Can a Brotha Get a Fork

It has been a week. A week that has been filled with small adventures while making new friends. The campus is slowly filling up as those students that are part of the Residence Hall Association settle in for orientation.

For all of those that are wondering, I am enjoying the food. I must be honest, the first time that I was confronted with eating with chop sticks, I had horrible flashbacks to PF Changs or any other Chinese Restuarant where I attempted to eat with chopsticks only to consistently give up and grab the fork next to my plate. The case is different here. The plates never have forks next to them; in fact, you have to ask for a fork. My pride is far to strong for that, so I forced myself to do it. Despite the hand cramps and asian giggles from those at surrounding tables (Apparently the Chinese enjoy watching Americans attempt to use chopsticks). I have only eaten with a fork once since I have been here. Yes, I have been eating; and no, I haven't been just buying sandwiches. Additionally, and this will make my mother happy, I haven't been drinking many sodas. The majority of my meals are either accompanied by Jasmine/Green Tea or water.

Continuing this discussion about food. My friends and I did enjoy an evening out with some of the locals. Our colleagues at the institution, Epin and Valentina, are english teachers from Malaysia. One of the Fulbrighters, let's see if you can guess which one, was craving some Indian food so we all set out for Kowloon, which is about 30 minutes south. Once we arrived in Kowloon, we exited the subway and I was amazed to see, BROWN PEOPLE. The restuarant was located in an area where there was nothing but Indians and Africans. My friend Shanita and I looked at each other with a glance that said, "hey, so this is where they stick us." Nonetheless, the food was wonderful. For those that know me, I don't pay much attention to food so I don't remember what I ate. No, it wasn't dog or cat.

Let us chat about religion. One my colleagues from the states practices Daoism. He had decided to visit the Daoist temple in Kowloon, and I decided to go with him. How many times do I get to see a daoist temple in B'ham? The temple was beautiful and what made it more special was that it wasn't a tourist attraction, therefore all the people you see are most likely locals praying. Okay, the little girl below is shaking a can of sticks with an inscritpiton until one of them falls out, then she is suppose to take it to one of the fortune tellers (however, she is actually playing and not praying).

Above, is one of the altars. There were three altars I believe, and each one represented either Confucist, Daoist, or Buddhist (Don't qoute me on that). Another prayer that they do involves the lighting of incense. Once your incenses are ablazed, you go to the altar and bow a couple of times while praying to whatever god you pray to. Then you stick it into the altar. Nobody panic:

I had my crucifix on the entire time, and I prayed to Jesus. We can argue about it later. Once again, I am a people watcher and I loved watching all the people congregate to pray. Adjacent to the temple was a couple of shops that sold small trinkets. My friend (Joe) and I did a little window shopping. It reminded of Mozambique. Venders trying to persuade me to look at there goods, claiming that they will give me a special price, even though I know what that really means. Sadly enough, we had one vender try to convince us that she was from North Carolina. Sure it is possible, but then again, her English was not that good. That was probably the only state she knew. I started to ask her if she liked living up north next to Washington State. Yes, I am that mean sometimes.

Lastly, today is Sunday and I went to Church. The younger sister of a freind of mine recommeneded a church called the Vine Centre (they have a website feel free to google it) located on Hong Kong Island. To be honest, it sounded like a cult at first (The Vine Centre) to me, but it is a church. The service was very contemporary, and the pastor is British. I didn't take any pictures this time, it was an hour and fifteen minute commute, not too mention I have never been to the area. I was too tired to take photographs. I was proud that I found it with little problem, not bad for a boy from a place where public transportation is your next door neighbor or a family member (London helped). Now, the most exciting part of the church. Some Africans actually attend the church also. After the morning service, I quickly approached one of them to ask about my haircut issues. Sorry, I only trust Black folks with my hair. I greeted him and began to ask about Black barber shops in the area, and he looked at me kind of puzzled. He doesn't speak English, a small road block. Actually, he spoke some English, but I was speaking too quickly. He told me that his friend, who also attends the church could cut it. Who says God doesn't make a way. On the other hand, I will hold off on that comment until after he actually cuts my hair.

Tomorrow, we start our Cantonese classes, which is wonderful, because I am tired of waitresses giving me strange looks when I ask whether a dish comes with rice or not. Okay, okay, that only happen once; but it will still be nice to know a little of the language. Well, that's one week down and 47 to go.