Whenever I go down to the outdoor Ladies Night Market near Yau Ma Tei, I look at the apartment buildings that rise above this crazy, bustling night market and wonder “Who lives here?” Out of all the places a person could choose to live in Hong Kong, who lives up there in that apartment with the greying curtains and the plastic flowers on the window sill? Then, a few days ago, I found out that one of my colleagues Renata’s grandmother actually lives in the Ladies Night Market. Not near it. In it. She is one of those people who lives in an apartments that look down on the makeshift markets stalls that sell anything and everything from six to eleven every night of the week.
Yesterday, I bumped into Renata in the near-empty teachers’ lounge. “Renata, forgive me if this sounds a little strange,” I said, “but the next time you visit your grandma in the Ladies Night Market, could I tag along?”
“Absolutely, my grandma would love it.”
“Why thank you, I would really like to do that . . . ”
“ . . . so that you can blog about it!” interjected our co-worker Kathie who was the only other person in the teachers’ lounge.
“What?” I stammered as innocently as I could. I was stalling so that my mind could catch up.
“The only reason you want to go visit Renata’s grandmother in the Night Market is so that you can blog about it,” she accused. “I’m onto you VanNoord.” She wagged a finger at me with a devilish grin.
“Why . . . I . . . ” I pulled myself together and with mock woundedness said, “Why Kathie, I’m just plain hurt that you would think that I’m that calculating.”
“Well it’s true!” she said.
I turned to Renata, sighed, and then confessed, “Well, okay. Maybe just a little.”
Am I really that transparent?
Am I really that shallow?
Don’t answer that.
-Jack
(Renata was undeterred. We’re going to visit Grandma just after the New Year. You of course will be able to read all about it here on the blog.)
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