This photo was taken days after my arrival. [...]]]> Since booking my trip to Hong Kong, I’ve been thinking about the places I hope to see in those four short days this April. But I’ve also been recalling my first year in Hong Kong when I moved there as a 19 year-old in the summer of 1990.

This photo was taken days after my arrival. Here I am standing at Lok Ma Chau with China looming in the background. I’d visited China in 1988, but it still felt like a world away even in Hong Kong.

Lok Ma Chau, 1990

A month into that first year, I learned about the Mid-Autumn Festival. It quickly became one of my favorite holidays. I kept this lantern on my desk until the cellophane melted from the sunlight that poured in through my dorm room window.

My first Mid-Autumn Festival, 1990

I moved to Hong Kong to study, so here I am in the Office of International Studies Programme. This was well before e-mail, texting, and cell phones, so all my communication with the outside world came through snail mail. I had a mail box in one of those slots to my left. My dad wrote to me weekly.

Hong Kong, 1991

My first residence in Hong Kong was the Adam Schall Hall, named after a 16th-17th century German Jesuit who spent 47 years in China.

In front of dorm at Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1991

To earn some spending money, I taught English under the table. Every Saturday I trekked down to Taikoo Shing to teach a Japanese housewife and her two young children. Here I am at their flat playing a pinata-like game, but with a watermelon.

click to enlarge

I also volunteered at a Vietnamese refugee camp in Kowloon, where I taught English to adults. I had to pester International Social Services before they’d let me volunteer, but it was worth every phone call and written letter. The classes were housed in old British barracks that once held POWs during the Japanese occupation. That land is now littered with luxury high-rises.

With Do'an at the Argyle Street Detention Centre, 1991

This is the Hong Kong I knew and loved from back then. Three years later, I moved back for what I thought would be for good. As fate would have it, I only stayed for four more years. And soon I’ll be returning for the first time since I left in 1998.

Postcard from Hong Kong, 1991

I can’t wait to see Hong Kong as it is today.

I haven’t been back to Hong Kong since I left in 1998, pregnant with my first child and married to someone who is [...]]]> Two weeks ago I came face to face with a tough decision (tough at the time) when Cathay Pacific announced a dirt cheap round-trip, non-stop flight from Chicago to Hong Kong.

I haven’t been back to Hong Kong since I left in 1998, pregnant with my first child and married to someone who is no longer my husband.

Hong Kong, 1996

Given those factors, fourteen years is a long time.

But when my mom (who is vacationing in Africa as I type) offered to stay with the kids provided we bring in some help during the day, I called my husband at work and told him of my ‘crazy’ plan. His answer?

“Hell, yeah.”

So we’re going to Hong Kong in three months. Although I never thought I wouldn’t go back, I never dreamed it would happen before my kids were old enough to get themselves dressed and fed. I couldn’t sleep the night I booked the tickets.

Although we’ll only be there for four days, I’m excited to show my husband this gorgeous city through my eyes.

Hong Kong postcard, 1994

If you had four days in Hong Kong, where would you go?

And boy did it not disappoint.

This has to be one of the most exciting wartime escape stories–and probably the most underreported one.

To start, the cast of [...]]]> After much anticipation, I finally received and read Tim Luard‘s fabulous Escape from Hong Kong: Admiral Chan Chak’s Christmas Day Dash, 1941 (Hong Kong University Press, 2012).

And boy did it not disappoint.

This has to be one of the most exciting wartime escape stories–and probably the most underreported one.

To start, the cast of characters couldn’t be more fascinating. As the title states, it was Admiral Chan Chak who led the escape. But Chan wasn’t just another career military man.

He was stationed in Hong Kong and presided over the Chinese (Nationalist) Navy’s southern forces. Oh, and he only had one leg.

Chan’s aide-de-camp was the dashing, devout Christian, six-foot-three-inch Henry Hsu, born in southern China, trained at the famed Whampoa Military Academy, and educated in the law in Shanghai.

The British Navy agreed to help Chan, Henry Hsu, and Chan’s bodyguard escape Hong Kong as soon as the colony fell to the Japanese because the Admiral couldn’t be captured, what with all the classified information he possessed. Plus, he had excellent connections in southern China, even in the Japanese-occupied areas just north of Hong Kong, and could be of great help to the top British Navy personnel (which included a Canadian, a New Zealander, some Scots, and a Russian Jewish refugee by way of Shanghai)–and others who tagged along for the ride.

But the escape didn’t start off as planned. When a boat carrying the Admiral, Henry Hsu, his bodyguard, and Colonel SK Yee was attacked by the Japanese, the three men stripped to their underwear and jumped overboard while the non-swimmer Colonel Yee stayed on the boat–with Chan Chak’s wooden leg (and a couple hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars stuffed inside the leg).

After the trio met up with five British torpedo speed boats, they made their way north to Mirs Bay. In all, more than sixty men escaped together in this group. They walked and rode overland through occupied China, dodging Japanese patrols and wading through paddy fields, until they reached Free China–all guided by Admiral Chan and his guerilla devotees north of Hong Kong. Many of the escapees made their way to Chungking and some on to Burma, where they once again fled the Japanese.

For more about this harrowing tale, check out the Escape From Hong Kong blog at http://www.hongkongescape.org/.

Fighting broke out on December 8, 1941 and ended with British Hong Kong surrendering to the Japanese on Christmas Day 70 years ago–in the Peninsula Hotel, which was renamed the Toa (or [...]]]> Christmas in Hong Kong meant something else this year: the 70th anniversary of the fall of Hong Kong, otherwise known as Black Christmas.

Fighting broke out on December 8, 1941 and ended with British Hong Kong surrendering to the Japanese on Christmas Day 70 years ago–in the Peninsula Hotel, which was renamed the Toa (or East Asia) during the remainder of the war.

Peninsula Hotel

You can read about Black Christmas in a number of books, both old and new. I just received notice that my copy of Tim Luard’s Escape from Hong Kong (Hong Kong University Press, 2011) is currently on a boat sailing from the UK to the US. I should receive it in a few weeks.

Another historical account can be found in Philip Snow’s The Fall of Hong Kong (Yale University Press, 2004).

And then there’s Emily Hahn’s memoir, China to Me (Country Life Press, 1944), in which she writes with vivid detail about the turmoil in WWII Hong Kong.

Some novels that include Black Christmas include Eileen Chang’s Love in a Fallen City (New York Review Books, 2006). Although the story is fiction, Chang studied in Hong Kong 70 years ago and was an eyewitness to the Black Christmas.

Love in a Fallen City

And then more recently, Janice Y.K. Lee’s debut novel, The Piano Teacher (Penguin, 2009), incorporates Black Christmas into her moving story of love, loss, and betrayal in 1941 and 1951 Hong Kong.

I know it’s not a cheery topic during this joyous time of year. But it’s important to Hong Kong’s history and the people who remember that very difficult time. Just as they’ve done during other crises, the people of Hong Kong prevailed.

I like the Peninsula not so much because it’s a fancy hotel, but because it reminds me of the original Peninsula in [...]]]> Yesterday I took my two little ones up to Chicago for lunch at the Peninsula Hotel. There we met my two sisters-in-law in what’s become an annual tradition over the last five years.

I like the Peninsula not so much because it’s a fancy hotel, but because it reminds me of the original Peninsula in Hong Kong.

Peninsula Hotel, 1965

Okay, so the exteriors aren’t similar, but the Chicago Lobby Lounge was modeled after that in Hong Kong. The original Pen was a popular meeting spot when friends or friends of friends came to Hong Kong when I lived there. We usually met for afternoon tea or sometimes a drink before dinner, because for a newcomer in Hong Kong there’s nothing quite as easy to understand as “meet me at the Pen”.

So yesterday it was like stepping back into Hong Kong for a couple hours. My kids were by far the youngest, and quickly made their presence known.

They sat still long enough to enjoy an appetizer of edamame. I ordered a truffle mac and cheese for them to share and a fancy version of beef pho for myself. But when they saw the beautiful presentation of the pho, they quickly gave up theirs for the pieces of wagyu beef and strands of long noodles in my soup.

Then my sisters-in-law and I took turns chaperoning them around the Lobby Lounge.

They covered most of the lobby.

The Peninsula is owned by the Kadoorie family, Iraqi Jews who settled in Hong Kong 100 years ago. We enjoyed this nice touch for Hannukah, which starts tonight.

After two hours, I packed the kids up, said good-bye to my sisters-in-law, and headed back to the suburbs.

My husband enjoyed the truffle mac and cheese that evening while the two of us sat down to watch Anthony Bourdain’s new show, The Layover. Last night’s episode was filmed in–where else–Hong Kong.

After I rushed the kids away from the living room, I attacked [...]]]> I’ve had one tough morning. Had to cancel a dim sum engagement party after my kids knocked over a lamp with a mercury-fille light bulb. What a disaster when you have a living room full of toys and books–and wall to wall carpeting.

After I rushed the kids away from the living room, I attacked the mess like a surgeon. I covered my nose and mouth and attended to the shards with a pair of tongs. Later I placed duct tape over the carpet to try to remove micro shards.

While I was researching carpet cleaners (who have all refused to clean ours), I came across a photo on Facebook that showed a new book I hadn’t heard of: Escape from Hong Kong: Admiral Chan Chak’s Christmas Day Dash, 1941 (Hong Kong University Press, 2011) by Tim Luard.

This is such an exciting story that I quickly bought it from a third-party Amazon store for US$35. After the ordeal of the morning, I needed something to look forward to–and this fit the bill.

I first learned of the one-legged admiral (yes, even during the Christmas battle in 1941, Chan only had one leg) in Philip Snow’s epic The Fall of Hong Kong (Yale University Press, 2004). Although the whole book was enjoyable, my favorite part was the one on Chan.

I must go back to my duct tape now, but in a month or so this book should arrive from the UK. I hope the mercury will be out of our systems by then.

Last week I read Jonathan Chamberlain’s heart-wrenching memoir, Wordjazz for Stevie (Blacksmith Books, 2010), a beautiful tribute to his late daughter.

From reading the back cover blurb, I knew that Stevie only lived for eight and a half short years. But I had no idea that Chamberlain’s wife also passed away that same year.

In [...]]]>

Last week I read Jonathan Chamberlain’s heart-wrenching memoir, Wordjazz for Stevie (Blacksmith Books, 2010), a beautiful tribute to his late daughter.

From reading the back cover blurb, I knew that Stevie only lived for eight and a half short years. But I had no idea that Chamberlain’s wife also passed away that same year.

In the 1980s, the Chamberlains lived a comfortable life on Cheung Chau, a quaint outlaying island in Hong Kong. Expecting their first child, they never thought anything could go wrong. But when they learned Stevie had Down Syndrome, they realized there was very little support for special needs children in Hong Kong.

As it would turn out, Down Syndrome would be the tip of the iceberg after Stevie, as an infant, went in for heart surgery. Something went terribly wrong and she developed cerebral palsy, epilepsy, and blindness. After Stevie’s first bout with pneumonia, Chamberlain realized Stevie would no doubt succumb to pneumonia sometime in her childhood.

Even with this tragic prognosis, the Chamberlains did what they could to provide Stevie with a comfortable life. More than anything, Stevie loved music, and her parents always made sure she was around songs she enjoyed, even into her final minutes.

Before Stevie passed away from complications of pneumonia, Chamberlain’s wife Bernadette learned she had cancer. In just a matter of months, Chamberlain lost both his daughter and his wife.

The Chamberlains also had a son, so Chamberlain wrote about how he helped his 5 year-old son Patrick through this difficult time. Chamberlain examined the major religions to see how they handled death. He also wrote about the importance of community and Chinese traditions.

Although the nature of the book is sad and upsetting, it shows how people are resilient no matter the tragedy.

Last week I found a new one that’s gone to the top of my list. It’s Lost and Found Hong Kong (ThingsAsian Press, 2010), [...]]]> Over the years I’ve collected gorgeous photography books about Hong Kong. Two of my favorites are Kenneth Lo’s Nathan Road (MCCM Creations, 2007) and Ian Lambot’s City of Darkness (Watermark, 1999).

Last week I found a new one that’s gone to the top of my list. It’s Lost and Found Hong Kong (ThingsAsian Press, 2010), edited by Janet McKelpin.

As I’ve done with the others, I sat my kids down and leafed through the pages of Lost and Found, pointing out the colors and flavors I remembered from my years in Hong Kong. They were quite the captive audience, even the 2 year old.

Using images from five photographers who’ve called Hong Kong home, the book is reminiscent of Christopher Doyle’s haunting cinematography in Wong Kar-wai films.

I love the night shots the most. For when I think of Hong Kong, it’s usually at night: the neon signs, the lit skyscrapers, the dark stairwells with rusted mailboxes.

Some of my other favorites include an old barbershop, the walls lined with red Chinese character banners and an old fan. Then there’s a close-up of a stove covered with clay pots. I can almost taste the delicious rice inside. And the lonely butcher standing under rows of hanging meat reminds me of early morning strolls through Kowloon side streets as these meat shops were just coming back to life after a short respite.

If you’ve never seen Hong Kong, this book is a perfect introduction. Besides the urban street scenes, a section is also dedicated to the quaint refuge of Lamma Island.

And if you’ve visited or lived in Hong Kong, I can’t think of a better souvenir of this special city on the underbelly of mainland China.

Because even for people who love big cities, sometimes it’s necessary [...]]]> I love big cities and would usually choose to vacation in one over a secluded beach (although I’m changing a bit in my old age). What I find fascinating about super huge cities (or really densely populated ones) is the appreciation of small spaces.

Because even for people who love big cities, sometimes it’s necessary to get away from it all.

This gorgeous bookstore in Shanghai is amazing in so many ways. It’s cute, it’s small, it sells books, and it’s in the middle of a city of 20 million.

The Japanese koban, or police kiosk, is super cute. Of course I wouldn’t want a reason to go to one, but I find this structure much less intimidating than a huge police headquarters. This one was built more than 100 years ago in Tokyo and is now housed in the Tokyo Open Air Architectural Museum.

Photo by Michael Maggs, Wikimedia Commons

I can’t remember a kiosk in Hong Kong, except for this old police pagoda. Sadly, they went out of fashion decades ago.

Sun Ya Hotel, 1966

Do you have a favorite small space from a city close to your heart?