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!

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!

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!