A New Year ... Again

Of course, I am cheating.  Most of this blog was read to my children at Christmas.  Because I'm in a strange place and wondering what "strange" is all about, I decided to chronicle some of it.  Since I am stranger than most, it works.

A Strange Land

Two generations ago Robert Heinlein wrote a book called “Stranger in a Strange Land.”  The book became a cult phenomena for the “flower” generation – it was a strange book, and therefore fit the theme of the book perfectly.  Of course, the original expression comes from the Bible, as all good concepts do, when Moses said that he was a stranger in a strange land (having left Egypt) and called his son Gershom “a sojourner there.”  The concept is foreign-ness, strangeness – one of Orson Scott Card’s favorite topics.  I suppose we are all “sojourning” and there’s a few things here that make me feel stranger than I do at home, although I’m pretty strange there as well.

·         Language.  And I don’t mean Chinese, although Chinese makes me crazy, too.  We have a member on the staff at the area office whose name is Sally Ng.  Ng is pronounced “mmmm”.  Now I understand why they call her “mmm” instead of “nggg” (which sounds like something you say when your mouth is full of dental implements and you’re being stuck with a needle full of Novocain.)  “mmm” sounds delicious, instead of a cry of oral pain.  But if they went to the trouble to Romanize the character, why not spell her name Sally Mmmm.  Dumb.  It’s English that’s really driving me wild.  Everyone speaks English, or at least they claim they do.  (Last night in the cab, Marcie said to the driver, “You have such good English.”  He said, “You do too.”)

We went to the branch party yesterday, which is more like a party-thon.  These young Philippine women have nowhere to go, so they have come to the chapel to have fun and that is what they’re going to have for as long as it takes to get there.  The leader gets us all up on our feet and yells into the mike, “We’re going to have a groping game.”  Marcie turned to me and said, “I don’t think we can play this and continue to be members in good standing.”  Then the lady at the mike yells, “Grope yourselves into threes!!!”  Just when I think that is pretty violent groping, I realize that it’s a grouping game.  Oh. OK.  We can do this. 

Some of their mis-anglicazations are serendipitous.  They aren’t just grateful, they’re so much grateful.  This is in prayers, testimonies, talks.  And it says how they feel – and they don’t have anything – they work like slaves for 500 bucks a month, but they’re "so much grateful."

·       Cars.   Yes, this is Mom in front of the Lotus window on Gloucester Road.  Marc and Ben would have a hey-day here.  I don’t recognize a lot of these mechanical marvels creeping around the crowded Hong Kong streets.  And it’s not because they’re Maserati’s and Lotuses (Loti?).  How about the Toyota Alphard, or the Vellfire or the Harrier?  Why do the Chinese have these and we don’t?  I feel like someone who hasn’t been called for a second date.  They’ve even put the steering wheel on the other side for them.  I even included a second shot of the yellow Lotus with it's tail up...Hong Kong charges 100% taxes on cars -- their way of reducing traffic on the streets.  All it does is fill the streets with rich guys swerving between all the taxis.

·         Food.  I wrote about the chicken testicles in my blog earlier.  That’s not what’s bothering me – I can put almost anything in my mouth that isn’t moving.  It’s that these eating places are a little close to smells that make your eyes water – the sewers run under the storm grates right by that cute little restaurant which have half-tan ducks piled up on a table.  Not much of the meat is ever refrigerated, so those smells waft around.  One of the places we shop is the “wet” market – you step around piles of skinned porky pigs to get in.  We always go in that exit so we spend less inside.  I can eat Dim Sum with the best of them – I just don’t want to chew the air outside before I go in to the restaurant.  Eating out isn’t the order of the day because of price --- I don’t understand why the food is so expensive if the people are poorer in the US, at least most of them.  You can blow 50 bucks on a plate of “sizzling prawns.”  And you can buy an umbrella for a buck.  Strange.

·         Transportation.  We’ve never had so many ways to get somewhere and had no place to go. 

o   There are double-decker ling-lings – trolleys that cruise around, so narrow you’d think they’d tip.  (Rich folks rent one, have a band and an open bar and cruise around the streets like a land-yacht.) 

o   There are double-decker buses – we’re wary of these because we got lost a couple of weeks ago by missing our stop on the way to the temple.  (Buses go under harbors and through mountains.  Once you get on the other side, people don’t think they or you should go back.  So you’re stuck there – buy property, move in.)  We talked to half a dozen cab drivers; rather than take us back, they turned off their “available” lights.  It was temporarily frightening. 

o   There’s walking with the masses – this isn’t fast, but it’s the preferable way to the office.  Everyone goes their own speed – big people like us can’t do side-to-side.  One breaks trail and the other follows.  If you look determined, there are few little Chinese who won’t yield to a Scandinavian bearing down on them. 

o   There are cabs – these guys normally can’t understand English – they probably don’t do Chinese either.  They just grunt and go, but they’re cheap.  So you may wind up somewhere you didn’t plan going, but at least it didn’t cost a lot. 

      There’s the MTR – Chinese subways, fast, modern, sleek, come every minute or two.  When you exit the MTR, you normally have five or six choices of exits.  From above, a subway station with exits looks like an octopus – so the card that you use for the buses, the ling-lings and the MTR is called – that’s right – an Octopus card.  You can put money on the card at the local 7-11, which is on every street corner and in the middle of the block.  If you pulled 7-11 out of Hong Kong, you would have an economic vacuum only equaled by the Great Depression.

      A Glut of Toilets

     This may be hard to explain.  (Yes, toilets come in "gluts", like a "bevy" of quails.)  The occidental mind takes pleasure in being grouped with someone else.  In the western world we think "Oh.  They already have a bathroom accountrements place in Wan Chai.  We'll go somewhere else."  Not here.  They think, "Oh.  Everyone goes to Wan Chai for the smoothest bathroom porcelain.  We'll open up there."  So Wan Chai is the toilet capital of Hong Kong.  If you want bathrooms this is the place.  Lockhart Road and Hennessey are literally aglow with bubbling tubs and space age thrones.  I think it's the unconstrained open sewers running under the storm grates.    I can't place why, but there's something very ironic about all that. 

      G's and Zeros

      I've decided that one of the real differences between cultures is how they measure their buildings.  So, you have a building with 12 stories, what does that mean?  What is the first floor?  In the States, it's "1".  But, of course, that's a little weird, because you haven't gone up one floor.  You're naming the initial floor you step on, not the distance up.  So, that initial floor here is "G" -- yup the ground floor.  The first floor is UP one floor.  It's like the Mayans and zero.  All of the dumb Europeans didn't know the difference between zero and the null set.  It's distance we're counting when we count floors say the Chinese.  I live on the 11th floor and it's one more than when I was in the States.

·         Christmas.  This is hard to explain – Christmas is an imported holiday here.  The merchants recognize the value of a time where everyone gets presents, but the rest of it is lost in the translation.  You still hear carols, but they’re the Chinese version – they sound like they’ve been recorded by Alvin and Friends – tinny, high, happy, choppy.  You could jitterbug to “O Come All Ye Faithful.”  The sense of solemnity, the snowy-wood-by-evening Christmas card, the silence, the deep sense of family, the sense of “global” light – just isn’t here.  Hong Kong has Christmas decorations – mostly silly – huge displays with round Santas, scary figures, huge oriental teenagers with round faces and eyes (why do the Chinese think of themselves as having round eyes and we think slant eyes?), big Christmas trees, big Christmas lights (some on 100 story skyscrapers outlining greetings and stars and trees and Santa…).  Some wore Santa caps (me too) on Christmas eve – most of them were drunk.  I was not.

 ·      Nutcracker.  Yes, we went to the Nutcracker Ballet.  This was different from home, but good different.  The biggest ballerina didn’t crack 100 pounds.  They have thin elegant arms that are like water grass – barely moving, always graceful, always correct.  The little boy by me kept saying “Merry Christmas” (on command from his mother.)  There were hundreds of children and – except for my grandchildren – they’re cuter than American kids.  Great solemn faces, eyes that would make you weep.  Marcie has had to restrain herself from going into the business of kidnapping.  I have an idea they wouldn’t like our rice, though.

·         Church Service.  Both of us tend to have a little “wild look” in our eyes at the end of the Sabbath.  Today I attended Branch Presidency meeting, conducted a baptismal ceremony for two sisters, attended Sacrament meeting where I passed the sacrament and ran the podium (you know, up for the old white guys and down for the sweet Filipinas), gave the ABL Lesson (After Baptism lesson) to the group of our newest converts, prepared the Priesthood lesson as I was walking to the front of the room and then turned around and gave it, and attended Branch Council meeting where we announced the Branch goals (4 converts a month and 3 brethren – outside the missionaries – present at priesthood.)  Next I met with our Sunday School President (Rexy.  Nice girl.) about getting her some new counselors.  I suggested 3 girls baptized a couple of weeks ago.  She only knew them by their picture and said she’d pray about it.  I didn’t have time to count tithing – do that on Tuesday – or fill out the expense reports and look over the petty cash reconciliation.  We didn’t have a branch dinner tonight – that happens on 1^st and 3^rd Sundays, so I went home early after the meeting with Rexy.  Marcie’s schedule is equally demanding – English classes, financial counsel classes, institute classes, bringing sense to branch music and keeping the RS from going off the track.  This is like going to Church with 100 of our daughters.  Except our daughters have more experience and are less flighty.  It’s great to be the Lord’s hands here – His hands sometimes have the shakes though.

·         Electrical.  This isn’t hard to explain:  America – small plugs, big appliances.  Hong Kong – big plugs, small appliances.  They’re a little switch-happy over here.  A switch with light (SWL) for the water heater, a SWL for the oven hood, a SWL for the air conditioners (three of them in 600 square feet), a SWL for the bathroom fan, SWL for the extension cords (which we have a bunch of) and SWL for the water cooler.  They don’t need night-lites.  You can find your way to the loo by the reddish glow.  By the way the toilet is flushed with sea water and has a button for a big flush and a small flush.  The Sister Missionary who explained this to us was quite tactful – I think she had given great thought to the phraseology beforehand.

    

      All in all, there is more that is home than is not.  I was home when I first saw George Mak, our Public Affairs Director at the airport.  I was home when I walked into our meetings.  I was still home when I knew I was still related to all my family.  For that I am not just grateful, but so much grateful.

      

     Christmas, 2010

     Stephen and Marcie Alley