tribute to family

I had quite a productive day, running some errands in the morning, supervising the crew who came to fix all five air- conditionners in the flat in the afternoon (they leak water after 8 months of non-use and needed a thorough cleaning) and chatted it up with our cheery landlord who came specifically to check out the AC's and the leaky wall that has started to peel from the heavy rain these past few days. I ended up feeding him homemade spaghetti and leftover birthday cake and we made pleasant conversation about family, his and mine. A father of two, he's also got a brother in Edmonton who's been there for the past 7 or 8 years. When he remarked that i was "quite young looking" I told him, without hesitating, my age (although i said the age that i'll be turning in 8 days, small detail). But i don't think i should take his comments too carefully; he pointed to the picture of my paternal grandmother and said: "Oh, and this must be your mother!"

I decided to visit Eepo in Tuen Mun again since it had been a while. Matt and i went on Chinese New Year in January and i had a stack of photos from that day i wanted to give to her. I tried a different route and was glad to find it took significantly less time, only 75 minutes, than the way before which was about two hours. I had the HK atlas with me, but still had to ask around for the best possible bus to take. The man who was operating minibus #140M was super helpful and gave me the correct and most efficient directions. On my way back home, he was still on his run and recognized me right away. I sat up front and we chatted about HK and how i ended up here. His cell phone rang and he proceeded to answer it with one hand on the wheel. I opened up my book to read but I couldn't help overhearing what he was saying though as every word was yelled and punctuated with this long drawl that only Cantonese people seem capable of doing. I thought it was a rather rude way for someone to speak on the phone and figured he hadn't really been taught phone etiquette and so i focused my attention back to my book, wishing he would turn down the volume a few decibels for the sake of his passengers. When he hung up, he turned to me and explained what it was all about. Apparently some guy left his cell phone on the minibus and he was calling his own phone to see if it was picked up by somebody. So the driver was yelling at the guy because there was a bad connection, told him to wait for him at the main station and that he'd recognize him because on the wallpaper of the phone was a picture of this guy and his new bride.

After just being put off by his lack of manners, I was pleasantly taken aback by the driver's honesty and his sense of civic duty to return the phone to its owner. The fact is, i find the majority of Hong Kong people to be like this: helpful and kind, when the chance comes to do so. Mind you, there are the stereotypical pushy ones that will walk right into you without an apology, push their way onto the subway before others have gotten off it, treat you with an air of absolute indifference as a customer, and so on. But the more time i spend living and discovering HK, the more i come across this kindness in one form or another. And i like it, not for what the person does for me/others, but for the fact that good manners and a sense of doing good actually exists amongst the hustle and bustle of this money-oriented city, a reputation that seems to permeate worldwide.

Dinner was simple, tasty and comfortable with Eepo (2nd grandma literally). Having been widowed exactly 7 years on Saturday, she spends most of the days on her own except when she goes to her exercise groups and dance classes. So i let her do most of the talking, although i'm pretty sure i wouldn't have gotten much in edgewise as she was just recounting story after story between mouthfuls of rice. But i don't mind at all. I love hearing tales about my dad and his siblings and imagining in my mind how they were as kids. My favourite story that she always recounts everytime i see her, is when she and her sister (my grandma) went to pick up my dad at the local nursery. Amongst a throng of children just let out of the gates, my dad stood at the top of the stairs, scanned the sea of beaming parents and once he spotted his mom and aunt, smiled a kind of half-smile and started to go down the stairs, one careful step at a time, never breaking eye contact with them. My grandma, without letting sight of her boy, said to her sister: "Just look, all those children there and the most beautiful one of all, my son."