I love doing family stuff. Every time I go home for the weekends, I never feel like traveling back out to the HK side, back to the hustle and bustle of the city, back to all the crazy university schedules.

Today was a good day. Woke up relatively early to hot tea and chilly autumn air, got dressed and headed to Fanling for the UBS Hong Kong Open. I'm not a golf nut, I barely knew the rules before I went, but my dad loves the game and my mom and I tagged along naturally. I was mostly excited for doing something different, and my mom was excited for the picnic she packed for the day. We had sandwiches, apples and banana cakes and more hot tea; we even brought out the woven beach mat.

I didn't realize I was such a golf noob until I was there on the green, and realizing I had all the bird species wrong. I knew the order, I knew a birdie came before the eagle, but I thought, embarassingly, that it referred to the distance you hit the ball. I know better now! And now that I do, golf seems more interesting than I thought it would be.

We were freezing after about 4 hours of wandering around and sneaking in a few pictures so we decided to leave, grab a bite and head home.

Then we all napped.

Woke up for dinner, then had a movie marathon. Two movies in a row! I love how my parents bear with my intolerance for all movies gory and scary. We ended up watching 500 Days of Summer and The Ugly Truth. I love 500 Days of Summer. A bit ironic how we were freezing our fingers off in the morning and watching a movie about summer the same night.. although technically the movie isn't about summer- right, I'll stop talking.

I think I should mention right about here, how I forgot about going to a friend's birthday party.

So what I didn't do anything today. So I didn't annotate my readings, so I didn't start writing up my assignments, so I didn't edit anything for a newsletter. I know there are a billion things that I'm supposed to do but I hadn't done, but I spent quality time with my parents. Sometimes, and especially today, I feel like that's more important than everything else.

Have you ever carried a conversation with people, thinking you're on the same track but actually wasn't? Let me give a case illustration. So this one beautiful afternoon a bunch of friends were hanging out and having lunch. They've all gone through different things, had different experiences and it was great catching up with another, sharing anecdotes and quips and having a laugh. One particular story began with a conversation about Americans lack of knowledge about the Chinese. It was sometime after the last piece of beef had burnt charcoal black on the grill and everyone was savoring their ice-cream, or maybe it was when the last round of food was still sizzling away, the facts matter little here anyhow, but it was then that the topic was brought up.

One of them says, "It annoys me when people see that I'm Chinese and ask me stuff like, 'Do you eat dog?' over in the States. I end up joking and say they eat beef and pork there anyway, we just happen to have more variety over here." A barrage of 'they think we've never been on trains before' and other jokes that make China seem like a third world country ensues.

So one of them thinks it'll be appropriate to share the story of how this one time, a man at a store kept asking her whether she was Japanese when she said she was from Hong Kong, and wasn't convinced when she tried to explain Hong Kong was part of China and not Japan.

And then, suddenly the conversation turns. It wasn't just about people's lack of knowledge of world geography outside the limits of their own continent, or about their blatant ignorance of Hong Kong/ China's economic development and whatnot; but suddenly the conversation turns into one that ran along the lines of "I'm from Hong Kong, period. Don't ever fucking say I'm from China."

It's confusing, isn't it? I thought the conversation was all about laughing at Americans. Who knew the joke was on ourselves. We would call people stupid for not knowing the difference between a dialect and a language, but reversedly refuse to acknowledge ourselves as Chinese, or that Hong Kong was a part of China.

'愛. 樂. 樂.'

A concert series by some members of the HKPWO, who believed in the power of music, its power to heal, to touch people, to spread love around. I loved the name of the series- '愛. 樂. 樂.' It embodied everything I believed music could be. Holding so much potential and emotion within the melodies, within the lyrics, influencing you and taking you in with every note it sounds. 

My clarinet teacher was part of this venture, indeed I think she was one of the masterminds behind it, and I was ecstatic when she asked whether I wanted to help out. I literally pounced on the chance. CAS back then made volunteer work such a chore but I wouldn't be lying if I said I thoroughly enjoyed the work. The feeling of having helped out, of making a difference in someone's life was really more than I could ask for. That day, they were playing at Queen Elizabeth's Hospital. It was near Easter as well, so we had a basket of chocolate eggs and bunnies to give out to the patients and staff who came to listen to us. We first visited the wards where children with cancer stayed at, and being used to associate hospitals with older, more wrinkled patients, it was a little disconcerting to see kids so young look so frail. Children should have boundless energy, they should be running around, screaming, scraping their knees; but these kids just looked pale and fragile, some didn't even have the energy to sit up long enough for the half hour performance. There was a toddler, who just learnt to walk properly. And he was there, at the ward. It was painful to wonder what he would have to endure, even though at that moment, he was wobbling around on his two unsteady feet, laughing, and surveying the performance with curious eyes.

I loved the song selections. Being part of the Pop Winds Orchestra, the songs they played were naturally popular ones that everyone knows, or at least has heard of. The songs were all encouraging ones, ones that spoke of dreams, of wishes, of pastimes; ones that spoke of endless love; ones that spoke of inner beauty. Then there were the kiddy songs, like 'Ponyo', where the kids cheered and clapped. I was only another spectator, handing out chocolates occasionally and carrying equipment, but I got goosebumps from listening to them play, I could feel their compassion and I was just as excited as if I had been the one playing the songs. The crowd they drew was amazing, and apparently they were getting loyal fans who turned up to every one of their performances, grannies who would come in with their wheelchairs and sit, front row and center, enjoy the music, and laugh at the jokes made onstage. It was all quite heartwarming.

My teacher said I could possibly play with them next time. If she's not just kidding, it would be pretty amazing. I feel like after all these months writing with The One Love, I'm finally getting some action all the way here, across the oceans, far far away from New York City.