The Wan Chai crab

The fish is struggling violently in the shallow water, splashing in it's desperate attempt to survive. Unfortunately for the fish, even if it were to escape the styrofoam container, it would only be able to flap, hopelessly, on the dry pavement below. It's just about impossible for it to reach the harbour, 500 or so meters away.

While I am considering the fish's slim odds of survival, a voice next to me snaps me to attention.

"Wallet!" demands Serena, my girlfriend. She has finished bartering with the seafood vendor. I zoned out, as I often do, when the conversation turned to Cantonese.  

We came to the wet market to get supplies for tonight's dinner, and have apparently settled on four crab. I've never eaten crab before; well at least not crab that actually looked like a crab, only dips and deep fried meat that I was told was crab.

It can be an intimidating experience, for a foreigner, shopping at the wet markets in Hong Kong. As soon as you enter you are assaulted by a fishy smell and vendors yelling desperately in Cantonese. If you are able to make it past the fish, you enter the pig zone where a freshly slaughtered hog's edible parts are all on display. Everything from it's ribs to it's organs are hung, as if to dry, in the steamy 45 degree heat.

While the seafood vendor busily gathers the crab, one has worked it's way to the edge, and as the vendor reaches for its nearby brother, her hand knocks the crab out of the container.  

The crab crashes to the ground, miraculously it is able to land on it's feet. Like an escaped convict who's improbable plan has somehow worked, it looks around unsure of itself, before quickly darting out of sight.

Serena is wondering about the best way to cook tonight's dinner, and asks the vendor for her advice. As the conversation again turns to Cantonese, my attention drifts to the escaped crab...

After darting between two styrofoam boxes, the crab looks around to ensure that no one is following. Then, after a few tense seconds, it cautiously climbs underneath a piece of cardboard.

There it waits, for the cover of night, when its chances of escape are greater.

However, just as the crab settles down for some much deserved rest, the world starts to shake, and the platform begins to roll forward.

A very tanned shirtless man pushes the cart, yelling at shoppers, cigarette in mouth, to get out of the way.

As the man continues, half of his load begins to slide, causing the crab to dangle precariously off the edge. As it desperately tries to get back on the platform, something catches it's attention. A small stream running into a crevasse on the side of the road, the crab releases its pincer grip, and splashes into the sewer below.

After a series of gentle slides and waterfalls, the crab finds itself in a large pool, where several streams have come together. It begins to hear a terrible rushing sound, and as it begins to question the safety of it's escape route, is suddenly sucked through a small tunnel and shot to the other side.

After regaining its composure, Crab looks around to find herself in a small pool of water which is lazily winding it's way to the sea.

The Sea!

Crab frantically kicks her legs, desperate to finish the improbably escape. Just as the harbour is within her grasp, a terrible shriek is heard from above. A great bird grasps Crab in its talons, and swoops away.

Crab struggles to get free, so close to freedom, she won't quit yet.

Crab manages to get a pincer loose, and uses it to pry out the rest of her body. Straining under the effort she knows it's now or never...

"Hey! Are you ready to go?" My girlfriend's voice snaps me back to the Wan Chai wet market.

"Oh, shit...Sorry?" I respond stunned.

"I'm all done, let's get going. What were you looking at?"

"Nothing, I mean...nothing. Yea, I'm good to go"

As we leave the market I look back over my shoulder, hoping to view a glimpse of the escaping crustacean. Nothing, the crab is already far away, to the sea.

A melodramatic account of my morning commute

"Shit, shit, shit". I mutter under my breath, while gathering the last of my things.

No matter how many times I vow to not be in a morning rush I still find myself in a panic.

I fly out the door, with the fleeting feeling that I am forgetting something, and take the agonizingly slow elevator down to the street.

I'm rushing down the road, but struggle to move past the hundreds of umbrellas floating in front of me. Some move agonizingly slow, others are as desperate as I am, but there is no order, just the random dance of jellyfish.

I turn the corner and can finally see the entrance to the underground. "It will be cool there" I say to myself "Must get there".

The weather report said it's 32 degrees, but with the humidity it feels like 45.

Within minutes of leaving my air-conditioned apartment, a thin layer of sweat settles on my skin, and I am grateful for the disguise offered by the light rain.

I'm going to make it, I will soon be in the comfort of the metro station air-conditioning, but suddenly the sea of umbrellas crashes to a halt.

I force my way through, only to see a red blur zoom past me. I can feel the wind off the taxi. A shiver crawls up my spine, but there is no time to process my near death experience.

I reorient myself, fainted paint on the asphalt informs me to look right, not left. I look both ways, all clear. I hurry across the road and into the safety of the cave.

Following a series of steps, I stumble down a long tunnel. It's nice and cool, and best of all there are no more umbrellas, which I escaped with only minor facial injuries.

I come to a series of gates, I hesitate, I know I'm supposed to do something. I watch as others move past me. That's it! I shove my hand in my pocket and fumble for something, anything. "Aha!" I proclaim proudly, as I take the card out of my pocket and thrust it forward.

Beep. I push past the rotating barrier to the other side.

I'm going to make it!

As I come to the top of the escalator, a wave rushes forward. I hesitate, worried about drowning in the mob, but then put my head down, in an attempt to swim to the other side.

Suddenly I am enveloped by suits, ties and designer fashion bags; there is no escape, the escalator is out of sight.

I panic, and push blindly through the crowd searching for a way out.

I turn around, and amidst the hordes of people moving upward, there is one escalator free. It's glowing, heavenly, and I hurry towards it.

As I float gently down, I observe the many figures moving in the opposite direction, looking down at their phones, all I can see is black hair rising slowly past me.

A train approaches as I make it to the tracks, and I narrowly miss being hit as people explode out the doors, like a shook can of pop.

As the last drop leaves the train, I slip on, I breath, and check the time on my phone. I'm going to be okay.

I relax, and turn off my lizard brain, until tomorrow.

Chasing sugar high children

"Excuse me sir, we have football practice on the other side of the gym, so you will have to control your kids"

Perfect, just what I needed to hear. I thought having my class moved to the gym would allow me to play games, and maybe, just maybe, tire the kids out so they will sit still long enough for me to explain the next activity.

Instead I am forced to run around collecting wayward children who are more interested in kicking soccer balls than they are about learning english words, such as "pencil" and "bus".

It's not that they are difficult to catch, but there are 10 of them and only one of me. Usually I can wrestle 3 of them back to their seats, but if 4 run away, it's a whole new game.

I'm not sure how I got myself into this situation in the first place, but apparently it's because I have a nice smile.

I've only been in Hong Kong for one week, and within an hour of applying for jobs I've scheduled two interviews. Things are looking good! I figured teaching English couldn't be too difficult, I speak it all the time.

Though I said only 5 words during the initial 30 minutes of the interview, my future boss announced "You have a nice big smile! So I think this will work out" Feeling uncomfortable, but pleased to have secured work so quickly, I agreed to start 3 days later, no training, just me and ten five year olds, for 3 hours each day.

Now, cursing under my breath, I am attempting to herd the children back to their seats, so that the soccer coach, who is having a much easier time engaging his kids, won't lose his cool.

It doesn't help that the kids' snacks were laced with enough sugar to turn the whole group into a flock of hummingbirds.

After seeing the packages of oreo cookies, and kit-kat chocolate bars, being flung enthusiastically from their back-packs, following my announcement of "Snack time!", I began to loosen up my muscles, by doing some light stretching, to get ready for the inevitable chase.

While my dietitian brain cringed when I saw what the kids were eating, what I really wondered was whether or not the children's parents were intentionally trying to punish the teacher.

"Okay, everybody listen to teacher Joshua!" I yell to the group, finally having them back within the vicinity of the table. "New rule, you may only eat while you are seated at the table, if you do not listen, I will take your snacks away until the end of class".

I've heard on numerous occasions that you shouldn't use food to bribe children, or as a reward; and while my new rule could hardly fit those two categories, I now understand why this is such a popular strategy.

The fear of having their snacks confiscated, snaps the children to attention, and they shuffle grudgingly to their seats.

I'm satisfied, but painfully aware of how short this will last. So I stand, observing their behaviour, and plot my next move.