Thor’s
Hammer
Reprise
Let me
begin by thanking all readers who emailed me following publication of my last
missive, ‘The Elephant in the Corner’. I was upset at the time and I know
Englishmen and their dogs form a strong bond – sometimes stronger than family.
I am also pleased that my writing elicited an emotional response from so many
of you. Thank You!
However,
please know I was caught up in the emotion of writing, and everything is now
fine – the world did not stop turning and the stars remain at peace in the
skies above. Please know I also remain friends with Uncle Sam and Mok Tai, and
there is nothing between us at all. That stated, my wife Siu Ying did manage to
garner a little information concerning our dog Be Loi – and it appears she did
in fact end up at another home on the shore and is well looked after. I am
still convinced that city apartment life would not have suited her at all, so
this information is most welcome and has set our minds at ease.
Let’s move
on…
Cats and Dogs and Elephants
I am one of
the lucky ones. I live in the lowland reaches of the mighty Pearl River Delta,
on its Western approach to the sea. The neighbouring cities of Gongmuen and
Zhongsan (Jiang Men and Zhong Shan respectively in Mandarin Chinese) have been
very badly affected, and mopping up operations continue to this very day … as
new Dai Fong (Typhoons) continue to ravage the principality.
Quite
unusually, thunderstorms and associated floods have ravaged our locality,
whilst Western and
For us this
year has been wetter than any known before, with virtually continual rain since
February. Fortunately the cloudbursts supply warm rain which comes as showers
or storms, but rarely lasts for a long time. One pleasing aspect of living in
Toisan is that it is a clean and unpolluted city. By this I mean there are no
factories pumping obnoxious substances into the atmosphere, and the air is
clean and pleasant. This contrasts markedly with the continual smog that seemed
to hang over Foshan city permanently, and was blown towards our Gaogong island
home also. After 6-years of it we are enjoying seeing the sun and blues skies
of day, and the stars at night. The air is always fresh and energising.
However I
must note that it has been raining, or rather we have experienced the effects
of typhoons on a nearly daily basis for the last few months. Often these are
thunderstorms of ferocious intensity, which maybe last 30 minutes before
passing us by. With the typhoon season approaching in mid-August, I wonder what
lies in store?
To be fair,
there have only been two serious storms in the two months we have been living
here. The first a few days after we moved in was most enlightening, as going
out to check at 7am, I was confronted with virtually the whole apartment under
water. I related this in an earlier missive, and the culprit was a blocked
drain on the flat roof above. Fortunately ingress was via the Chinese
cloakroom, which is tiled and set aside, so our lives were not disrupted
unduly. We did worry about the wood flooring for some time after, this being
the faced MDF type of stuff, but it survived pretty well.
I mention
this because it has now become a habit of mine to check the drain on the roof
whenever I am up there. The roof actually needs to flood by a couple on inches
for the problem to occur, which intimates there is a weak point in the sealing
somewhere … or should that read ‘ceiling’?
With the
daily showers continuing, and being less severe or shorter lasting, we have not
experienced further trouble – until a few days ago. It was mid-morning when the
heavens opened and down came the rain. I ran a cursory check of washing and
windows, and all was fine. I was actually very involved in updating the China
Expat’s website at the time, so am not sure how many minutes had passed before
my wife called. I’ll take a guess at 20. She was concerned about the roof, and
then spoke at some length to her Mother who was staying with us for a few days.
Mama got the message and kept an eye on the kitchen area (Where the Chinese
trap is located to one side in an adjacent room). I returned to my work, adding
new pictures to my Foshan pages – when Mama rushed in yabbering away and
pointing towards the kitchen.
I guessed
what was coming, and sure enough the toilet was flooding through the ceiling,
meaning the drain on the roof was blocked again. Seeing as I was attired in
simple boxers and flip-flops, there did not appear to be much point in dressing
for the occasion, so taking an umbrella from the stand I headed for the door.
Mama became frantic with worry and started shaking her head so vigorously I
thought it might fall off! I brushed her protests aside as I have no fear of
Thor, as I also have no fear of thunder or lightening, nor fire. It is my
personal way in this world. Air, Water and Earth do pose problems sometimes for
my personal equilibrium – but never fire. How odd?
Up the stairs
I went and once outside I unblocked the drain, which then made a loud
‘whooshing’ sound as the blockage was removed. I noted the thunder and
lightening were separated by milliseconds – meaning the eye of the storm was
directly above. Hmmm! Whilst I have no fear of lightening, this does not mean I
am stupid enough to stand exposed on the top of our apartment block with the
metal tip of an English style umbrella pointing skywards, whilst my feet are
covered by several inches of water. I decided to retreat to the safer vantage
point of the open doorway atop the stairs.
It was
whilst I was ruminating whether to go and get a cigarette and continue
observation, or simply go downstairs and beginning mopping up, that a heard a
male voice booming from below. That is unusual! Shortly after another block
resident appeared and immediately rushed outside to check the drains. I told
him I had already done it, which he ignored. Noting I had cleared the one, he
then started poking around at a similar point on the other side of the flat
roof. After a little trial and error, he located a second drain, and soon this
‘whooshed’ into life. Wow! I didn’t know that!
It was as
he returned indoors and folded his collapsible Chinese style umbrella that I
noted he was also suitably attired in boxer shorts and flip-flops - only. How odd?
Well, it may be raining cats and dogs and elephants outside, but the
temperature is still in the high 90’s and extremely humid with it. We then had
a brief exchange in Cantonese, and a little respect for each other was ignited
also. Soon he went on his merry way after agreeing we would have a beer
‘sometime’. I decided the roof was way too exciting and went below to begin
clearing-up. I filled a mop bucket with grey water whilst Mama looked after
Nonni. Then it was time for a quick shower and change; and back to work for
Johnnie-Boy.
Thor’s Hammer
Thor is an
Old Germanic God known all over ancient
Thor is
venerated in the English language by having one of the seven days of the week
named after him = Thursday – or Thor’s Day to be correct. Let’s try a list:
Monday = The Moons Day, and Roman in
origin
Tuesday = Dedicated to the god Tiw, Tîwaz,
or Týr ; is the god of war and law and associated with Mars.
Wednesday = Woden’s Day, he was the ‘Big Boss’
Thursday = Thor’s Day, the god who wielded a
mighty hammer that smote the skies and enemies
Friday = Freya’s Day. Freyja
("Lady") is associated with love, beauty, fertility, gold, seiðr,
war, and death.
Saturday = Saturn’s Day, and Roman in
origin
Sunday = The Sun’s Day, and Roman in
origin
Well, what
a week that was! Do you know your months also? I’ll save that for another
missive perhaps…
Well, that
is now history, and so is Thor – except he still likes to wield his hammer in the
skies above with apparently increasing dexterity and skill.
The rains
appear to have finally abated this week, and in place of storms the Day-Glo
Pirate is drenching us with his golden rays of sunshine. My good friend Paul
Yuan gave me a thermometer when we moved to the island, and this has been
monitored every day. My office, and in fact the whole apartment are
continuously stuck at 90 degrees F. That is every day for the 10 weeks we have
lived here, and 24 hours of each day. I have taken the thermometer outside on a
couple of occasions, like just now – and each time I stand in the shade and
watch as the red line zooms up to 120 degrees = 50 Centigrade. I have to stop
then, as that’s as high as it will go. It’s bloody hot!
As a result
we tend not to venture out much during the day, as with no cloud of smog
protecting us from the full force of the Suns rays, it is asking for trouble.
We still go exploring during the evenings, and have found some great places to
eat and chill outside. Whilst I still love the ambience of the park restaurant,
my wife is not so keen, so instead we have put together a good selection of
alternatives to suit our mood of the moment.
On a couple
of occasions over the last few weeks, and always during times Mama is staying
with us; people from her village have come to visit us. They are part of the
greater family and probably of a relationship that only my dearly departed
Mother “God Bless” would understand – third cousins thrice removed, or some
such similar gobbledygook.
From Wikipedia:
“The degree (first, second, third cousin, et
cetera) indicates one less than the minimum number of generations between both
cousins and the nearest common ancestor. For example, a person with whom one
shares a grandparent (but not a parent) is a first cousin; someone with whom
one shares a great-grandparent (but not a grandparent) is a second cousin; and
someone with whom one shares a great-great-grandparent (but not a
great-grandparent) is a third cousin; and so on.
The remove (once removed, twice removed, etc.)
indicates the number of generations, if any, separating the two cousins from
each other. The child of one's first cousin is one's first cousin once removed
because the one generation separation represents one remove. Oneself and the child
are still considered first cousins, as one's grandparent (this child's
great-grandparent), as the most recent common ancestor, represents one degree.
Equally the child of one's great (also known as "grand")-aunt or
uncle (who is one's parent's cousin) is one's first cousin once removed because
their grandparent (one's own great-grandparent) is the most recent common
ancestor.”
Well,
that’s as clear as mud to me – so let’s see a chart instead:
Now that
makes it all a lot simpler doesn’t it?
However,
Irish people intimately understand all this as part and parcel of general daily
life and conversation. The last time I was in my other or matriarchal home, and
in Ireland; I met my ‘third cousin thrice removed’ He was my age to a day, and
looked identical to myself – just as if I had looked in a mirror. We were both
really wowed by this and had a great time; despite this being my Irish
Grandmother’s wake. She really did have a great send-off in true Irish style!
But understanding my exact relationship with this doppelganger (body-double)
proved to be too much for my small brain to cope with. Now – and with reference
to the picture above, I can sort of work it out. I know he was from
You can
tell this is Irish by inception, because there are doubles. For instance, your
first cousin twice removed can be either: your cousin’s grandchild; or your
great-grand parents’, child’s, child.
Patrick walks into a bar in Dublin, Orders three
pints of Guinness & sits in the corner of the room,
Drinking a sip out of each pint in turn.
When he had finished all three, He went back to the bar & ordered
three more.
The barman says, “You know a pint goes flat
soon after I pull it
.......................... Your pint would taste better if you bought one
at a time."
Patrick replies, "Well now, I have two
brodders, one is in
When we all left home, we promised dat we'd
drink dis way to remember de days we all drank togedder."
The barman admits that this is a nice custom
& says no more.
Patrick becomes a regular customer, &
always drinks the same way ....... Ordering three pints & drinking a sip
out of each in turn, until they are finished.
One day, he comes in & orders just two
pints.
All the other regulars in the bar notice
& fall silent.
When he goes back to the bar for the second
round the barman says, "I
don't want to intrude on your grief but I wanted to offer my condolences on
your great loss."
Patrick looks confused for a moment, then
the penny drops & he starts to laugh, "Oh no," he says,
"Bejesus, everyone is fine!
Tis
me ......... I've Quit Drinking!"
Now this
makes perfect sense to me, so perhaps I better leave
Anyway,
these couples rock-up and we entertain them to a meal out. They stay overnight
and disappear early the following morning. Nonni really enjoys the extra
company, and also our late night meals out. We, like most Chinese families do
not exclude our children or babies from our social life. Neither do we inflict
‘bedtimes’ on our child – and it all works out really well.
Siu Ying
has declared that on these occasions we will dine at Fu’t Lam Muen, which is a
very good place for Chinese Tea. The Toisanwah version is almost identical to
the Cantonese given above; except the ‘L’ is pronounced as a Welsh double ‘LL’
sound. Fortunately I learnt a little bit of Welsh when I was in my late teens,
and can even play and sing one Welsh song (Dai Rosen by Meic Stevens from the
album Outlander, circa 1970) - so this isn’t too big a problem for yours truly.
You know, I can still remember the words of the chorus even now (Although not
how to spell them in Anglicised form) “Dai rosen co’ch a dai la gardee,
anabower flhacka, umwra gwarro fee”.
It’s all about love and red roses by the way. Now aren’t you pleased you
now know this? I bet my Welsh friend Hywel would love it actually – I must pass
it on to him sometime.
Anyway, you
do not have to be mad to live in
Chinese Tea
is called ‘yuerm cha’, and can be taken at any time of the day or night. Fu’t
Lam Muen is open about 20 hours a day, with hours appearing to be from 6am to
2am. I guess we go there about once every two weeks or so, and usually arrive
just after the late dinner rush, or about 10pm. Our group is normally 5 people
= 4 in a taxi and I take a motorcycle, usually arriving first. Our unspoken
agreement is that I go ahead and get a table.
On Tuesday
2nd August 2010, this is what we again did. I arrived and
immediately went up, as sometimes we have to queue for a few minutes. However,
all the lights were ‘green’ and opening the door I was welcomed by a beautiful
girl in traditional Chinese costume with interesting splits down each side of
the immaculately embroidered skirt. These are not sexy, but they hint at
eroticism. I asked in my best Foshan Cantonese for a table for five, and after
a brief chat on her hidden walkie-talkie thingymagig (Which is invisible), she guided
me directly to one of the poshest tables set back on a raised platform at the
rear of the establishment. This was pukka! It also impressed our guests, who
arrived a few minutes later and found I had sorted everything already. Siu Ying
even gave me a sneaky peck on the cheek and mentioned this time I was ‘velly number
1 boy’.
Bearing in
mind this must be my 5th visit to this restaurant, as soon as we
settled a lad came by and asked me if I wanted a beer = ‘Yes Please!’. Off he
went and came back seconds later with a nicely chilled bottle of my favourite
tipple, pouring one large glass and handing it to me. Now that’s what I call
service! Meanwhile the girls began discussing the menu in a quite haphazard
manner, being ably assisted by interruptions from a very curious Rhiannon. I
have a sneaking suspicion the ‘womenfolk’ are already instructing her
surreptitiously in how to be ‘female’! Then a guy from the village that I
genuinely like and get on really with - suddenly appeares at the table!
Apparently he has just finished eating nearby, and after grand welcomes and
‘high-5s’ were completed, he stayed and chatted to the other guy with us.
Now let’s
get your mind right. What we call ‘going for Chinese tea’ conjures up images of
stuffy places and formal tea drinking ceremonies. Completely wrong! Chinese Tea
is a loose term meaning to go to a restaurant that specialises in certain foods
and especially ‘Dim Sum’, as well as selling everything else. Most Chinese do
not drink tea, they drink rice wine instead. I prefer beer. Pukka teas are
available of course, and can be formally presented in the Kung Fu Tea style.
The first discipline of Kung Fu is medicine by the way (Fighting is the last,
and fifth), and Chinese traditional medicines are usually taken as a tea or
soup. Kung Fu Tea is a proper dispensary
with little cups and many pots and contraptions. I am pretty dexterous with it
all now, but will save boring you all with the minuté for another occasion.
After
spending 7 years in this part of China, I still reckon the very best dim sum
was sold at the small restaurant at the head of the ferry in Gaogong town – a
very out of the way place in this cosmos. Fu’t Lam Muen is pretty good in
general, plus offers full restaurant services including: dozens of fish tanks
containing all types of fish, both freshwater and sea varieties. These are
supplemented by a long row of chill boxes, which contain things like fresh
chilled squid caught that morning, abalone, and so many types of shellfish it
is remarkable. They even have a tank with a couple of giant lobsters in it –
and I’m having one of those … one day! Imagine – a lobster that is a foot high
and 18 inches long. Yum-yum! For foreigners I recommend the ‘Gui wah yue’,
which is a sea fish without (Little) bones and great taste. My favourite is
‘Wong Fa Yue’ or yellow flower fish, which has a bright yellow belly. Again
this is a sea fish, so no little bones nightmares; and it tastes quite like
sardines or Mackerel. This restaurant also serves all manner of meats, although
not western style; and many types of vegetables; sweets, juices and ice creams
+ Cantonese pancakes; and Chinese cocktails.
This
evening I ordered ‘siu myi’, which are small pork pockets in a yellow wheat
flour casing. They have an exposed top onto which are sprinkled a few roe of
some orange variety (Normally prawn roe). I also had some ‘gao d’zhee’ which
are fans of mustard or spinach leaves, with added diced water chestnuts,
garlic, and whatever. These are first steamed, and then deep fried. I ate two
with chilli sauce, and decided they only contained the cabbagey leaves = a bit
tasteless and boring, although perfect for vegetarians I guess? Meanwhile, Siu
Ying tucked into a tray of chillied shells, which are like 3-inch long
cylinders you suck the contents out of. Not my thing, and whatever they are, I
know they come from the sea shore. Mama was into the rice buns with liquid
yellow filling, whilst others consumed bowls of ‘Sik Juk’, or rice porridge
with chopped hundred year old eggs, bacon, and a little cabbage. I really like
this stuff also, but the best was always served at the island canteen around
7am, and this didn’t match it quite. It was excellent all the same! I really
must expand my recipes section to include all this stuff, as most of it is
really simple to make, given a little native Cantonese culinary know-how.
As the meal
progressed I sat back and watched for a while. I was seated opposite the
entrance, meaning I was the host (And was paying). The girls surrounded me on
both sides, whilst the boys were at the far end of our round table, and into
talking local boys stuff in local Toisanwah. This suited me just fine, as I
sipped on ice-cold beer and occasionally chopped my sticks into action.
I came to
realise just how efficiently this restaurant runs, without any apparent orders.
Three teams of support staff look after: one side, the other side, and the
central portion by turn. They obviously know me already, and treat me with
undue respect – but I can live with it. I actually marvel at how well the team
I can see operate (I’m sure the others are equally professional also). This
restaurant services about 120 tables + several dozen private rooms. Most are
tables for 10, although there are a few larger or smaller versions. Now, if I
guess there are 30 private rooms, then that’s about 1, 500 customers at any
given time; and this place is always full! I notice some staff are only
concerned with crockery – removing used items, washing in the backroom, and
replacing with clean at table or the service centres along each side of the
raised central bit. So there is an ordered chaos of trolley’s full of dirty
crocks, others with clean crocks, tea trolleys, hostess trolleys pass by every
30 minutes or so offering round bamboo pots of various dim sum – it’s really
all go out there. On another day I would have been involved with table
conversation and never even noticed. Now that in itself says a lot!
“My Dan”,
or correctly ‘Mai Dan-ah’ is one of the Cantonese words/phrases that is now
fully integrated into the Mandarin language. It means ‘the bill’, and is known
and used throughout all parts of
We go home
and the whatever’s, however many times removed; sleep well and departed
unobtrusively at daybreak. They were decent, honourable folk and good company.
Since their
departure I have just about caught up with all my current website stuff + that
for Dave, and found time to add many small but important things, like: extra
local pictures to support my Foshan and Toisan city guides. I also published a
city guide to Shaoguan in
In between
I have also taught Mama that occasionally on ‘Sunday’, the television is completely
reserved for viewing Formula 1. I have also stripped down my wonderful and
erstwhile Eko 12-string guitar and completely refurbished and polished it. I’m
just about to wrap-up this missive, and then go add some strings … probably 9;
and then finish my ‘Ode to Be Loi’, the first song I have written for 20-years
or so, and a great ethnic blues track.
Zoiy Gin
Mandarin is
d’Zhi-gen ….. or ‘until we meeting next time’.