It all came down to actually being there. MK wanted to go to Hong Kong, to be with our son at the end of his church mission, planning to tour China with him before flying home together. On the other hand, I did not want to go -- I don't like leaving Idaho for any reason. There must be something genetic about this. My father was on-edge and miserable whenever he had to travel anywhere. Once we were underway, he transformed into the life of the party and we couldn't believe this was the same man who packed the car. Had MK listened to my protests, we might have been shopping at Robin's Roost in Island Park that Saturday morning, instead of going to church in Hong Kong. Meetings are held on Saturday, in two locations in Hong Kong to accommodate members of our church who are domestic workers and have to work on Sunday. The Philipino women met in a large, rented second-floor meeting room above a business office. The Indonesian women met in an actual chapel, where the Chinese members meet on Sundays. Many of these women were the family breadwinners and sent most of their wages back home to their families and unemployed husbands. Apparently, it works better to have these two groups of women meet separately, rather than integrating their issues of language and cultural barriers. After meeting with the Philipino sisters, we traveled across Hong Kong to meet with the Indonesian sisters. Our son told us we only had one hour to get there, and that we would be mostly walking. He knew a shortcut, right through the middle of a wet market to get to the nearest subway stop. Our transit pass was called an Octopus. Hold the Octopus up to a scanner and you can get on the subway and ride the transit system anywhere in the city. At a wet market, you could buy a real octopus to take home for supper -- you just have to remember which octopus to use when you get onto the subway.
The open-air Hong Kong Kowloon Wet Market was much like Walmart, crowded with busy shoppers on a Saturday morning. As you well know, Walmart is known for strange creatures -- most of them can be seen pushing shopping carts. At a wet market, the strange creatures are in cages and buckets waiting to become live take-out -- some of them are converted into street food. Vertebrates and invertebrates are skewered onto sushi sticks or freshly toasted kabobs. Many of the larger critters are just wrapped up and taken home live -- still protesting. A well-dressed woman in front of me carried a fish wrapped in newspaper under her arm -- the tail was still flapping.
Before I could fully contemplate why newspaper is still used instead of modern packaging, I sensed that I was being watched. Looking around, I saw that the animals in cages were not watching me; their attention was fixed on their comrades being dispatched. As I sidestepped a five-gallon plastic bucket full of water, I looked down and found that many eyes were on me. Watching my every move, in silent unison, a bucket full of otherwise motionless eels followed me. The eels were suspended -- their heads crowding the surface and their tails going straight down resting on the bottom of the bucket. As I stepped back to get a second look, they silently tracked me. When I moved forward, the heads and eyes moved forward. When I moved side-to-side, the little heads went back and forth, like they had all been glued together. Initially, this was creepy but soon became mesmerizing. I tried to get MK to look down to see all of my newfound friends. Instead, she gazed up or tightly closed her eyes. To help her get through the wet market, I took her by the hand. Have I ever mentioned that, at times, MK surprises me with a vice-like grip? We navigated around other buckets filled with squirming invertebrates waiting to move on and become fast food. Had I persuaded her to look down, I would have had to explain what she was seeing and stepping on, and then we all would have been late for church with the Indonesian sisters.
A few days later, we flew back home on a Cathay Pacific 747. It all seemed like a dream. I had time to reflect on the truly excellent, first-class experience we had in China. The Church gave JT a ticket in coach for him to travel home from his mission. We could not upgrade, so I traded places with him, allowing him to sit by his mother and enjoy the first-class cabin experience for a few hours. As a missionary in China, he probably had not seen many 5-star meals. A modest mission to Hong Kong forced JT to try new foods. Prior to his mission, his diet had consisted mostly of hamburgers and pancakes. He became adept at using chopsticks and learned to eat in a world without hamburgers -- mostly rice, vegetables, and fruits. He never complained, but it was clear when we met him that our son had gone from healthy-lean to overly-lean -- down at least 30 pounds. Before we went to the wet markets, I thought his weight loss must have been from all the walking. Ever vigilant, RT
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