Cheung Chao Island

My Chinese Good Luck…..

And I don’t mean a Fortune Cookie

Seeing as how I am now time travelling backwards, I have started thinking about how I got started on my trail to the East.  I just decided one day to go to Hong Kong.  To my family, this looked like a crazy idea.  This was era 1988 or thereabouts, and we were now trading at Victoria Park Market in Auckland.  Just a little stall, seven days a week, but it became our lifestyle.

I was interested in sourcing products from overseas that we could sell in Auckland, and so Hong Kong seemed a good starting point. In the face of fierce opposition from my husband , I casually packed my only luggage, a small cabin bag, and told everyone I was going to Sydney for a few days. Which was true, that’s where the plane put down, and I didn’t bother to elaborate on my plans to venture further afield. I had actually no plans, went to a travel agent a couple of days later, who sold me a ticket to Bali and onwards to Hong Kong, travelling the next day.  The major problem I struck, silly me, was that my passport only had six months left on it, and that would have me stopped from entering Bali.

So, with the prospect of the plane leaving in the morning bound for Bali, and me not on it, I phoned the Indonesian Consulate, based in Sydney, great people, who kindly stayed in their office a bit later  to give me an entry visa to Indonesia. Then began my epic travels to Bali. But that’s another whole story. This one is about Hong Kong.

A friend had given me her ex-pat son’s phone number and I contacted him. He took me around Hong Kong, showed me the sights, helped me with my business research, and then, joy of joys, he took me on a day trip by ferry to one of the outer islands of Hong Kong.  Cheung Chao.   The big ferry was very clean and comfortable, we went right out in the South China Sea. As we approached the island, there were a number of large wooden fishing junks strung out along the outer perimeter of the harbour, what a sight!!  To me, something out of Marco Polo.

My friend’s son was taking me to meet another expat who was living with his Chinese girlfriend on the island. What a charming village Cheung Chao was in those days. No cars, everyone was on foot, and from a distance out to sea it looked a lot like the Greek fishing villages, very colourfully painted.

After lunch, we went for a walk around the island, visiting small temples all along the way. We finally came to quite a large temple, and, as I looked in the door, I saw a group of people throwing sticks onto the floor.  When I asked our Chinese girl companion what they were doing, she said they were throwing joss sticks to predict their future.

“Okay, she said to me, “you’re next”. The others had had their fortunes told, it was always the same, good luck, lots of money, lots of children etc, tourist stuff I suspect. I went reluctantly forward to the man conducting the ceremony, took the joss sticks and threw them.  As I looked at him, his face suddenly changed dramatically, as though he was in shock.  When I asked our companion what had happened, she said “You have thrown one of the highest numbers anyone can achieve”. She also said that he didn’t believe that a Westerner could come into his holy temple and do that. It was unheard of.

The meaning to me of that joss stick throw was that I am an exceptionally lucky person, and while I have no religious views, I have clung to my Chinese Good Luck for the rest of my life, and when the chips were down, it was there for me.