I'm staying with Guye from my London University course in Acupuncture. Her parents are actually from near Harbin in the North, but business - shoes, then (fake Gucci) bags brought them south. Her mother is part of the new wave of Buddhism spreading across China who follows a master exiled in California. They even have a shrine with the dodgy haircut master in ybeir libing room hidden behind a square veiling-to-floor curtain!
This morning I joined the family for Sunday chanting (church-like) boat filled with nodding/bowing followers and tanks and boxes of fish. For a mere 100 yuan (or more if you are hoping for greater wishes and wealth) you ride out for 20 mins along the Pearl River where the boat turns and with it the battle of baskets and splashing of fish and water as the five thousand fish are fed back into the river.
I was too absorbed with photographing and didn't want to get my hands and trouser legs wet. I was reprimanded by a young woman who said 'don't take photo, it's too dangerous'. I'm not sure if she meant that I might lose my camera overboard in the scaly brawl or whether she feared the Party would seize it as evidence of religious cultism.
By then Guye found me and insisted that I fish for my salvation or my school stats. I managed to find a gap in the crowd to scoop a scared catfish which barely moved before throwing it into the water. I forgot to ask a question or make a wish. In fact I was just hoping that the poor thing would survive.
I requested Dim Sum for last lunch but I was yoyo'd up & down the street once the taxi dropped me off (at the address written on paper for the cabbie). Mandarin is not quite there... yet. As the pinyin (transliteration of Chinese characters) wasn't written on the restaurant, I eventually conceded and rang Ah Tao to come and find me. This meant that I missed out on the ordering and it was all pretty fried and heavy. So Royal China in London is still top of my dim sum list!
The Guangdong Provincial
Museum was in the flashy new financial district - Canary Wharf Canton style. A room was dedicated to Tae Chew (Chow Zhou) woodcarving. Normally I wouldnt be interested but as it was the style of my ancestral home it all took on meaning.
The taxi dropped us off in the textile selling district. What a contrast to the bussle of Sunday trading - materials on all forms of transportation at an impasse!
Then escape to Daoist temple no.3 built 200 yrs ago by an astrologer xd monk. Next To Sun Yat Sen University
Where we practiced and compared taiji forms.
After a takeway dinner I watched Rachel having tuina massage and acupuncture.
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