the other recedes. Each is transmutable into its opposite. The seed of either rests at the heart of the opposite's strongest, thickest point.

The yin and yang symbol, known as taijitu (太極圖), represents the ideal balance of yin and yang.

Traditional Chinese doctors, referred to as TCM practitioners in the States, inspect the balance of chi in a person by looking at the patient's tongue, feeling the pulse, examining breathing patterns and whites of the eyes, and through conversation about the ailment.

I had a special opportunity to experience this traditional check-up earlier in my trip.

According to TCM, illness results from an imbalance of yin and yang. If the patient is too hot, or has too much yang, the doctor prescribes cooling yin medicine (which could be sour, bitter or salty in flavor, astringent and subsisting). If the patient is too cold, vice versa; yang medicine is prescribed (which could be pungent or sweet in flavor, dispersing and floating).

A cough or sneeze is caused by excess cold or yin. Traditional Chinese Medicine could suggest donggui as a yang remedy.

While acne is an example of excess heat or yang. American ginseng could be prescribed (although, be careful not to take Chinese or Korean ginseng instead).

The distinction between Asian and American ginseng, I think is the most interesting point in the class. Mary Chang, the class instructor and pharmacist for Eu Yan Sang, explains that three types of ginseng exist:

1. Chinese ginseng (panax ginseng, or 紅蔘): harvested after 5-6 year, properties are increased strength and reguvination, yang medicine
2. Korean ginseng (高麗蔘): harvested after 7 years, properties are increased blood circulation and physical strength, yang medicine
3. North American ginseng (panax quinquefolium, 西洋蔘): harvested after 4 years, provides energy, good for stress, insomnia, indigestion, dry throat, mental tiredness, acne and menopausal depression, yin medicine
* Also: wild ginseng, which is left in the ground longer, offers a more potent substance of any of the three).

Ms. Chang also explains the significance of bizarre foodstuffs, i.e. medicines, such as lingzhi 靈芝(ganoderma mushroom, good for immune system), cordycepts 冬蟲夏草(a caterpillar killed by fungus in its cocoon, good for fighting fatigue), donggui 當歸(good for ailments of the uterus), tian qi 田七(lowers cholesterol), deer antler 鹿茸(only from certain types of deer, good for treatment of impotence) and birds nest 燕窩(swallows' nests, made of saliva and rich in protein, good for skin).

After the class is over, she takes us downstairs to buy Eu Yan Sang’s products. I walk away with a free bag of herbal throat lozenges.

Heritage in Northern Kowloon: Bird Walkers, Temples and a Walled City

2008-04-22T00:26:00.000-07:00

April 15: Bird-walking is daily custom for many old men in Hong Kong. From dawn until tea time, bird walkers congregate in favorite parks, or restaurants, to air and share their prized songbirds. In northern Kowloon, Yuen Po Street Bird Garden is devoted to the city’s bird walkers.

The historic bird street had been located in Mong Kok, but the government relocated the district in 1997 to the northeast, between Boundary Street and Prince Edward Road. Consolidated to roughly 70 stalls (according to the city), the modern pedestrian-only street/garden“is testimony to the excessive pampering (the birds) receive. Merchants stock items such as fancy teak cages, tiny porcelain water bowls, even culinary delicacies, such as grasshoppers. It opens from around 7am-8pm.”

I wake early and arrive before 7 a.m. The street is empty. Custodians water plants. A few men huddle around a cage pile. Up and down Yuen Po Street, songbirds chirp behind closed storefronts. Wild birds sing their refrain. An elderly man carries two cages and hangs them at different locations. He practices tai chi, and he moves the cages to different locations as he varies the motions of his exercise routine.

Two hours pass, men begin to wander. From the outside looking in, brown finch-looking birds investigate the accumulating cages. Bamboo cages (for sale) assemble a wall at the north entrance. Men examine those lively, chirping birds inside. The sullen, less-animated creatures go unnoticed.

Business gains momentum, and I walk east along Boundary Street. The street's namesake marked the separation between colonial Hong Kong and China from 1860 (the result of Britain’s victory in the second Opium War) during the Ming Dynasty until 1898 when the United Kingdom took a 99-year lease on New Territories.

I walk north into Kowloon City. Kowloon City's buildings appear more rundown than the waterfront of Hong Kong Island and Tsim Sha Tsui in southern Kowloon. Undoubtedly, the neighborhood is in exemplary shape compared to the days of the Kowloon Walled City (little more than a decade earlier).

The walled city was infamous for crime, drugs, prostitution and lack of governmental supervision. When a resident of the city was murdered in 1959, neither Britain nor the People’s Republic of China claimed responsibility for the region.

The city developed from an early village, which had been a military post for the Song Dynasty (960–1279) and later became a stronghold for the Ming Dynasty (1644–1912), after the 1842 Treaty of Nanking (when China first ceded Hong Kong Island to Britain). The 99-year lease of New Territories stipulated a continued military outpost at the location for the Qing Dynasty. The issue remained unresolved as Chinese immigrants flooded Hong Kong from the Mainland. Shoddy buildings grew atop one another, and the outpost developed into a maze-like slum. Upon demolition, the walled city housed 50,000 inhabitants on 0.026 km².

Across the street from the park (modeled after gardens from the Qing Dynasty), the Hau Wong Temple watches over passing traffic.

A bus takes me from the Hau Wong Temple to a giant shopping mall, which towers over the Sik Sik Yuen Wong Tai Sin Temple – a sprawling Taoist temple built during the early 20th century.

Stalls selling incense surround the entrance. Inside, tourists and worshippers crowd. Wads of soggy dollars join coins in wishing fountains. The scent of incense wafts from smoky altar-rooms. Around the wishing pond, families eat lunch and old men play chess. At the lower pond, I watch a turtle chase a fat orange koi. If the turtle tires of chase, another will inevitably catch/eat the fish. Masses of turtles bake on every available rock. Each scrambles its legs to climb atop the rest (or to prevent another turtle from accomplishing the task). The koi probably fell to the lower pond by a waterfall adjoining a higher pond. Fish symbolize fortune. Turtles symbolize longevity.

One metro stop away, at Diamond Hill, another mall towers over the local tourist attraction. The Nan Lian Garden, a Tang Dynasty style garden (618-906), precedes the Chi Lin Nunnery with a serene garden and walking path. A small museum explains the nearby Buddhist nunnery’s architectural significance. Also in Tang style, the building uses not one nail. A bridge leads to the giant pagoda. Inside, curtains cover the top portion of Buddha and bodhisattva altars. In order to view the golden statues, the curtains force visitors to bow.

Bowing tourists seem less offensive beside genuine worshippers.

Soft chants and shaking joss sticks cloak the nunnery in white noise. Freshly shorn nuns smile. Occasionally, one shakes her finger at a tourist who photographs a statue.

Tourist Visa to Mainland China

2008-04-13T23:24:00.001-07:00

April 14: Visas for visiting mainland China have changed in preparation for the Olympics. Multiple entry visas are no longer available. Because I need to offer proof of accommodation for each day planned in China, I will need to use a significant amount of money to ensure my trip – which will take more planning than I have done to date.

What to do!?!? Postpone visa details with a madcap week of tourism. The Hong Kong Tourism Board helps with a slew of free classes. I register for Chinese medicine, fung shui, Duk Ling junk ride (no longer, free as of this spring. $50 HK), tea appreciation, Cantonese opera appreciation and Chinese cake-making.

A $30 weekly museum pass and crab dinner (from a market in nearby Aberdeen) prepares me for the rigors of budget tourism. Before you buy a weekly pass, be warned, only a select few museums honor the pass (although many are free anyway), and it will not allow entry to special exhibits at the Hong Kong Art Museum.

Happy and Confused

2008-04-13T22:01:00.000-07:00

April 13: I never thought Cantonese would be so welcome to my ears. Often, I doubt I will ever speak the language, but I've picked up a few words during my time with Joyce. Very few words.

When I do try speaking, it often results in much laughter from Joyce and her mother. For example, before I went fishing, I tried to learn, “I want to catch fish.”

They said, “Ngo sheung DIU yue.”

I repeated after them, “Ngo sheung DIU YOU.”

Because Cantonese often substitutes English words, and I used the wrong intonation on “DIU,” I say something very offensive. To my ears, the sentence sounds the same, but it means, “I want to fuck you.”

To explain my error, Joyce consults “A Dictionary of Cantonese Slang,” which she bought from Amazon.com.

However bad my Cantonese, I understand much less in Mandarin.

Today, we attend a 1937 Chinese film at the Hong Kong Film Archive - "New Times, Old Times" written and directed by Zhu Shilin (朱石麟).

During the beginning of the film (without subtitles), I understand "how are you," in Mandarin (nee hau ma? or 你好嗎), and that's it. Joyce taught me the phrase to compare it to Cantonese (lay ho ma? or 你好嗎).

After the movie, I’m back to struggling through misunderstanding Cantonese. I feel better, pretending that I recognize parts of sentences. But maybe I’m in a much worse situation. Still, I’ll take embarrassing confusion over total ignorance.

Household Gods

2008-04-11T22:21:00.001-07:00

April 12: I show Joyce’s mother this picture of Jerry. Her eyes flash. That’s the cover of his 2004 album. “I don’t like this picture, too open,” she says. His pose is too sexual. Sony, the label, made him do it. Evidently, Jerry (Jerry Yan or Yán Chéngxù, 言承旭) is a shy guy. She would know. She’s a “superfan” and travels across Asia with other Jerry-maniacs to adore the Taiwanese pop sensation.

In the dining room, an altar to Jerry nestles on a shelf above family photos and mementos. Pepsi cans bearing his face smile down on all family meals. He waves Oral B toothbrushes from promotional material. Out the window, onto the streets of South Horizons, he beams positive energy from a glued-together jigsaw puzzle.

Before arriving in Hong Kong, I read about the large quantity of temples and shrines throughout the city. The fact is reflected all over the city, where incense burners and small tributes crowd corners of giant buildings. I also read that Hong Kong’s spirituality is present in shrines to household gods.

Spirituality in Hong Kong takes many forms, from the innumerable Catholic and Protestant schools and 600,000-or-so Christians living in the city, to more than 600 Buddhist and Taoist temples in the Special Administrative Region, the schools of Confucius, roughly 80,000 Muslims and smaller pockets of Mormons and Orthodox Christians.

A statue of Guan Yin (觀音), the Buddhist bodhisattva of compassion, sits in a glass cupboard full of precious family memorabilia, but Joyce says her once-Christian family doesn’t honor any household gods.

At least on her mother’s behalf, Jerry’s omni-present smile begs to differ.

Joyce finishes an essay in Chinese for a Chinese etymology class. She uses a writing pad to speed the tedious typing process. Maybe Jerry will bless her work, but she doesn't think so.

Sloped Cemetery

2008-04-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

April 11: In a pile of broken headstones and concrete chunks, a woman’s face rests on a crumbling slab at the bottom of the Chinese Christian Cemetery, a private hillside cemetery on western Hong Kong Island. Her bodily remains have since relocated, I imagine.

When there is barely room for the living, where do the dead rest? Cemetery space in Hong Kong is few and far between, but public cemeteries do exist around the city. Although they offer no final peace.

In regards to public burial, the Hong Kong Food and Environment Hygiene Department Web site explains: “Burials in aforesaid public cemeteries are not permanent, but exhumable. Every year, the Food and Environmental Hygiene Department will issue an exhumation order in the Government Gazette, requiring the removal from graves of all human remains which have been interred in the aforesaid public cemeteries for more than six years. If the remains are not exhumed after expiry of the exhumation order, the Government will disinter the remains, cremate them, and re-inter the ashes in the Communal Grave at Sandy Ridge Cemetery. However, one can arrange, through an undertaker, to have the remains exhumed, and either cremated, or reburied in an urn grave in the Wo Hop Shek Cemetery.”

Sounds harsh, but the practice follows traditional Cantonese burial custom. B. D. Wilson explains the relationship in his article titled “Burial Customs in Hong Kong:”

After the initial burial, “remains are normally fit for exhumation after a minimum of five years of burial (…) In Chinese public cemeteries, the same principle of exhumation is practiced.”

Wilson notes that he is an amateur in the field of local burial rites. Still, he outlines many interesting tidbits about local burial practices. If interested, I recommend reading the brief article.

He mentions that white is the traditional mourning color - a marked contrast to the black clothes associated with funerals in Western culture (although Joyce says that a small black cloth - or white flower clip - is worn as tribute during and after the funeral). Loud firecrackers and gong banging - normally celebratory - could be common at the event to call the spirit to the burial. A pile of trousers might be placed on the coffins of the deceased (man or woman). Wilson writes that the practice is based on a Cantonese pun. The word for “trousers” in Cantonese sounds like “riches.” Neither Joyce nor her mother has heard of this one, though. But Mrs. Choi says it is common to throw rice or soil to symbolize riches.

The Hong Kong Food and Environment Hygiene Department explains protocol for importing bodies to mainland China. Wilson’s article explains why this is important: “The deceased is considered to be in a better position to watch over his earthly descendants if buried close to his native place, where it is also, of course, easier for his family to pay their respects to him. This has led to the practice of conveying the deceased back to the place in China whence he came and interring him in a traditional burial ground.”

Hillside burials aren’t too common in my native Nebraska, and on the plains of the Midwestern U.S., but in Hong Kong and China, they are much desired. Wilson explains that “commanding a view of water, and on a ridge or spur which represents, for instance, a dragon, snake, shrimp or crab in its formation,” is ideal for burial. Feng Shui is a big factor, but also that the sloped terrain is not practical for construction.

The Chinese Christian Cemetery follows suit with a commanding view of the ocean. The hillside is adorned with Christian and Chinese imagery, such as the Chinese lions guarding crucifixes.

After leaving the cemetery, I wander through the Western District, and I pass a mass of shops specializing in incense and burnable paper replicas of everyday products (from miniature homes to cell phones to cigarettes to dim sum). These shops are present on the edge of Mong Kok, around Causeway Bay and all over Hong Kong.

Joyce says that the paper products can be burned, along with paper money and folded gold paper, to respect the dead. People believe, by burning, the spirits from the other world will receive the gifts. However, she says there is a duality to the concept; at home or when visiting the grave, you often bring fresh items like crispy pork or fruit. As a child, she asked a relative about the idea, “Why don’t you burn the fruit or pork too?” The response was, “The spirits come to lick and sniff the food. That's how ghosts eat. Then, they're full.” Then, “it’s basically like a picnic for the family,” she says.

Fishing on the South China Sea

2008-04-10T05:07:00.000-07:00

April 8-10: A water taxi, known as a wala-wala, takes me to the fishing boat docked off eastern Hong Kong Island.

I meet Mr. Choi’s fishing buddy, Mr. Chiu, who owns the company. Mr. Chiu captains boat #1, and I’m on boat #2. We leave Victoria Harbor and disappear in the inky night.

After the city lights disappear, we near a bait boat, which approaches both boats. We stock up on small fish and squid. Our boat seems to be mostly Hong Kongers, with one man originally from the UK, who I speak with often throughout the trip (he’s lived in Hong Kong for 25 years and is married to a local).

The expat, a frequent customer of Mr. Chiu, says that many boats around Hong Kong have crews from mainland China. These crews are prohibited from leaving their boats, he says.

I brush my teeth as the South China Sea gently tosses Big Fish Boat #2. A fisherman fusses with the squids. He holds one in his palm. It bites him. “AH!” He shoves the squid in his mouth and gulps. “Ho mei-ah,” I say (tasty). “You wanna try one?” he asks in perfect English? As far as I can tell, he’s the only person on the boat who is relatively fluent in English (aside from myself and the expat).

After nine hours, in the morning, we stop at an oil drilling platform. The crew docks up against one of the platform's legs with a thick rope, and we begin to fish.

Half of the fishermen use electric rod and reel combos. The other half use giant spools of heavy line. The expat is the only fisherman using a manual rod and reel (for sport).

“It’s carnage,” he says. “Everything that hits the deck dies.”

I choose the electric combo.

A bird lands on my rod. So far from land, I wonder where it came from. It looks drunk swaying in the wind. A bad omen maybe? It flies onto the ship. The captain picks it up and poses for a photo. He throws the bird in the air and it flies straight into a wall. It disappears shortly.

I’m not catching anything. The local on my left is doing okay. Not terrific, but decent.

Around noon, I hear a loud clanging noise. I look up at the oil platform. Bits of lunch rain down. Smells awful. Stinky tofu on my face. The whole boat laughs. One of the crew sings, “Jingle Bells. Jingle Bells,” in heavily accented English. I’m guessing he thought the vomit-inducing rain resembled snow.

More clanging above. More lunch falls. The workers on the platform are targeting our ship. The crew spends an hour cleaning the boat before we leave for the next oil platform.

Everyone naps on the way. At the second location, I immediately catch a small red snapper. At least, I think it’s a snapper. I’m not sure.

Most of the boat gathers around the back. I grab a smaller rod and follow suit. With shrimp on hook, I fish well for the next two hours or so. I pull up at least 30 fish between 11-20 inches, which we’ll use for bait. I keep 15 and the rest go in a communal bait pot for catching really big fish. I notice that some of the men are stashing all of their bait fish in coolers.

Again, no one makes a terrific catch at the location.

The fisherman who offered the squid is cutting fish for sashimi. My snapper disappears for the cause. While working, he and a friend dip squids in wasabi and snack. He finishes the sashimi, and the boat crowds the plate (everyone except the expat). The captain offers me a piece on a toothpick. Very tasty. I say, “Ho mei-ah.” Everyone laughs.

Dinner proceeds. The best meal I’ve ever eaten on a boat – then again, it might be my first. I never would have suspected such a measly stove could have produced such a cornucopia: fresh chicken, fresh fish, pork, rice, beef, congee, fried vegetables – all prepared in a variety of sauces.

We arrive at the third location at nightfall. We dock between two oil platforms. I immediately get a big fish on, but a huge tangle ensues, and my line breaks. This location offers a lot of tangles, and good fishing for most of the boat. On the other hand, there’s me. I can’t seem to catch anything.

Half an hour before we leave, around 5 a.m., I catch something. Finally, I pull it aboard. Eel. The expat says it’s no good. We toss it over so it isn’t killed pointlessly (I’ve eaten eel before and liked it, but I’m not sure how to prepare it. Little do I know, Mrs. Choi knows the perfect recipe!).

Dead tired. I pass out in the cabin. Wake up. Watch Hong Kong approach from the distance.

We pull up to northern Hong Kong Island. A wala-wala picks up all passengers except me. I go back to the boat’s mooring. Alongside the wife of Mr. Chiu, Joyce arrives on another wala-wala.

Joyce is a far better fisherman than I. All she has to do is smile. The crew hands over a medium-sized barracuda (still giant by my standards) and two other huge fish. We pose with the fish, and the crew member who caught the barracuda scales it and cuts it into smaller pieces.

After climbing from the wala-wala onto Hong Kong island, I’m happy with the trip. Altogether, it cost me $1,350 HK, a huge discount from the normally priced $1650 HK (not including $500 HK for gear rental). My expense is less than $200 US.

Back at Joyce’s home, her mother prepares amazing fish congee, and her father prepares tasty sashimi. I share my pitiful trip with her father. He laughs, “Hong Kong fish don’t bite for foreigners.” I think I just need more practice.

Beautiful Hike: Wilson Trail, Sections 1 and 2

2008-04-07T20:23:00.000-07:00

April 7: The view of Hong Kong Island from Joyce's window is much different than the vistas on the Wilson Trail.

The Wilson Trail is a monster sprawling across 48 miles, from Southern Hong Kong Island through New Territories.

The trail is broken down into 10 manageable sections, each of which should take 3-4 hours according to my guide books. After filling up with tea and dim sum, I make it to the trailhead at Stanley Gap by 2 p.m.

The first section is a bit grueling – up and down mountains with spectacular panoramic views of the South China Sea, Repulse Bay and green mountains. The trip takes me through amazing undeveloped land, dense brush, and it leads up to distant views of Hong Kong’s skyline.

Stopping for photos provides much needed rest time.

Noisy bugs careen above the often-rocky trail; they pass like busy traffic on Hong Kong’s congested streets. Big trucks and buses take the form of buzzing bee-like creatures. White and black and yellow butterflies join hawks circling above my head, as if peering down from invisible skyscrapers.

The second section is a bit easier (heading north), but not much. It has a different feel, though. Rather than the ocean views, section two has amazing views of Kowloon and northern Hong Kong Island. The city lights begin to flicker as I am one-third finished. The sun disappears in the hazy atmosphere (most likely an industrial byproduct), and I hurry to complete the trip in darkness.

The dense brush becomes pitch black now, and poor signage doesn’t help. I think I take a wrong turn, which leads me past a sculpture of a goddess and soft Chinese music playing from a small stereo. I exit on Quarry Road, very sweaty, subject of many disgusted glances. A bus takes me to Central, where I transfer to Ap Lei Chau.

I walked across all of Hong Kong Island, from north to south. And I made it home. Hooray.

Aunties, Uncles and a Great View

2008-04-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

April 6: Game pieces click-clack like a stampede of tap-dancing sparrows.

Joyce’s mother and aunties play mahjong (麻將 or 麻雀); the second translates to “sparrow.” The four women noisily jumble the tiles, and I eat pastries while they play.

Joyce and I attend the 32nd annual Hong Kong Film Festival. We watch the debut of Kongdej Jaturanrasamee’s “Handle Me with Care.” It's about a guy with three arms, who goes Bangkok to get one chopped off.

The director-writer is present, and after the screening, he talks about the symbolism in the film - the aftermath of Thaksin Shinawatra's rule of Thailand. The main character, he says, feels remorse after removing his arm, like Thai people supposedly felt after Thaksin's westernization and removal of Thailand’s monarchy. I liked the movie and recommend it - one of the few romantic comedies that is actually funny. I especially like the sci-fi twist.

Afterwards, we meet my uncle at the Marco Polo (fancy hotel) in Kowloon. He just arrived from Colorado and will leave early for Shunde, where his company has a factory. We eat at a Chiu Chow style restaurant. After downing shots of traditional tie guan yin (鐵觀音) tea (one of Joyce’s father favorites. He happens to be Chiu Chow), we order three dishes. I especially like the duck’s tongue. The texture reminds me of tough oysters

Walking back to the main station in Kowloon, Joyce and I walk over the Avenue of the Stars, a tribute to Hong Kong cinema along the Tsim Sha Tsui promenade. Across Victoria Harbor, dazzling vistas of North Point and northern Hong Kong Island precede the night view from Joyce’s brother’s room (where I sleep).

Saturday Night in Mong Kok

2008-04-05T22:21:00.000-07:00

April 5: If Hong Kong is busy, Mong Kok is chaos. Street performers and promoters form pockets in the surging human tide. Floor shops and restaurants support upper level stores and restaurants. Neon signs flash. Street stalls slalom through t-shirts, fabrics and knock-off goods on the inner streets of the central Kowloon district.

Joyce and I wander together for a bit, eat some Japanese shrimp balls. She has a meeting with a class group at Starbucks. I wander the neighborhood. I pass through the goldfish market with the bags of fish hanging from storefronts, go to the flower market to find sunflowers for Joyce.

Passersby occasionally mutter, “Gwai lo.”

After her meeting completes, I give her two sunflowers wrapped in newspaper. We wander and eat more: frozen sour fruits, curry squid. An altar to a god hides behind a stool at a noodle shop. We wander the two blocks west of Nathan Road for a bit. We pass signs in Chinese, Japanese and English advertising girls at different rates. I take photos of the hallways leading up to a few. A man glares at me. He wears a gold chain. Triad gang members run these establishments, Joyce says.

Men carrying shopping bags for women walk past. Joyce hands me the flowers to carry.

We go back to eating, now at a small restaurant. Working-class men enter with beautiful women in skimpy, shiny clothing. They order noodles. We order BBQ pork neck and mushrooms wrapped in bacon fried. From watching Hong Kong films about Triads, Joyce says it's common for men to take their hostesses out for a meal.

Joyce insists that she pay.

Sweeping the Graves

2008-04-03T23:49:00.001-07:00

April 4: The metro zooms past the occasional cemetery or temple squeezed between never-ending skyscrapers. Families crowd the grave sites. Today is the Sweeping of the Graves (a public holiday).

We meet Joyce's grandmother and great-aunt at Tai Wai and flag a taxi. She asks Joyce if I speak any Cantonese. I say, “Lay ho ma?” "How are you?" My pronunciation must be poor, because she appears confused at first, but begins to chuckle after a moment. She is talkative and, via Joyce, shares some anecdotes from her four years in Canada.

In southern New Territories, we meet-up with Joyce's mother, an aunt carrying a small boy, and a little girl. Walking to Joyce's uncle’s home, the little girl chants a sing-song refrain. Joyce translates, “Two little snails walk in the back.” Joyce and I walk in the back.

On the 104th day after the winter solstice, families in China, Hong Kong, Malaysia and Singapore gather to honor their ancestors by cleaning their graves. The traditional Chinese festival 清明節 is known as Grave Sweeping Day, or by direct translation, according to Joyce, “Clean and Clear Festival.”

Joyce’s mother’s side of her family, who we visit, had swept their ancestors’ graves on Monday morning.

We arrive at a towering residential complex, ride the elevator, and enter Uncle Andy’s home. His wife says, “Hello,” and speaks English with me throughout the night.

Everyone pays great attention to the little boy, who entertains the crowd. On television, news footage from Beijing shows throngs of people descending from the Forbidden City and visiting grave sites.

Today marks the first time that the People’s Republic of China recognized the day as a public holiday. The officially atheist Communist Party of China previously deemed the celebration “superstitious.”

We eat an amazing dinner (some of the dishes are Hakka, the ethnic group to which the grandmother belongs). The little boy says he has finished eating. The grandmother corrects him. To say he is finished eating would imply death and bring bad luck. Joyce translates. The grandmother tells him to say, "I'm full."

After dinner, the family crowds the television on couches and chairs. The grandmother's favorite drama is on TV. She watches it everyday. After an actor speaks, she chuckles and repeats the line.

The boy wants to play with me. He realizes that I don’t speak Cantonese, and he says, “Ha-lo.” He runs away and returns. “Ha-lo. Ha-lo. Ha-lo.” I show him my camera. He likes to press the button. He says, “Gumma. Gumma Gumma.” Translates to, “Push. Push. Push.” I point the camera at his face. He clicks the button. After looking at the display screen, he laughs. “Baby. Baby.” He pronounces, “Be-Bee. Be-Bee.”

After the drama finishes, the party leaves. When I get my backpack, the little boy says something that translates to “Don't go to work.” Evidently, his father, not at the dinner because of work, wears a backpack when he leaves for work. Walking to the bus terminal, the little boy wants to hold my hand. We hold hands.

Heading to Rebecca Pan's

2008-04-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

April 3: The student conspirators in Ang Lee’s 2007 release “Lust, Caution” attended the University of Hong Kong – Joyce’s school. While walking through an atrium in the old building, I recognize the balcony where the film’s characters discussed their assassination scheme.

Joyce completes her lectures for the day, and we take Hong Kong’s classic Star Ferry across Victoria Harbor to Kowloon. We wander Kowloon, eat a tea egg (egg hardboiled in tea and spices) and head to the Chungking Mansions (cheap accommodations with imitation watches, cell phones and camera equipment sold on the first two floors).

The Chungking Mansions gained international exposure in 1994’s “Chungking Express,” written and directed by Wong Kar-wai.

The Chungking Mansions is one of Hong Kongs most widely recognized budget accommodations, a maze of guesthouses and curry shops. We share a lamb kabob at a Pakistani restaurant on the second floor. The Chungking Mansions are known for its large population of Indian, Middle Eastern and international residents. The food is delicious and cheap.

Men’s eyes follow Joyce around the building. We walk around the shops and leave for our next food destination.

We go next door for the teatime special at Spaghetti House, a local Hong Kong Italian food chain, share a combo meal: puffy lobster soup with mushroom lobster pasta and coffee.

We wander Kowloon Park, look at the flamingos and go to a pier to view the skyscrapers lining southern Victoria Harbor. The sky is soup, buildings disapear in atmosphere. Then, we take a taxi to the home of Rebecca Pan (an actress and international cabaret singer) and join Joyce’s parents for dinner.

Rebecca has appeared in a number of prominent Southeast Asian films (three of which were either directed or produced by Wong Kar-wai). And, she served as consultation for Ang Lee’s portrayal of Shanghainese women playing mahjongg in “Lust, Caution.” Joyce met Rebecca through a cafe salon through HKU, and we spent almost two weeks together in Mexico City and Havana during the summer of 2007.

After nine courses of Shanghainese and Chiu Chow style cuisine (duck, goose, beef, fish, soups, vegetables, and more) I’m ready to burst. We digest while watching videos of Rebecca singing in Mexico and Cuba, which Joyce had recorded.

“Ngo ho bow wor.” I’m very stuffed. Joyce taught me the phrase yesterday. Eating all day is hard work.

The Temple on Pok Fu Lam

2008-04-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

April 2: Once a “barren island,” Hong Kong is amazingly green.

Years of slash and burn farming had depleted the area’s mountain forests and topsoil. Erosion took a heavy toll, and for the second half of the 20th century, the city battled to preserve deteriorating hills through myriad methods: cement buttressing, plaster casts, giant walls, etc. Meanwhile, immigrants flooded the city's crowded slopes, literally by the millions. A tide of human developments coupled with rainy climate accelerated the crumbling of the mountainside.

After winning the first Opium War in 1842, British Prime Minister Lord Palmerston lamented his prize, then a fishing village. Britain had "obtained a barren island with hardly a house upon it,” he complained to his generals.

Today, the Special Administrative Region (once again part of China) boasts a population of roughly seven billion with a booming economy.

The city is urban beyond urban. Yet, Hong Kong also boasts a huge area of protected natural land. Country parks sprawl over 40 percent of Hong Kong’s 1,092 sq. kilometers. Although, many of the parks lie in less-developed New Territories (along the Guangdong Province border).

Joyce takes me with her to the University of Hong Kong for a breakfast of congee (rice porridge). She warns me of the danger of getting lost on a nearby country park trail. She worries then leads me to the base of the Lung Fu Shan country park. She goes to class. I go up the mountain.

On the path, I pass a construction crew. They haul a fallen tree from the path. A moment later, a metal tin hangs from a tree branch, swaying in the breeze, apparently part of a shrine erected beside the trail. A table with stool and jars of offerings appear to be an altar.

I pass earth coated in plaster. PVC pipes provide drainage, while larger outlets allow vegetation to grow and anchor the slope via root system.

I pass a red Buddha relief protruding from the plaster at the base of Lung Fu Shan. The peak’s summit has a plastic blue tai chi wheel and a pagoda with two girls from HKU chatting in Cantonese. I continue on, following signs that point to “Peak.” Thanks to my lack of planning, I don’t realize this path takes me to Victoria Peak, the famous lookout point for Victoria Harbor. I pass another plaster support; it displays a dragon fighting a phoenix.

A light haze turns to heavy fog. The skyscrapers around Victoria Harbor sneak from behind foliage, occasionally, before fading to nothing in the gray air.

I pass the ruins of the abandoned Pinewood Battery (built before WWI, used as anti-aircraft in WWII).

The trail becomes more developed: Toilets. Manicured green space. Flower beds. The bamboo groves sit farther away from my path.

The trail becomes more crowded. A white woman in jogging suit walks two small dogs and smokes a cigarette. A giant structure towers above the trees. The building hums. I reach the trailhead. A taxi darts past. A double-decker bus follows. Tourists buzz around a shopping mall. What? Shopping mall atop a mountain?

Joyce calls.

I tell her I am disappointed, hoped to find something other than an enormous mall full of McDonalds, Starbucks and expensive clothing boutiques.

I ride the escalators and eat a candy bar. A plastic and electronic fortune-telling machine mimicks a Greek or Roman god in a corner. An adjacent photography store sells beautiful landscapes. Nearby, the vacant eyes of two stuffed pandas stare from behind a glass storefront.

I leave the mall and continue uphill until the sidewalk disappears. I pass gated mansions and luxury residential complexes. I try to take a photo of one. The security guard chases me off, “No photo! No photo! Go!”

The hike was extremely enjoyable. It’s remarkable that Hong Kong could have such a great nature area in the heart of the city. Even so, I was hoping for something else at the top.

I had hoped to find a temple or some unique cultural experience. I felt disappointed because I found something all too familiar. I walk back down to HKU through a heavy fog and light drizzle.

Maybe the mall is the perfect addition to Victoria Peak. A temple to capitalism above Hong Kong Island seems appropriate, albeit anti-climactic.

Hong Kong exhibits one of the world’s most successful free market models. The city rose from “barren island” to booming metropolis and managed to preserve a great deal of its natural beauty. Wealth made it all possible, and consumption created the wealth.

Maybe when the weather is better, I’ll return for the view. After all, I’m here as a tourist, just like everyone else on Victoria Peak.

Snakes and Gods with Plenty of Tea

2008-04-02T10:29:00.000-07:00

April 1: Here are the teeming masses. The double-decker bus inches through a morning traffic jam toward Central. Out of the bus, on the pavement, the crowd surges in all directions, across the street, across the sidewalk, like ants swarming. Joyce grabs my hand; walking hand-in-hand proves difficult. Our paths weave among utility poles, bamboo scaffolding and pedestrians.

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.

Hot Pot, Bitter Tea

2008-04-02T09:48:00.000-07:00

March 31: Jet lag caught up today. Sleeping through 20-some hours of flights before arriving at night was not a good idea. I couldn’t sleep the first two nights I spent in Hong Kong, and on my third day, today, I crashed.

When I woke, Joyce’s parents had the table prepared with a hot pot – a boiling pot of water surrounded by plates of raw beef, chicken (Joyce’s mother selected the live bird in the morning and had it feathered and boned while she waited…service included in the price), squid balls, partially-cooked bouncy beef, three types of leafy greens, tofu and bean curd sheet.

After dinner, I drank dose #1 of my herbal tea prescription. After a few hours boiling on the stove, Mrs. Choi poured the tea in a wide bowl and placed it on the table.

“Ho fu,” she said.

“Very bitter,” Joyce said.

Mrs. Choi set a bag prunes on the table: “This will help. Sweet.”

I took a small drink. Not bad.

I took a big drink and shivered, took a big bite of a prune.

Not sure if it was the tea, but when I woke the next morning, my injured shoulder felt good.

Traditional Chinese Medicine and Fortune-telling.

2008-03-30T19:50:00.000-07:00

March 30: Dim sum brunch in nearby mall with most of Joyce’s family (Joyce, second-brother, mother, father). Excellent food and plenty of tea (jasmine 香片 and tie guan yin 鐵觀音). Joyce checks the selections from a paper form. I can’t read Chinese, but her choices are excellent. I especially enjoy the shrimp steamed in wheat flour (Ha Gau or 蝦餃), the hometown pancake (which hometown? Not certain), and the deep-fried chicken soft bones (gai yun gwat or 雞軟骨). Of many others, the chicken/phoenix feet/claws stand out (gai guet or 鳳爪) - they taste good, but the waterlogged skin texture was not my favorite.

Joyce, her mother and I head to the local Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner. Joyce places her hand on a cushion and he feels her pulse. She switches hands. They talk about skin. Her body is too warm and needs to cool. He prescribes a concoction to be brewed. It includes herbs, strange plants and beetle shells.

Next is my turn. I had dislocated my shoulder a year before while snowboarding and popped it back in myself. A few weeks prior to Hong Kong, and I slipped on ice while playing with my dog (very stupid) and popped the shoulder out and in once more.

Joyce explained the predicament. The doctor told me to sit. I place my right hand on the cushion. He feels my pulse with gentle fingertips and kind eyes. I switch hands. He asks Joyce if I had popped it back in myself. She says yes. He says I am healthy, but he could prescribe something for the pain or to speed recovery.

He returns to the shelves of glass jars. My concoction includes a tree bark that contains nutrients essential to ligament recovery.

We leave for a local wet market. Joyce’s mother buys fresh fruit. We walk home through the mall where we ate dim sum. We pass electronics stores full of the latest wide-screen televisions and miniature washing machines. We pass toy stores, candy stores, and more stores.

In the evening, Joyce and I join friends at Xi Yan 囍宴, a speakeasy (si fong choi or 私房菜) in Kowloon. Unlike the U.S. prohibition-era establishments, Hong Kong speakeasies are nontraditional restaurants in a chef’s home or rented space, and they are typically unlicensed to avoid the high cost of operation.

The twelve-course meal is excellent and typical presentation for Chinese fine dining in Hong Kong/China. However, Xi Yan offered not the typical Chinese fare with a fusion of Shanghainese, Sichuanese, Thai, Japanese cuisine (Joyce thinks a bit of Cantonese was mixed in, too). Depending on the ranking, Xi Yan is the 2nd or 3rd best speakeasy in Hong Kong.

After dinner, stuffed, on our way to the fortune tellers, we wander the Temple Street night market and pass rows of inexpensive items: clothes (baby kimonos), toys (imitation Legos), adult paraphernalia (swirling, flashing dildos), communist memorabilia (Mao Zedong’s litte red book and imitation posters), watches, jewelry, faux antiques and more.

An elderly fortune teller catches Joyce’s eye. He waves a feathered fan. Past more kitsch salesmen and beckoning fortune tellers (hand, face and tarot card readers advertising fortunes in Cantonese, Mandarin and/or English), we walk around the block and return to the wizened man (the eldest present). His whiskers hang from above his lips and trail long from his chin. Joyce negotiates a price for two ($165 HK down from $300 HK). I go first and sit on a small plastic stool. The man’s crumpled eyes look into my own. He traces lines on my left hand with a blue ballpoint pen. I will have good fortune between the age of 28 and 78 with a peak at 33. I should live a long life and be careful next year, he says. Joyce translates as her tape recorder roles.

When it’s her turn, Joyce learns her years of fortune will last from 28 to 73. She questions the man. Her fortune sounds almost identical to my own, and she wants an explanation. It’s probably because we were born in the same year, he says, and she translates after we leave the stand.

We leave happy with our good fortune.

Departure/Arrival

2008-03-30T19:49:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 28: Leave Omaha: Wake one hour and 15 minutes before flight. Shower. No Shave. To Eppley Airfield, parents drive me, tossing razor, shaving cream, toothpaste, toothbrush, and finger nail clipper set into carry-on bag. During baggage inspection, shaving cream and toothpaste are confiscated. Bag is set aside for further inspection. Announcer calling for all passengers on flight to Salt Lake City, the first leg of my flight to Hong Kong via Vancouver. After a second x-ray scan, while the announcer continues calling for passengers; FAA inspectors confiscate a wine corkscrew/bottle opener from the fingernail clipper set and steal one of my gifts to Joyce’s family… Inspector says - “You can’t take this.” Me – “That’s expensive jam from Sandpoint, Idaho (huckleberry). It’s a gift to my girlfriend’s parents.” Inspector says – “Let me talk to my supervisor.” Supervisor says – “Toss it.” Me – “Can my parents at least come upstairs and pick it up.” Supervisor says– “Nope. It’s garbage. Toss it.”

Stop in Salt Lake City. Fly to Vancouver. Go through customs to retrieve checked backpack. Border police suspicious of my six hour layover. Released. Go through x-ray inspection again.

Thirteen-and-a-half hours of sleep later, expecting more customs hassle, I walk on Hong Kong soil. I carry a piece of paper detailing my arrival and departure plans. Technically, visitors should not be admitted without proof of return ticket. The customs agent scans my passport, rips off the first sheet of the visa, and I meander through the green doors for those with nothing to declare.

Close to midnight on Saturday, March 29, Joyce leads me to the bus stop at Hong Kong International Airport on Lantau Island. We go to her parents’ flat on Hong Kong Island.

I ask about fishing in the ocean against her residential complex…. Joyce says - “Douger, you can forget about fishing.” We walk down steps to peek at the ocean black in the night. Big “NO FISHING” signs line our path. High above the water, a walkway weaves along the shoreline. Locals line the walkway above the water. They fish over the railing. A group of youths squat together and put line on a girl’s pole. A few heavy rods lean against the railing... Me – “Catching anything?” Young fisherman – “Just beer.”

A moment later, 39 floors above the scene, surrounded by more towering residential buildings, Joyce’s family offers a warm greeting. I forget to take off my shoes upon entering their home. I don’t intend disrespect, but removing shoes upon entering a home is one of the unwritten rules of which Joyce had pre-warned me. They don’t seem offended. Joyce doesn’t think they even noticed. I couldn’t have asked for a more gracious reception.