Emilia was sharing Ying’s room, and Alfie had his own small room next to them. Just as Alfie was about to get into bed, Ying stuck her head through the doorway.
“One last thing,” she said. “Whatever you do, don’t get up early. Sleep in late.”
“Okay. But why?” Alfie asked.
“Bad luck for the elders if you get up early on the first day of the new year. Sleeping in means they’ll have a long life, plus no trouble in the new year.”
When Alfie finally turned out the lights and pulled up the covers, he felt relaxed and happy, ready for a new adventure. He was already having an amazing time and he didn’t even have to worry about finding somewhere to stay or trying to find a way to feed himself and his sister. This time, things were going to be easier.
Alfie had no problem sleeping in the next morning. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was from yesterday’s activities.
It was quiet as he headed to the shared bathroom. As he tiptoed passed Ying and Emilia’s room, he saw the door was open a crack. Emilia was alone, sitting on her bed and flipping through a magazine.
“Hey,” Alfie said, sticking his head through the door. “What’re you doing?”
“Looking at the Hong Kong version of People magazine,” Emilia said. She tossed the magazine on the bed.
“Where’s Ying?” Alfie asked as he stepped into the room.
Emilia picked up a piece of paper and showed it to Alfie.
Gone to gym. Shhh! Don’t tell Mother and Father!
“I guess that means she got up early,” Alfie said.
“I know,” Emilia agreed. “Let’s just hope they don’t find out.”
After they got dressed, Alfie and Emilia went into the living room. A few minutes later, Aunt Chan and Uncle Wu emerged from their room.
“You two slept in quite late!” Aunt Chan said, looking pleased.
Alfie was pretty sure that this was the first time in history he’d been praised for sleeping in. He definitely liked it here.
“Now let’s see about these clothes,” Aunt Chan said. They wore the same clothes as yesterday. It was all they had. They had told Ying and her parents there was some suitcase mix-up at the train station, and although they were a bit puzzled, they seemed to believe it. “You came to Hong Kong at the best time. Since it’s New Year’s Day, everyone gets new clothes. Come look!”
Emilia raced across the room when she saw what Aunt Chan was pointing to. Laid out on the table were clothes for them both—black cotton pants, billowy shirts, shoes, and overcoats.
“Oh my gosh, thank you!” Emilia said, holding a red embroidered top up to her shoulders. “It’s so pretty! Alfie, what do you think?”
“It looks good,” Alfie said. It made him happy to see his sister so excited. “Thank you—it’s so nice of you to do this, but I think it’s too much.” There looked to be at least a week’s worth of clothes for each of them.
“Nonsense,” Uncle Wu said. “Please, you must accept it. It’s tradition, and besides, it’s part of your experience here in Hong Kong.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Emilia said again, holding up another shirt to her shoulders.
“You’re very welcome,” Aunt Chan said. “Uncle Wu and I are going to the restaurant for the afternoon. There are some deliveries and other business we need to be there for. Ying will take you out for lunch and a bit of sightseeing.”
Luckily, Aunt Chan and Uncle Wu left without asking about Ying. They must have assumed she was being good about sleeping in. She came home not five minutes after her parents had left.
“Hello!” she said, standing in the front hall. “Get your coats—we’re going out.”
• • •
The streets were still bustling with celebrations for the Spring Festival, which Ying explained would continue for the next six days. They passed one parade—not as big as last night’s but still spectacular, with brightly colored costumes, beating drums, and stilt walkers—and locals and tourists shopped at the many little stores selling Spring Festival essentials like toy dragons, paper lanterns, and fried sesame-seed balls, among other treats.
Ying, Alfie, and Emilia took a boat across the harbor again but without all the fireworks and music. Once they got off the boat they walked through the city to Temple Street, where Ying said some of the best food in Hong Kong was served. Right there on the street, hot dishes were cooked up and served fresh—everything from noodles and broth to beef with oyster sauce prepared in well-used pots that looked like they’d been cooking up food for centuries. Canopies hung at uneven angles above the stalls, and many of the menus were handwritten on cardboard signs. Lots of people sat at the tables that lined the street, but some took their food and ate as they walked.
“In Hong Kong you can get any kind of food you want,” Ying said. “Italian, French, Thai, you name it. People take food very seriously here. But on Temple Street, it’s strictly Chinese and Hong Kong food. What do you feel like eating?” Smoke and steam filled the air—a mix of sweetness with a dash of heat.
“Alfie, look!” Emilia said, pointing. “Chickens’ feet!”
“A Hong Kong classic,” Ying said.
“Where’s the rest of the chicken?” Emilia asked, looking a bit worried.
Ying smiled. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. We don’t waste food—everything gets eaten. You’ll see.”
“I don’t think I’m brave enough to try chickens’ feet,” Emilia said, shaking her head.
“I am,” Alfie said, with a smile.
“They’re good,” Ying said. “Just don’t eat the nails.”
“Ew!” Emilia said.
Ying laughed. “Just kidding. Well, you shouldn’t eat them, but they’ll cut them off for you. Hi, Mrs. Suen,” she said to a woman at one of the stalls.
“Hello, Ying.” She smiled back. “How’s the restaurant opening going?”
“Fine,” Ying said. “We open in a couple days. Mother and Father are there now, getting everything ready.”
“We miss you down here,” she said. “Tell your parents we said hello.”
“I will,” Ying said. “We used to have the stall right next to her,” she explained to Alfie and Emilia.
“You call this wan zai chi?” snapped a woman at a nearby stall. She was short and wore a bright orange embroidered coat that reached down to her knees. Her black hair was cut in a sharp bob, and she wore serious-looking glasses. “There are hardly any mushrooms and this pork is barely shredded.”
The woman handed the bowl back to the man at the stall and turned to leave. Unfortunately, she turned right into Ying.
“I’m sorry,” Ying said, flustered. She looked at the woman and said, “Um, hello, Mrs. Liu.”
The woman furrowed her brow. “Have we met?”
“No, but I think you’re coming to my family’s restaurant soon. The Golden Lion?” Ying said nervously.
Mrs. Liu nodded. “Ah, yes. The new place on Hong Kong Island. The food at your family’s stall was absolutely delicious. I wonder if you’ll be able to achieve the same results at a restaurant.”
With that, Mrs. Liu turned and headed down the street.
“And that,” Ying said, “is Mrs. Liu. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to her, but she made me nervous.”
“You didn’t say anything bad,” Emilia said.
“The wan zai chi she just gave back is one of the best on all of Temple Street. I told you—she’s very hard to please.” Ying sighed. “Oh well. Let’s go down here for the chickens’ feet. You’re going to love this.”
Ying ordered up a bowl for Alfie, then got rib eye in sauce for herself. From a nearby stall, Emilia got pan-fried oyster cakes that looked a lot like the scallion pancakes they’d eaten with Zia Donatella. Once they all had their food, they went to find a place to sit. They found a table with three empty chairs. An elderly ma
n sat in a fourth chair slurping noodles. Ying asked if they could share the table, and he nodded.
Alfie used his fingers to pick up a chicken’s foot, which had been cooked in ginger, garlic, black-bean sauce, and soy sauce. He held it out to Emilia. “Wanna try?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Alfie could tell she was trying to be nice in front of Ying and not say how gross she thought the food looked.
“Emilia, come on,” he said. Zia Donatella didn’t send them on these travels so that they could stick with what was comfortable.
“We should all share,” Ying said. “The beef is so tender and the sauce is perfect. And I’ve never had the oyster cakes from that stall. Don’t be shy, Emilia.”
“I’m not,” she said, but she looked skeptical.
“Remember the frogs’ legs in Paris?” Alfie reminded her. “You liked those.”
“True,” Emilia said. She gingerly picked up a chicken’s foot and held it away from her as if it might suddenly claw her.
“Is there a special way to eat this?” Emilia asked.
“Chickens’ feet are all about the skin,” Ying said. “It’s crispy, so you chew it off with your teeth. Then you suck on the bones because there’s lots of flavor in them. Spit out the bones, and place them on the side of the plate. It’s not the easiest thing to eat,” she said, “but it’s fun.”
“Well,” Alfie said, “the best part of fried chicken is the skin. I guess this is sort of the same thing.”
“So dig in!” Ying said.
Alfie took a bite—as much as he could with the bones. It tasted a bit sweet and salty. He chewed the skin and then sucked on the boney bits, eventually spitting them out onto the side of his plate.
Emilia nibbled on hers, trying to delicately get the skin off and take the bone from her mouth. Ying said, “Face it—you can’t be graceful eating chickens’ feet.”
Emilia laughed at herself and then attacked the chicken’s foot again. “My friends will never believe I ate this,” she said. “And that I actually liked it.”
They shared the other dishes as well. The beef with sauce and vegetables required the use of chopsticks, which were still really hard for Alfie and Emilia to use. Alfie managed to get one chunk of beef into his mouth, but his second attempt fell out of the chopsticks. The meat was delicate and tender, and his stomach begged him to capture another chunk on his chopsticks, but he couldn’t manage it. Luckily the oyster cakes—which were thin and crispy—could be eaten with his hands. He could taste the oyster but also scallions and parsley, reminding him of Zia’s pancakes.
Once they’d finished, Alfie joked that it was “not that adventurous.”
“He’s just trying to show off,” Emilia said.
“If that’s the way you feel, I’ll find you something that some Chinese people won’t eat,” Ying said.
“I can eat anything,” Alfie said.
“I’ll hold you to it,” Ying said.
He had no doubt that she would.
The next morning, they were up early—quite the difference from yesterday when they got to sleep in late.
“So,” Uncle Wu said as they all cleared the breakfast table, “who wants to go visit Sai Kung with Ying? It’s got some of the best fishing—and fishermen—in the city.”
“And who wants to join us at the restaurant?” Aunt Chan asked. “We’re going to make noodles and dumplings today.”
“I’ll go to Sai Kung,” Alfie said. “It’s probably a lot different than fishing at home.”
“And I want to learn how to make noodles and dumplings,” said Emilia. “Zia will be so excited to hear about that when we get home.”
Alfie and Emilia looked at each other. They’d been so busy since they arrived in Hong Kong that they hadn’t really thought about home. Of course they missed Mom, Dad, and Zia, but they knew from their other adventures that everything at home would be okay.
“Ying, you can take Alfie to Sai Kung, and Emilia can come with us,” Aunt Chan said with a smile.
“What?” Ying asked sharply. “I showed them around yesterday. I want to spend the day at the gymnastics studio.”
“Now, Ying,” her mother replied, “if Alfie wants to go fishing, as a gracious host you should accompany him.”
“I suppose so,” Ying said with a roll of her eyes. “But I need time at the gym.”
“I understand,” Uncle Chan said, “but only once you’re done showing Alfie around.”
Ying let out a sigh. “Oh, all right, I’ll get my coat.”
Out on the streets, Ying’s parents and Emilia headed to the restaurant, and Alfie and Ying headed to the town of Sai Kung.
“It’s about forty-five minutes away,” Ying explained. “We just have to walk toward Wan Chai and get on the minibus.”
“Minibus,” Alfie repeated. “Got it.” He always liked to know where things were and how to get to them, especially during their adventures. “Which area of town will we be in?”
“New Territories,” she explained. “It’s the largest of Hong Kong’s districts, and it’s also the most rural. There are lots of farms and small villages there.”
Once they arrived at Wan Chai, they got on a red minibus. The bus took them through the tunnel under Victoria Harbor, through the city area of Kowloon with all its modern high-rise buildings, until they were in an area with green rolling hills and small farming towns. In less than an hour, they arrived at Sai Kung near the promenade.
Just over the promenade railing, boats rocked gently in the water, all crammed tightly together with old tires hanging on the sides to keep them from scraping one another. Most were painted green or blue, with weathered beach umbrellas shading the person sitting inside the boat. The boats were filled with containers of fish that Alfie didn’t recognize, as well as bags of food, all lined up. The fish in the open containers were covered in water, and they were still alive. Some fishermen were descaling and gutting fish right there on the boat.
“It’s like a floating fish market here,” Ying explained. “They sell everything in their boats, and they sell to the public and local restaurants. As you can see, we take our fresh fish very seriously. There’s Kang!”
Ying waved as they walked toward a small, older man with a weathered face and bright eyes. He waved back.
“Hello, Ying,” the old man said. “How’s the lion?”
“The Golden Lion? It’s great. Our big opening is tomorrow,” Ying said.
“Of course, I know that,” Kang said. “I mean your lion.”
A smile crept across Ying’s face as she said, “Better than ever.”
“Your lion?” Alfie asked.
“Oh, it’s just—nothing,” Ying said quickly. “Alfie, this is Kang. He is the best fisherman in Hong Kong. Father plans on making the extra trip out here for our fish each morning, even though the Aberdeen market is closer. When you know the city’s best fisherman, you have to go to him,” she said.
“The fish love me. I can’t help but catch them. Are you ready to be a fisherman today?” he asked Alfie.
“Definitely,” Alfie said.
“Great,” Ying said. “Have fun.”
“You’re not coming fishing with us?” Alfie asked.
“I need to get to the gym,” she said. “I can come back and get you in a couple hours if you’re not comfortable going back on your own, but it’s really easy. Just take the minibus back, and I’ll write down directions from the station.”
Alfie felt a bit nervous. He was good with getting around, but this city was huge. It was definitely intimidating.
When he didn’t respond right away, Ying said, “If you’re scared, I’ll come back and get you. It’s not a problem.”
“I’m not scared,” Alfie said, trying to sound confident. It would be easier for Ying to come back and get him, but he didn’t want her to
think he wasn’t capable of finding his way back. “I can do it. Just write down good directions.”
“Okay, great,” Ying said. She dug a piece of paper and a pencil out of her bag. “Go straight back to the restaurant. I should be there by the time you come back.”
Alfie wasn’t totally comfortable about being part of Ying’s scheme, especially when her parents already were stressed about the restaurant opening. He didn’t promise her anything, just took the directions and said, “Thanks.”
“Good luck!” she called, waving as she walked away.
“Ready?” Kang asked. “The fish are waiting.”
Kang led Alfie to a small boat docked near the harbor. Being outside the city, Alfie realized how quiet the world was here, with just the sound of water lapping up to the harbor walls. He could no longer see the big city buildings. Instead, they were surrounded by green hills; off in the distance, small islands dotted the landscape.
“Fishing is easy as long as you remember one thing,” Kang said as he stepped gently into the boat.
Alfie followed him in, careful to keep steady in the rocking waters. “What’s that?”
Kang sat on the seat and started the engine, which sputtered with a puff of exhaust. “It’s all in your energy. The fish can feel it. They’re attracted to it. If you are too fidgety, they stay away. So,” he said, “stay calm.”
Which seemed easy to do out on the water, away from the chaos of the city. All Alfie could hear was the slow engine of the boat and the water moving around them.
Kang showed Alfie how to bait the hook with his special blend of bloodworm and his secret weapon, which he said he couldn’t tell anyone. “Not even my wife,” he said.
The bloodworm looked about how Alfie expected—long, slimy, and a rusty red color. It was alive and squirmy as he tried to hook it onto his line. Once he managed to get it on, Kang showed him how to toss out his line.
“Look out at the water,” he said, “and let the fish tell you where to throw your line.”
Hong Kong! Page 3
