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polychromatic) wrote2019-04-15 09:50 pm
polychromatic) wrote2019-04-15 09:50 pm
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My recent - rapid - globetrotting to Melbourne and Hong Kong came about because of family. Everyone is getting older, their health statuses just that little more fragile. We lost my Gu-Ma - my dad's eldest sister - to cancer while I was still in the midst of my veterinary course. I have fond memories of when she took me to the amusement park on Centre Island and how she took it in stride (but was probably understandably annoyed) when I managed to stand on tip-toe for height measurements, meaning she needed to pay more for my entrance fee.
My dad turned 70 this year, and he's the fourth child of six. I always say to my mom that in comparison to her siblings - who tend to be louder, more expressive with their emotions, and just a bit more "westernized" - my dad's side of the family is a bit harder to read. The difference between them is notable even in how I address them: I use "Auntie Grace and Uncle Steve" on her side of the family, whereas I use the appropriate Chinese kinship designations for my dad's family. You can pinpoint their exact relationship to me by what I call them.
Like my dad, his family shows their affection not through hugs or words. I am not a particularly "huggy" person, though I have become a bit more physically demonstrative with my affections through the years. But the stiff, somewhat awkward back-pats I receive when giving hugs to my uncles especially always makes me think "oh right, they don't really do this kind of thing". They show their affection by showing up, by conversing with me in a mix of Cantonese and English. Their English is 1000x stronger and more confident than my Cantonese, and the fact that I try to use my rudimentary Cantonese as much as possible is my family-trait of showing affection too. On my most recent trip, I discovered that, like my dad, they show affection through food and action. Ng-Suk drove through Hong Kong traffic for at least an hour each time to ferry me to and from the airport, from dinner in Hong Kong to where we were staying in the New Territories. My dad and Yi-Baak-Fu directed me to a tiny restaurant with amazing chee cheong fun. Saam-Baak-Fu and his wife bought me mangoes and strawberries. Yi-Baak-Fu made many of my favourite dishes and bought a huge pile of mangosteens, saying he knew that I liked them. How did he even know I love mangosteens? My first taste of them was maybe six years ago and sometimes even I forget how much I love them since I get them so rarely!
I have had the most interactions with my Gu-Je - the youngest aunt in the family. When we used to live in Toronto, I would spend time with her, telling my mother I was "relaxing and being spoiled" by going to her apartment to watch Miss Hong Kong and eat delicious snacks. She and my paternal grandmother also moved in with us for a few years in Vancouver. Of my dad's siblings, she's definitely the loudest and most expressive - she has lots of opinions and isn't afraid to share them. She was certainly one of my favourite relatives growing up, even if I was just that tiny bit scared of her because she would never let me leave the table without eating everything I was offered. She has shown up for many important moments in my life (both university graduation ceremonies, one of them all the way in Australia) and I have less specific memories of her only because there are so many of them to contend with!
My dad's three brothers I only got to see on occasion throughout my childhood. I only visited Hong Kong once when I was six and did not return again until I was nineteen. I associated Hong Kong with delicious food (stinky tofu and egg waffles being particular favourites) and was fairly showered with various stuffed toys from family and friends of my parents alike. But the weather was too hot and humid, I was basically eaten alive by mosquitoes, and could barely sleep from my grandmother's snoring. My eye swelled shut at one point from a particularly bad reaction to a mosquito bite, and I developed some sort of blister or cyst on my arm as another strange reaction . A doctor very seriously told my six-year-old self that I might die if I popped it, so I spent most nights terrified to sleep in case I rolled over, popped the blister, and subsequently died with my short life unlived. Needless to say I survived, but my experience in Hong Kong had not been an entirely pleasant one, especially through the lens of childhood where small problems always seemed so magnified.
My uncles came and visited us in Canada (separately) throughout the years. Saam-Baak-Fu was another childhood favourite because he was the most game to play around with me. My strongest childhood memory of him was when he bravely took me to the local amusement park on his own. I don't think he expected a seven-year-old to love the pirate ship ride as much as I did, and I remember him begging out early, satisfied to let me ride it over and over again while he watched because he couldn't take it anymore but didn't want to ruin my fun. He always spoiled me - with attention, with food, with toys - and I absolutely ate it all up! When he had a daughter of his own, I remember thinking how he was going to really be such a fun and doting father to her.
Ng-Suk I always think of as very pleasant but the hardest to read. He is very well-spoken and not at all awkward, but I have probably spent the least amount of time alone with him as we are usually with family or with his wife as well. I don't have very strong childhood memories of him, although it always made me laugh to see his picture on my dad's Costco membership card. When he came to Melbourne to visit some friends of his, he invited me (along with my friend who was kindly driving me around) to dinner and I got to see a better view of him. He was chatty, cheerful, and so funny! He shared stories of how when he and my dad were in the US for school, most of the American driving examiners couldn't tell them apart so my dad would just take the driving test for many of their Asian friends. I remember laughing so much with him that night and thinking how fun it was to spend that time with him.
The eldest uncle - my Yi-Baak-Fu - I knew to be a soft-spoken, thoughtful man who was a pediatrician. I used to have a book featuring characters from the Peanuts comic that focused on the human body and my eight-year-old self was obsessed. Knowing that my uncle was a pediatrician, I asked him millions of questions that he patiently contended with ("What does it mean when it says 'you are what you eat?'" remaining the biggest mystery to me). When I decided I wanted to be a pediatrician, I think he was secretly pleased. That I turned out to become a veterinarian was probably mild disappointment to him ("Tell Jocelyn that it's a much messier endeavour than she might think!" he would tell my mom) although he remained supportive. He wasn't necessarily the "fun uncle", but I remember him declaring he would accompany me to Ocean Park in Hong Kong because he had a senior's discount now. Much like my dad when we were in Orlando, he would brave the water rides with me and then wait patiently when I hopped onto the bigger thrill rides. My recent visit to Hong Kong was really for him, because he asked if I could come. He is at risk for coronary blockages - or so my parents tell me - and so has settled into his quiet life. When I expressed to my dad that I felt like I'd spent little face-to-face time with him in my whirlwind four days in Hong Kong and felt badly, he arranged for Yi-Baak-Fu to come meet us for lunch and then we spent the afternoon with him up until the point where Ng-Suk drove us all to the airport and more awkward hugs were exchanged. It wasn't much and I felt a little badly having him come out, but at the same time I felt like I owed it to him to spend a bit more time with him. When I offhandedly commented on his cute umbrella with the teddy-bear handle, he decided that I should take it home because I liked it; that's just the kind of person he is.
My mom always comments that my dad's side of the family really loves me. The specific word she uses in Cantonese is 錫. I don't know that I always feel deserving of it. I often comment to her that I worry about them all getting older over there with almost no one of my generation to look after them (though my younger cousin will be back soon) and certainly after this last visit I feel guilty that I don't go to Hong Kong more often. I think I may have to, for the sake of family.
My dad turned 70 this year, and he's the fourth child of six. I always say to my mom that in comparison to her siblings - who tend to be louder, more expressive with their emotions, and just a bit more "westernized" - my dad's side of the family is a bit harder to read. The difference between them is notable even in how I address them: I use "Auntie Grace and Uncle Steve" on her side of the family, whereas I use the appropriate Chinese kinship designations for my dad's family. You can pinpoint their exact relationship to me by what I call them.
Like my dad, his family shows their affection not through hugs or words. I am not a particularly "huggy" person, though I have become a bit more physically demonstrative with my affections through the years. But the stiff, somewhat awkward back-pats I receive when giving hugs to my uncles especially always makes me think "oh right, they don't really do this kind of thing". They show their affection by showing up, by conversing with me in a mix of Cantonese and English. Their English is 1000x stronger and more confident than my Cantonese, and the fact that I try to use my rudimentary Cantonese as much as possible is my family-trait of showing affection too. On my most recent trip, I discovered that, like my dad, they show affection through food and action. Ng-Suk drove through Hong Kong traffic for at least an hour each time to ferry me to and from the airport, from dinner in Hong Kong to where we were staying in the New Territories. My dad and Yi-Baak-Fu directed me to a tiny restaurant with amazing chee cheong fun. Saam-Baak-Fu and his wife bought me mangoes and strawberries. Yi-Baak-Fu made many of my favourite dishes and bought a huge pile of mangosteens, saying he knew that I liked them. How did he even know I love mangosteens? My first taste of them was maybe six years ago and sometimes even I forget how much I love them since I get them so rarely!
I have had the most interactions with my Gu-Je - the youngest aunt in the family. When we used to live in Toronto, I would spend time with her, telling my mother I was "relaxing and being spoiled" by going to her apartment to watch Miss Hong Kong and eat delicious snacks. She and my paternal grandmother also moved in with us for a few years in Vancouver. Of my dad's siblings, she's definitely the loudest and most expressive - she has lots of opinions and isn't afraid to share them. She was certainly one of my favourite relatives growing up, even if I was just that tiny bit scared of her because she would never let me leave the table without eating everything I was offered. She has shown up for many important moments in my life (both university graduation ceremonies, one of them all the way in Australia) and I have less specific memories of her only because there are so many of them to contend with!
My dad's three brothers I only got to see on occasion throughout my childhood. I only visited Hong Kong once when I was six and did not return again until I was nineteen. I associated Hong Kong with delicious food (stinky tofu and egg waffles being particular favourites) and was fairly showered with various stuffed toys from family and friends of my parents alike. But the weather was too hot and humid, I was basically eaten alive by mosquitoes, and could barely sleep from my grandmother's snoring. My eye swelled shut at one point from a particularly bad reaction to a mosquito bite, and I developed some sort of blister or cyst on my arm as another strange reaction . A doctor very seriously told my six-year-old self that I might die if I popped it, so I spent most nights terrified to sleep in case I rolled over, popped the blister, and subsequently died with my short life unlived. Needless to say I survived, but my experience in Hong Kong had not been an entirely pleasant one, especially through the lens of childhood where small problems always seemed so magnified.
My uncles came and visited us in Canada (separately) throughout the years. Saam-Baak-Fu was another childhood favourite because he was the most game to play around with me. My strongest childhood memory of him was when he bravely took me to the local amusement park on his own. I don't think he expected a seven-year-old to love the pirate ship ride as much as I did, and I remember him begging out early, satisfied to let me ride it over and over again while he watched because he couldn't take it anymore but didn't want to ruin my fun. He always spoiled me - with attention, with food, with toys - and I absolutely ate it all up! When he had a daughter of his own, I remember thinking how he was going to really be such a fun and doting father to her.
The eldest uncle - my Yi-Baak-Fu - I knew to be a soft-spoken, thoughtful man who was a pediatrician. I used to have a book featuring characters from the Peanuts comic that focused on the human body and my eight-year-old self was obsessed. Knowing that my uncle was a pediatrician, I asked him millions of questions that he patiently contended with ("What does it mean when it says 'you are what you eat?'" remaining the biggest mystery to me). When I decided I wanted to be a pediatrician, I think he was secretly pleased. That I turned out to become a veterinarian was probably mild disappointment to him ("Tell Jocelyn that it's a much messier endeavour than she might think!" he would tell my mom) although he remained supportive. He wasn't necessarily the "fun uncle", but I remember him declaring he would accompany me to Ocean Park in Hong Kong because he had a senior's discount now. Much like my dad when we were in Orlando, he would brave the water rides with me and then wait patiently when I hopped onto the bigger thrill rides. My recent visit to Hong Kong was really for him, because he asked if I could come. He is at risk for coronary blockages - or so my parents tell me - and so has settled into his quiet life. When I expressed to my dad that I felt like I'd spent little face-to-face time with him in my whirlwind four days in Hong Kong and felt badly, he arranged for Yi-Baak-Fu to come meet us for lunch and then we spent the afternoon with him up until the point where Ng-Suk drove us all to the airport and more awkward hugs were exchanged. It wasn't much and I felt a little badly having him come out, but at the same time I felt like I owed it to him to spend a bit more time with him. When I offhandedly commented on his cute umbrella with the teddy-bear handle, he decided that I should take it home because I liked it; that's just the kind of person he is.
My mom always comments that my dad's side of the family really loves me. The specific word she uses in Cantonese is 錫. I don't know that I always feel deserving of it. I often comment to her that I worry about them all getting older over there with almost no one of my generation to look after them (though my younger cousin will be back soon) and certainly after this last visit I feel guilty that I don't go to Hong Kong more often. I think I may have to, for the sake of family.