(I will not be posting for the next two weeks. I will resume posting on January 3. In the meantime, I leave you with the following puzzler. Thanks for reading. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.)I’m pretty sure that the one on the right is for a barbershop.
Anyone want to guess what the sign on the left if for?
Answers next week.
We are flying to Thailand in a few hours. Our plan is to spend the weekend in Bangkok before taking the overnight train north to Chiang Mai. Hotel rooms are booked. Tickets have been purchased. Our itinerary is set.
This is Katie. She was born and grew up in Hong Kong –well, kind of. She currently works in the advancement office at the school where I teach. She was one of three chaperones that went on our Indonesia service week with me and eighteen eighth graders. During our week together, I enjoyed getting to know Katie and a little bit of her story.
When she was a student, Katie boarded a plane with her mother and flew to Toronto. Katie had no relatives in Toronto nor did she know anybody in Toronto. She and her mother went apartment shopping and within a week they signed a lease on an apartment.
And then a few days later Katie’s mother got back on the plane and flew home to Hong Kong leaving Katie behind.
Katie was fifteen years old.
She had just finished the eighth grade.
For the next four years Katie got herself up every morning, rode two city buses to school, shopped for groceries, cooked for herself, did her own laundry, cleaned, paid the bills, and moved apartments once. Oh, and of course it was up to her to make sure she stayed on top of her homework.
It’s an understatement to say that the parents –and students- in Hong Kong go to great lengths to ensure their children’s success. Every year, our school has students who finish eighth grade and then leave Hong Kong to go to high school in The States, Canada, or Great Britain. Typically, they go to live with friends or relatives.
Katie’s story is a little unusually, but not unheard of.
-Jack
[printed with permission]
We told her that the offer was sweet but that it really wasn’t necessary. But she insisted. On Friday -her last full day in Hong Kong- Aunt Julie whisked Annika and Elise away for the afternoon. I reminded the girls to grab their MTR cards, but Aunt Julie said not to bother. Today, it was going to be all taxis.My, my, how luxurious.
First, she took them to the legendary Peninsula Hotel in Kowloon where they had high tea in the foyer with its soaring ceilings. The girls had been up past their bed times trying to assemble their best outfits. After all, the Peninsula has a very strict dress code. The wait staff brought them tea and a multi-tiered display of plates holding delicate finger sandwiches and fancy pastries.
Next they went to the Jade market where Aunt Julie allowed them to each pick out a piece of jade so that “Whenever one of us looks at her piece of jade, we’ll would be reminded of tour special ladies day out together.”
Last, they finished their big day together by getting foot massages.
Finally, they came gallivanting home well after the dinner hour and proceeded to regale their mom and dad with the tales of their adventures.
God bless all the great-Aunties of the world.
On Thursday, I gave Aunt Julie several options of thing we could do. Being the animal lover that she is, she said she would love to take a hike and see some of the wild monkeys I had mentioned. No problem, I know just the place. So I lead the whole family and Aunt Julie to Monkey Mountain. I took us directly to the place where earlier this fall my wife and I had seen dozens and dozens of monkeys. I walked ahead of the group to scout for monkeys.
Nothing.
Come on you monkeys. Where are you? Hey, we’ve got Aunt Julie here all the way from Philly. What are you guys doing? You are making me look like . . . well, a monkey’s uncle. Quit fooling around and get out here where we can see you.
After twenty minutes of brisk walking, I doubled back and met the rest of the group on the path. “We’re coming up empty,” I confessed. After a brief discussion, we decided to turn around, go back to the main road, and then figure out what to do from there. I was getting frustrated. If it's monkeys that Aunt Julie wants, then it is monkeys Aunt Julie will get.
Once back down by the main road, we decided to try the path around the lake. I had never been here before and was now working without a plan. Again, I scouted ahead and was coming up empty when my phone rang. It was my wife. “Get back here,” she said. “We’ve got monkeys.”
I hustled back down the path and met up with rest of the group in a parking lot – not exactly the monkeys’ natural habitat- but, hey, we had monkeys.
Single file, they were coming down the path and pouring into the parking lot. Dozens of them. Big, small, old, mama’s with babies. Lots and lots of monkeys. The parking lot was filling up and soon we were surrounded. I was actually getting a little nervous. I kept moving in slow circles to watch my back to make sure Bonzo wasn’t getting the jump on me and my backpack.
But, I was also keeping an eye on Aunt Julie to see how she was doing. While I was starting to sweat, she was cool a cucumber. A regular Jane Goodall, I tell ya. She was just soaking it all in, not a care in the world. Even when two adolescent monkeys started fighting and screeching a few feet away, she didn’t bat an eyelash. She just kept milling about, observing, and silently taking it all in.
Finally, we decided it was time to head out. The rest of us took the long way around to get to the bus stop. Not Aunt Julie. She walked right down the path filled with monkeys.
The spirit of Dian Fossey lives on.
For several days last month, there were two Julie VanNoords on the seventh floor. Aunt Julie from Philly came to visit for a week over Thanksgiving. The only thing more enjoyable than discovering Hong Kong for yourself is getting to introduce Hong Kong to a first-time visitor. Hong Kong has so much to offer that it could never be experienced in seven days. I find it incredibly satisfying to take into account the interests of our guests and try to match those up with what Hong Kong has to offer. Over the course of her one-week, we tried to give Aunt Julie a taste of the city, mountains, and water.
Sunday we took her to Sai Kung fishing village where we watched all the dog owners walk and show off their beloved pooches on the sea-side promenade. At dusk we all went for a sampan ride among the islands in Sai Kung harbor. We followed that with dinner on the balcony of one of our favorite Indian restaurants.
Monday, I took off of work and Aunt Julie and I rode the Star Ferry, took the tram up to The Peak, and scratched a few other touristy things off of her to-do list. We timed out trip up to The Peak so that she could take in the view of the city both during daylight and at night. She treated me to lunch at Indochine a very upscale Vietnamese-French restaurant in Lan Kwai Fong.
Tuesday and Wednesday Aunt Julie ventured out on her own to shop Nathan’s Road and the jade market down on Kan Su Street.
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.)
