THE HOMECOMING
by Alexander K.W. Hui
My wife, Eva, and I returned home on Jan. 29 [1998] from our 3-week vacation to SE
China. I would like to share some thoughts with you...
I've also accepted a challenge from Eva's uncles, in China, to write a Chinese version
of this story. It'll be interesting, considering: (1) my cross-cultural reference
point of view, (2) my Chinese literary skills are very rusty. Eva had offered to
help, but I'd stubbornly declined. It is my wish for it to be my Chinese essay, as
clumsy as it may be. In the mean time, I trust that you'll enjoy reading the English
version: I wrote this epilogue to share the experience with friends and family. It
started out as a short letter to a good friend in Montreal; then I realized my memories
of the trip are still vivid, the feelings are still fresh. As a result, the daily
editing in the past two months on the story had been a time of personal reflection.
I may or may not write about another trip to China in the future, but one thing for
certain is: I may never be able to seize this opportune moment of inspiration of
a first-ever homecoming visit. I also find it tremendously helpful to work with the
various feedback which I've been receiving from whom I'd shared this experience.
Compared to me and my 32-year tenure in Canada, my wife, Eva, is a recent immigrant
from Hong Kong of 10 years. With her fluency in both Cantonese and Mandarin dialects,
Eva is one great traveling companion in this first-ever homecoming visit. Let me
remind you that the official dialect of China is Mandarin, whereas in the cities
of Hong Kong and Guangzhou, Cantonese is the norm. My own re-acquaintance with this
homeland took a shot-in-the-arm booster when I subscribed to the Internet last year.
I was able to keep abreast with the news and views of Hong Kong and China, through
desktop newscasters such as the Pointcast-Asia Network. Communications with my cousin
Joshua, with whom I grew up in my childhood days, has never been more convenient
with the advent of e-mail.
Our first stop was Hong Kong, my hometown until I moved away at the age of 14. Very
little of Hong Kong of the 60s was left for me to see, saved for the three paternal
great-aunts and my two schools of those formative years. The Hong Kong Baptist Church
- our family's home church for four generations - had also been completely rebuilt,
and the pastoral staff changed hands three times. We attended the morning service
on the Sunday while we were there; after the service, we met with the pastor and
the choir-master, both of whom were childhood friends of mine. Strangers in our middle-age,
we were only able to recognize each other after my Cousin Joshua's timely introduction.
I fully anticipated that the sights and sounds of Hong Kong will have me completely
engulfed in floods of memories, mixed emotions, and sentiments. Indeed, thirty years
is a long time for one to be away!!!
Upon landing at the Hong Kong International Airport, my first instinct was to look
for telltale signs of change since the '97 Handover. We were waiting for our turn
at the Customs and Immigrations counter when I noticed a pair of policemen patrolling
the area. They were both dressed in SWAT team uniforms. One of them was proudly waving
about his semi-automatic machine-gun, finger on the trigger-ready for action! I murmured
to myself, "My, how this place has changed!" Then I realized, "Who
am I kidding, I wouldn't know who CHANGE is, even if I am staring at him right in
the face." [Editor's note: Hong Kong special agents with M16's had been patrolling
the airport, finger-on-the-trigger, BEFORE the '97 turnover. It is quite unnecessary,
to say the least. However, it has nothing to do with the mainland Chinese government.
Besides, mainland Chinese policemen don't look that sharp, and will never wear berets!
:-))] My excitement told me that I'm not about to let a thirteen-and-a-half-hour-flight
induced jet-lag get me down. I had Cousin Joshua promptly delivered us to his house
where the entire family had been waiting in anticipation for our arrival, in particular,
my eighty-nine year old great-aunt. As I walked through the door, a rush of emotion
overwhelmed me when our eyes met. Her eyes were soon filled with signs of delight
when Eva, my bride of two years, was introduced to the family. It was one of those
rare, treasured moments in life. Ai-ya!!! Where was my camcorder when I needed it
the most ?
We spent the first full day in Hong Kong visiting with the other two great-aunts;
and paying homage to my great-grandmother, the matriarch of our family - fulfilling
my filial piety, so to speak. I can recall the happy days when our family would gathered
together, for the traditional semi-annual homage - visiting our great-grandmother:
My paternal grandmother would be like Mother Goose and her goslings - leading all
of her nine grand-children from both her sons, to the Christian Cemetery at the west-end
of Hong Kong Island for the hour-long picturesque hike and picnic. Grandma would
proceed to tell us stories of the family during these picnics: how she and her mother-in-law,
both refugees from Hong Kong's neighboring province of Guangdong in the 40s, eked
out a living by being sub-leasing landlords in the Central District. They were both
victims of circumstances - Great-grandma was oceans-apart from her husband, who was
away in Canada's Vancouver Island, Grandma was single, for Grandpa had been missing,
and presumed dead, ever since the first day when the Japanese invaded Hong Kong in
1941...
"Sleepless in Hong Kong" was playing last night, starring yours truly and
his bride. Well before daybreak, we were ready to shake, rattle, and roll out of
our hotel, which was way out in the New Territories. We made it to Tsim-Sha-Tsui
District, the southerly-most tip of Kowloon Peninsula, by 7:20 in the morning. Playing
it safe as any tourist guide-book will tell you, we went for the old standby - enjoying
a hearty McDonald's breakfast before heading out. Well, I'll tell you, the food was
familiar; however, what I couldn't get over was the constant, obnoxious nagging among
the staff about our initial encounter with them: having to change a HK$500 bill [US$
60], the first thing in the morning. We were oblivious to their plight, for it was
our first taste of being a big-time spender in Hong Kong.
The Star Ferry was a mere 8-minute ride from Tsim-Sha-Tsui to Central District, the
financial hub of Hong Kong, the heartbeat of Southeast Asia. Passengers were sparse,
thanks mostly to the MTR (Mass Transit Rail) which glides quietly underneath the
Victoria Harbor, through not one, but two different tunnels. This hundred-year-old
Star Ferry is serving well as a romantic reminder to the colonial days of Hong Kong.
To completely ignore Hong Kong's colonial past would give a hollow ring to the accolades
of this dynamic metropolis - in 1966, the Star Ferry's fare-increase sparked a hunger-strike
of one youth, and led to the protest of the masses. This protest was the beginning
of a new thought-involvement in civic politics, from the traditionally subdued citizens
of a British colony. This thought gave the Chinese in Hong Kong, mostly transients
from a war-torn homeland, a sense of urgency to embrace Hong Kong as a place which
they could call home. The rest, is Hong Kong's brilliant history.
We had a clear view of the harbor awakening to another busy day of work. The water
is crisscrossed with the wakes of small crafts, ferries, hydrofoils, hovercrafts,
police boats, sampans and freighters. Over the horizon to the west is the brand-spanking-new
Tsing-Ma Bridge, part of the new infrastructure which the Hong Kong Government has
put in place. It is the new rail/vehicular combination-link to the ultra-modern Chek-Lap-Kok
International Airport on Lantau Island, which will be open for business in July '98.
This new airport will immediately put an end to the current midnight-to-dawn curfew
of arrivals and departures of flights, to and from Hong Kong.
Pardon the pun, but "Gone With the Wind," the winds of change, will be
the scenes of jumbo jets swooping between TV antennas to their runway, which protrudes
dramatically into the harbor. I often wonder why Hong Kong, a city of SO MUCH change
and SO MUCH money, is taking SO MUCH time to relieve the millions upon millions of
travelers of such drama. Politics, perhaps... I'm only too kind to offer such wimpy
explanation. The Star Ferry terminals, the busy pedestrian subway of the Central
District, the original Hong Kong City Hall, the Cenotaph with her precious little
patch of natural-grass lawn; all seemed so familiar yet so miniaturized when compared
to the memories of my childhood days. I must report this to Mother, "Look Mom,
they shrunk the old Hong Kong!" Hey, I can feel like a kid all over again.
The other 5 days in Hong Kong were spent sightseeing, shopping, and dining, mostly
with Eva's friends, classmates, and colleagues. I was hopelessly lost and felt completely
like a tourist. Occasionally, we would come across something that reminded me of
the old Hong Kong, such as the rickshaw drivers waiting in the shades for their next
patrons. I would then be engaged in some nostalgic babbling, only to invite an acknowledged
smile of satisfaction from Eva. You see, this trip to visit the old hometown was
on her list of wedding vows. Speaking of Seventh Heaven! On Saturday night, we were
the special guests at Eva's high school re-union which was being held at the world
famous Hong Kong Convention & Exhibition Centre. The HKCEC is famous by virtue
of being the site of the '97 Handover Ceremony. It is a marvelous convention centre,
with 7 floors of exhibition space, and full view of Victoria Harbor. Its super-structure
takes on the look of a dove-broadcasting a message of peace to all of China. Mr.
Chou, one of Eva's former classmates, is the current Director of Operations at HKCEC;
being on his home turf, he was a most gracious host on this fine evening. Of course,
the service was meticulous, and the food was the very best that Hong Kong had to
offer.
Guangzhou, formerly known as Canton, was our first stop in China. By the way, Guangzhou
is the real name, whereas Canton was named by the British who couldn't pronounce
the original. As much as I wanted to see China for myself first-hand; I had my apprehensions
about this trip. I also felt that my Cousin Joshua, with his frequent business trips
to various parts of China, was the one person who I could entrust with my concerns.
We gathered solemnly in his car for a word of prayer before embarking on this adventure.
The comfortable three-hour air-conditioned bus ride took us from the swanky shops
of Tsim-Sha-Tsui, to the swampy marketplace of Guangzhou. As our bus pulled off the
freeway, into the masses of people and bicycles milling around on the streets; a
nauseating feeling, which I get whenever I encounter a strange environment, conjured
up images of Hong Kong of the 60s. These images, which I didn't see in Hong Kong
itself, were evident everywhere in this mythical city. I was thinking aloud to myself,
"I already have highlighting in my permed-curly hair, and dressed in adventure-clothing,
complete with a fedora on my head; why don't I just pretend that I am Indiana Jones,
stumbling through the on-location set of "Raiders of the Lost Ark" !"
We visited Eva's numerous uncles in Guangzhou. It was my first introduction to the
maternal wing of her family since our wedding. It was also my first introduction
to life in China. Each morning, we were treated to dim-sum at the neighborhood hotel-restaurant.
It was truly a family hour: we would be joined by all the uncles and aunts who were
in the city. Each had his/her own unique stories to share: Uncle #2 is truly enjoying
his retirement from years of being a publisher: he is publishing his own book on
a life-long hobby of horticulture, Bonsai in particular. His wife, a retired school
teacher, is delighted in sharing her experiences in community activities. Their daughter,
Ah-Mei, is a bright, young photographer for a real estate developer. Being a seasoned
traveler herself, she proudly shared with us many of her award-winning travel photography
from the remote regions of China. Uncle #3 is a retired colonel who spent much of
his army days in the northern regions of China. He was in Guangzhou, the capital
of Guangdong province, along with his wife to lead a delegate of fellow-villagers
to attend a conference on Qi-gong. They both enlightened us on the virtues of this
popular discipline. Uncle #7 was simply pleased to be in good company and good food,
before a hectic day's schedule as a supervisor in a passenger-bus manufacturing plant.
His wife, on the other hand, really knows how to enjoy life - she filled us in on
the details of her recent vacation to Hainan, a popular resort island appropriately
dubbed "the Hawaii of China". Her son Ah-Dong exchanged e-mail addresses
with me, and was excited about being in communication with his cousins overseas.
He promised to keep us posted about his wedding plans for this summer... (Author's
note: the numbering of the uncles is not a departure from traditional respect for
the elders. It is also handy to maintain the anonymity of the innocent.)
Today's China is a country of prosperity and optimism. The market economy is thriving
under the current communist regime. People's lives are fast catching up, actually
leap-frogging, from the Cultural Revolution days of the 60s and 70s to the hi-tech
90s. All the trimmings of a modern-day society are also present, giving it a strange
mix with the sadly outdated beautification of her vistas: Pagers and cellular telephones
are everywhere. People are dressed in fashion, no longer the monotonous garbs of
the Mao era. Motorcycles are replacing bicycles at an alarming rate - alarming because
of the air pollution. It was commonplace to see the more health-conscious pedestrians
wearing breathing-masks everywhere. Shopping centres are springing up everywhere,
and are filled to the brim with merchandise from every corner of this Middle Kingdom.
Even the streets - as a matter of fact, any open space leading up to the shopping
centres - were filled with street-vendors selling everything imaginable under the
sun.
In Guangzhou, we never actually went inside the malls. While shopping outdoors, price-haggling
was very much in vogue. It was great fun! One interesting observation in Guangzhou
was the traffic: Cars, buses, motorcycles, scooters, carts of all sorts, and pedestrians
are constantly engaged in a bumper-car dance routine. Nothing is moving at break-neck
speed, but everything is squirming about in every direction. Right-turns, left-turns,
U-turns, and as-you-please-turns are happening all the while without any signals,
and without any accidents. The most amazing thing of all - no "road-rage"
as we know it in North America. I guess there are so many people that you simply
have to get along with everyone. Harmony is paramount in a country of over a billion
people. However, "harmony" was out the window whenever the driver can see
a bit of daylight ahead of him. Every driver we encountered in China, whether it
be the cab driver in Guanghzou, the private chauffeur of an C.E.O. in Hangzhou, or
the government-issued low-flying pilot in Ningbo; all had this "There is no
tomorrow!" kind of mentality - driving at break-neck speed, swerving around
obstacles, one hand on the horn, ready to warn anyone that's brave enough to get
in the way. I also recall seeing cars of all makes and models on the road. But when
it came time to find a car dealership, a service station, or an auto-body shop, there
was none to be had. It is small wonder that Vancouver's container shipping business
are filled with fledgling stolen-car operators.
The next two stops, Xiamen and Hangzhou, only served to confirm this reality. We
were fortunate to have two of Eva's former colleagues, both of whom are Canadian
citizens, greeted and treated us to many of the local sights and delights. My favorite
in Xiamen has to be the nightly two-hour total body massage by the blind. I know
what you're thinking, but we were in a large room with five other patrons, all fully-dressed,
for the treat of our lives. I'd never slept better.
The elder Mr. Lau is an electrical engineer. His capacity as a superintendent in
an office tower construction project leads him to frequent hobnobs with local officials.
He enlightened us on doing business in China: things don't necessary go better with
Coke, rather, it takes a few bottles of the finest scotch whiskey every night: Chivas
Regal's Royal Salute-at a whopping $25,000 Renminbi (Chinese currency) a bottle,
divide that by about 5.7 for the Canadian equivalent and take that to the bank!!!
The younger Mr. Lau has been working in China since the days of Cultural Revolution.
He is a business administrator and had been in various construction projects in the
interior regions. With an adventurous spirit, he is now running a new business venture
in Hangzhou. I would have never guessed it - a shopping channel on television; a
first of its kind in China! He is doing so well in the first year of operation that
new branch offices are being set up in several cities along the coast. Mr. Lau is
an avid golfer, spending much of his leisure time in country clubs around Hangzhou.
In conversation, he is comical, a pure delight. Like his elder brother, socializing
is Mr. Lau's brightest moments in this otherwise boring business life. In his own
words,
"I often wonder why am I working so hard in China, while all my friends in Canada
have gone fishing!" His greatest yearning is simply to have a normal family
life back home on the ranch.
Chinese New Year is the busiest time of the year in China. Shopping for gifts and
making the pilgrimage for the annual family re-union is comparable to the Christmas
Rush in North America. In department stores in Hangzhou, I noticed that television
sets were selling like hot cakes, consumer products were disappearing off the shelves,
as quickly as the clerks were able to replace them.
During our side-trip to Ningbo, a smaller city on the coast about 50 miles southeast
of Hangzhou, I started a conversation with a total stranger on the bus, who was on
his way home during this 7-day New Year's Break. He was bearing presents for everyone
back home. I was amazed as to the amount of luggage this man was able to carry onboard,
judging from the sea of humanity that we had just left behind at the Hangzhou bus
terminal. I'd learned that Mr. Ye had a vested interest in a mid-size furniture manufacturing
plant in Chongqing, the industrial heartland of the interior. There are one hundred
and twenty employees in his plant.
Armed with only my broken Mandarin dialect and a pencil and paper in hand, I pressed
on with my inquisitive mind. The conversation was his first experience speaking with
anyone living outside of China. I introduced myself as the one and only locomotive
engineer of Chinese heritage in Canada. This introduction has been my sure-fire way
of attracting somebody's attention, under any circumstance. Our conversation went
from Canadian exports to the Rockies, to the U.S.-Canada salmon dispute, to the price
of Kokanee beer in B.C., and to the price of tea in China; and then finally to the
one thing which he desired the most - the day when he would have enough money to
travel to Canada. He was surprised to learn that Canadians spend on an average of
50% of their income on taxes of all sorts. That subject had both of us wondering:
"Which one of us is living in a true socialist country anyway?"
On the television set in our hotel room, ESPN was broadcasting my favorite, the one
game which I've been waiting for all season-the Super Bowl. The Denver Broncos were
playing against last year's champions, the Green Bay Packers. But you know, I wasn't
even remotely interested. Watching American football in the Chinese city of Ningbo
just didn't make any sense, even to a sports-viewing junkie like myself. I had better
things to do on this beautiful Monday morning. (Author's note: with the 16-hour difference
in time, it was Super Bowl Sunday in America!)
The Ningbo Golden Dragon Hotel was serving a delightful brunch-buffet in the penthouse-restaurant,
and we were to be joined by a local banking official. In the ambient atmosphere,
with a panoramic view of the city, a congenial conversation was starting: I was congratulated
for being fortunate to be visiting China at this time. If I were to visit China for
the first time in the 80s, the impression would have been so harsh that I may never
want to come back for seconds. I guess this is what you might call, "Break it
to me gently!"
It was the last day of our stay in Hangzhou when we decided to take a leisurely stroll
along the famous Xihu, West Lake, as it is so fondly known in the West. The morning
air was still fresh from the recent snow storm which paralyzed the city on the day
before our arrival. Winter is usually a quiet time of the year for the tourist trade
in Hangzhou. Oarsmen were taking it easy - catnapping on their wooden sightseeing
sampan-built-for-twos; similar to the romantic gondolas you see in Venetian waterways.
Along the pathways circumscribing the lake are century-old architecture, souvenir
shops, tea houses, restaurants, ... and yes, fast food outlets such as CFC's, KFC's,
Pizza Huts, and McDonald's..., just to name a few. Much to my surprise was the discovery
of the famous Taiwanese franchise chain of Yong-He Dou-Jiang, a 24-hour fast food
chain, anchored on their popular Soya Drink product. So there is some truth to the
axiom, "Music speaks an universal language." But now I know, "Money,
speaks even louder." THE EAGLE HAS LANDED IN CHINA! So have the once-regarded
renegades-Taiwanese. We promptly walked in and ordered some of the local favorites
for breakfast.
Two tables to the right of us sat a lonesome Caucasian young lady, enjoying much
of the same kind of breakfast as we were; and I was thinking, "Two weeks into
our vacation and I haven't spoken a word of English. I am anxious to drum up a conversation
in English with anyone." I approached her politely and tried my well-honed one-liner,
"My, you're a long ways from home!" What I got in return was the shock
of my new-found Chinese life, "Zen Mo Yang?" (So?) the young lady replied
coolly, in perfect Mandarin. She also gave me a shrug to my apology for speaking
to her in English. I should have known better, "How did she ordered the food
by herself in the first place, right?" My traveling companions were laughing
so hard by now that we had to give up on our breakfast.
I always had one wish to fulfill - spend a Chinese New Year in Hong Kong. I wanted
to experience the traditional New Year's Eve family re-union dinner, the Flower Market,
the New Year's Day Parade, and to pass around the good wishes of prosperity of the
New Year-Lai-see, little red packets of money, to children of all ages. There was
also the gigantic fireworks celebration for the day after New Year's in Victoria
Harbor. It was simply too good to pass up, a fitting finale to this visit. Little
did I realize that one billion other Chinese are thinking of the same thing on New
Year's Eve. Making travel arrangements on this day was like trying to obtain a pair
of rink-side seats for the gold medal hockey game in the '98 Nagano Winter Olympics.
In any event, after a two-hour flight, we arrived back in Hong Kong, from Hangzhou,
just at the nick of time - for the reunion dinner with my great-aunt's family. It
was definitely a dinner to write home about. You have to understand, food plays an
integral part in Chinese superstition. In Hong Kong, all the names of foods which
have similar sounds to words meaning prosperity, wealth, and blessings, were selected
to be the menu items on this most festive occasion: sea moss, dry oyster, pork tongue,
lettuce - the result was a very odd looking fare, especially to the Western observer.
The annual New Year's Eve Flower Market in Victoria Park has been a long standing
tradition. After dinner, thousands upon thousands of happy campers file into the
streets, heading for the open-air market to shop for fresh-cut flowers of gladiolas,
carnations, pussy willows, cherry blossoms, and miniature kumquat trees - a symbol
of happiness for the family in the New Year. At one end of the market is a Cantonese
opera with sopranos and tenors of an almost bygone era, all dressed in bright and
cheerful costumes, presenting a Chinese rendition of Casablanca, or was it Romeo
and Juliet? I was pushed along by the masses before I had a chance to change my mind.
My best guess was that Hong Kong never sleeps this night. After the hustle and bustle
of the previous night, we opted for a quiet New Year's Day in the countryside. During
our ride on the MTR to join one of Eva's friends for the trip, I noticed a pair of
children holding hands together. The youthful brother and sister were dressed in
the finest of Chinese New Year's fashion, on their way to visit their grandparents,
uncles and aunts... Sitting next to us was a grandmother clutching a huge bouquet
of flowers. She proudly informed us that her prize was the reward of an all-night
vigil at the Flower Market - the discards by vendors at the end of the night.
Stanley Market on the south side of Hong Kong Island was a charming fishing village
overlooking the South China Sea. Shops of designer clothing which lined both sides
of cobblestone alleyways were business as usual. Only the fishermen at their beach-front
tenements knew how to take the day off - they were settling down to an orgy of "Mahjong"
with visiting relatives. ("Mahjong" is a famous Chinese Rummy game, played
with small tiles made of ivory or plastic.)
Repulse Bay was only a short 10-minute ride from Stanley. The Hong Kong Repulse Bay
Resort Hotel is still a favorite retreat for tourists and locals alike. Her majestic
view of the South China Sea, the golden sands of the palm tree-lined beaches, was
enjoyed, at one time, by a teenage version of Eva, when she was the summer help at
the beach-front concession stands. I can just image, the number of broken hearts
who walked away with their ice-cream cones that summer!
Only a few short hours left before our flight was to leave Hong Kong, we spent a
quiet morning with Carrie, and her husband, Isaac. Eva and Carrie had been the best-of-friends
since their pre-school days. We were reminiscing the experiences in Hangzhou, which
the four of us had together, just a few days ago, when I realized that there was
still something incomplete about this trip. It would be terrible to go home, and
think that I haven't visited the sentimental favorites - the old schools, and the
street where I used to live. Fortunately, my companions were very accommodating to
help me accomplish this simply task.
The Methodist School, of my kindergarten to grade-6 years, was still standing TALL,
atop King's Park Hill. Adjacent to her were the South Kowloon Magistracy and the
Grantham College of Education. Surprisingly, the adjoining Methodist-Wesley Church
sanctuary where the school's graduations and award ceremonies took place, looked
exactly the same as I remembered it. And that's not all! In the foyer of the third
floor classrooms stood the same old cabinet where all the stuffed-animals were on
display: with exactly the same motionless python, red-fox, and bald-eagle - a testimony
which withstood the test of time!
At the gates to Kowloon Wah Yan College, a security guard kept unwelcome visitors
at bay on this statutory holiday, the day after Chinese New Year. After some desperate
pleading with him to let me in, he replied, "I know, you are one of many alumni
of this old school who went away overseas. You are here for a homecoming visit. Welcome,
come on in!" Those reassuring words meant more to me than any other in this
sentimental journey. Somehow, the coldness and emptiness of the school grounds, and
the hollow halls, seemed to melt away by the warmth of that elderly gentleman. It
was the year 1957 when we moved from Central District to the new town of Hunghom
in Kowloon.. Whampoa Street wasn't even paved on our moving-day. We were to take
possession of a new apartment flat which our great-grandfather had provided. He had
been in Canada since 1913, working as a school teacher in the Chinatown section of
boomtown Cumberland, B.C., on Vancouver Island. He was serving the Chinese coal-miners
of the Dunsmuir Collieries. The most meaningful part of his job must have been the
letters which he was commissioned to write, on behalf of each individual coal-miner.
These men, Great-grandfather included, were separated from their families in China.
Any hope of a family reunion in Canada was further annihilated by the Chinese Exclusion
Act, and Head Tax of the day. Imagine the wretched hardship which they had to endure
for the few pennies of savings to send home for their families.
Standing at the end of the street, and staring up to the fifth floor window of Number
Six Whampoa Street; I was pleased, "I was pleased that the street was tidier
and cleaner than the rest of them. I was pleased that the facade of the building
hasn't fallen prey to the pollution around her. I'm satisfied that they'd look after
the place since I left. I'm satisfied that Great-grandpa made a good choice in 1957."
Our flight left shortly before the scheduled fireworks celebration. As I looked back
through the window at an altitude of 35,000 feet, I can almost see the flashes of
red, white, blue, yellow, and gold behind us... Sending us off with a bang! A bang
which brought me back to reality - my North-American caffeine addiction is killing
me. The first thing I did when I landed in Vancouver International Airport was to
have a good cup of coffee. I'll have you know, "I wouldn't trade Starbucks for
all the tea in China!"
China is advancing so fast that whenever I read travel stories on China, I am inclined
to guess in which year is the story related to, and compare it to my own experience.
I realize that the parts of China we visited were the more prosperous coastal regions,
and therefore, I feel that China is still in dire need of upgrading her infrastructure.
Engineers, business administrators, environmental specialists, telecommunication
and Internet technologies will be major areas of employment. I feel that there must
be enough travel books about Hong Kong and China. Therefore, my aim in this epilogue
is to convey not only the places which I saw, but also the people with whom I was
in contact - those who in some way, touched my heart. Originally, it was not my intention
to search for my roots, but as I reflect upon the details of this trip, searching
for the feelings, there is no denying that it is turning out to be this way.
As I was staring out the windows during my bus ride, into the vast expanse of China's
farmland, the farms with desperately outdated machinery and dreadfully primitive
facilities, I couldn't help but feel as if a mother is beckoning her son to come
home for a visit. China's history is one of "fallen off the rails" whenever
there seemed to be a ray of hope. For example, the '89 Tiananmen Massacre of hundreds
upon hundreds of the country's hopefuls, by an army of the people, was simply beyond
reason. I personally know a teacher from China, who was full of ambition to make
his homeland a better place. He was in Beijing's train station on June 4, 1989. If
it wasn't for his friend's persistent effort - with a gun to his head, to prevent
him from heading for the Square, he might have been one of the statistics, or non-statistics,
as the government was so well known for its creative bookkeeping. He told me afterwards,
in Canada, that he simply gave up on China. It is a sad story.
As for myself, I feel that in order to have a more enriching China experience, I
must be able to communicate with the local people in my travels. So my next goal:
learn the Mandarin dialect, adventure photography, videography, and make sure that
my children can maintain some sense of the Chinese language and culture. Hopefully,
they will be willing participants to accompany me for the next and many more adventures
to China.. To travel anywhere else would be far short of meaningful. This trip was
simply an eye-opener which will have a lasting impact on me. My afternoon daydreams
will never be the same again.
copyright © 1998 Alexander Hui
E-mail: eva_alex@msn.com