25 April 2001
Ming Lee

Every trip to Hong Kong has two elements for me: language and restaurant menus.

Touch down: new year, new language?

My trip this year to Hong Kong coincided with the Lunar New Year and was an excellent time to go and visit family. We flew out on Cathay Pacific with another few hundred Hong Kong bound Chinese. As I entered the aeroplane I was offered the South China Morning Post and I thumbed through it as soon as I was strapped in. The paper is an English language paper for Hong Kong and an excellent read. I decided that I might as well get up to speed with the latest news in the Special Administrative Region. Already I noticed little things had changed amongst my family: we spoke Cantonese to the stewardesses when ordering and watched the Cantonese films on the in-flight entertainment.

Thirteen hours later we touched down in Hong Kong at Chek Lap Kok airport and I was pleased with the total efficiency of the place when compared to Heathrow. The signs were in Chinese and English. Cantonese could heard all round, spoken a machine-gun pace by the ground crew. If I had any doubt that I was not in Hong Kong it evaporated when I went to Hong Kong Immigration and presented my identification card. Some questions were asked by the officer in Cantonese and then he waved me through, while next to me a British Chinese had to have the questions repeated in English before he was allowed to proceed. ' My first test ' went OK.

'Back in Hong Kong'

Arrival at the airport was with mixed feelings: excitement and apprehension all rolled into one. I could enjoy the food, sights and shopping but apprehensive about being 'back in Hong Kong'. My fear was interacting with other Hong Kong Chinese. I lacked the freedom of expression in English because my Cantonese is so much weaker. My family all expected me to converse fluently; express ideas and opinions and such. I knew for myself that it would be a challenge and my answers would be simple and repetitive. Still, I am always up for a challenge and was willing to do my best and improve as I went along.

I noticed less fluent English being spoken by most of the airport staff and hardly any spoken by the taxi drivers. My ears do prick up when English is being used even badly. Coincidentally, I read an article in the South China Morning Post (www.scmp.com) that performed a quick survey on the level of English speaking in Hong Kong and it found that overall Singapore, Malaysia and increasingly China were getting ahead in the English speaking stakes. Ironically, the fastest level of English uptake in Asia is in China, especially in Shanghai.

'Different in the UK, different in HK'

We arrived at the family home and greeted all the family there. It was wonderful to see everyone, especially our grandmother: small, with a Mao-like jacket and jade bracelets. Strangely, family members anxious for my brother and I to get married to nice Chinese women did not immediately accost us on this delicate subject.

The next few days had me and my family visiting relations and setting off fire-crackers at our ancestor's tombs. After numerous bows and deafening fire-crackers we settled down for shopping and eating around Hong Kong. I felt like a tourist in Hong Kong and this surprised me. I mean, what was I expecting - to blend in seamlessly ? Having been made aware that I was 'different' in the UK, it felt a bit alienating that I was also'different' in Hong Kong. Seems like coming back to Hong Kong just proves to me that I belong somewhere in between these two places.

The Ultimate Test

The ultimate test for me when in Hong Kong was going out to eat. The feeling of inadequacy when ordering food can be quite embarrassing and no doubt all British Chinese have been through this. Asking for a menu in English in any place outside of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon is impossible. There is also a bit of pride involved; I would really feel uncomfortable asking for an English menu in a Chinese restaurant in Hong Kong. We ate in all sorts of places from small shabby alleyways serving noodles to large restaurants where the staff communicated using walkie-talkies because they were so far apart. Last time I was in Hong Kong my cousins and I headed for the familiar linguistic safety of McDonalds instead of braving a restaurant on our own. I always liked the staples and learnt to read a simple menu for rice and noodles and such. During this trip our older relations ordered food for everyone when we went out. My brother and I ended up asking for the bill ('Mai dan, m goi ').

The 'proper' Chinese eateries and noodle shops were the most fun. Shabby looking, noisy and not all that hygienic but quick and cheap. No English spoken here and it was useful to learn and recognise some of the staples on the hand-written menu.

Tongue-tied but talking

After a few days I did feel a lot more comfortable about being in Hong Kong. It helped greatly that my brother and I was conversing in Cantonese everyday with our various family members and we surprised each other by how much we knew and remembered. Some grammatical errors here and there but on the whole, pretty good and coherent. Thanks to our mum who insisted on coaching us when we were young.

I understand what some of my BBC friends feel in not knowing words and hideously mangling the ones that they do know. It is simply embarrassing for many when you can only describe something using the same phrase over and over again. You feel linguistically clumsy and are tongue-tied as you struggle to form words to properly describe something to someone. Going back to Hong Kong where everyone thinks you can speak fluently brings this fact home with a jolt. Still, you always understand enough to know when someone is laughing at your Cantonese.

My Cantonese is passable - I can speak quite well though I do get tongue-tied. This happened a few times in shops. My accent is good; I rarely mispronounce things (I just don't know enough words) and for simpler things I can converse and explain without too much difficulty.

Language links

This pressure to speak Cantonese well comes from myself and the family. Especially amongst British Chinese who are either first-generation British or immigrants themselves. The language for this generation acts as a link to my parents' and their life back in Hong Kong and China. It is as if I can not speak Chinese well, then I am somehow 'less' Chinese amongst my peers and that the link between Hong Kong and the new home is weakened. Not being able to communicate with your parents as well as you can with your friends is also awkward. I know my grandmother cares for my brother and I but what if we couldn't speak a word of Cantonese to her, how could we express our feelings - using flowers ?

So where is home?

And why do I tell all my friends that I am 'going-back to Hong Kong?' It makes it sound like it is home for me and that the UK is somehow transitory. During my time in Hong Kong I noticed a funny thing happening to me: I was defending all things British. This is quite the opposite if I was back in the UK where I defend (or at least ameliorate) negative comments about Chinese, China and Hong Kong. Some of my relations said things about the UK: it was a horrible place to live and that the food was awful and that the Chinese were not welcome. While true in parts, the whole is a lot more complex. Most of the negative comments come from people who have never been or experienced the place they are complaining about so I did try and paint the UK in a better light.

After a week, I was due to come back to the UK. It was cold and it rained when I arrived. My brother and I had lots of work to do once we got back but we both missed Hong Kong. More so now as we were older and the chances of going back as a family lessens. I miss Hong Kong; more so then any other place I visit. Maybe because it shows me a life style and culture that is within my grasp but still elusive. Hong Kong, after all is not my home though my parents would love it if I went back. It is important for me that I still maintain this link to Hong Kong. It is the home for my mother and father and all my older relations. Whenever I go back I realise how much my mother and father gave up to start a new life in the UK. Would I be as successful if I went to live in Hong Kong ?

So Hong Kong always throws up a lot of emotional questions for me. It acts as a litmus test for me. Each time I go back I want to find out how much of me is British and how much of me is Chinese. Every time I have been back, I get a different answer.