---

IN THIS ISSUE

• Pat Moore visits Hong Kong
• Bob Brown writes about one of his memories of Africa
• Mother Jones has some suggestions for reducing your carbon footprint
• Pat forwards a story about a unique solution to a problem
• The editor resurrects an essay from her university days
• Jay, Marilyn Magid, and Pat Moore suggest websites

Pat Moore writes about visiting

HONG KONG

After leaving Shanghai we went to Hong Kong, which is part of China but is not like the rest of China at all. Hong Kong is like a second New York - an unbelievably busy place filled with so many people and neon signs and lights that it is thoroughly confusing.

It was a bit scary as we were without a driver and also an interpreter, but English is often spoken so we thought we could manage after being spoiled in China.

Signs on a busy street

We treated ourselves to modern western hotel rooms as we thought a knowledgeable concierge would come in handy. Friends in Canada had told us about a wonderful experience of having dinner at the Pink Flamingo, famous for having a glass dancing floor over a small waterfall and pool inhabited by pink flamingoes, so we asked Chin, the concierge, to arrange a taxi and reservations for us and dressed for dinner, as this was going to be our one big money extravaganza in Hong Kong!

Street Markets

After talking with Chin, we decided there were many things we had heard about in Hong Kong that we simply could not pass up: taking the tramway ride to the top of the city to see the view of Hong Kong and Victoria Harbour; dinner on a Victoria Harbour fancy junk with tourists from all parts of the world; visiting the University of Science and Technology; viewing Hong Kong from the top of a double-decker bus; attending a Chinese opera (that was fun but gave us all a headache as we were not accustomed to the high-pitched singing, but we thoroughly enjoyed the fabulous costumes and the highly dramatic acting which made it easy to follow the story though we could not understand the language); dinner on a junk boat to visit all the market boats so that we could see all the different items for sale and haggle about the food we wanted, which was then cooked by the assistant junk driver. There were many items to choose from but the cook on the junk pointed to several things that he wanted to cook, so we took a chance on sea urchins, corn on the cob with hot ginger sauce; sea horses and scorpions, lizard legs and iguana, dog liver kebobs, and lots of vegetables. It was quite a memory - eating strange food, cooked by the junk cook, while floating in the middle of Victoria Harbour and looking at the night lights of Hong Kong.

Food market on boat

After chatting with Chin about buying clothing and material, he directed us to the fabric district. William wanted to find a white silk/linen tuxedo jacket to wear to his daughter´s wedding and we all helped him to find a tailor who would have one specially made and ready by the time we were leaving. After that successful purchase, we all set off in different directions as we all had different lists of things to find.

Dinner on a junk in the harbour Click on image to enlarge

It was difficult to decide on a fabric shop as there were hundreds of them, so I stopped for refreshment at a shop advertising a Western menu and had a totally unexpected experience. Having a coffee also were two ladies from Africa who were in Hong Kong to purchase many bolts of colourful cloth for their business in Africa. The two women were part of the women´s movement in Africa providing home-based businesses for independent women. After chatting with them, they invited me to accompany them to their favourite shop to learn more about their business. What an eye-opener! They obviously knew the tastes of their African female customers and knew how to haggle for the best prices and shipment back to Africa. It was a joy to watch.

They also told me that the best way to shop in Hong Kong was to make sure that I was the first one into a shop where there was something that I really wanted but was too expensive. It is absolutely essential for the shop to complete the first sale of the day with the first customer because it will bring them good luck for the rest of the day. It worked - I was able to get many expensive items from shops near the hotel by using this tip.

We were really counting our pennies by this time so we decided to treat ourselves one more time, using the old credit card, and had a marvelous dinner in the revolving restaurant - The Hopewell - overlooking the Victoria Harbour and Hong Kong.

Then we took a short ferry ride to Macau, the Gambling Pearl of the Orient. Gambling has been legal since 1850 and Macau is like an Asian Las Vegas in many ways - but not in noise. Gambling is a very serious matter in Macau and the atmosphere is intense. It was interesting to watch but not much fun - it was too serious, and it was amazing to see how much money changed hands so quickly. Walking around Macau was interesting and we found a beautiful and restful garden named "The Lingering Garden," and we stopped for tea before heading back to the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong and the airport.

William and Bob headed back to Vancouver while Mary and I flew to Thailand for a relaxing week´s holiday before heading back to Canada and real life.

To be continued.

Bob Brown, who lived in Africa for many years, writes about one of his"

AFRICAN MEMORIES

My wife Carol and I were married in the year 1962 and started off by living in the small bush town of Kwekwe, Zimbabwe. The name "kwekwe" is said to originate from the sound made by frogs in a nearby river. The whole area is semi arid. Kwekwe´s main industries are cattle ranching, gold mining, and steel production.

At that time we lived on a property known as the Old Murray Mine. Our house was an ancient and run-down bungalow which was once the mine manager´s residence. The gold mine had been worked out and closed down years before World War II. The bungalow stood on a half acre of dry sandy and rocky land. Imagine if you will, a house where every window and frame was held in place only by layers of paint and putty - termites had eaten away all the wood a long time ago. There were gaps up to 1/2 inch between all inside doors and door frames, giving insects and other small creatures easy access to the entire interior of our house. However, the actual door frames themselves were made from local mopani (ironwood) trees and therefore were impervious to the depredation of ever present termites.

Naturally, both our parents were appalled at the state of our residence, but as this was during the prosperous era of the ill-fated Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland, housing was then at a premium, largely created by a steady influx of foreign immigrants, all seeking to start a new life away from the dreary grime and crime of war-torn Europe. However despite all the odds, Carol and I were wonderfully happy living there.

Our next-door neighbour was a jovial ex-Devonian named Ted Polyblank, who over the passage of time became a close and dear friend of ours.

One weekend when Carol had gone away to visit her parents in Mtoko, Ted asked me for some help. His gardener, Moses, had spotted a cobra entering an air vent in the back wall of his house. Ted knew I had a small-calibre .22 Winchester rifle and asked if I would please dispose of this unwelcome house guest for them. "No problem," said I, and with a full magazine in the rifle, took up a position overlooking the air vent in question some 20 yards away. Before long I was rewarded by the sight of a snake´s head peering from the vent. After waiting a few seconds, the rest of the snake began to flow out from the wall. I took aim, fired, and missed. The bullet hit the wall just above the snake, which then promptly disappeared straight back into the air vent like greased lightening!

The next moment there was a loud screech, followed by a terrific crash from inside the house. In all the excitement, no-one had given a thought to warning Moses´ wife, Rosina, of what was going on outside. Rosina was at the time busy cooking Moses´ dinner of meat stew and sadza (a thick corn porridge). The sudden loud bang from the rifle gave her a bad enough fright, but when a six-foot-long and deadly cobra shot out from behind the cooker and sped between her legs straight out through the open front door, poor Rosina jumped to one side and in so doing, upset the entire pot of stew all over the floor!

To say that heated words followed after the event would be an understatement. Rosina was absolutely furious and she immediately tore a strip off both Ted and Moses in no uncertain manner! As for me, I had suddenly remembered that I urgently needed to do something else in town and quickly disappeared for the afternoon before Rosina could find me. Afterwards, when things had eventually calmed down and peace was restored, Ted, Moses and I had a quiet chat together and we soon arrived at the unanimous conclusion that womenfolk appeared to have no sense of humour whatsoever!

This incident is just one of the many reasons why I loved my life in Africa.

From Mother Jones magazine come these suggestions for

REDUCING YOUR CARBON FOOTPRINT

If you could only choose one thing to do in your lifetime to reduce your carbon footprint, what should it be?

Switch out your bulbs; insulate your house; recycle.... Frankly, it´s all a little overwhelming. Wouldn´t it be great to know which personal conservation activities get you the most carbon-reducing bang for your buck? Researchers at Oregon State University calculated the lifetime impact of a few popular ones. Here´s what they found:

Recycling newspaper, magazines, glass, plastic, aluminum, and steel cans: 19 tons of CO2 saved;

Replacing old refrigerator with energy-efficient model: 21 tons saved;

Replacing ten 75-w incandescent bulbs with 25-w Energy-efficient lights: 40 tons saved;

Replacing single-glazed windows with energy-efficient windows: 133 tons saved;

Reducing miles driven from 231 to 155 per week: 162 tons saved;

Increasing car´s fuel economy from 20 to 30 mpg: 163 tons saved.

So if you can´t afford to replace your fridge (or you´re emotionally attached to your avocado green late ´70s model), drive 10 fewer miles a week. If you rent and can´t persuade your landlord to upgrade your windows, drive 62 fewer miles a week (um, time to buy a bike).

The bottom line: Keep recycling. Switch out those lightbulbs. But whatever you do, cut down on your car time, and if you must drive, do it in a fuel-efficient car.

Pat Moore sends this

CHICKEN STORY

Farmer John lived on a quiet rural highway, but as time went by, the traffic built up at an alarming rate. The traffic was so heavy and so fast that his chickens were being run over at a rate of three to six a day.

So one day Farmer John called the sheriff´s office and said, "You´ve got to do something about all these people driving so fast and killing all of my chickens."

"What do you want me to do?" asked the sheriff.

"I don´t care, just do something about those crazy drivers!"

So the next day the county workers went out and erected a sign that said:

"SLOW: SCHOOL CROSSING"

Three days later Farmer John called the sheriff and said, "You´ve got to do something about these drivers. The school crossing sign seems to make them go even faster."

So the sheriff sent out the county workers and they put up a new sign: "SLOW: CHILDREN AT PLAY"

That really sped them up, so Farmer John called and called and called every day for three weeks. Finally, he asked the sheriff, "Your signs are doing no good. Can I put up my own?"

The sheriff told him, "Sure thing, put up your own sign." He was going to let Farmer John do just about anything in order to get him to stop calling every day to complain.

The sheriff got no more calls from Farmer John. Three weeks later, curiosity got the best of the Sheriff and he decided to give Farmer John a call. "How´s the problem with those drivers? Did you put up your sign?"

"Oh, I sure did. And not one chicken has been killed since then. I´ve got to go. I´m very busy." He hung up the phone.

The sheriff was really curious now and he thought to himself, "I´d better go out there and take a look at that sign. It might be something that we could use to slow down drivers."

So the sheriff drove out to Farmer John´s house, and his jaw dropped the moment he saw the sign. It was spray painted on a sheet of wood:

"NUDIST COLONY - GO SLOW AND WATCH OUT FOR CHICKS!"

FROM THE EDITOR´S DESK

This essay was written many years ago for an English class in third year university, but I believe it is still a relevant question: Now that Saint Christopher has been demoted from being the patron saint of ferrymen, and by extension, all travellers, how do the Quebecois feel about driving?

On one occasion when I lived in Quebec, I was almost convinced that someone was watching over us and that the Quebecois´ faith was not misplaced.

It was one of those bitterly cold, clear nights that they often get in Quebec in the winter. I was returning home from a night shift at the local newspaper office, and climbed gratefully aboard a bus that finally appeared at my stop. It was closely followed by another bus, and both were filled with workmen who were evidently just getting off shift too.

The two buses leap-frogged from one stop to the next: while one was letting off passengers, the other would pass it. Gradually a race developed over the icy roads (the kids skated on them in the daytime) until both buses echoed with the excited cries of the delighted passengers. I just sat there and quaked.

Whenever my bus had to stop to let someone off, the men all cried, "Vite! Vite!" and practically shoved him out the door. The buses sped along, the drivers jockeying for the lead, urged on by their passengers.

What uproarious fun they had, secure in their faith in Saint Christopher! What miserable apprehension I suffered, lacking that faith!

I wonder if the French Canadiens still enjoy their driving as much as they did in the days when Saint Christopher made up for their lack of caution?

THIS WEEK´S SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Jay sent me photos of two sofas made from car bodies; I believed they were photoshopped. So he went looking online and found absolute proof that cars (or their equivalent) have been made from furniture:

Pat Moore forwards the URL for a song from Susan Boyle´s debut album to be released in November:

Bruno Tofts is a sculptor and painter who created a fairyland in the forest surrounding his home in Australia. To see the pictures of his art and the devastation wrought by a bush fire which destroyed the forest and his home, go to