It started out really bad for them. Mostly because I'm not a good tour guide and I had to work for the first few days they were here. My poor guiding skills mixed with Devon's desire for a detailed itinerary is a recipe for...for something.
Still, they were kind enough to meet me and some work friends for Dim Sum:
I don't remember when that was--this all went down in April. Today is June. I can't even remember what I did last week. So, in that case, I think I'll just post a bunch of photos that don't make me look too fat or ugly.
This guy was driving the boat with his foot until I asked if I could take a picture:
We went to a Kung Fu demo and thought this looked like a Chinese version of Tyler:
By my tour guiding skills, which rely on serendipity, we ended up discovering a boat from Stanley to Po Toi, an island with ferry service only 2 days a week or something. It apparently hasn't changed since Medieval times and has its own theme song. I loved this island!
This one reminds me of my dad:
Another highlight was The Noon Day Gun--a shot fired every day at noon by our good friend, this guy:
That was him showing us the golden bullet.
Now, he checks his watch. It must be high noon for the Noon Day Gun:
And he rings a bell, too:
I'm sure we did more while they were here, but I must not have had my camera on me. Or something.
Tales of Guangzhou, China, next up. It may or may not include illegal entry into a Red Army building.
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14 comments:
Wonderful pictures and great way to start the day for the mother figure. I was wishing and hoping for more communication from afar and I got it. I guess nothing reminded you of the mother??? How about the amazing tree with all the roots?
Mother,
are you jealous that I connected The, Dad with a rusty, probably broken wheelbarrow, but did not find an imagistic connection for you?
I thought you'd be relieved.
Now that you put it in perspective, I most certainly am relieved!!
Please give a detailed explanation of why a rusted-out wheelbarrow and an old tire remind you of me. It is refreshing to know that such commonplace things evoke memories of me. Doubtless you are thinking of me all the time if items like that bring me into your thoughts.
The,
Dad.
We're going to a deserted island!
Mother thinks we look most like sisters while eating contrasting custards. And she doesn't see the Tyler in Chinese Tyler. Maybe he's just a bit TOO brooding.
You didn't hype the Noon Day Gun enough. It's kind of like Helen, in that you think it is going to be lame, but it never disappoints.
The, Dad,
The wheelbarrow hearkens me back to the days of that rusty red wheelbarrow you used when gardening, moving foliage, etc. You probably still use it. I hope you still use it, despite the rust and gaping holes.
There are also memories of the rusted out pick-up truck (you recall the orange hue?) with the hole in the floor so we could see the street.
Somehow you attract rust. That's all I'm saying.
Wow, I LOVE JEFF!!! Or his t-shirt!
But I do believe Jeff is a good person, from what I hear.
Paloma.
Yeah Paloma!
Good guy and good taste in t-shirts.
Also, I meant to tell you, Uncle Raymond from the bar where I sang said to say hello to my mom and sister. Since he's never met my sister, I assume he means you!! hahahhahaha--so hola! And if you, me, and Uncle Raymond are ever in the same place at the same time again, we have to pretend to be sisters. k?
Yes, the red wheelbarrow. I remember sitting around the backyard, likely in the sandbox The Dad, built for us, watching him get all sweaty doing yardwork with that thing. We were so useless. How could anybody STAND us?
love, you took them to the noon day gun. noel coward wrote a poem about it when he lived in hong kong.
Ok, can I be the big sister?
Or you think he'll this THAT'S weird?
I assumed the broken down wheelbarrow was emblematic of the many years he toiled and cared for his children only to be tossed out buy them onto a pile of dirt,left to rust and finally bio degrade.
kukdos to the Dad for a great interview in the Source this week.It must have bumped your column.
Oh, I heard. Marcy said she was busy making you [The, Dad]famous (as she gently reminded me I need to write a story).
I fear as my fame in Hong Kong waxes, in Jacksonville it wanes.
I'll get back into all this soon--in the middle of a show and a flat move.
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