I’ve been here a week but, for the most part, everything has been very low-key. There have been a number of highlights, which I will share with you in due time, but for the most part it’s just a comfortable sort of daily routine as Laine and her dad go off to their respective jobs and I figure out what to do with my days. I usually start by going to the gym (omg guys, I am sooo ripped) and then set off to aimlessly wander the streets. Yesterday, however, had a purpose: we went to see Laine’s Ah-mah (paternal grandmother). I thought it would just be for tea; little did I know it was actually a family reunion of sorts.
Over the past six years I’ve had plenty of opportunities to hang out with various members of Laine’s extended family and family friends. Some of them have visited Montreal, others I’ve seen numerous times in Vancouver and, of course, here in Hong Kong, on one of my two previous visits. In this case, however, almost the whole of Laine’s paternal family was gathered in one spot, including an entire aunt/uncle/cousin combo that I had never met before. Turns out that cousin is getting married, too, which is possibly why a deliveryman showed up at the door with a roast big. Not just any roast pig — a GIANT one that could have been mistaken for a small human. I suppose this is actually what normal hogs are like, but having never been on a farm I had no way of knowing, and for the most part my conception of pigs remains anchored in animated movies and Laine’s dear stuffed animal Piggy, who is the size of a squirrel and kind of looks like a bear.
In any case, the pig was quite big, and even Laine’s family was surprised, greeting it with a chorus of “wahhh.” The deliveryman was apparently also a butcher, because he later returned with a big knife and chopped the pig into a number of smaller pieces. Even after we feasted on the crispy pork there was still about three pounds of meat—per person—left for everyone to take home. Oh, and there was a whole chicken too, which the deliveryman also butchered, and several boxes of noodles, rice, greens and other delicious things.
The meal lasted for a few hours as we ate and watched Olympic gymnastics, weightlifting and diving events on TV. Not speaking Cantonese, I didn’t say much. Every so often, Laine’s dad and his two brothers would sneak into a bedroom to smoke, and Ah-mah would periodically look around the room and ask questions like, “Where’s Susan? Where’s Laine? Where’s Laine’s white boyfriend?” She’s an adorable woman, though often quite befuddled, which is perfectly forgivable when you’re in your 90s. Ah-mah is also very slight, so much so that she looks completely overwhelmed when she is sitting on the sofa, like a sparrow on a city bench. Ever since she broke her hip a few years ago, a friendly and resourceful Indonesian woman that everyone calls Ah-sam was hired to help her; although she’s technically a “domestic helper” (ie, maid) of the kind that most middle-class Hong Kongers have, the family seems to treat her well. She speaks fluent Cantonese, which certainly helps.
Before we ate the pig, Ah-mah made an offering to the gods by lighting six sticks of incense, bowing three times before the three altars stacked atop one another in a corner of the living room. Afterwards, Laine told me, she turned to one of Laine’s aunts, a Christian, and asked somewhat worriedly if this would run counter to her beliefs. After the meal, Laine and I were given some boxes of food to take to her maternal grandmother, Ah-poh, who just so happens to be best friends with Ah-mah.
Laine’s aunt and cousin gave us a ride in their car to Ah-poh, who lives with one of her daughters and grandsons in a small two-room apartment in public housing. I’ve actually been to visit them a lot — maybe a dozen times in total — but, unlike the rest of Laine’s family, they speak absolutely no English, so I have never actually spoken with them beyond a few timid utterings of mm goy (thank you). Still, it’s fun to be around them, if only because Ah-poh is constantly amazed that I eat everything, and says this to whoever will listen at least several times whenever we eat together.
We gave them the pork, along with some bags full of cakes and other things, and sat down for awhile and had some hot water and oranges. Then we left to go have dinner with Laine’s dad and some family friends who are visiting from Vancouver. On the menu, among other things: more pork.
Today was my first day of school! Well, not quite. It’s more like pre-school. In order to ensure that all Master of Journalism students are on the same technical page, so to speak, we’re all obliged to take a three-credit, one-week “technical bootcamp.” It consists of six sessions, six hours each, in which we learn the basics of new media like blogging, RSS feeds, editing photos, recording video and so forth. It’s Blogging 101, as Laine put it.
