Hong Kong Dragons--Unique Food and People

I think we've discovered a metaphor for Dia's new life in Hong Kong.

I am now in Mong Kok - Tolo Harbor [most famous for it's theme'd streets and fascinating street markets,] and here I have discovered Dragon Fruit! It can be either red or pink with creepy, green tendrils on the outside, and the flesh inside is either white or red with black seeds. It has an uncanny ability of staying cold to the eating, even after hours of tracting and bumping around in the inside of a backpack.

I am food shopping again, having totally forgotten how to hunt and gather for myself in the last five months of automatic dinners provided at the MTC, and by Aunt Shelly. While relearning the basics of food procurement, I've been totally overwhelmed by Hong Kong's offerings. I have tasted fish balls, coconut pudding with red beans (not a favorite), tofu skin (thin sheets of bean curd), almond crisps, (which are sweet and yummy), burned bbq pork over rice (cha siu faahn), fruit salad with black beans, hard candy (that was soft and soggy), and we are making POPSICLES! It's not as hard as I thought to find gluten-free. Health Valley Corn Flakes are right there on the shelf.

[Hey! Mom talking now: I baked Chinese almond crisps for her Hong Kong going away party!]

The people here are also a total alternative taste sensation. In the mornings we run early, before the masses leave for work. Our missionary wake time is different here than anywhere else in the world. We get up later; our bed time is eleven o'clock--and we have yet to discover a cut-off time at night when it is inappropriate to call. In the early morning the aging population is out and about working or exercising in any open space. They are carrying their fancy little dogs (no mutts!) and walk birds on leashes. They have wide, friendly, open smiles yet there seems to not be enough teeth to go around. They seem to have no qualms about salvaging from the garbage--there are many people who dig through the dumpsters/trash cans for use-able items although, yes, they do defecate in the dumpsters too.

We are not called greenie missionaries here, but babies and the teacher companions are called "mothers". The crazy landlady, who dashes about in her silk grandma pajamas up and down the stairs, in and out of our apartment, still speaking what I can't understand, but what Sister Bahk translates as promises to fix the problems in our apartment (I can't see any--except for the creepy washing machine) --anyway, the landlady giggles, as she refers to the two of us as Momma Bahk and Baby Bahk. [Mom is translating the spelling of that name, so who knows really? Her english is so garbled that we don't understand it all the time now and we are asking her to spell most things.]

Our name tags are in English and Chinese characters and many people speak some English so Sister Black gets teased a lot for her surname which means white.

We have enjoyed so many tender mercy-like miracles. Someone on the MTR [mass transit railway] approached us and said, "I'm looking for a church." Another person telephoned looking for a religion for their son to investigate for a school project. We approached people on Mother's Day because there were so many going to the shrines to pray and carrying carnations to their dead ancestors--what a golden opportunity to teach of the hereafter. Most of our conversations begin with weather or to learn of their culture, and the individual brings up religion on their own--there is a great thirst for religion in a nation which has been parched for so long.

There is an interesting colloquial name for white men here who have married native women. They are called Larrys. [imagine here some delightfully funny story about "larrys" but Mom can't remember it to relate it, so there you go.] We had a conversation with such a couple and the man joked that he had given up religion for Lent. There does seem to be a national trend for all things American. Oddly enough, the opposite viewpoint of Americans toward lighter skin as many people employ methods (actually carrying umbrellas) to prevent any tanning.

Now, Mom, for your Mother's Day present. I have been invited to sing with the choir on the 24th, when Elder Holland and Elder Bednar come to visit. (Actually, it was more like, "Hey, welcome, glad you are here, do you sing soprano? here is your part, sing now.") I was asked to say something at sacrament for the Mothers Day meeting and I spoke of the significance of Mothers, specifically telling of how important is the impact of Mothers who challenge us and are a good example for us and I told stories of my Mom. You are the greatest! Happy Mother's Day.

I send my love to everyone there, so good to talk to family, particularly Aunt Jan and Uncle Tom who were also at my parents house listening. I love you!

Sister Dia Darcey

So, back to the fruit metaphor, I'd say that Dia is finding that no matter how odd people appear on the outside, that we are all sweet and delicious to the Lord in the inside.

[Please continue praying for the missionary efforts in China--that China can be opened to all religions by the native people who come from every other province to Hong Kong and Taiwan in search of Christ.]