Wasabi

Canton Chronicles: Girigiri and the Ferry

We were only in Hong Kong for a day, but it left a strong impression in my memory. Pedestrian traffic moves to the beat of a distinct quick clicking sound pattern when the light is green, pickups the pace with it's burst clicking sound when it's about to turn red, and gathers at the street corners when it slowly clicks red.

After a lazy day of wondering around and bargain shopping in Mon Gok, we have dinner at an outdoor seefood restaurant. Tony's wife washes our bowls, chopsticks, and spoons with the very same teapot we will drink the tea out of. She disposes of the contaminated tea by simply dumping it on the street. Wow. Despite my improvements in reading Kanji i still basically have no idea what is on the menu so i just rely on Tony and his wife to make most of the ordering decisions. In HK the menu is usually in the table itself. That is, there is the table, then the menu centered on top of that, then a piece of glass on top of the menu which is easily cleaned. The check is typically shoved between that same gap where the menu is and when you are really to leave you pull it out yourself and take it to the counter (like Japan).

The next day we have to wake up early to catch the ferry to Suih Hing, but we are off to a late start and end up catching a cab the 15-minute walk to the Ferry Terminal. Going from Hong Kong to China is like going from one country to another (well, you are in fact) so there is customs and everything else you would expect at the ferry terminal. We literally run through the building and are whizzed through customs and just make the ferry. The practically pull the blank up behind me as i’m running across. I’m so tired i end up sleeping most of the 4-hour ferry ride to Suih Hing.

Canton Chronicles: One Fish, Cooked Three Different Ways

I am watching a little boy through the other side of a glass fish tank as he traces the path of a long gray fish with his hand until it slips up beyond his reach. The restaurant is thick with the sound of clinking dishes and gossipy Cantonese. I try to scrunch into Tony more on my left as waiters swim uncomfortably through a small path between the tables to my right. Thankfully a moment later one stops and leads us to a space that has opened up in the back.

Wow... i'm in Hong Kong. Some twenty-four hours ago i was staring out a small plastic window gazing into the blue and white lights that spanned across the Narita runways into the twilight beyond, still pondering what it might be like and now i am finally here. To my surprise the streets are not filled with gun crazy gangs, nor with wild car/motorcycle/CDP chases, nor empty double-decker buses filled with ghosts that died some horribly tragic death. I guess i should have figured that the scores of movies i watched over the years with Joe and Niki would not be a terribly accurate reflection of the way Hong Kong really is.

But i am impressed. Hong Kong is almost completely vertical. Buildings of some haunted past economy below, painted a tired grey from pollution, have given birth to another race of even taller buildings, and are now crumbling beneath their weight, splintering neon signs and advertisements that scatter and shot across the streets below, desperately competing for the attention of the schools of people that swim through to the beat of music that can almost be heard. I feel so small.

Tea lands on the table. Something is ordered by Tony, and a lot more is ordered by his wife, Cathy. I suspect a lot of it has to do with fish and sure enough a few minutes later i am watching my second fish of the night as it swings from left to right around the table and it gets picked apart by a score ravenous yellow chopsticks.

"See, that's how they cook one fish three different ways," proclaims Norman as a plate full of fish heads is dumped into the hotpot. "The head goes into the soup, fillet the body, and steam the tail. One fish cooked three different ways." Is that some sort of metaphor? No, it just means that i'd better get used to eating fish while i'm in Canton.

Canton Chronicles: A Forward

Some of my Chinese friends in San Francisco (yes, most of them are actually Chinese in this case), have been "Going back to China" for a couple of weeks around Christmas for the last couple of years or so. And every time they come back they do nothing but complain for at least a month namely about the weather and the quality of the Chinese food here.

One day, at yumcha, during one of these complaining sessions, i stepped up to the plate and defended my hometown: "I don't know, i think this is pretty good." I look up to a sea of slowly shaking heads. Tony's voice summarizes the opposition: "You don't know what you are talking about, dude. Next time you come back to China with us and then you will see what we are talking about it."

So i did.

From December 15th of 2002 to January 5th of 2003 i went to Canton, China and while i was there i kept a rather tight journal and took a lot of pictures with my digital camera with the intent of publishing the more interesting bits here.

Things you should know if you don't know them already:

1) China=Canton. Chinese=Cantonese. Chinese Food=Cantonese Food. Get the picture? No, i don't have anything against those other 4 billion or so Gwokyuh speaking "Chinese People", the answer probably has something to do with the fact that Canton has a rich history and very deep, old ties with the West Coast of the United States (Wes Sa-eed!), which, one, explains why there are so many Cantonese speaking people in the San Francisco Bay Area, and thus, two, is probably the real reason why i ended up going there in the first place.

2) However, Hong Kong is not China. It's not even that other China i was talking about. Hong Kong is another country. It's not just that it has it's own independent "Provisional Government." it just looks and feels like a different place. In Hong Kong you can find the same sugary-coating of American and European logos and advertising frosting the streets like you would in Japan or i would imagine in any other so-called "first world" capitalist country. In China, you have Coke, Pepsi, McDonalds, and KFC, and it ends there. The other thing they don't have in China, are foreigners.

3) $1USD is more or less $8.something Chinese "man". Your average Chinese family makes 600man a month. If you have enough money to afford a plane ticket to China, then in China, you are rich. Period.