On Fire by Thomas Anderson
“Next time no dumplings for you,” Kim razzes.
“What?” goes Zak, having trouble rooting through his pockets to pay the driver, whose door he stands next to.
He had struggled to clamber out of the antediluvian BMW a little too full of lunch from a Chinese restaurant. Of course, the cab was cramped for someone with his tall frame, and his muscles were still sore from the morning’s big swim. But he had made short work of two orders of dim sum at the restaurant and Kim was right to remind him about it.
Kim and Zak stand on a hot sidewalk in the full sun on the main drag of Aberdeen, the cab quickly disappearing. Aberdeen town center lines up on the other side of the street, a fifty to sixty story rise of slender, elegant reeds of residential towers clustered in various groups to create an urban cliff along the harbor’s edge. An impossibly verdant mountain coated in the darkest green rises precipitously over the top of the hi-rises. Zak is amazed that the tunnel they just passed through, that brought them to Aberdeen from Hong Kong, was able to penetrate through the thick base of such a large mountain.
“This way please,” says the always taciturn Yuan, who turns about and heads off. Zak and Kim follow.
Yuan takes them along the Aberdeen waterfront Promenade with its old elms and broad walkway, its iron railing and lantern style street lights. For the moment they are only young tourists walking off a big lunch, enjoying the view of Ap Lei Chau, the island mountain sitting on the other side of the harbor. Both sides of the harbor are littered with moored vessels of every kind. There are numerous old sampans of wood with sheets of blue or green tarp stretched over frames to ward off the sun, to sleek white yachts with expensive composite hulls. And on shore behind the array of boats there are always more soaring residential towers. They lie in every direction, as far as the eye can see.
Finally they come to the end of the promenade and step down to the edge of the water where a brightly ornate temple boat awaits a line of tourists. The tourists, mostly Chinese, are on an excursion around the harbor past what little remains of the floating village of the Tanka people. Of course, they also want to see the heavily decorated Floating Restaurants in the harbor.
“Ahoy!” shouts Yuan.
A young man in a white knit shirt and khaki pants, who stands mid-ship in the glory of the temple boat, turns suddenly about. He whips his head to the familiar sound of Yuan’s voice. In an instant, a broad grin breaks across his face and he shouts back.
“What do you think this is? Gilligan’s Island?”
The man places his hands on his hips in a sign of vexation.
Yuan moves deftly, seemingly covering the distance past the crowd and the boat in no time. By time Zak and Kim arrive the two men have finished shaking hands and welcoming each other.
“This is Li Shuang, a friend of my family. He will take us to our boat.”
With this, Li steps to the fantail and addresses the assembly waiting on the dock, looking especially at their tour guide. They will need to wait for the next tour boat to arrive, which shall be only momentarily. He expresses deep regret. But if any of the tourists are disappointed they do not appear to show it.
Li steps back to the front, ushering them to take their seats and, within moments, they cast off. Zak and Kim sit opposite each other on the cushioned benches that line each side of the boat. Yuan goes forward to sit with Li, who takes up the pilot’s seat.
The low hum of the engine accompanies them as they languidly sail through a maze of fishing vessels that have come to park in the safety of the harbor in anticipation of bad weather. The boat finds the main channel and passes under Ap Lei Chau bridge. Kim notices the many strings of lights along the bridge that shine at night for tourists. Aberdeen may be a bedroom community of Hong Kong but it still has a life of its own, based both on tourism and the economics of the harbor.
Kim notices that the sky, once so clear, is quickly giving way to strands of low grey cloud and a growing humidity. The fresh breezes of earlier have been replaced by an ominous stillness that fills the air.
Yuan comes back to join them and sits next to Kim.
“We will have to hurry. The weather has decided to take a turn.”
They watch the yacht club roll by and after that a public marina.
“Li knows my family boat well. He came often on our family’s outings when we were kids and he always knows where to find it,” Yuan tells them.
Zak and Kim are surprised to see that that the boat they are being taken to is a small, traditional Chinese junk, a restoration and a rarity.
Yuan, who has been watching their expressions, says, “I think you will like this.”
“I’m sure we will,” answers Kim. “It’s beautiful.”
“My father is very proud of this boat. You would not believe how much work he has done on it.”
“Oh yes I would,” says Zak.
Thanking Li, they finally leave the shelter of the tourist boat, its roof as colorful and elaborate as that of any to be found in a real temple, and ascend a ladder from the pier to step aboard the junk. Its dark, rich wooden hull is ringed by a netting of tires to protect it. Yuan unties the moorings and joins them, providing instruction on removing the deck’s protective tarps.
Juan has the boat soon underway, heading East out of the harbor past the twin skeletal towers of a ride at the cliff side amusement, Ocean Park. A line of colorful cable cars stretches to the summit of a mountain. A ferris wheel, roller coaster and other rides are set among a crazy quilt of buildings that descend to the water’s edge.
The first drops of rain begin to fall as they leave the breakwater. This is followed by further instructions from Yuan, which Zak and Kim are quick to carryout. They all make it back into the wheelhouse before the rain really cuts loose. The once grey skies are rapidly turning black.
Chapter 24
“What?” goes Zak, having trouble rooting through his pockets to pay the driver, whose door he stands next to.
He had struggled to clamber out of the antediluvian BMW a little too full of lunch from a Chinese restaurant. Of course, the cab was cramped for someone with his tall frame, and his muscles were still sore from the morning’s big swim. But he had made short work of two orders of dim sum at the restaurant and Kim was right to remind him about it.
Kim and Zak stand on a hot sidewalk in the full sun on the main drag of Aberdeen, the cab quickly disappearing. Aberdeen town center lines up on the other side of the street, a fifty to sixty story rise of slender, elegant reeds of residential towers clustered in various groups to create an urban cliff along the harbor’s edge. An impossibly verdant mountain coated in the darkest green rises precipitously over the top of the hi-rises. Zak is amazed that the tunnel they just passed through, that brought them to Aberdeen from Hong Kong, was able to penetrate through the thick base of such a large mountain.
“This way please,” says the always taciturn Yuan, who turns about and heads off. Zak and Kim follow.
Yuan takes them along the Aberdeen waterfront Promenade with its old elms and broad walkway, its iron railing and lantern style street lights. For the moment they are only young tourists walking off a big lunch, enjoying the view of Ap Lei Chau, the island mountain sitting on the other side of the harbor. Both sides of the harbor are littered with moored vessels of every kind. There are numerous old sampans of wood with sheets of blue or green tarp stretched over frames to ward off the sun, to sleek white yachts with expensive composite hulls. And on shore behind the array of boats there are always more soaring residential towers. They lie in every direction, as far as the eye can see.
Finally they come to the end of the promenade and step down to the edge of the water where a brightly ornate temple boat awaits a line of tourists. The tourists, mostly Chinese, are on an excursion around the harbor past what little remains of the floating village of the Tanka people. Of course, they also want to see the heavily decorated Floating Restaurants in the harbor.
“Ahoy!” shouts Yuan.
A young man in a white knit shirt and khaki pants, who stands mid-ship in the glory of the temple boat, turns suddenly about. He whips his head to the familiar sound of Yuan’s voice. In an instant, a broad grin breaks across his face and he shouts back.
“What do you think this is? Gilligan’s Island?”
The man places his hands on his hips in a sign of vexation.
Yuan moves deftly, seemingly covering the distance past the crowd and the boat in no time. By time Zak and Kim arrive the two men have finished shaking hands and welcoming each other.
“This is Li Shuang, a friend of my family. He will take us to our boat.”
With this, Li steps to the fantail and addresses the assembly waiting on the dock, looking especially at their tour guide. They will need to wait for the next tour boat to arrive, which shall be only momentarily. He expresses deep regret. But if any of the tourists are disappointed they do not appear to show it.
Li steps back to the front, ushering them to take their seats and, within moments, they cast off. Zak and Kim sit opposite each other on the cushioned benches that line each side of the boat. Yuan goes forward to sit with Li, who takes up the pilot’s seat.
The low hum of the engine accompanies them as they languidly sail through a maze of fishing vessels that have come to park in the safety of the harbor in anticipation of bad weather. The boat finds the main channel and passes under Ap Lei Chau bridge. Kim notices the many strings of lights along the bridge that shine at night for tourists. Aberdeen may be a bedroom community of Hong Kong but it still has a life of its own, based both on tourism and the economics of the harbor.
Kim notices that the sky, once so clear, is quickly giving way to strands of low grey cloud and a growing humidity. The fresh breezes of earlier have been replaced by an ominous stillness that fills the air.
Yuan comes back to join them and sits next to Kim.
“We will have to hurry. The weather has decided to take a turn.”
They watch the yacht club roll by and after that a public marina.
“Li knows my family boat well. He came often on our family’s outings when we were kids and he always knows where to find it,” Yuan tells them.
Zak and Kim are surprised to see that that the boat they are being taken to is a small, traditional Chinese junk, a restoration and a rarity.
Yuan, who has been watching their expressions, says, “I think you will like this.”
“I’m sure we will,” answers Kim. “It’s beautiful.”
“My father is very proud of this boat. You would not believe how much work he has done on it.”
“Oh yes I would,” says Zak.
Thanking Li, they finally leave the shelter of the tourist boat, its roof as colorful and elaborate as that of any to be found in a real temple, and ascend a ladder from the pier to step aboard the junk. Its dark, rich wooden hull is ringed by a netting of tires to protect it. Yuan unties the moorings and joins them, providing instruction on removing the deck’s protective tarps.
Juan has the boat soon underway, heading East out of the harbor past the twin skeletal towers of a ride at the cliff side amusement, Ocean Park. A line of colorful cable cars stretches to the summit of a mountain. A ferris wheel, roller coaster and other rides are set among a crazy quilt of buildings that descend to the water’s edge.
The first drops of rain begin to fall as they leave the breakwater. This is followed by further instructions from Yuan, which Zak and Kim are quick to carryout. They all make it back into the wheelhouse before the rain really cuts loose. The once grey skies are rapidly turning black.
Chapter 24