第7章 First trip to Hong Kong

By August 1985, I had finally saved enough money to buy a round-trip ticket to Hong Kong. Yan had left France two weeks ago and was already there. This was not only my first visit to Hong Kong but also to Asia. I had no preconceived idea. I had always been fascinated by the Far East. My interest dates back to my kindergarten class when my teacher introduced us to the life of a little Japanese girl. The year I turned six I discovered the customs and festivals of the country of the rising sun. With my classmates we celebrated the boys' festival by displaying colourful paper fish in the school courtyard. I also learned how to use chopsticks but I only got the chance to try these tools in a real setting when I was 10. I remember having kept the chopsticks wrapper bearing the name and logo of the restaurant: the "Imperial Palace" as a souvenir. The Asian diaspora in Vienne, the town next to the village where my parents lived, was small and consisted mainly of Vietnamese, Cambodians, and Laotians. To us, all Asians looked the same.

I was very curious to see Hong Kong with my own eyes. I remember the photos I looked at in the Million[9] when I was in secondary, the same images that were used to represent Hong Kong: the junks floating in Victoria Harbour lit up by colourful neon lights, the skyscrapers mixed with old buildings, and the bamboo scaffoldings masking half-finished office towers. I also wanted to meet Yan's mother. She knew about me. Her only son had told her about his French girlfriend. She did not mind me being not Chinese. The only request she had made to her son was: not to bring home a black woman. I guess she never met and talked with a black person and was anxious of a dark-skinned foreign looking person. Later, knowing her kindness, even if her son had wanted to marry a black woman I am sure she would not have objected to it.

D-day arrived! On August 5, 1985 I departed from Charles de Gaulle airport. This was my first flight and I travelled with Thai Airways. I had asked for an aisle seat because I thought that I would be scared to look at the view below during take-off. The cabin crew was making announcements in English and I could not understand half of it. When the plane took off, I held tightly the arm rests and stared at the beautiful orchid lying flat on my thighs, a welcome gift from the stewardess. When the aircraft had finally reached its cruising altitude and the flight attendant started distributing the menu and a refreshing jasmine-scented towel, I started to relax. The airplane made a stopover in Bangkok. I was in a hurry to depart again to arrive at my destination and be reunited with Yan. I was a bit tired as I had not slept much. At last the aircraft took off and this time I felt more relaxed. It did not take long to reach Hong Kong and soon my ears started to get clogged and the pilot announced that the descent to Hong Kong was imminent.

I had heard of Kai Tak Airport and its exceptional landing above the buildings of Kowloon City. It was said that passengers could see the residents eating noodles in their home. However, from my aisle seat I could not see anything. At the immigration control I got a visitor visa that gave me the right to stay for three months. Then, I reclaimed my suitcase and headed towards the exit. An automatic door opened in my path and I found myself before a crowd of Asian people standing on both sides of a ramp. Walking slowly down the gentle slope leading to the arrival hall, I kept looking on both sides trying to find my boyfriend. And there he was, standing behind the yellow line, smiling and looking at me. We had not seen each other for two weeks but it seemed like ages. I could not believe that finally I was in Hong Kong!

As soon as I got out of the airport I realised that Hong Kong was very hot! The sudden exit from the air-conditioned room to outside really took me by surprise. The air was humid and stuffy and I felt sticky. Yan's glasses got suddenly fogged up with a fine mist. A pungent smell of dried seafood permeated the air. The city was so aptly named "fragrant harbour". We joined the long waiting line at the taxi stand. Luckily a continuous flow of red Toyota crowns kept coming to pick up clients and we did not wait too long. The taxi took the cross-harbour tunnel and in no time we arrived in Wanchai. I found myself in a jungle of tall buildings. When I raised my head I saw signs in Chinese characters and huge advertisings hung on buildings. I had no idea what these logos and posters were promoting or selling. All these signs were like a loosely woven fabric hung between the two sides of the street.

The letterboxes had no names but only the block, flat, and floor numbers. The postmen needed very good eyes to put mails in the right box! But it was certainly easier than looking at the names. How many people in our building were called Cheung? Cheung is one of the most common surnames in the world!

We got off at the intersection of Hennessy Road and Johnston Road, between Heard Street and Mallory Street. The apartment where Yan's family lived was on the 13th floor. In the entrance hall, Yan's family letterbox was simply marked "288-13/F". The pronunciation of 288 in Cantonese sounded like "Easy Prosperity" and I understood later why the building was named like this as many Chinese were superstitious and liked lucky numbers. Similarly the number 13 sounded like "a certain life". During the time when we waited for the lift, about 10 persons came in and stood next to us. Some people were talking to each other and I obviously could not understand what they were saying. As soon as the doors opened, everyone rushed in without paying attention to the person next to them. Quickly the doors shut behind us as someone had pressed on the close door button. I thought that this person was in a hurry to return home, but later I saw that everybody was doing the same. Chinese were so efficient but consequently they had no time for courtesy and gallantry.

When I entered into his home, Yan first introduced me to his mum in Cantonese. Of course his mum was not like the French people and did not greet me with a kiss. She only looked at me with a big smile. Afterwards Yan introduced me to his sisters. The meeting was simple: just a "hello" with a head nod. Hongkongers were more reserved compared to French who usually kissed their parents good morning and good night. Since I left France, I noted that it had become common for unrelated people, even between men, to cheek kiss.

Yan was the only boy and had two older sisters and three younger sisters. His father had died six years ago. The two youngest sisters were attending university. They all spoke very good English and his older sister and second youngest sister could also speak French which helped to make me feel at home. I was impressed by this multi-lingual family and determined to become part of it. But Yan's mum spoke neither English nor French. She could not pronounce the "r" in Christine and I became Gei-si-ting. Yan told me to call his mum "Mammy" which was less formal than Mrs. Cheung. She had a full round face, black short permed hair parted on the left, and glasses. She always wore trousers with colourful floral pattern shirts. Later I realised that she liked to dress well and her nails were always painted bright red and would seldom wear a skirt. She was from Shunde District in Guangdong province. She was the seventh child of a family of nine children. She had one older brother, five older sisters, and two younger sisters. Only her brother and youngest sister lived in Hong Kong. Two of her elder sisters lived in Macau. Each family member was called by a name specifying his/her seniority and relationship with the person addressing him/her. Chinese were so precise but so complicated! Would I ever be able to remember all these names? It was much easier in France. I called my mum's three younger sisters and my dad's older sister by the same name: "auntie".

At 7 p.m., I had my first dinner with Yan's family. It was so early but the night was already falling. In summer in some parts of France, it was still daylight at 10 p.m. Unlike in France where the temperature will drop when the sun sets, here the heat remained constant. I recall that we drank a dark soup and the broth and the soup ingredients were served separately. It must have been a pork ribs and lotus root soup. I was not used to having soups in summer, let alone with such a strong taste, but I forced myself to finish my bowl. At that time, I did not imagine that later I would love Hong Kong-style soups. This was my first evening and already many things were different from France.

A few days later Yan brought me to a Cantonese restaurant to have dim sum with his uncle (Kau-fu)and his uncle's wife (Kau-mou). Kau-fu was very proud to show me that he knew a few French words: "thank you", "good morning", and "yes". He was also repeating something else that I could not understand but seemed to amuse him very much. When I finally understood the joke, I laughed too. He meant to say "how are you" but was saying in Cantonese "tonight I beat the tiger" which sounded like "comment allez-vous" in French. After lunch, Kau-fu offered me a ceramic rooster figurine which is the national symbol of my country. I loved this interesting and kind-hearted uncle.

A few more days later we went to visit Yan's paternal grand-parents in Tai Po in the New-Territories. The paternal grand-father is usually called Ye-ye and the paternal grand-mother Ma-ma, but Yan called his grand-father Ah-gung and grand-mother Ah-po, as per the tradition in their village of origin. Ah-gung was 82 years old and his wife one year younger. They were born in Shanghai but their parents on both sides were originally from Zhongshan in Guangdong province. Their five children were all born in Shanghai. Yan's father, the eldest, came alone to Hong Kong in 1949. They joined him with their oldest and youngest daughters in the 1960s. Their two middle daughters had stayed behind in Shanghai and were still living there. The youngest was in Hong Kong and the oldest was no longer in this world.

Ah-po was very short, wore large glasses with red frames, and her white-greyish hair cut just below the ears was parted on the right side. With her pair of trousers and Mandarin collar tunic, she was exactly how I had imagined an elderly Chinese to be like. Ah-gung had very short grey hair and bushy eyebrows. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, a pair of shorts, and Chinese cloth shoes. They were very happy that their grandson had returned to Hong Kong after his studies, along with a French girlfriend who was joyful and adventuresome. I felt bad that I could not communicate with Yan's family members but I knew that I would learn Cantonese, the dialect of my eventually adopted home, when I came back after my graduation. I had heard that many long-term foreign residents could not speak Cantonese which I could not understand. However, I knew the reason later as learning this language was harder than I had first thought.

After returning from Tai Po to Wanchai, I realised how crowded Wanchai was. The entrance door of "Easy Prosperity" building was always wide open but there was always a security guard monitoring the comings and goings. An electric fan behind his back stirred the moist air around, providing the minimal relief from the punishing summer heat. The guard always looked sleepy, thanks to the monotonous humming of the fan's old motor. There was no watchman in ordinary private buildings in France because it was too costly. There were three lifts: one for the even floors, one for the odd numbers, and a third one serving all floors.

Measuring about 800 square feet, the apartment was relatively spacious by Hong Kong standard. There were four bedrooms: two small ones with one bunk bed in each, and two large bedrooms with a double bed in each. Being the only man in the household, Yan had one of the large bedrooms, vacated by his elder sister upon his return from France.

The kitchen was very small and equipped with the minimum tools: a chopping board, a Chinese cleaver, a wok, and a gas cooker. Comparatively, French home kitchens looked like professional ones equipped with microwave, food processor, an assortment of multi-purpose pans and mixing bowls, and many other utensils! But despite having an amazing "batterie de cuisine", not everyone was an efficient and good cook.

Most of the time, all windows were open. Protected by the locked security grill door, the apartment's entrance door also stayed open to allow fresh air to circulate. All the windows were fitted with iron grills. At first I felt like in a prison but then I got used to the steel protection surrounding me and felt safe. Similarly, with time the air conditioners, these awful big metal boxes fixed on the windows, did not bother me anymore. They were noisy but their nuisance was a small price to pay for the comfort they brought in the hot humid summer afternoons. It was not common in French apartments to have air-conditioning because super-hot days were few and our summers were also relatively dry.

I often saw big cockroaches in the bathroom. They liked damp spots and were looking for crumbs. Although Mammy kept spraying them with drug but new ones arrived every day. It was impossible to get rid of them as the windows and entrance door were kept opened and they could visit the apartment freely. But I was not scared of these small individuals.

There was always some traffic on Hennessy Road in Wanchai. Even though we were living on the 13th floor, we could still hear the "ding-ding" bell of the tram. The windows were facing a gas station and taxis came to fill up their tanks even during the wee hours of the night. The apartment had no window shutter and the curtains were defenceless against the bright neon signs and billboards. Hong Kong was a sleepless city, even though each resident wanted to sleep peacefully.

Every morning Yan went down to Hennessy Road to buy a copy of the English-language newspapers so I could keep abreast of the news and improve my English. He returned with local buns too to eat for our breakfast. We then prepared pu-erh, Yan's favourite tea, to go with them. Of course the local pastry was good, but I did miss a good croissant or a French baguette. At that time we could not find any in the neighbourhood.

After her day's work busy at packing tablets and drugs for a pharmaceutical company, Mammy prepared dinner for her children. She did not want me to help her in the kitchen. She said it was too hot and I did not know how to cook Chinese food, which was true. Once the dinner was ready Mammy quickly set the table. She first covered the table with a few pages of old newspapers, then put a bowl and a pair of chopsticks for each diner. In France in my family, we used an oilcloth tablecloth to cover the table and we put plates, cutlery, glasses, a bottle of water, slices of bread in a basket, the salt and pepper shakers, and of course napkins. After we ended our dinner, Yan's sisters washed the dishes and wrapped up the newspaper and threw it away.

After the meal we sat around the same dining table to play mah-jong. Mammy, Yan's two younger sisters, and I formed a team and what the Cantonese called "the table's four legs". Yan did not like to play mah-jong. He had bad memories of his childhood days when he was asked to be the incompetent replacement–the fourth leg–whenever his mum or dad needed a toilet break. One of his sisters who spoke French explained to me the rules of the game in French. If I was interested in getting a domino that had just been discarded, I had to shout "Pung!" and at the same time catch it and display my set of three identical tiles on the table. Mah-jong is a game to play fast and I had to act fast, but I was only a beginner and could not follow the speed. Mammy who was frequently playing mah-jong with her friends and relatives was certainly bored by my slow learning but she did not show it. Fortunately we did not play money; otherwise I would not have any more money left.

After a few rounds Yan would take me for a walk. We would go from "Easy Prosperity" building to Causeway Bay. Sometimes I went for a walk in the neighbourhood with Yan's sisters. Once in the street, they held my hand as if I were a little kid. It was very touching but awkward. I would have never done this in France for fear of gossips. However, I understood they had the heavy responsibility of taking care of their older brother's French girlfriend who could not understand anything and were afraid of losing me.

When we returned home, the TV was still on and his mum was watching either "Miss Hong Kong", a beauty contest broadcast by TVB, or the TV Jade variety show "Enjoy Yourself Tonight". This programme was very popular and hosted by a fat lady artist with dark rimmed glasses called Fei-fei [10]. There was a lot of singing and laughing and although I could not understand I still watched it.

In the evening Yan's sisters were hanging freshly washed laundry on bamboo poles dangling from the corridor ceiling. They did not want me to tire myself. Yan's family was very protective of and caring towards me. The building residents could also hang their washing on cloth lines set on the landing overlooking an inner courtyard. Although the place was better ventilated, only items without much value were dried in this common area.