Autumn green

Over Skype last week, M&D (mom and dad) were telling me how the light had suddenly and noticeably changed in Southern Oregon, where they live. Autumn is here.

Looking on the map, I see that their latitude (~42 degrees N) is comparable to that of Sapporo or Beijing (~43 N and ~40 N, respectively). In the winter the sun sets as early as 4:30. In the summer, the days stretch until 9 o-clock. In mid-Maine (~44 N), where E has spent many summers, the days stretch and shrink a lot too during the year.

Hong Kong latitude is 22° 15' 0" N. So the days did not get long here in the summer. On the summer solstice, the sun set at 7:10. On the winter solstice, it will set at 5:44.

Even without the cooling light, we feel autumn coming. Part of it is that this marks a full year for us in HK. E put his feet down September 1, and I followed in early October. So we're marking the beginning of a new year, a going-back-to-school feeling.

The other part is that the physical environment *is* changing here too, only not in the way we're used to. The concentrated heat and humidity are receding. Although still hot (~26-30 C), it was pleasant enough the other weekend to walk The Morning Trail, heading east on Robinson Road from our apartment, up Hatton Road, out of the traffic onto a pedestrian trail covered with trees, all the way up to the Peak. I love this walk. The round-trip is about 10K.

Once we reached the top, the views were spectacular. But it's funny -- there are great views all over HK -- so I found myself facing away from the black iron railing and looking at the spectacular colors of the moss growing on the rocks. HK may not have deciduous trees, but after the long, hot, wet summer, the moss turns orange, gold, and electric green:





I had these colors fresh in my mind (and my iPhone) when we finally celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival last Wednesday with our friends A and F.

We started by watching the Tai Hang Fire Dragon dance in Tin Hau, in which a long, scraggly strip of something is stuck all over with incense sticks to appear like a fearsome smoking dragon and paraded through the streets with loud drums. To tell the truth, after getting pushed and shoved by highly respectable HK ladies while we waited for an hour, I would have preferred to watch this YouTube video instead!

The evening took a more charming turn when F and her friend S insisted on lighting beautiful little autumn lanterns with real candles inside. There is something so magical about real candlelight. It reminds me of my childhood going to Waldorf school, and the Anthroposophic exercise of simply observing a candle as a way of meditating on one of the fundamental impulses in the world (light, illumination, awareness, goodness...). The meditation is not *thinking* about light, it's paying attention and experiencing it directly in a very simple form.



Next, we ate.

A is always introducing us to delightful new things. He's totally low-key about it, but something intriguing invariably shows up at the table. This evening it was sea snails.

They were green. The same vivid green as the moss on the Peak, mixed in with grays and blacks.

I so wish I'd taken a photograph, but you know, sometimes whipping out your iPhone and hovering over everyone's food when they're hungry kind of kills the moment. So, here, courtesy of a blog called Japanitup is a photo of a sea snail (this one's not green, though).



What does a sea snail taste like? Not much, to tell the truth. But again, asking what something tastes like is so *Western* now, isn't it? The better question here is what was the texture like? I honestly didn't look at it too closely because I am still a wimp. But once it was in my mouth, my tongue and teeth told me the snail had two parts: one part had a chew that kept on chewing, the other part started out chewy, but eventually gave way to my teeth and broke into bits.

I don't remember a distinctive flavor, but the snails had a noticeable freshness to them. Not fishy at all.

We used long wooden skewers to pull our snails from their shells and dip them in a little sauce that tasted like ceviche. I don't know for sure, but I'm assuming it had lemon, coriander (aka cilantro), and onion or perhaps shallot? It was fresh and delicious. E ate TWO snails! I'm so proud of him. But he does love to dip.

Where did we eat? I have no clue. It was a brand-new hot pot joint in Tin Hau on the second floor off Electric Road. That's as much as I noticed because my eyes were fixed on the paper lantern with the "naked flame" that I was carrying on the tip of a wooden stick through crowds of people, up the steps, and to our table before I blew the candle out.