Hong Kong! Page 2

  “Thank you very much, Mister . . . ?” Alfie said.

  “Oh!” The woman put her hand to her chest as she took her seat. “Our manners—I am sorry. We didn’t even introduce ourselves. But no mister or missus, please. Since you’re staying with us, as family, you can call me Aunt Chan. And you may call my husband Uncle Wu. Does that sound okay?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Alfie said. “I’m Alfie and this is my sister, Emilia.” No one made a move to eat and he felt like everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to do or say something. “Is this your restaurant?” he asked, taking another look around. One wall was covered with a bigger-than-life painting of a lion—golden, like the restaurant’s name. The face didn’t look ferocious—more like a happy dog.

  “Yes, it’s ours. We are not quite open yet,” Uncle Wu said. “But we are very excited.”

  “Just three days until the grand opening,” Aunt Chan said.

  “You’re here at the perfect time,” Ying said to them. “And not just because of the restaurant opening and the fact that schools are closed. It’s New Year’s Eve!”

  “New Year’s Eve? But that was a month ago,” Alfie said, confused.

  “No, it’s today,” Ying said. “Do you know about the Chinese calendar? It’s based on the lunar and solar cycles.”

  “Yeah, we might have learned something about that in school . . . ,” Alfie tried, but the truth was, he didn’t know.

  “Didn’t the agency give you any information before you came?” Aunt Chan asked. “It’s the Chinese New Year. The Spring Festival! The most important week of the year, and tonight is the beginning!”

  “Did you think all this was for you?” Ying smiled, nodding to the table and people and food, but Alfie got the feeling she meant to be playful.

  “I think we should eat,” Uncle Wu said.

  “Agreed!” Ying cheered.

  Alfie agreed, too. And when he saw how much food was on the table, he couldn’t wait to taste every single dish.

  “First, this is—well, the family,” Aunt Chan said. One by one she introduced each guest. “This is my brother, Li; his wife, Ping; my sister, Shan and her husband, Luo; their two kids, Yan and Xiao Chen. These are Uncle Wu’s brothers—they’re twins—Wen and Ming . . .”

  There was no way Alfie could possibly remember all the names. Ying must have seen it in his eyes because she said, “Don’t worry. We won’t quiz you.”

  “Let’s eat!” Aunt Chan said. Alfie could almost hear Zia saying mangiamo, which meant the same thing.

  Everyone began passing dishes and piling food on their plates. Alfie let his eyes roam slowly across the table—the dishes of food, many of which he didn’t recognize, created a rainbow of color. Alfie considered himself pretty skilled in the art of ordering Chinese takeout, but he’d never seen a spread like this. There was a huge bowl full of rice, whole tangerines so rich in color they were almost red, eggrolls, a whole fish (head, tail, eyes, and all!), a platter with eight little compartments full of colorful foods—in whites, reds, oranges, and more—another plate piled high with leafy greens and long beans, plus dumplings, which Alfie had to admit did look like raviolis, as Zia Donatella had said. The sight of it all made his stomach rumble.

  Luckily, the family didn’t expect Alfie and Emilia to know about every Chinese dish, so they pointed out the things they might not know, like the red melon seeds and the kumquats, which looked like miniature oranges. Emilia thought she was filing up on dumplings, but Ying told her it was actually something called gok jai.

  “They look like dumplings,” Ying explained. “But they’re richer. They have different fillings like peanuts, coconut, and sesame seeds, and they’re deep-fried.”

  “Everything is better deep-fried,” Emilia said. Alfie was glad to see that sitting next to Ying and preparing to dive into a plateful of exotic food was helping her relax. She’d been pretty quiet so far.

  Alfie was ready to eat, too. Once his plate was full, he reached for his fork. But instead of a fork there was a pair of chopsticks. And Alfie had never really mastered them. They always came with their takeout or were offered on the tables of Chinese restaurants, and he had tried to use them once or twice. But it was hard and he always got frustrated, so he normally just dug in with a fork. Now, that wasn’t an option.

  He picked up the red lacquered chopsticks that sat near his plate. He tried to hold them between his fingers like the others did, but they immediately tumbled onto the table. He tried holding one chopstick in each hand to grab a dumpling—he almost had it to his mouth, but it slipped away at the last moment. Feeling like everyone was watching and wanting to prove that he could eat with them, Alfie took both chopsticks in his fist and speared a dumpling. That’s when the entire table let out a gasp.

  “No, never, never stab your food,” Aunt Chan said.

  “I’m sorry,” Alfie said, feeling panicked at the response.

  “It’s okay, Alfie,” Uncle Wu said. “We’ll teach you how to use your chopsticks. It’s just, in our country, we see spearing your food as, well—disrespectful.”

  “And bad luck,” Aunt Chan said. “And with the restaurant opening, we want to make sure that only good luck visits us. We have many customs here that you may not know about, especially during the Spring Festival, but we will help you understand exactly why they are important to us.”

  “I’ll show you how to use the chopsticks,” Ying said. “It’s easy!”

  “I bet you’ve been using them since you were a baby,” Emilia said.

  “Just about,” Ying said. “Start like this: Rest one chopstick in the crook between your thumb and first finger and let this part rest on your ring finger. Then, hold the other one with your middle and first finger and use your thumb to help keep it stable. The trick is, the bottom chopstick never moves. See?” She wiggled her chopsticks like an alligator’s mouth and Alfie realized she was right—the bottom one didn’t move.

  From there they learned the art of slurping long noodles. It was another superstition to never cut or break long noodles, which represented prosperity. Alfie and Emilia had fun making noises slurping them up as the broth splashed in their faces. Mom would have had a fit!

  The table settled into eating. Alfie struggled with his chopsticks, but he managed to find ways to get the food into his mouth—without being disrespectful.

  “It’s so cool you’re opening a restaurant,” he said as he bit into a piece of chicken.

  “Thank you,” Aunt Chan said. “We’re nervous but excited.” She sounded more nervous than excited.

  Uncle Wu must have sensed it, too, and quickly added, “It’s going to be great. We moved from the countryside years ago to open a food stall on Temple Street,” he explained to Alfie and Emilia. “We had it for years, and it was very popular . . .”

  “The most popular,” Ying said.

  Uncle Wu smiled. “Well, one of the most popular, so we decided to make the leap from a street food stall to a restaurant. It’s been a dream of ours for some time.”

  “Mother is worried about the dreaded Mrs. Liu,” Ying said with a strange look in her eyes, like she was speaking of a monster.

  “Who is Mrs. Liu?” Emilia asked. A piece of fish dropped from her chopsticks, and she patiently started picking it up again.

  “She’s this famous—or should I say infamous—Hong Kong restaurant reviewer,” Ying explained. “But she doesn’t come in and eat the food then write about it like most reviewers. She makes all these crazy requests.”

  “Like having something cooked at an exact temperature,” one of Uncle Wu’s brothers said.

  “I heard she gave a restaurant a bad review because she didn’t like the decorations,” Aunt Chan’s sister-in-law said. “She didn’t even taste the food.”

  “It’s true,” Ying said. “She’ll ask for this sauce with that meat, or this on the side and th
at on a different plate, or no foods touching each other.”

  “Those are just rumors,” Uncle Wu said. “She challenges every restaurant to have the best food and service possible.”

  “She sounds a little crazy,” Alfie said.

  “Not crazy,” Uncle Wu said. “But demanding, yes.”

  “And very influential,” Aunt Chan said. “She writes for the Hong Kong Dining Authority, which is very respected and used by both tourists and locals. She can make or break a restaurant.”

  “As you can see,” Ying said, “everything has to go perfectly.” She said it as if she’d heard the phrase a thousand times.

  Aunt Chan continued, “We have no idea when Mrs. Liu will come in, so we have to be ready at all times.”

  “And we’ll teach you all about Chinese cooking while you’re here, too—if you want to learn,” Uncle Wu said.

  “I do!” Emilia said.

  Alfie wanted to learn, too, but mostly by eating.

  The feast was topped with a cake made with sticky rice and sweetened with brown sugar. Alfie had seconds, he liked it so much. His belly was full, the family was so nice, and Emilia had settled in with Ying.

  “Thanks for everything,” Alfie said. “Our first night was amazing.” He wondered how far their home was, what his room would look like, and how soon he could go to bed. Being so stuffed made him sleepy.

  “Was amazing?” Aunt Chan asked. “Ying, are you ready for bed?”

  “Bed?” Ying said. “The night is just getting started!”

  “There’s more?” Emilia asked.

  “Lots more,” said Ying.

  Everyone headed to the door and put on their coats. Alfie and Emilia slipped into items lent by Ying’s family. Ying’s parents had been a bit confused by the fact that Alfie and Emilia had arrived without suitcases, but there was so much activity trying to get everyone out the door that they seemed to have forgotten. Ying told them they were going to the big New Year’s Eve parade, and as they walked through the brightly lit streets, Emilia said quietly to Alfie, “This is the way to do it—being fed, staying with a family who was somehow expecting us. We don’t have to worry about anything. And I like Ying, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, she’s cool,” Alfie said. “Maybe Zia is finally perfecting her magic.”

  The group walked down the busy city streets jam-packed with people out for the celebration, cars slowly passing by, the sidewalks lit by the signs of the many businesses and restaurants they passed. Alfie couldn’t help bumping shoulders with people as they walked the busy street, and he kept offering apologies to each person.

  Ying laughed. “Don’t bother. They don’t even notice you; it’s too crowded.”

  But Alfie did notice everybody enjoying the festive air—large groups of friends and families walked together in packs, talking loudly, laughing, and looking happy.

  “We’re headed to the ferry to go across to Kowloon and Victoria Harbor,” Ying said. “Have you ever looked at a map of Hong Kong?”

  “I haven’t, but I’m sure Alfie has,” Emilia said. “He loves maps.”

  They turned onto a street that was totally open to pedestrians, so they walked down the center with no worries of cars.

  “Right now we’re on Hong Kong Island,” Ying explained. “That’s where we live and where our restaurant is. But there are four parts to Hong Kong: Hong Kong Island, Kowloon Peninsula—where we’re going now—New Territories, and then Outlying Territories, which are all the other little islands around the harbor and sea area. We’re going to take the world-famous Star Ferry to get to Kowloon. There are other ways to cross the harbor, but going by ferry is the most scenic.”

  The ferry pier was jammed with people all making their way through the turnstiles and onto the waiting boats.

  “Everybody stay together!” Aunt Chan called out.

  Emilia lost her grin and she looked around with wide eyes. Alfie hooked his arm through hers. “I’m here,” he said.

  Moments later they stepped across the wide metal plank and aboard the green-and-white boat. Ying led the way up onto a deck with rows of connected wood-and-metal chairs facing forward like a movie theater. Windows ran along the entire length of the boat, giving everyone a view of inky black water and the sparkling buildings beyond.

  “Do you want to sit inside or go stand by the railing?” Aunt Chan asked the kids.

  They looked at each other and in unison said, “Outside!”

  As the boat slowly pulled away from the pier, Alfie and Emilia were treated to an incredible view of the harbor and the area of the city called Kowloon. Skyscrapers lined the edge of the water, their lights twinkling like stars in the evening sky. Other boats dotted the harbor; several green-and-white Star Ferries headed back the way they’d just come, wooden boats with sharp prows and red masts, and small motorboats all jockeyed for space in the crowded waters.

  Suddenly, they heard music coming from somewhere.

  “How lucky!” Ying said. “We’re in time for the Symphony of Lights! Look!” She pointed across the harbor at the buildings. As the music played—from speakers along a promenade in front of them and the pier behind them—beams of lights rose from the tops of several of the skyscrapers. Diamond-shaped patterns ran up the full length of one building, a hot pink stripe wiggled up and down another. Blue lasers shot out from the other buildings, dancing in the black sky, and it was all in rhythm to the music.

  “Is this for New Year’s Eve?” Emilia asked, her eyes wide as she watched the lights fill the sky.

  “Actually, it happens every night,” Ying said. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

  “It’s so cool,” Alfie said. Hong Kong was starting to feel like one big party!

  When the show ended, they stayed outside on the deck. It was a bit chilly, but Alfie preferred to see all these amazing sights than to be warm right then.

  “Your mom said you do gymnastics,” Alfie said to Ying. “Is that where you were before you met us?”

  “I don’t do gymnastics,” Ying said. “I live gymnastics. My parents’ dream is to have a successful restaurant, and they’re working hard to achieve their goal. My dream is to be a famous gymnast. And I have to work hard to make it happen.”

  “But food is fantastic!” exclaimed Emilia. “You get to be creative with it, it makes people happy, plus it can be totally delicious. What’s not to like?”

  “Tell that to my parents, and they’ll love you forever,” Ying said, laughing. “They’re the ones who signed me up for gymnastics while they were busy working on building their business. But it turns out I’m really good at gymnastics. Now that I’m older and the restaurant is so close to opening, I’m sure they’re going to want me to help out more.”

  “Can’t you just tell them you’d rather do gymnastics?” Alfie asked.

  “They’re my parents. I can’t disrespect them,” Ying said simply. “I want the restaurant to be a success and for my parents to be happy. But I also want them to really care about what I want to do. Maybe now that you two are here you can be my backup, help me out in case I have to stay late at the gym.”

  The ferry finally arrived at the dock. Uncle Wu led the way down the promenade through the crowds of people—and there were thousands of people, shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting for the parade to begin. The family found a spot and they all squeezed together, Alfie taking care that Emilia was right next to him.

  “Here it comes!” Ying said over the noise of the crowd, who were all cheering and clapping along with the music that came from the speakers and the parade that was making its way toward them.

  Parts of the parade were like the ones back home—floats carrying musicians, people dressed in costumes dancing, giant inflatable characters and animals floating overhead. There were also ornate paper dragons held up on sticks and worked by several people, weaving and diving and slithering down t
he street. Alfie could see two people inside a lion costume, dancing an elaborate, athletic dance as they went by, which Ying paid particularly close attention to.

  Once the parade ended, Ying said, “Now the real show begins.”

  “There’s more?” Emilia asked.

  “Lots!”

  They moved a bit closer to the water along with the crowd and positioned themselves in a tight little spot on the edge of the harbor.

  “Fireworks next,” Aunt Chan said. “Watch—they’ll come from the boats.”

  “The Chinese invented fireworks, you know,” Ying told them. “Like, thousands of years ago.”

  The first boom startled Alfie and Emilia. Alfie felt it in his chest. After an initial yelp from the crowd, everything went quiet, all faces looking upward. Suddenly, a white starburst filled the sky. The crowd cheered. The next round came quickly after that—several fireworks at a time, in all colors, sparkling and spiraling, going across the length of the harbor from boats moored in the water. From Kowloon they could see where they’d come from on Hong Kong Island, and they could see the island’s skyscrapers and shiny glass buildings, all brightly lit up on the inside and outside, thanks to the fireworks reflecting off the glass. Alfie and Emilia stood transfixed as they watched the explosion of colors and shapes. It was like any Fourth of July they’d ever seen—times ten.

  Once the evening’s festivities ended, they made the trek back across the harbor. This time they decided to sit inside the ferry where it was warm. Everyone was quiet on the short ride back, tired from all the excitement.

  When they got off the ferry, the extended family made their way home, and Alfie and Emilia followed Ying and her parents through the city streets to their apartment building. When they arrived inside the doors of their tenth-floor apartment, Alfie was almost too tired to take it all in. He noticed that it was small and clean and tidy.