Dot painting on Cheung Chau - The good, the bad, and the ugly

A Hong Kong perspective on Papunya Tula?

Having moved from Australia to Hong Kong, I am always on the look-out for signs, however tenuous, of the connections between the two places. In part, I suppose this is an attempt to know how and where I fit, in this chaotic and bustling metropolis.

So it was interesting the other day to be wandering one of the back alleys of Cheung Chau, one of the outlying islands, and come across one of the ubiquitous private education businesses in HK, whose sole purpose seems to be about taking advantage of the desire of parents to hot-house their kids. This particular one focused on art, and what caught my eye in the window was a display of (Australian) indigenous dot-painting - or at least some Cantonese young people's take on this. Who knows what they had been told/taught about Aboriginal art practices and history, or how much Australian indigenous art they had seen, thought about, or enjoyed. 

As an early childhood teacher back in Australia, I did some 'teaching' of art, though it is certainly very informal in the preschool years, and much of it is about exploration. I also did a lot of thinking, talking and teaching about Australia's indigenous culture, because it is something that is unique and valuable to Australia, and also to the world, being probably the world's oldest continuous culture. On a side note, there was a nice piece in the BBC news online, about Aboriginal science, and their early interest in astronomy, based on analysis of a site in my home state of Victoria.

So this subject interested me on a number of levels, in part because there has been some controversy in Australia about whether it is respectful to teach 'dot painting' to children, as if this can effectively 'do' Aboriginal culture for the class the whole year. It might be different, perhaps, if children experimented with dot painting in the course of a whole year's learning about all the different forms of Aboriginal art, because dot painting is just one technique of many, mostly associated with an art movement based around Papunya, in the central part of Australia, northwest of Alice Springs. Or indeed if children were given some sense of the meaning, the history and the traditions of dot painting, which would give them some sense of the intricacies of indigenous cultures in Australia. At the root of it all, I suppose, is respect, and whether it is disrespectful, particularly in a country that still has a wide streak of racism when it comes to the treatment of indigenous people, to take one tiny element of a culture, and appropriate it without thought or meaning.

Of course, in Hong Kong, it is entirely different. Without the troubled relationship between indigenous and non-indigenous Australia, who can say what meaning it has in this context. Perhaps a traveler from Australia with Indigenous heritage might smile on seeing that same display in Cheung Chau, knowing how far their culture has travelled. Which all reminds me of a beautiful poster put out by ATSIC years ago, which if you can track it down, remains one of the best images ever...

National Day celebrations, or, Why red is doubly significant in China

It was a pleasant surprise to find out, when the National Day fireworks began down at the harbour the other day, that we could see a surprising amount over the tops of the buildings from our apartment window.

This scrappy iPhone photo cannot in any way do it justice. Not only was it hard to capture the moment with the loooong camera delay on a phone, but the phone seemed to struggle to capture the contrasts between the glare of the Tsim Sha Tsui at street level (I'd never noticed it was that bright!), the darkness of the night, and the stunning fireworks.

What made it more amusing was all the televisions I could see tuned to the fireworks in the apartments across the street. Truly, even with much of the view cut off, they still seemed more spectacular seen through my own retina than on the television screens I could see.

It was an impressive fireworks display, as these things go, and a reminder of how much money is still floating around in Hong Kong despite the worldwide recession. It went for twenty-five minutes, which I'd guess results in a hefty price tag. If you want to see some better photos, and read the work of someone who has done some background research, click here.

As for me, I merely reflected on how fortuitous it seems that red has always been an auspicious colour in China, and is also the colour of the International Labour movement, and hence the colour of the flag of the PRC. Nothing like starting off with the public relations battle already won. I don't feel I have learnt enough yet about China's history, ancient and modern, to make more of a comment than that right now. I have lots of opinions, but I am sure there are wiser heads out there to listen to, such as this guy, whom M and I have enjoyed reading.

Instead I will leave you with some appropriate music...

Kung Fu in Kowloon - 功夫喺九龍

Gotta love those outfits, and the concentration

It feels like there are many things that have been on-the-to-do-list for quite some time, without ever quite happening. So once in a while it is great to tick something off that ever-expanding list. One of these is the Kung Fu demonstrations in Kowloon Park, which ought to have been easier to get along to, given how close they are to our apartment (perhaps a three minute walk, at the absolute maximum).

These happen every Sunday, weather permitting, in the sculpture garden of the park - an area is roped off, seats are set-up, and various martial arts groups and people go through the paces for the benefit of an audience that seems to comprise mostly of old Chinese guys (former or current martial artists, or armchair enthusiasts, perhaps?) and sundry curious tourists.

It was a thrill to finally see it, because I didn't really have a sense of what it would be like. Sure, there would be martial arts, but would this be sparring, impromptu lessons, people doing practice drills, or who knows what?

It turns out that it is a bit like what might happen at an Agricultural Show, or a local fair, back in Australia. Though I have no idea how it is organised - is there a peak body for martial arts in Hong Kong? - it seems like it's a forum for the sort of heart-warming, get-the-locals-involved event that every place needs. So while I was there there were demonstrations from one particular school, where the teachers (師父) seemed to be two women. So I saw demonstrations from the beginners (some of whom looked about three or four), through intermediate groups, to some of the older students (late high-school age). Most of the groups ran through a set of moves lasting around three minutes, though a couple of the exhibitions were of stylized, choreographed fights, almost like a dance.

Swords too!

There was also some single performers, mostly older men, and it was hard to tell whether they had just signed up to give a demo, or were part of the same school as the kids in the bright uniforms. Some had uniforms of their own, while others were just in comfortable training clothes. They were all fun to watch - a good reminder that martial arts is about lots of hard work, practice and consistent discipline, rather than what you see in the movies. The most fascinating were two individual demos which were of a style that seemed to be mostly about marshalling your chi (氣, I think!) because these involved very restricted movement, and a whole lot of straining of the face and neck muscles. To me it put me in mind of something I had only vaguely read about, the One-inch punch. It turns out that wikipedia has quite a lot to say about this, if you follow the link, which is all about the differences in Northern and Southern styles of martial arts. Being southerners, here in greater Guangdong province, I suppose I should conclude that those performances were the most local and 'authentic' of them all.

While I'm on the subject, and because I'm unlikely to get back to this topic anytime soon, if you're looking for a good bit of escapist fiction including the beautiful city of Hong Kong, some rollicking martial arts, and the odd Daoist diety, then look no further than this series by Kylie Chan. Lots of fun...

A milestone, of sorts

The Chinese U course. Thoroughly recommended.

Well, I've finished my first Cantonese class, and am eager to do the next one, but will have to wait until the New Year, until a time when I can attend enough of the classes.

It was great to have been taught some of the most fundamental structures of Cantonese, because now when I go looking for information in my various resources, both online and dead-tree, I understand a lot better what I need to know, and how I might put it together in a sentence.

The milestone I talked about in the title, was actually a simple but profound moment for me - I went to the fruit stand nearby, and purchased some fruit, but did so entirely in Cantonese. The interaction wasn't long, and of course, it wasn't complicated, but what mattered was that I understood what was happening and had no moments of feeling lost or confused.

I am not trying to suggest that this is some great watershed in my language-life, or anything. I will still know far too little to get by for some long time yet. But it gave me hope, hope for a time when I could feel relatively normal in a Canto-world. A more normal moment for me is like my experience of sending a parcel at the Post Office the other day. I asked, in good Cantonese, courtesy of my great teachers, how much it would cost to send to Australia (I know I did this okay, because I am getting good at reading the wince or the frown on people's faces when they are either pained by my pronunciation, or merely mystified as to what I have said). This part of the conversation was fine. The postal worker then of course asked me questions I couldn't answer! Do you want to send it airmail? Do you want registered mail? Very legitimate questions, but with words I didn't know and that lost me completely. As always with learning a language, there will be a next time, and by then, I will have learnt the words for registered mail, and airmail, and perhaps may register another oh-so-small success!

Geek out? The Woman as Warrior

Shu Lien in combat with Jiao Long (Jen Yu)

It has to be said that this post about the woman as warrior (from here WaW) is straying a bit far from the stated aims of my blog, in not really having anything to do with either design, coffee, gardening, or cultural dislocation. So be it. This is what I want to write about right now!

When viewing television or movies in Hong Kong, I am always a bit biased towards trying to find movies either from Hong Kong, or that are in Cantonese, just as I might once have sought out Australian movies - it is about connecting with a sense of place. So the other day I was watching a movie from 2009 called 'Hua Mulan'. This is about the famous story of a young woman who joined the army in place of her sick father, and ended up saving China and becoming a famous General. I thought this version of the movie, co-directed by Jingle Ma and Wei Dong, was quite compelling, focusing on the horrors of war, the difficulties soldiers face, and the impossibilities of managing your emotions in such a debilitating environment. I always find it inspiring to see a woman acting as a warrior because it disrupts our conventional ideas about gender, and forces us to confront one of the last taboos, women fighting on the front line. I am probably just as interested in films where men confront one of their taboos - taking care of children and taking real responsibility for house work - but most of the latter films tend to be played for comic effect (think, Kindergarten Cop, Daddy Daycare), rather than heroic, such as 'Hua Mulan'. I haven't seen the Disney version, but if someone wants to give an opinion on it, please do.

The most compelling vision of the WaW is in the movie, 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon', directed by Taiwanese director Ang Lee and based, I believe, on a series of stories popular about fifty years ago in Hong Kong. This movie has three women warriors, Shu Lien, Jiao Long and Jade Fox, all with complex storylines, and individual styles. From the first scene, which opens on a cart moving through Beijing, in 1779, the sense of the history and richness of Chinese culture really hits me, and I am swept up in the story. Mostly, though, I just love the character of Shu Lien (played by Michelle Yeoh, apparently a genuinely competent martial artist herself), whose nobility of character, subtle appreciation of diplomacy and deep-seated wisdom shines through the whole movie. If you have never seen the movie, at least do me the favour of following this link to the fight scene between Shu Lien and Jiao that uses this not as an excuse for action (though it is that) but as a way of demonstrating the essential differences between the two warriors. Watch as Shu Lien demonstrates phenomenal competence with multiple weapons, and fights an uphill battle against the 'mystical' sword that Jen has wrongfully stolen. As if this wasn't enough, the character of Dark Cloud, a sweet and funny young man who falls in love with Jiao, simply makes the movie that much better. If you see only one martial arts movie in your life, make it this one.

Of course, the WaW phenomenon also has a strong presence in novels, with my personal favourite being 'The Deed of Paksenarrion' by Elizabeth Moon. Intriguingly, the author is a former US marine, which perhaps lends her narrative a little more realism and grit about the mundane details of military life. Mostly it is an inspiring story that never fails to bring tears to my eyes, no matter how many times I have read it before.

Most of these WaW texts, both novels and movies, exist for me in the shadow of Maxine Hong Kingston's iconic feminist novel, 'The Woman Warrior'. This part-autobiography, part-novel helped shaped the women's movement of the 1970s, by exploring issues of women's power given the constraints of gender and race. Which circles me neatly back to the beginning of the blog, because one of the stories told by the protagonist's mother, in the book, is that of Mulan, which is a very old Chinese folk tale, and the very story that inspired this blog post in the first place. I don't know whether it was reading this book that started me on my secret, or not-so-secret, love of the WaW meme. Perhaps it was having a feisty feminist twin sister, who always won all of our battles, no matter the place or the time. Whatever the reason, I love to feel wrenched out of the everyday reality of gender relations in the 21st century, and forced to imagine a life with more possibilities for everyone.

Awe and wonder at Kadoorie Farm

Caribbean flamingos, far from home

Some time ago now, M and myself made the trek out to Kadoorie Farm and Botanical garden, a place I'd been reading about since we first came to Hong Kong. What little I knew was that it was an organic farm, with some walking trails, and a small restaurant attached.  Well, it turned out to be so much more, and I hope my terrible iPhone photos do it some sort of justice.

First of all, the setting is stunning, as so many places in Hong Kong seem to be. We wended our way out along the West rail line to a station called Kam Sheung Road  (錦上路站), and then took a bus that would eventually stop at Kadoorie farm. So our classic Hong Kong double-decker took us up into the hills and dropped us in front of what turned out to be an almost vertical farm. I don't know why I should have been surprised by this - the only flat land in Hong Kong is that created by human beings, whether through levelling hills, or filling in the harbour. So from our point-of-view outside the front entrance, much of the farm complex was laid out in front of us, up a steep hillside, and it looked like there was much to explore.

Ox carries pig! What next?牛馱豬

One of our aims for the day was to do a bit of walking. Don't ask me why, because this was August, the height of summer in Hong Kong, which means mid-thirties temperatures and high humidity, and on this day, more sunshine than we could really deal with. Fortunately most of the walking tracks were through areas with plenty of tree cover, so it was possible, though the steep hillsides made it probably our sweatiest experience in Hong Kong so far.

Before heading on our walk we stopped in at the farm shop and museum, which is where I caught up on the history of Kadoorie farm. It turns out that it has a fascinating history. It was built in the 1950s, in the heyday of agricultural triumphalism, as an experimental farm to assist the poor farmers of the New Territories (新界, some of this week's vocabulary). So there were some great pictures and stories of these early days. I was most fascinated by the cattle and pigs being used as pack animals on the steep hills (Who knew pigs could or would carry loads? I thought they were too smart for that), with the best picture being the pig being carried by a cow. Love it! And was that a bamboo structure it was being carried in? Almost certainly.

These days it has morphed into a multipurpose environmental centre, with more strings to its bow than a whole orchestra. Amongst the things we saw were herb gardens, flower gardens, orchards, vegetable gardens, the museum and farm shop I just mentioned, a cafe, homes for all sorts of lost non-farm animals, a pig-breeding program, a huge collection of chook breeds, reptile enclosures, a tea plantation and many different sustainability educational centres (definitely my kind of place). It will certainly be worth a return visit on a cooler day. The 'lost' animals are a quirky aspect of the place. Apparently there is quite a lot of exotic animal smuggling transiting Hong Kong, and so when these are discovered (liberated?) they sometimes need a home to go to. Kadoorie farm seems to be one of those homes. So as well as actual Hong Kong wildlife, it also has such exotic delights as Caribbean flamingos, and South American caiman. The flamingos were a sort I'd never seen before - a gorgeous orangy-peach colour - much more exciting than the relatively drab pink ones in our local Kowloon park.

The walking tracks, which if you make it there, can take you right up to the summit of one of the hills, called Gun Yan Saan (觀音山) in Cantonese, which will be more familiar to English-speakers as Guanyin mountain, named after the Buddhist 'Goddess' of compassion. This has apparently been a sacred spot for many hundreds of years, but we didn't make it there on this visit, given the steepness of the slope and the heat of the day. We weren't the only ones crazy enough to be walking, but there would have been no more than a handful of others. It was beautiful, as I hope you can see by the photos of some plants that I took. The highlight for me, though, were the insects, of which we saw many, including some fantastic dragonflies. Mind you, you don't have to go to Kadoorie farm to see those (we saw stunning hot-pink dragonflies around the ponds in Hong Kong park just last weekend). Apart from the insects, I think most creatures were hiding from the heat. We saw a few lizards, but they were so hyped up by the temperatures, they were gone in a flash.
It is excursions like this that make me wonder how much there is out there to see in Hong Kong, if we just keep looking. Such a small place, but so so much to see.

Alternative masculinities in Hong Kong

I have always found it fascinating to crowd-watch in Hong Kong. There is always something to see that reminds me that this is not where I grew up, that it was and is a different culture with different motivations and different values.

Being interested in gender, and being male, means that I am always curious about how people 'do' their gender in the everyday, whether it is what they wear, how they walk, what they do, how they relate to others, or any of the myriad ways in which gender plays out in the modern world. It is a good place to start in thinking about the differences between Hong Kong and Australia, because having lived for thirty years in Australia (as a male), I can safely say that I know what expectations there are around gendered behaviour generally in Australia, as well as how it has played out in my life.

The picture on the left illustrates one of those moments where I can be sure that I am living 'elsewhere' (note the man on the right with the light blue umbrella). Although very occasionally you would see someone using an umbrella as a sunshade in Australia, I had never ever seen a man using one, but in Hong Kong it is, if not common, at least a fairly regular occurrence. I've even used one myself this year once or twice, but I feel very strange doing so, because I know that I am breaking some unwritten rule established for me in the process of being inculcated into Australian masculinities.

So it is forever fascinating for me to be in a place with new (gender) rules and norms. Clearly it is okay for men to shade themselves from the sun with umbrellas in Hong Kong, even if men are less worried about sun damage than women here.

There are also very different rules about touching between men here, though I can't say that I can pinpoint them absolutely. My neighbourhood, Tsim Sha Tsui, is quite an ethnically diverse neighbourhood (for example the street behind me is known for its Korean restaurants and stores) and so I don't want to make bold claims about Hong Kong masculinities when I might instead be observing Korean or Japanese masculinities. Nonetheless, there is a great sense of expansiveness for me in Hong Kong to walk down my street and see (in this case, I'm fairly sure) straight men holding hands with their male friends. This simply does not happen in Australia, and even same-sex attracted men are cautious about where and when they do.

I'd love to take photos of some of these difference performances of masculinity, but it feels pretty intrusive to do so, particularly around something as sensitive as gender. I knew I could get away with the photo at the top because this was during a dragon boat race, and plenty of people had cameras out.

This is not to try and imagine that gender relations are all sweetness and light here in Hong Kong. What you gain on the roundabouts, you lose on the swings, as they say. Although it is much more common for women of all ages and classes to work here, this is as much about making ends meet in Hong Kong, and supporting your family, as it is about being a citizen or finding fulfilment in work. I will probably post about feminities in Hong Kong at a later date, but it is probably enough to say now that being a tough, assertive woman is probably even less admired in HK than it was in Australia.

The statistics I've seen about this for the whole of China, suggest that sexist assumptions about women's and men's roles are more entrenched in China that in 'Western' countries. Sadly, in many of those 'Western' countries, while attitudes may be changing, actual practices are not changing as fast. Back in Australia men still take very little responsibility for housework and childcare, and women still have a hard time getting the recognition they deserve at the upper end of company hierarchies. As Arlie Hochschild has suggested, men's failure to take responsibility for domestic duties has been a 'stalled revolution'. 

So if you're male, and you're reading this, get off the computer already, and go do some real (house) work! And if you'd like to read more about these issues, I cannot recommend highly enough this book by Chou Wah-Shan (周華山).

I love my Cantonese class - 我鍾意廣東話班

An apple for the teacher?

As I mentioned, I have been studying a proper Cantonese class through Chinese University, and I am amazed at how much I have learnt in just a few weeks. It has helped tie together all the little bits and pieces of 廣東話 that I had taught myself over the last six to eight months, and has given me a grammatical context within which to frame it all.

I feel much braver about asking for things out and about, having spent some hours now practicing boring conversations with my classmates. Today I felt able to go and ask the person staffing the desk in my building whether they had a photocopier and whether I could make some copies. Though I didn't do so perfectly fluently, of course, I could conceive of doing so, and it worked out okay, even if I couldn't totally understand the directions to the nearest copy shop!

Along the way I pick up curious bit of information about Cantonese of the sort that I enjoy. I like the way all languages, except perhaps Esperanto, have their little quirks. So at class yesterday I asked why the character for 'noon' that we'd been taught (晝 or dzau - mid flat tone) was different from the one I'd been noticing on parking signs when they say things like 'no parking 7-10 pm', which was clearly different (午). I was told by Crystal, the teacher, that the one I have seen around is the written form, whereas the one that we'd been taught is the spoken form. Okay, I can understand that, but then, if it's a spoken form, then why does it have a character to represent it? How does that work? According to Crystal, perhaps if they were writing the word 'noon' in a very informal context, such as a game show on TV, they might use the spoken form. Fair enough, but then why is it a more complicated character to write, if it's more colloquial? A little mystery that I may just let go for now, as I try and learn a more basic understanding of the language!