Thursday 13 December 2012


To market, to market

Ah, a sunny, warm (70/20) day off! With the clock ticking down on my time in Hong Kong, what better way to spend it than visiting a selection of the city’s famous themed markets?

I grabbed my purse and headed out for the Kowloon side, crossing the harbour underground on the MTR (subway). My trusty guidebook in hand, I made my way to Mong Kok, a working class neighbourhood just south of the border between Kowloon and the New Territories.

My walk took me along Boundary Road, past Mong Kok Stadium to a small lane. Suddenly, I heard twittering and tweeting. I’d found the bird market!




Themed markets in Hong Kong come in more than one variety: stores selling one type of product clustered together; outdoor stalls along a pedestrian thoroughfare; or a covered are with booths featuring a particular product. The bird market comprises small shops that sell pet birds and all the items needed to care for them: cages, feed, water bowls, perches, etc.

In fact, Hong Kong birds live a luxury lifestyle. No wire cages or plastic water dishes for these tweetie pies; no, no! They sip and sup from china bowls and flit around in lovely bamboo cages. Quite lovely, actually, to see them appreciated!



I walked the lane and marvelled at the varieties of birds on offer: parrots, budgies, cockatoos, and a host of other small birds I couldn’t name. There were some baby parrots whose heads still had baby fuzz rather than feathers – so adorable. However, they knew how to squawk with the best of them already!



One of the shops specialized in bird treats: live grasshoppers. They were packaged in plastic punctured with holes and lined with grass and twigs. I think I might stick to bird seed if I were an owner.



Not only is the bird market home to bird sellers, it has a parklike area attached where bird owners can come with their own birds, sit and visit. No need for birds – or owners, for that matter – to be lonely!

The lane from the bird market leads almost directly to the next point of interest: the flower market. This, too, is actually a collection of shops that specialize in flower, with some more like gardening stores, others focusing on cut flowers and still others focusing on a category of plant, such as orchids or succulents. The merchandise spills out onto the sidewalk, so the browser is barraged by a flood of colour: purple, yellow and white orchids; tubs of cut carnations, birds of paradise, anthurium  and bamboo; hyacinth bulbs ready to burst into fragrant bloom; and for the holidays, pot after pot of poinsettias. Impossible to walk away empty-handed – and I didn’t!



A few blocks away, across a busy Prince Edward Street, is the goldfish market. I have fond childhood memories of carnivals and fairs at local synagogues and churches where there were goldfish to be won as prizes. You aimed a ping pong ball at a goldfish bowl, and if it landed, you were awarded a goldfish swimming in a plastic bag full of water that was held gingerly on the drive home.

I hadn’t seen such bags in years – until today! There, along the street full of aquarium stores, were the plastic bags of my childhood, but they weren’t as staid. No, it wasn’t simply goldfish that were available, but guppies, crabs, angelfish and others. Inside the shops, larger fish and tanks were for sale, but there’s nothing to attract a sidewalk crowd like a wall full of koi!



Since I’d been wandering for quite a while already, I decided to pass on the ladies’ clothing market. I’ve been to some outdoor clothing markets on Hong Kong Island, and I was more interested in the next destination: the jade market.

En route, however, I happened upon a Tin Hau Temple that beckoned, so I wandered in to inhale the incense and enjoy the altar piled with the usual offerings of fruit. Tin Hau is the Empress of the Seas and is a goddess of great import to fishermen and sailors.

After cutting down a side street that took me past a tempting selection of stores selling cooking utensils and industrial-size pots, I found the tin-covered roof that marked the jade market. Inside the building were dozens of booths selling jade items from minuscule to large: earrings, bracelets and pendants, as well as decorative carvings in shades from white to dark green. Tour books warn the buyer to beware, as much of the stock is likely jadite or worse, but for cheap and cheerful, it’s fine. Of course, I couldn’t leave without a few bracelets and a happy young saleswoman! What’s a trip to HK without some lucky jade?



Some sunshine, some shopping, some new neighbourhoods to explore: all in all, a lovely day off.

  

Friday 23 November 2012


Singin’ – and walkin’ – in the rain



How wonderful.  A day off with nothing on my To-Do list offered an opportunity to do some exploring.  I had a craving to escape the city with its hustle and bustle, so the outer islands beckoned.

My colleague, Yenni, had given me some maps of the islands, and my trusty tour book (Lonely Planet, I love you!) had write-ups, so there were choices to be made. I looked through the information and decided on Cheung Chau, a small island known for its windsurfing -- Hong Kong's only Olympic gold medallist hails from the island -- with temples galore, and the promise of scenic vistas.



The day was grey, but I was undaunted. After all, as a former B.C. (that’s British Columbia for the uninitiated) babe, I knew the virtues of Gore-tex and was unafraid. I threw some necessities into my day pack, including a towel to dry my feet if the desire to walk in the ocean grabbed me, and set off for the ferry piers.

Twenty minutes and a wrong turn later, I found myself racing along the seawall, hoping to reach Pier 5 in time for the fast ferry.  In HK, of course, that involves dodging people left and right – perhaps a football career is on the horizon – but I made it there with five minutes to spare. Thanks to my trusty Octopus card, the card one swipes to pay fares on public transit, I was aboard seconds later. No fuss, no muss, no bother.

Within half an hour, we had entered the Cheung Chau harbour. It was a joyous sight. So much colour from the green, blue, white and black boats of all sizes bobbing inside the breakwater, while flowering bauhinia trees along the shore added a touch of pink to the palette and bright red and yellow beach umbrellas lined the beachfront promenade, protecting the array of vendors from the elements.




If only I’d had a smaller version of one of those umbrellas! But, who knew?  I anticipated Hong Kong’s usual lame bit of fall rain that would be over quickly, so after a quick lunch I put up my hood and headed out for some sightseeing.

I walked along some residential streets first to visit the Pak Lai Temple, which sits smack in the middle of a crowded residential area. Even for temples, space is at a premium in the Hong Kong region.



Pak Lai is the local god who supposedly saved the islanders from the ravages of the black plague, so he is revered. His temple is a colourful delight.  In addition to the traditional reds and golds, there are small side chapels decorated with reliefs in vivid sky blues, grass greens and other lively shades. Since it was a weekday and the middle of the day, I was almost alone to soak up the atmosphere.

Although it was raining steadily now, I wandered down to a small beach for a walk and some shell gathering. Clams, oysters, mussels, a few coral, bits of coloured glass smoothed by the water, and oddly enough, small square tiles. Leftovers from a building site nearby, perhaps?

I continued along the shore to what the island bills as the “Mini Great Wall.” It is a path paved with stones, carved out of the hillside and winding along the unprotected side of the island. I forged ahead despite the rain and enjoyed the solitude, the numerous birds, the lush tropical vegetation and vistas from the rocky outcroppings high above the water. The sea was calm and its rhythmic slapping against the rocks was a soothing sound.



When I came to the end of the wall, I had a choice: forge on to the south end of the island, or return the way I’d come.  Since the water seemed to be making inroads on my Gore-tex, I opted for the sure thing and turned around. Along the path, I came upon a number of stands of fire-beaters for use in the summer, in case of a conflagration caused by the heat. Now, if they’d had stands of umbrellas instead... .




On my return trip, I stopped at the Kwa Tun temple, more than 100 years old, quite small and deserted, since it’s far from the residential cluster.  I also came across an impromptu shrine along the back streets of town. Perhaps the gods, too, get tired of being cooped up indoors.



I spotted the beachfront promenade with relief, because by now I was quite chilly and damp. A quick stop in a cafe for a takeaway cup of tea, and it was off to the slow ferry. (Timing is everything at ferry terminals!)

Once on board, I removed my soggy jacket and had an inspiration. There was a towel in my backpack, ready to dry my feet after a walk in the ocean. Instead,  it became a shawl that kept me from getting chilled during the ride home.

And, of course, as we pulled away from the ferry pier, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Is there a version of Murphy’s Law that says, “When you have a day off, it will only rain long enough to ensure that you’re soaked?” If not, there should be!






Tuesday 20 November 2012



Language Lessons

Contorting my lips into an unfamiliar shape, I push air through them. Out come different sounds than those ordinarily  escaping from my mouth: “Baw, Paw, Maw... .” I am learning initial consonants in Chinese.

Language: it’s certainly something of a barrier here. Yes, there are people who learned English under the British rule of Hong Kong, but that ended 15 years ago. Many Hong Kongers only learned English in school and never used it otherwise. (Sound familiar, Anglophone Canadians?) And since the handover to China in 1997, Mandarin is emphasized as the second language in local schools, not English. So, I do run into circumstances where there is, as they say, a failure to communicate.



Luckily, as I’ve noted before, there are hand signals, smiles and quick sketches to smooth the way. I thought I’d make do. After all, I was initially planning to work in HK for three months, do some travelling and head home. However, when my contract stretched to six months, I began wondering about language.

Travelling in Taiwan between contracts helped cement my decision. Our guide, an Irishman who had lived overseas for 20 years, spoke Mandarin fluently, and was a lover of language. He taught us some basic words and characters and explained why they were used in particular situations. I was intrigued.

Upon my return to Hong Kong, I decided to take up the language challenge. Hong Kong natives, however, speak Cantonese, a dialect with limited use outside the region. If I learned Mandarin, it would be useful throughout Mainland China, Singapore and Taiwan. Since schools in Hong Kong now teach it, too, it seemed much more practical, so Mandarin it was.

My trusty Lonely Planet guide led me to a language school. (If you travel to HK, this Lonely Planet guide has an AMAZING amount of useful information. I speak from experience.) I phoned to inquire about lessons and was invited to a trial class with three women from India. It was fun, but it turned out that none of them was ready to pursue language studies immediately. Since I was working on a three-month contract, there was no time to waste, so I opted for private lessons.

My lessons take place only once a week, so I won’t progress very far while I’m here, but the good news is that I can continue learning once I return. I’m sure I can find a Mandarin speaker or two wherever I go. Learning to read? That's another proposition entirely!

My teacher is a young woman from Nanjing with a master’s degree in teaching Chinese to English speakers. Her name, she told me, was Lillian – the same name as my mom’s. However, her name has a different origin: it derives from her Chinese name, Li Lian.



Lillian spends her day teaching Mandarin to all kinds of people: expatriates, Hong Kong Cantonese speakers and little children. In fact, she uses some of the basic techniques that work with children in teaching me – I can use arm movements with the best of them to imitate Mandarin’s four tonal symbols!



Yes, alas, tones are a major aspect of Mandarin, or Putonghua (the common language), as it is also known. In fact, languages without tones apparently seem primitive to the Chinese – Cantonese, to my horror, has nine! Using tones incorrectly can mean death – literally. If you say si with the wrong inflection, it translates as death, rather than four. Hence the Chinese aversion to the number four in buildings, licence plates, phone numbers, etc.

Given that it has been many years since I’ve studied a language, I didn’t remember how much work it takes. Repetition is all, so I’ve prescribed myself a daily dose of Mandarin. I don’t always meet my goal, but I’m trying. (How’s this for a great pickup line: Want to come to my apartment and try my flashcards?  -Yes, I’ve resorted to flashcards, that old elementary school studying standby! But rest easy, I haven’t put the line to use.)

As a matter of fact, I have discovered that studying my Chinese on the subway is a great icebreaker. People look over my shoulder and comment; they are pleased to see a Westerner making the effort. Recently, I sat next to a woman who insisted I read my lesson aloud so she could correct my pronunciation!

I think I’m progressing – in fact, I know I am. But apparently, I still have a long way to go. “I like teaching you,” Lillian told recently. “You are reading well, and your pronunciation makes me laugh.”

I do like to make people happy – but this isn’t the way I usually go about it! Ah, well – back to studying.

Cheers – and zaijian (goodbye) for now! When you see me next, perhaps I’ll sing you the Chinese alphabet song!


Wednesday 7 November 2012


The air is humming …
This scrap of the lyrics from Something’s Coming, a song from West Side Story, certainly captures the feel of the streets of Hong Kong. With so many people out and about, a certain buzz is natural. Day or night, you can find electricity in the air.
I’ve written about Hong Kong’s street life previously, but there’s always plenty to see – and to say.
The crowded streets are a natural outgrowth of the population density here and the small living spaces. When apartments can be as small as 280 square feet – yes, that’s what I lived in throughout the summer – it’s only natural to want more space to roam. Home is a personal space to be cherished, but there’s a need to escape. People enjoy the parks, but they are scattered, so the streets, the shops and the malls become extensions of recreational space. I also see people sitting in doorways, watching the world pass by.
 
Many people also have little space to entertain, so socializing isn’t done at home:  That’s why restaurants were created! At all hours, especially on weekends and in the evenings, people gather to eat and chat and eat. In North America, couples or groups of four are most common at eateries, but that’s not necessarily true in Hong Kong. Extended families can be seen dining as a group at many restaurants, and there are lots of large, round tables to accommodate them.

Now that I live in a more residential neighbourhood, I especially enjoy the street life in the morning. When I wander downstairs to buy a local paper or go to the bakery for a bun, I enjoy the mix of people rushing to work, waiting for buses or walking children to school.

Many of those walking hand-in-hand with youngsters are nannies, or amahs, as they often call them in Hong Kong. There is a huge population of Indonesian and Filipino women who come to Hong Kong to look after other people’s children as a way of earning money that isn’t available in their native countries.
 

Toronto are, too, has a nanny subculture, but it’s not as noticeable in the city, since there are fewer families with children downtown. Here, they are as prevalent as the 7-Elevens that dot the street corners. On their day off – either Saturday or Sunday – they can be seen congregating in local parks, picknicking, singing together, reading, playing cards or worshipping. It’s their chance to relax and reconnect with home. Near my office, there is a volleyball court that hosts a league for nannies each Sunday and I enjoy seeing them hustle for the ball in their matching uniforms.
 
 

Less interesting than the nannies are the smokers. I’m not sure if more people smoke in Hong Kong than in North America, but here, they feel free to do so on the streets, rather than huddled in doorways. People walk the sidewalks with lit cigarettes in their hands, chatting and gesturing. No burns on me yet, since I have a good eye! And, although it pains me to say so, a lot of these smokers are young folks, a trend I’d like to see erased.

Not all of the smoke on the streets comes from cigarettes, however. Buddhism is the prevailing religion in Hong Kong, and many shopkeepers pay homage to Buddha with shrines outside their doors. A small red and gold deity can often be found hugging the sidewalk, surrounded by a few sticks of fragrant incense and a handful of edible offerings: fruit or baked goods, perhaps. They are mini-temples, reminiscent of the larger structures sprinkled throughout the area.  It’s a silent form of devotion.
 
So, whether I look up, down or sideways as I walk, there’s always something to catch my eye – and before I know it, I’ve arrived at my destination!

 

Saturday 20 October 2012

Karaoke, anyone?


I have now truly been initiated into Asian culture by attending a karaoke video night. Too funny -- and lots of fun for someone who loves to sing when she's driving the highways alone.

One of my colleagues invited me to a karaoke night to celebrate her birthday -- no matter that she's 20-something and I'm not. I thought, what the heck, and went along. It turned out to be five twenty-somethings (or maybe one or two were past 30, don't know for sure) and me. 

They ushered us into a room with vinyl-covered sofas along three walls, a large square table for food in the middle and a big video screen on the fourth wall. It reminded me of a basement rec room from the '50s or '60s, complete with potato chips to snack on! We even had our own washroom.



Two free soft drinks per person were part of the admission price, but lo and behold, one of the guys had brought a bottle of vodka in his backpack. So, there we were, sipping spiked fruit punch and singing along to music videos! It has been a while since I've spiked anything ... likely not since university! No matter. When in Hong Kong ... .

The drill is this: You select the language you'd like to appear on the screen (surprise -- we chose English over Cantonese or Mandarin), go through an alphabetized list of performers (solo or group) and create a playlist; then you're ready to rock and roll -- or sing the blues or rap or whatever. The video plays, the words light up on the screen and you have handheld microphones to allow you to sing along at top volume. (Yes, the rooms are soundproof!)

It was a blast! None of us was into solo performance -- perhaps not drunk enough -- so we sang as a group. I must say, most popular music is not too complex, because I was easily able to pick up the tunes of the songs I didn't know and chime right in. Yes, that was I, singing Californication and rapping with Eminem! But we also sang the Beatles, Queen, Celine and, as I mentioned on Facebook, Neil Diamond. Who knew twenty-somethings were so versatile?



As night turned to early morning, Kristin's boyfriend surprised her with a birthday cake, and we found a video of a Happy Birthday song in Thai to make the occasion complete.



It was such a kick that I hope there will be an opportunity to do it again. Just in case, I'm going to practice my Gangnam style moves!

Thursday 11 October 2012


Street Scene
A city’s street life offers clues to its personality, and in Hong Kong, the lively streets constantly remind me that this city is a vibrant mixture of the old and the new.
Much of the vibrancy comes from the people. Hong Kong is a densely populated place, and day or night, there are people on the streets. They’re coming and going to work, restaurants, clubs, the gym, the malls … but it’s rare to walk down a street without company.  And the constant use helps make the streets safe at all hours.
When I walk the streets of Hong Kong, I love looking for things that I wouldn’t see wandering in Toronto. It’s nice to know that as global as the world has become, there are still differences and oddities.
One constant on the streets of Hong Kong is the hand trolleys. Trucks aren’t the only means of moving commercial goods here. People push carts loaded with bags of rice or boxes or whatever. Sometimes they stick to the sidewalk, but other times, they share the road with the vehicles, which makes for an interesting mix – and a need for patience.
The sidewalk – or occasionally the street – also becomes a venue for drying goods. I now live in a neighbourhood full of stores that sell dried seafood for cooking and dried items to make medicines. It’s not unusual to walk along and see baskets of fish or seaweed set on the concrete to bleach in the heat and sun. Since these shops generally have open doorways and sidewalk displays, the proprietors can keep an eye on their merchandise and the drying goods simultaneously.
 

In Toronto, road construction is a constant during the summertime. Here in Hong Kong, it’s building construction and renovation that is ever present. But don’t look for safety harnesses and metal scaffolding. The material of choice is bamboo, the poles lashed together. Yesterday, I looked up to see two men balancing on poles high above my head as they put together a scaffold. Apparently, bamboo is very strong – thank heavens.
A few blocks away from my apartment is a square created by the intersection of a couple of streets and a lane or two. In walking to the subway at noon, I’ve noticed that one of the stores outside the square has a booth for demonstrations. Each weekday as I pass, there is a salesperson wearing a microphone, hawking anything from shoe inserts to cooking utensils. Invariably, I chuckle; it’s so reminiscent of those crazy TV ads offering Ginsu knives or other kitchen paraphernalia, only $19.95 – and if you order now, you’ll get two!
 
The square even offers unexpected entertainment. Last week, a large Buddhist shrine popped up to celebrate an occasion that I couldn’t decipher, given my limited Chinese. It was elaborate, all red and gold and statuary, with offerings of food and incense. One afternoon, there was a monk offering blessings; the next evening, a quintet featuring traditional Chinese instruments entertained. The following night, it was gone.
So, I expect the unexpected and enjoy the endless variation. Toto, I’m definitely not in Kansas ... or Toronto ... or New Jersey.

Tuesday 2 October 2012


Lantern Light



I returned to Hong Kong just in time for the celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival, an annual celebration of the full moon in autumn that seeks a good harvest for the coming year. In today’s urban Hong Kong, the tradition remains, even though crops are nowhere to be seen.

This year, the lunar-driven festivities coincided with China National Day, giving people a rare four-day weekend. As usual in this shopping mecca, it meant that malls were jammed on Monday and Tuesday!
 
This year’s celebration in Hong Kong was marred by a ferry collision, taking the lives of almost 40 people who were on a cruise to see the fireworks in Victoria Harbour. It was a sad ending to a weekend of pleasure.

Most Hong Kongers, however, had a much more benign holiday.  There is an ages-old tradition of parading with lit lanterns, reminiscent of the moon, and on Sunday evening, the park near my apartment was full of light. The government has urged people not to follow the old tradition of using lanterns lit with real candles, so the effect was different than it would have been 100 years ago. Instead, people used neon light sticks to create 3-D decorations, and the park shone with multicoloured slashes of light. I did see a number of traditionally designed lanterns, made of silk, but they, too, had LEDs or lightbulbs inside. Some of the families picnicking on the grass adhered to tradition; lighting candles set in metal containers to contain any flames or melted wax.  

It’s a family holiday, and it was charming to see families out together to enjoy the occasion.

On Monday, I made my way to Tai Hang, a village of old that has long since been incorporated into the Tin Hau area of the city. Legend states that the villagers fought off the bubonic plague by performing a  fire-dragon dance, so the residents stage dance to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival. I arrived to the sonorous sounds of an Asian drum and joined the throng lining the streets. Soon, there was a parade of men carrying silk lanterns on poles, escorted by young girls dressed in traditional silk jackets and pants, wearing embroidered headdresses and carrying lotus-shaped lanterns.
 
The anticipation built and built, and finally, we were treated to the sight of the fire dragon, a 67-metre-long snakelike creature with a dragon’s head, carried on poles spaced along its length. Its spine was covered with hundreds and hundreds of sticks of lit incense, creating the fire. The men carrying the dragon danced along the street, edging towards the crowds and dipping the dragon scarily. Spectators like me loved it!

 

 

Sunday 30 September 2012


Back on the Chain Gang
 
OK, so being back at work is not nearly as painful as all that – just a little literary license here!

Yes, I’m back in HK after a whirlwind visit to NJ and TO that offered a sound lesson: don’t decide to move out of your apartment when there’s less than a week left to your vacation. Take it from me, it’s not a great way to relax. If it hadn’t been for my wonderful cousin Sharron, I might not be alive to tell more tales. I had a completely unrealistic idea about the work it would take to pack up an apartment that contained bits and pieces of my entire life. Whew!

From Sunday to Wednesday at noon, it was pack, pack, pack, sort, sort, sort, toss, toss, toss. There might have been a bit of sleep involved, but not as much as needed! Yet, when the movers arrived Wednesday afternoon, everything was finished. Now, my belongings are happily sitting in a storage unit while I avoid paying double rent. I’m sad to wave goodbye to my turret, but this princess has other fish to fry.

Packing wasn’t the last of the chores, alas. There was also the final cleaning. Bummer. Next time, I’ll allow a bit more time or I’ll hire more help. Sharron gets the trophy for most assists in a season!

To top it all off, just as we were getting ready to load the remaining bits and pieces into my car, I found that I had left the parking garage with my lights on and hadn’t turned them off after parking at my apartment. Voila! A dead battery! With only 7 hours until flight time, it was a distraction I didn’t need. Once again, angels were in town. One of the women who works in my landlady’s dental office came to the rescue with her car. Thanks to my dad, I own – and know how to use – jumper cables, so we were soon off and driving again. Crazy!
 
One positive about the packing frenzy was that it tired me enough to allow me to get some  sleep on the 15-hour flight to Hong Kong. When I arrived at 5 a.m., I was tired, but not exhausted. I found a cab and managed to help the driver find my new apartment building in Sheung Wan, one of the oldest parts of the city. Even though check-in time wasn’t officially until 2 p.m., the staff let me in anyway. I was thrilled, because the bed was calling out to me.
 
My new place is a contrast to my first one in HK. It’s a highrise, as opposed to a walk-up, and I’m on the 10th floor with a view of the harbour – seen between the buildings across the way. The neighbourhood has commercial spaces at street level, but not a mall to be seen, nor a horde of tourists: hooray! There’s a small park around the corner that looks perfect for reading, and even better, there’s a sports and recreation complex along the harbourfront, which is five minutes on foot. I should be able to use the gym facilities there at a much better rate than a private gym would charge.

I went back to work a day after arriving, and it was great to see my colleagues. There are so many good folks, it’s a pleasure. I even managed to stay awake! Of course, I had incentive: it turns out that I have the next day off, so the opportunity to sleep late beckoned.

                                                                                                                      

 

Saturday 8 September 2012


Baseball, á là Taiwan


Greetings, fellow baseball fans – and the rest of you, too!
 
I’m here in Tainan, a city of about a million on Taiwan’s west coast. I’ve just returned from a Chinese Professional Baseball League game between the Tainan Uni-President  Lions and the Lamigo Monkeys.

Yes, my devotion to baseball surfaces at the oddest times. When I realized that Taiwan had professional baseball, I just knew I had to go. I badgered my cousins until they agreed – although, since they’re devoted Yankees fans, it wasn’t as hard as it sounds.

I checked online to review the league schedule and, of course, it was in Chinese. Thank heavens for our guide, Richard, who both reads and speaks Chinese. We were able to find a game that fit in with our travels, more or less, and made our way to Tainan in time for tonight’s contest. 

Apparently, Tainan Municipal Baseball Stadium was built in the 1931 by the Japanese, who occupied the island for 50 years and the Japanese influence on the game here seemed apparent. Japanese businesses emphasize teamwork and the group over the individual, so I imagine they began the tradition of cheering in unison. Fans of the teams sat on opposite sides of the stadium and each group cheered as one throughout the game, led by a man with a microphone. Drums pounded the beat, horns blared the melody and fans clapped their noisemakers in time to the chants. It made for a lively atmosphere, and by the end of the game, I had even picked up some of the words.

Crazily, some of the chants used North American elementary school tunes, such as The Bear Went Over the Mountain and Old MacDonald! We felt right at home.

Speaking of feeling right at home, I had flashbacks of my many nights at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. The Orioles now have a pitcher named Wei-Yin Chen (in Chinese, it would be Chen Wei-Yin), who hails from none other than Tainan, Taiwan. Hero worship here is evident: there were numerous Orioles T-shirts and jerseys, and apparently, the TV stations in Taiwan show lots of Orioles games. Perhaps I should be working here instead of in Hong Kong!

In any case, we had a wonderful evening cheering for the home team, even though they eventually lost 12-6. We saw a grand slam, some great double plays and some good outfield catches. There was even a T-shirt toss and silly entertainment between innings, although there was no seventh inning stretch, alas! 

We also met a U.S. ex-pat who reminded us of an aging biker, his head covered by an American flag scarf and his mouth missing a few teeth. As a regular Monkey’s fan, he filled us in on league gossip and baseball customs here in Taiwan, in between high-fiving us when his team scored. That’s part of the fun of travel: You meet all kinds! 

At the end of the game, a lovely custom: the Lions lined up along the first base line and bowed to the fans. How nice to be appreciated in that way!

Tomorrow, it’s back to more traditional sightseeing, and Monday, it’s back to Hong Kong. But meanwhile, it’s wonderful to get a glimpse of another Asian culture.

Cheers,

Elaine

 

 

Wednesday 5 September 2012

Taiwan time out 

It has been a week or two since I’ve written for my blog, and there’s no excuse, except to say that I was lazy and caught up in day-to-day life.

Meanwhile, chapter one of my excellent adventure is rapidly coming to a close. The good news is that there will be a chapter two! I wound up my first contract at the end of last week, but there were no sad goodbyes, just au revoirs. I will be signing another contract through December, so I’ll have more time to explore both Hong Kong and Asia. It has been such a nice experience that I’m delighted to be staying a bit longer. 

At present, I’m enjoying the fruits of my labor: a trip to Taiwan with my cousins from New York City. In June, we decided that we’d rendezvous once my contract was finished. It sounded like great fun, but it also seemed like a dream. Now, it’s real.

We met Sunday in Keelung, a port just outside Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, the Republic of China – NOT to be confused with the People’s Republic of China, the behemoth across the Strait of Taiwan. Taiwan is a democratic island nation with 23 million people -- the entire country’s population is  almost equal to that of China’s largest city, Chongqing.

I flew into Taipei and stayed overnight. At the hotel’s breakfast buffet the next morning, I was wearing my Martin Brodeur/Team Canada hockey T-shirt and whom do I encounter but a businessman from L.A. who plays rec hockey with retired players from the L.A. Kings?! Quite entertaining!

I met my cousins and we connected with our guide, who has turned out to be an Irishman from Northern Ireland who settled in Taiwan 21 years ago and speaks Chinese fluently. He packed us into his SUV and off we went.

Our first destination was Taroko Gorge National Park, home to an impressive gorge that cuts through its renowned marble walls. It is full of waterfalls and is also home to dozens of varieties of butterflies, including 14 types of swallowtails (the U.S. has one species, by comparison). Iridescent blues, stark black and white, surprising yellow: there were butterflies dancing all along our trails.
 
 

The park is full of suspension bridges – luckily, they are short and fairly sturdy. (I still have nightmares about the swinging Capilano Suspension Bridge in Vancouver.) It also has a smattering of temples and pagodas, as well as caves carved into the rock. We enjoyed a walk through one that required us to put on plastic raincoats, the type they hand out in Niagara Falls for Maid of the Mist cruises on the Niagara River. We walked along and icy water rained from the rocks: a lovely counterpoint to a warm day. 
 
 
 
I also saw my first monkeys in the wild! They were small Taiwanese macaques, watching us curiously with big eyes  from the trees as they chewed on bark. I was thrilled.

We spent a couple of nights in a homestay, the equivalent of a B&B without fancy trimmings. Our host, Mr. Su, had a house in the country near the park, and we had breakfast on his porch each morning after the neighborhood rooster crowed to wake us. At night, the air resonated with the beat of cicadas and the clack-clack of local frogs.

Yesterday, in one of the rural towns in Hualien County on Taiwan’s east coast, we spotted dozens of baskets outside a temple and stopped to investigate. It turned out to be the beginning of the birthday celebration for the local Daoist temple’s god. What a thrill to see it firsthand!. The men from the temple brought out  the god’s statue and placed  it on a palanquin so it could be carried. Apparently, on a birthday, a god is taken to visit neighboring gods.

As we wandered, a sextet played traditional Chinese instruments, and congregation members prepared for the celebration’s opening parade. The women wore the traditional basket-like hats that come to a point on top, but they tied matching colored scarves around them for a festive air and extra protection from the hot sun. They prepared to carry two small baskets apiece, each tied to the ends of bamboo poles and filled with food offerings for the gods.



As they lined two sides of the walkway leading to the temple, a religious leader in traditional black shirt and pants did a divination ceremony to ensure the god found the day propitious for a celebration. With the assent, another man waved a long, flowering bamboo pole over the gathering for good fortune: bamboo, with its jointed stem, represents the stages of life, our guide tells me. 

A series of popping firecrackers and the parade was off, with the appointed men carrying the god on his platform, followed by the parade of women marching two by two with their baskets, all of the marchers accompanied by a huge drum beaten rhythmically and a gong sounding periodically  from a trailing truck. 

Tomorrow, there will be more festivities, a feast and some performances. We’re invited, but other adventures beckon.

Sunday 19 August 2012




Holy Macau!

It was off to Macau yesterday to get a look at the former Portuguese colony that is now Asia's answer to Las Vegas.

Macau, like Hong Kong, is a special administrative region of China with its own currency, postal service and nominally independent government. It is located about an hour south of HK across the water.

Purchasing trip tickets at train stations or ferry terminals in HK is different than it is in the U.S. Dozens of travel agencies have offices set up in these locations and all of them can sell you transportation tickets, and so can the official transportation outlet's agents. Not wanting to worry about which one to use, I headed straight for a ticket machine promising direct purchase. I took out my credit card, punched in the necessary information and found that I had no choice in the matter: I was booked into the select service (1st class) section of the Turbo Jet boat. Oops. Good thing the difference in price wasn't exorbitant.

The trip turned out to be quite pleasant. I love being on the water, even when I'm hemmed indoors, and I was lucky enough to have a window seat. I ended up sitting with a young man from South Africa who is working for Prudential (that Jersey connection again!) in London and was in HK on business. We had a lively chat and the time passed quickly.

At customs, I've discovered a bit of good news: my work visa allows me to stand in the line with Hong Kong nationals, and it's usually a much quicker line. In Macau, I ending up standing with some young medical students who had all lived in Canada at some time in their lives, so another lively chat ensued. They were off to enjoy some gambling, as young men are wont to do, they informed me -- although they had set limits, since it was an outing for fun, not profit.

As for me, I was more interested in the Portuguese architecture and history than the gambling, so I caught a bus to a square downtown and followed a walking tour set out by my trusty Lonely Planet guide (Wow, do these folks know their territory!). The Portuguese buildings are lovely: low-rise stucco with balconies and porticoes, all painted in pastel colours. In many areas, street signs are imbedded into the corner buildings in blue and white tile. The city's downtown layout also reflects its Portuguese past, with circles and squares for stopping and sitting in the shade of large trees and enjoying landscaped flower beds.




My walk led me to one of the old forts overlooking Macau -- what a climb in the heat and humidity -- and at the top, I could see the city spread out in all directions. Dominating the skyline nearby is the huge, floral-shaped Casino Lisboa, all gleaming golden glass.



The fort is home to the Macau Museum, so I learned more about the city's history and culture. Among typical jobs in Macau centuries ago: a pillow seller who hawked cane pillows and a frog catcher who sold his wares to cooks of all kinds. Afterward, it was off to see the ruins of St. Paul's Cathedral, an island icon. Only the facade of the old church still stands after it was ravaged by fire 150 years ago.



Crowds on a summer Saturday -- wow! As I walked away from the church ruins, I looked downhill and saw a huge wave of people walking to and from the site. It reminded me of the mobs of tourists gathered in Venice's Piazza San Marco last summer, and whenever I saw them, I fled in another direction. Unfortunately, dodging this crowd wasn't as easy, but I did manage to find an alternate route.

I finally turned my feet in the direction of Casino Lisboa -- after all, no visit to Vegas East would be complete without a glimpse. OMG. I'd forgotten how ostentatious these places can be, and this one was all gold and light. Crystals dripped from chandeliers and golden walls added richness to the effect. Placed throughout the lobby were large-scale pieces of beautiful Asian art: vases, ivory carving, brush painting ... Wow!



Once I stepped onto the gaming floor, however, I could have been in any casino anywhere. Slot machines blinked and whirred and beeped; bettors surrounded dealers and shouts of joy or mumbles of rose above the click of tokens. I decided that gambling would have to wait for another day and headed towards the ferry terminal.

However, I'm sure it will be worth a look during another visit. Big casinos abound and the names of many are familiar from Vegas: The Sands, Wynn, MGM ... So, penny slots, brace yourselves.

I managed to get a window seat again for the ride home and darkness settled as we travelled toward HK, allowing me a lovely view of Kowloon's lighted skyline as we approached. I whizzed through customs, jumped on the subway and was in my apartment in no time at all, savoring my delightful day.

Sunday 5 August 2012


On Chinese soil
I had to pinch myself this weekend to make sure I wasn’t dreaming: Friday saw me crossing the border from the Hong Kong Special Administrative Republic to the People’s Republic of China. Yes, I was really there in mainland China, Red China, Communist China, whatever you might call it. Who would have thought it at this time last year?
I finally had two consecutive days off – a rarity here – and decided to take advantage of them by making my first foray into terra incognita. I was excited and nervous at the same time, since it was my first real venture into the unknown alone. But, I had my trusty Lonely Planet Guide, bless those folks, and I had my passport with valid visa, so what the heck?
A trip, like the course of true love, never runs smoothly, and it’s best to remember that in advance. I arrived in Guangzhou (Canton) after a two-hour train ride and had no problems getting through customs. Getting to where I wanted to be was another story altogether in this massive city of 12 million.
My plan was to find a hotel along the Pearl River for the night, because a view of the water is always a treat. I got aboard a subway train – thank heavens for directions in both Chinese and English – and started towards my destination. Little did I realize that the train trip terminated one station before the one I wanted. When I found myself back where I started, I had a blinding flash of insight.
I eventually made it to a station that I thought was within shouting distance of the river, only to emerge from the underworld to see nothing but land. Cars, busy streets, shops, pedestrians, but no signs of water, not even from an overpass above the street. I tried to ask two policemen which way to go, but they spoke no English and didn’t seem to understand, even when I mimed swimming for them. I finally found two teens who spoke some English and they told me that it was waaaay too far to walk to the river. I ended up back at the subway station where I’d exited, bound for a spot that was definitely near the water. An hour later, after two line changes, I emerged victorious. (Is that a hint to take a taxi next time?)
The riverside has both walkway and bicycle path, and many people still use bicycles to get around, despite all the car traffic. I saw all kinds of goods being transported on the backs of bikes, and people of all ages were pedalling away, some with friends clinging to their waists from behind.
The path along the water is also a hub of activity after dark, perhaps because of the hotels, perhaps because it’s a pleasant place to walk. Wandering from my hotel towards the pier for an evening river cruise, I encountered vendors hawking ripe red cherries, tempting chunks of pink watermelon, ripe bananas and coconut water sipped from the whole coconut. Many offered their produce from baskets tied to bamboo poles and slung across their shoulders like the scales of justice – a reminder that China is an interesting mix of old and new.
Tourism Guangzho – if there is such an institution – has created a wonderful enhancement for evening river cruises. Buildings along the water are colourfully lit, some with lights, others with neon. The warm breeze makes it pleasant to sit atop the deck and watch the play of reflections on the water and the interesting architecture lining the banks. There’s even a light show: columns of tiny LEDs creating pictures that change from minute to minute.
Serendipitously, I encountered a university student from Nanjing who was delighted at the opportunity to practice English. We chatted during the cruise, and she used her smartphone app to look up words she can’t remember. (Technology is amazing!) Afterwards, she invited me to join her for breakfast at a renowned dim sum eatery. Even though she wanted to set off at 7:30 a.m. – ugh! – I agreed.
We met again the next morning at the appointed spot, and we hailed a cab to take us to Tao Tao Ju, the restaurant. In a city where few people speak English, I was lucky to have a tour guide who is fluent in Mandarin.
We arrived at the restaurant by 8 and the place was jam-packed. Xinran, my new friend, informed me that older Chinese often arrive at these places at 6:30 or 7 a.m. and spend the morning sipping tea, eating slowly and chatting with friends.
I looked around, and it was not only the elderly, but entire families who were out for Saturday breakfast. Although I always think of dim sum as more of a brunch item, it’s clear that I was in the minority here.
We were escorted to a table and wander down to the food counters. There was a table with hot and cold dishes displayed. I passed up the chicken feat in sauce and the cubes of congealed blood, but the spring rolls and sesame taro balls were tempting.
Moving on to a grill, we ordered some noodles. It was evident the cooks take great pride in their work, stir-frying each portion separately with care and focus. Nearby, cooks did the same with kettles of steaming soup, placing a bundle of homemade noodles in a bowl before ladling out the aromatic creation. A waitress armed with scissors snipped the noodles into smaller sections and the dish was ready.
Finally, we headed to the table displaying the types of dim sum I recognized as traditional, contained in bamboo steamers. There were more than a half-dozen varieties, but Xinran settled on the hargow (shrimp) and we were done. We returned to our table to mimic the elderly patrons: we talked, ate and drank cups and cups of jasmine tea.
We left Tao Tao Ju and make our way to the Museum of Folk Art. There on the grounds of an old Chen clan ancestral hall, we visited exhibits showing life and craft in ancient china. The buildings and grounds themselves were a living example. The tile roof was adorned with hundreds of creatures, including dragons and other beasts, all painted in bright colours. The heavy wooden doors were festooned with paintings of fierce gods designed to keep evil spirits and intruders away. Many of the rooms and much of the furniture was wood, lovingly carved with intricate designs. Light filtered through stained glass crafted with care and lanterns of painted glass colour the space above our heads.
It was a treat to have a “guide” steeped in the culture; I learned so much more than I would have on my own.
Afterwards, alas, it was time to go our separate ways. Xinran was off to Chengdu for a few days, while I planned to visit one of the other city museums before catching a train home. I bade her a fond farewell; she made me feel very welcome in China.
Since I was now a pro at using the Guangzhou subway system, I hopped aboard to head to the Mausoleum of the Nanyue King, a museum that Lonely Planet calls one of the best in China. When I arrived, I was floored by the stunning building that confronted me: red sandstone walls stood only a few stories high, decorated with a seal featuring a dragon and a phoenix. I ascended the stairs to the entry and found that once inside, I must climb higher to a square courtyard ringed with benches, grass and trees. In the center was the entrance to the tomb of a king who reigned in about 111 BC; it was discovered accidentally in the 1980s in the midst of the hillside where it is on display. The contents were all in place, giving historians, archaeologists and us a window into life in Canton 2,000 years ago.
It was almost like a page lifted out of the story of an Egyptian pharaoh, sans pyramid. A tomb, its entrance hidden to foil raiders, holds a king, his riches and goods that he’ll need for the afterlife, and the bodies of those who were sacrificed to join him: four concubines, his secretary, his guards and other soldiers. Even pets met their fate.
The display cases held treasures that bore witness to the advanced civilization of the time: trade with other countries, a system of waterways, glass making, woodworking tools and fishing lures. The king himself was buried in a shroud made of jade pieces sewn together with silk thread. Objects were wrapped in silk before burial, and twenty-odd types of silk were unearthed. Not bad for ancient times, eh?
After wandering the tomb exhibition, I enjoyed the somewhat whimsical contrast of the building’s other large collection: ceramic bed pillows through the ages! I was more grateful than ever for down.
Time marched on, so I marched along, too, and head for the train station and my home-away-from-home, but not before China had cast a spell on me. I’ll be back.