How About Them Dragons (Dragon Boats, That Is)
端午節快樂 ! Happy Dragon Boat Festival!
The Dragon Boat Festival was another one of those things I had never heard of before moving to Hong Kong. No shocker there, since we were pretty darn land-locked. I'd like to see someone try to take a dragon boat down the rocky river that ran through my hometown.
I believe I've headed down to Stanley 赤柱 cek3 cyu5 every year I've been here. Some years I think I'm going to escape, but that just never happens. This year, my roommate, four coworkers, and countless church friends were racing, so there was no way I would skip.
I was out of bed at the cheery hour of six, blearily trying to make coffee and shove some kind of food down my gullet before heading out the door. My friend Blythe and I were trying to make two coworkers' 9:02 race, and on race day, the bus lines are fearsome things to behold. Not to mention the two-lane road to Stanley.
When we finally leaped off the mini bus and started booking it toward the beach, it was 9:01. The crowd in front of us, clearly in holiday mode, were intent on walking as slowly as humanly possible without actually stopping. By the time our feet hit the sand, it was 9:04. We wriggled our way to the edge of the water just in time to see the far-off dragon boats lurch forward. There was a flash of yellow, the boat we were looking for, and then it was all over.
I guess that's the thing about dragon boat races; they're over so fast. Like watching sprints but with more paddles.
I watched another friends race, I'm pretty sure. I'm 90% sure I watched her race. At least I watched all the races from 10:40 to 11:30, and her race was supposed to be at 11:00. So unless there was a major delay, I saw her race! Of course I couldn't really tell which one was her boat, but I blame that on the fact that half of the dragon boat teams out there were wearing blue uniforms and I was too far away to see anyone's face. I think the Japanese men's team had it right in their neon pink. In my experience, I think there's a correlation between a man's buffness and his willingness to wear pink. The Japanese team was extremely fit.
Speaking of fit, these dragon boat races are teeming with tanned, muscly people. I was surprised that even the corporate teams still generally looked like fitness models and personal trainers. Where did investment bankers get the time to look that good? Aren't they supposed to be working 12 hours a day and all that? Well, one bank team was the exception. They looked like a bunch of bankers that had just swapped their white shirts for jerseys for the day. Does that mean they're more hardworking than the other banks? At least it made me feel better about my own pastiness.
My sister joined Blythe and I to watch another race. We had wormed our way to the far side of the beach, a bit out of the way of the racing lanes. Anna suggested we stand in the shallows to watch the races, one way to avoid the worst of the crowd.
"This water looks a bit sick." I eyed the greasy waves suspiciously.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it," Anna waded in confidently, and Blythe and I slogged behind her a little less confidently. We shifted, settling into the soggy sand.
"You can just wash off later. You know on race day they call the water "Stanley Lemon Tea." Anna shaded her eyes to squint at the boats getting into place.
I cringed. Ok, I'd bite. "Why do they call it "Stanley Lemon Tea?"
"The bathroom line is just too long on race day so, you know." Anna laughed and turned back to the boats that had just started off with the shot. "Let's just say if anyone is hanging out in the water "chatting" they're probably multi-tasking."
I gritted my teeth as another wave of gray foam swirled around my ankles.
Next year. Next year I'm staying home. It was always fun to support friends, hang out on a beach, chat, grab some 粽子.
BUT. Think of air-conditioning, cushy couch, no crowds. I could even grab a lemon tea from the cha chaan teng around the corner. Because as far as lemon tea goes, I'd much rather it be in my cup than around my ankles.
The Dragon Boat Festival was another one of those things I had never heard of before moving to Hong Kong. No shocker there, since we were pretty darn land-locked. I'd like to see someone try to take a dragon boat down the rocky river that ran through my hometown.
I believe I've headed down to Stanley 赤柱 cek3 cyu5 every year I've been here. Some years I think I'm going to escape, but that just never happens. This year, my roommate, four coworkers, and countless church friends were racing, so there was no way I would skip.
I was out of bed at the cheery hour of six, blearily trying to make coffee and shove some kind of food down my gullet before heading out the door. My friend Blythe and I were trying to make two coworkers' 9:02 race, and on race day, the bus lines are fearsome things to behold. Not to mention the two-lane road to Stanley.
When we finally leaped off the mini bus and started booking it toward the beach, it was 9:01. The crowd in front of us, clearly in holiday mode, were intent on walking as slowly as humanly possible without actually stopping. By the time our feet hit the sand, it was 9:04. We wriggled our way to the edge of the water just in time to see the far-off dragon boats lurch forward. There was a flash of yellow, the boat we were looking for, and then it was all over.
I guess that's the thing about dragon boat races; they're over so fast. Like watching sprints but with more paddles.
I watched another friends race, I'm pretty sure. I'm 90% sure I watched her race. At least I watched all the races from 10:40 to 11:30, and her race was supposed to be at 11:00. So unless there was a major delay, I saw her race! Of course I couldn't really tell which one was her boat, but I blame that on the fact that half of the dragon boat teams out there were wearing blue uniforms and I was too far away to see anyone's face. I think the Japanese men's team had it right in their neon pink. In my experience, I think there's a correlation between a man's buffness and his willingness to wear pink. The Japanese team was extremely fit.
Speaking of fit, these dragon boat races are teeming with tanned, muscly people. I was surprised that even the corporate teams still generally looked like fitness models and personal trainers. Where did investment bankers get the time to look that good? Aren't they supposed to be working 12 hours a day and all that? Well, one bank team was the exception. They looked like a bunch of bankers that had just swapped their white shirts for jerseys for the day. Does that mean they're more hardworking than the other banks? At least it made me feel better about my own pastiness.
My sister joined Blythe and I to watch another race. We had wormed our way to the far side of the beach, a bit out of the way of the racing lanes. Anna suggested we stand in the shallows to watch the races, one way to avoid the worst of the crowd.
"This water looks a bit sick." I eyed the greasy waves suspiciously.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it," Anna waded in confidently, and Blythe and I slogged behind her a little less confidently. We shifted, settling into the soggy sand.
"You can just wash off later. You know on race day they call the water "Stanley Lemon Tea." Anna shaded her eyes to squint at the boats getting into place.
I cringed. Ok, I'd bite. "Why do they call it "Stanley Lemon Tea?"
"The bathroom line is just too long on race day so, you know." Anna laughed and turned back to the boats that had just started off with the shot. "Let's just say if anyone is hanging out in the water "chatting" they're probably multi-tasking."
I gritted my teeth as another wave of gray foam swirled around my ankles.
Next year. Next year I'm staying home. It was always fun to support friends, hang out on a beach, chat, grab some 粽子.
BUT. Think of air-conditioning, cushy couch, no crowds. I could even grab a lemon tea from the cha chaan teng around the corner. Because as far as lemon tea goes, I'd much rather it be in my cup than around my ankles.
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