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.
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