Like every island in Hong Kong, Cheung Chau's economic base is seafood. This is a fishing boat cleverly disguised as a spider. There are two giant nets on either side:
I hiked this entire island with Joan about 6 months ago, so Mark (Elvis) and did the island from a new angle. It's still breathtaking:
Now you see why I call him Elvis:
I requested that we rent bikes to ride around the island. He said we would go to a certain vendor because he will give him a special discount. He told Grandma, and she insisted she escort us because the vendor would give us an even bigger discount if she were along. I'm almost certain that Grandma chose that bike for me:
A Cantonese opera was going on in a temporary bamboo and tin scrap metal building. It was some god's birthday celebration:
Last time I went to Cheung Chau, Joan and I saw the priate cave but we didn't know we could go in. It looked so narrow, I thought I'd get stuck. All that aerobics has paid off and we made it through. You can't tell from the picture, but it was pitch black in there:
We met up with several of Mark's friends that day. In the afternoon, Michael, and Jackson in the evening. I did not just make that up. Helping Michael out of the cave.
This is a picture of a picture for my dad. It was a celebration for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, circa dated to early in her reign, perhaps the mid 1950s:
Ancient rock carvings are apparently all over Hong Kong, but this is the first I've seen them. They all face the sea and were probably meant to bring favor from the ocean gods. Experts reckon these are 3,500 years old:
Despite all of the above, the most popular attraction to Cheung Chau is the annual Bun Festival. Still one month away, these workers are building a structure that will ultimately be covered in buns which some brave youths will climb:
Of course, one high-light for me was meeting Grandma, or Mah Mah, in Cantonese. Mah Mah doesn't speak any English, but I feel like I already knew her based on similarities with my own grandma. For instance, she insisted that I eat more, then insisted that she pay for lunch. Of course, we went to this place for both meals that day because Mah Mah gets a really good discount there:
And who doesn't love a good respaurant? Here we are waiting for our table. I'm not sure Mah Mah knew where to look:
After dinner, we went back to Mah Mah's house to play Mah Johng. She had to help me a lot, much like my grandma helps with Wist. I don't think she ever understood me when I spoke Cantonese to her until during the game when I told her she was very smart, she smiled and laughed. Despite it being way past her bedtime, Mah Mah also insisted that she make a traditional Chinese dessert soup for us. The similarities really never stop. Here she is with another friend of Mark, Phoebe, and the soup:
We all went for a walk on the beach and found a message in a bottle. That may sound cool, but if you can read this, you'll see that the sender set it out to sea on March 20, 2009, or 8 days before we found it. lame.
We went to Mah Mah's house to collect our personal items and headed to the ferry. The time was 11:50pm, the last ferry was at 11:45pm. The next ferry would be at 2:20am. So we went back to Mah Mah's house. I slept and they woke me up at 2:30---
Good thing I did, because I found this gem:
We all went for a walk on the beach and found a message in a bottle. That may sound cool, but if you can read this, you'll see that the sender set it out to sea on March 20, 2009, or 8 days before we found it. lame.
We went to Mah Mah's house to collect our personal items and headed to the ferry. The time was 11:50pm, the last ferry was at 11:45pm. The next ferry would be at 2:20am. So we went back to Mah Mah's house. I slept and they woke me up at 2:30---"Wasn't the ferry at 2:20?"
"Yes, but we'll just get the next one, it's at 3-something."
We go to the pier and the gates are closed...the next ferry will depart at 5:10.
Back to Mah Mah's house again...
We all made it on the 5:10 ferry and I arrived at home around 6:30am to judgemental looks from the doormen.
Somehow, I still made it to church this morning and the ballet "Swan Lake" in the afternoon.
But, before the ballet, my friend Meagan suggested that I take a picture with the East Asian Games mascots:
Good thing I did, because I found this gem:
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16 comments:
So who are those old white guys at the Cantonese opera?
Is that a picture of the Queen or a picture of a picture of the Queen? Why is she so big? Does the royal prerogative do that?
Your hair is quite spiky. Thanks for the warning.
Those are old Chinese guys with white hair at the Cantonese opera.
Yes, it is a picture of a picture of a picture of the Queen.
It's big because all great art is very big.
Just try not to impale yourself on my hair.
Have I seen that white shrug, (sweater) before? Mom does OK once in a while?
The message in the bottle was clearly for Alice, Emily and... Ping??
Keep checking those messages in a bottle. Your dad has not fully embraced the internet and might be using that as backup.
Keith
Yes, the message in a bottle: Preferred method of communication for eight-year-olds and The, Dad. Be on the look-out for your 1040.
Why is The, Dad, the object of everyone's derision all of a sudden? Or perhaps it is not so sudden.
The,
Dad.
Not sudden at all, The, Dad.
It's been a very smooth process, much like your future transition into senility.
Future?
Camber, I want to meet your family.
To Camber's friend Paloma:
Don't worry, we're not this interesting in person.
Devon, don't tell Paloma that. Keep the illusion alive.
Also, I knew you would argue the word "future".
Mr. Bradbury, nice work. You fit in quite well with the Carpenters, which may or may not be good news to you.
I do believe the blog mocking The, Dad, has received more comments than your pornographic entry. What does that say about human nature?
Mr. Bradbury should have his very own paragraph in the Carpenter Christmas Letter 2009 (most likely published mid-2010).
Hey sis, I had the same thought about how this blog has more comments than the pornographic post. Thousands of miles and a vast ocean cannot separate our nearly identical thought patterns.
A Christmas Letter paragraph for Mr. Bradbury is in the works. Obviously, Tyler's space will be cut considerably. He refuses to participate in our banter.
We are the same person, you know.
Tyler never does anything letter-worthy anyway. However, I do believe he tried to get Kitty Scarn to walk on a leash.
There is always more room in the CCL for mockery. Perhaps you should just select the most interesting people you know, and write the CCL about them. Then we really need to get that picture with all of The, Dad's, guardianship charges. We should have a contest to match the CCL description to the character in the picture.
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