JustAGuyinHK

One of the places I wanted to go was ‘the bar.’

My father enjoyed going to the bar after work. My brother called it the ‘Old Man Gay Bar,’ but no one was gay there. They were mostly men over the age of 70. The bartenders were mostly women, the same age as my father. The conversations were repetitive – usually about the ‘good old days’ of a city and a time when things were easier, according to them. It never was, but there are always new challenges as we move through life. Throughout my high school years, his bar would change every few years as new places opened and closed. I would go with him to bond over what is going on in my life and his.

Dad worked early in the morning and late in the afternoon or evening when I was in High School. He would get up at 1 or 2 in the morning to pick up vegetables, then take them to the Ontario Food Terminal in Toronto to sell them to grocery stores and small vegetable and fruit stands around the province. The hours made it hard since when he would come home, he’d be tired and worn down. The only time we would talk would be in the bar.

His last bar was J. Taps near the beer store and the Queen Elizabeth Highway that cuts through St. Catharines. I wasn’t sure what to expect after COVID. Many bars and restaurants in Hong Kong have been struggling and closing shop. With the guys, my father’s age, and remembering how much they drank, I wasn’t sure if anyone would be around. It has been in operation since the early 2000s under various names.

Today, it is called Pitchers. It is similar to most Ontario bars I have known—many TVs showing sports at various points in the day. The woman at the back of the bar asks for my order, and I get a Labatt’s 50. It was my father’s beer when I was a child. He would switch through his life, but it was always 50 for me. It’s a pale lager that was popular long ago, but now it’s not as popular. It’s known as ‘old man beer.’

On the bar, there were plaques, and I asked about them. They were long-time customers. I remembered some of the patients coming in wheelchairs. My father held court at a small table at the front, where he would sit with his co-workers who complained about work, the government and how things used to be better.

When I go in today, there is none of that. The place is quiet except for the bartenders, who look younger. There is one lady who remembers my father. She talks about that ‘crew of guys’ my father ran with. A lot are not around anymore – death, sickness, tough personal lives. The bar is still around and will be for a while.

I’ll keep coming back for a 50

The bell rings at 4 AM. There are no lights—only the sound of the bell and the monk banging the wooden bell, which echoes off the trees, the river, the tea trees, and the mountain, resonating into our room. It's cold outside, but the quiet is soothing. Small lights guide us so we don't trip over ourselves.

It's early, but that doesn't matter. The path from where we sleep to the temple isn't far; it hugs the river and passes by small tea trees, which will soon be harvested in April for their leaves. A breeze blows, but with plenty of layers, it doesn't feel cold. The monk walks up and down, banging the wooden fish (목어), a hollow wooden shell that produces a soft bell-like sound when struck, to awaken anyone who wishes to join the morning chanting.

Seonunsa Temple (선운사), known as 'Taoist Cloud, was established in 577 CE in Gochang, South Korea, is renowned for its 1,500-year-old camellia forest. The temple features important cultural treasures, including the Daeungbojeon Hall and Mokjogwaneum Statue.

I need to cross the stone bridge lined with lanterns for Buddha's birthday, which is just a few weeks away. The lanterns look beautiful and calming at night when there are barely any people around.

The first gate is known as Cheonwangmun (천왕문), also known as the Gate of the Four Heavenly Guardians. I practice the Hapjang by pressing my palms together, then raising my hands to my chest and making a half-bow to the four wooden sculptures representing the guardians. This act is a sign of respect; the wooden statues are carved to appear fierce, warding off evil and dangerous spirits. They protect the temple and those who enter from harm.

The monks, clad in grey robes and slippers, are walking towards the main hall. I worry about being late but reassure myself that I won't be.

The main hall of the temple, known as Daeungbojeon (대웅보전), was rebuilt in 1472 after being destroyed in 1592 and again in 1613. This building is considered a national treasure. At night, adorned with lanterns, it is beautiful and calming, just like the rest of the temple. Shoes are removed before entering, as is customary in most temples. I am early and have time to find a spot and sit cross-legged on the floor. There are three Buddha statues in front: the Vairochana Buddha in the middle, representing pure consciousness and universal wisdom. The Amitabha, central in the Buddhism practiced in Korea, is on the left. The Medicine Buddha encourages physical well-being on all is on the right.

As the monks enter the temple through the center door, the banging of the 'wooden fish' begins. However, we enter through the left or right doors. The chants, sung in Korean, are rhythmic, though I don't fully understand the words. My thoughts slow down, allowing me to focus on the present moment. The monks perform 'full bows,' the ultimate sign of respect, where they touch the floor with five points of their body (legs, arms, and head) while raising their palms upward to the Buddha. This bow is performed three times or sometimes 108 times, though, in this setting, it is done only a few times. The chanting centers my mind, and worries about the future fade away. Everything that exists is the present moment.

As the service concludes, we walk back into the darkness—alone, yet not.

When I went home to Canada, it was snowing. It was cold, as in -17 cold. It was also dark. The sun is up at seven and down around 5 pm. February is a horrible month to be in Toronto because of the cold and the darkness. It has always been my thoughts, yet I found myself there then.

Snow and cold shrank my world. Usually, I am home in the summer and spend a lot of time walking, biking, driving, and wandering, causing a lot of reminiscence and nostalgia. It was too cold to stay outside for the 4-hour walks I once did. There was too much snow for me to feel comfortable driving anywhere. With only ten days, it was hard to move about the area, and the reasons – my grandmother's physical health and my mom’s mental health made me want to stick close to home.

I brought a lot of books and things to keep me busy at home, thinking I would be bored without the ‘freedom’ to wander. I didn’t touch any of it from when my plane landed until it took off. The cold and snow shrank my world, making it deeper.

The time I spent with my 98-year-old grandmother was valuable in words I can’t express. During my time, she realized she could not live alone at home. There’s a lot of fear in finally accepting it, and I am grateful to help guide her. I don’t know how much time is left, but I am lucky to have had a meaningful time. With her health and her mental health frailing, it has caused a lot of stress on my mother. I did errands and was a sounding board for her frustrations in caring for her mother. I listened; maybe, being in problem-solving a bit too much, but I was able to help in the ways I could. It meant a lot.

No one travels a lot during winter since the kids are still in school. In two weeks at home, I felt I reconnected with freinds who I haven’t seen in a while. I had a beer with a high school freind. I reconnected with a freind whom I taught with in my first year in Korea with her husband. One freind always arranges to meet up with me somewhere, which I am always grateful for. There were others I wished to connect with but were busy. I don’t have contacts and there is always another time.

The trip home was short but it was deeper.

When I was young, Christmas dinner was always held in Toronto. My great aunt, my grandmother’s sister, and her husband would host with their five children. Their house was big and festive, adorned with two Christmas trees and filled with holiday spirit. I remember the warmth, love, and comfort of that time, as well as the large number of people gathered: my grandmother, grandfather, great aunt and uncle, their children, my mom, dad, and my brother. Now, there are only a few of us left. My great-aunt passed yesterday at the age of 96; my grandmother is 98 and struggling both physically and mentally as she moves into a retirement home. Our last Christmas dinner together as a whole family was in 1997, right after I got my first ‘real’ job.

I have been living in Asia for almost 23 years. During this time, the bonds between family and friends have become looser. Yes, people pass away, and there are funerals and memorials, which provide an opportunity to reconnect with family, even if it’s under sad circumstances. The last memorial or funeral I attended was in 2019, and I barely knew anyone there. Over the years I’ve spent in Asia, many family members have passed. They meant a lot to me, but time and distance have made the loss feel less impactful than it should.

My family is getting smaller, which is understandable at 52 years old. I often look at social media to see friends from home and notice closer connections among them, which causes some regret about being away. This feeling of regret is something I’ve never felt since I moved away. I’ve had amazing experiences here: exploring, learning, and growing as a person. But the cost of this has been a lack of connection with my extended family—the aunts, uncles, cousins, and others who formed my family and to whom I was once close. It has made me more distant to former secondary school, university and workmates. It is hard to maintain a relationship with many kilometers between us. I try, as best as I can, and there is always a feeling it not being enough. It hurts when a death happens and fades as time goes on.

The thought of those Christmas dinners has only come up with the death of my Great Aunt. The last time we were all in that house for Christmas was in 1997. I don’t think the thought has come up since then.

In the late 1990’s, before dating apps (Grindr, Tinder, Scuff, etc.), there was gay.com, a Java-based chat website where one didn’t have to post a picture and could talk to people entirely anonymously. It is where I explored my sexuality and the possibility of me being gay in my 20s. I was filled with shame at the idea of being gay, and there are still some parts of that there, but it was a safe place, and I met a guy who changed my life.

He is Alex, and we met the second night we talked because he seemed safe, genuine and pure. We met the second night, talked for hours, and walked even longer. He was cute, but more importantly, he was kind and warm-hearted and could listen. It was love at first sight for me. We moved three or four months after we met and lived together for 2 years.

Alex was my first everything. He put up with a lot of my growing pains to become a fully formed gay person – one who accepts who I am and is continuing to be more comfortable with that. Looking back, I feel a sense of guilt at how I was: childish and immature even though I was older than him. I messed up a few times at the end of our relationship, and when he had the ‘talk’ about how our relationship had evolved into a friendship rather than a relationship, I was hurt. I was moving to Korea and didn’t see the ‘talk’ coming for some reason. I became worse and still feel bad about it today.

When I moved to Korea in my first year, I still longed for him and our relationship, but he moved on to another. I was hurt but more because I didn’t understand. Life moves on, and it is hard to when you are alone. Over the years, we would meet when I would come back. It felt good but a bit awkward, mostly from my end. Until we met in 2017, the last time I was dating someone, he said, “You should be dating someone who deserves you.” I was offended, but I did what I usually do instead of saying something – I cut him off. Over the years, I would write and mildly engage through social media, but nothing meaningful.

Tonight, we met with his partner for several years. Alex took me to a local Chinese restaurant, something I craved when I was in Canada for too long. It felt like our conversation wasn’t natural. I have this weird thing where I emotionally remember everything, like it’s part of who I am. Some details stick to me. Through research, I know it is partially because of my ADHD and partially because I keep a journal. Not remembering my past has always been my greatest fear, but in recent years, I have learned also to record my emotions.

The conversations tonight felt weird because they were bits and pieces of information I had previously discussed, but that was back in 2017. My mind was saying, “why don’t you remember this?” It is the problem of my memory making me feel like it was yesterday instead of 7 years ago. It was going through my mind, but I mindfully brought myself back to why we have lost contact – partially because I tend to cut others off and while holding on too much in my thoughts and emotions. Doing these two things don’t make sense and yet I do them.

Alex’s partner is incredibly friendly, kind, talkative and warm. We bonded and felt good. At the night's end, I talked about how I will return with my new love in the summer. He asked if we could meet up then, and we will. I need to improve at this – keeping in contact with the good people in my life.

Just before Christmas, my grandmother fell and reinjured her pelvis. She is 98 years old, and made me worried that I wouldn’t see her again. My mother has also been ill for a while as well. These things made me book a flight home to Canada.

My grandmother has always lived on her own. She feels she doesn’t need any support. She cooks, cleans and takes care of herself up to this point. My mom lives about 2 hours away, depending on traffic. In talking to my Grandma, you don’t feel like you are talking to a 98-year-old woman but someone in her 70s. She is cognitively aware. With the fall, I was prepared for all this to change with the fear of falling again or maybe some decline.

When I met her, she was on her walker, going down the hallway without anyone around. She uses the wall more to guide her, which is fine. She talked a lot, asking me about my flight, how the food was, and such. Her speech is a lot slower and taking my time to ask or explain things. She wanted to go out and get some food since there were no groceries and we took her to the grocery store.

At the Metro with other shopers

We dropped her off at the store and I pulled out a cart. She walked around with her list picking up things and putting others back. I asked my mom if I should go with her, and she said no. She can do it on her own and did. I went to get some things I need which I haven’t packed and usually get on the way out while she pushed the huge cart (compared to her) around the store. I am guessing she used the cart to support her. It was impressive, but then again, that is my Grandmother.

It is Sunday morning (3:11 am) and we are not sure if she will go to church today and will let things go as they may. It feels weird to allow someone who is supposed to be frail wondering around the huge shop on her own, but if I try to help, I will get yelled at “I can do it on my own.” Yep she can.

I am a Native English Teacher (NET) employed by the Hong Kong Government’s Education Department. I’ve worked at three schools thus far but am employed by the Government, which has checked (and double-checked) my credentials and ensured I am a qualified teacher. I am hired and can be fired by the school, but I am paid and managed by the Government. Every school in Hong Kong has one NET teacher if the Government funds it. There are rumblings, and all of this will change.

The Government is under a lot of pressure to cut costs and find efficiencies. It is not new. All governments are doing the same thing around the world. One idea is to decentralize the funding and give the schools a subsidy. Schools would be free to do whatever they wanted with the money. They could retain their current NET at the exact cost or decide to use the funds to hire two or three other NETs based on their own requirements and needs. It makes sense on a lot of levels.

In recent years, the Education Department has cut the number of teaching hours for English and increased the hours for other subjects – National Security, National Identity, and the teaching of Mandarin as it is more of a focus for the Government. While teaching hours have been reduced, the curriculum and the demands through exams and tests have remained the same. NETs, through the Education Department, are required to teach a set number of hours. These hours have not changed, but giving more flexibility to the schools would allow the schools to reduce the number of hours the NETs teach and provide more time to cover the textbook – which is on the assessments and exams. The move makes sense.

The flexibility offered by this proposal would be welcomed by some schools. If a school is lucky enough to find NETs who are well-trained, have a strong educational background, and have a lot of experience, everything will work out great. It would be a challenge for schools that struggle to attract talent.

These changes to the NET Scheme are proposals and from a few principals and administrators. The government is under financial pressure but also pressure to provide the same level of service. It will be interesting to see how it finds this balance if these changes become reality.

I got a bit older over the weekend. The past few years I had been feeling the age creep up. Professionally, I am comfortable where I was but personally there were issues. People were coming and going in my life more and more. There was this fear of growing old – alone.

This year, the feeling wasn’t as strong. It is because I found someone who may stick around a bit longer. It is someone with whom I feel I can build something. I have been hesitent at the beginning but he has won over my trust and feel I can build a future together more and more. It’s a good feeling.

There are other worries. The older I get, the older my mother, my grandmother and the other important people in my life get as well. They say old age is not for the weak. The more I grow the more I am under,standing this idea. It is getting harder it feels but it’s also rewarding.

I am lucky to have someone to share the challenges and joys.

I got the message last week from my brother. My 98-year-old grandmother fell and re-injured her pelvis. When they looked at it, she has a fracture. She would need to be on some mild painkillers and needs rest. She lives alone, in her own house, with no support. My mother drove the two hours north to care for her mother.

Living overseas is a fantastic experience, and I have been lucky to have had the chance for the past twenty years. The only drawback is when these things happen. I can’t help, run over, or lend a hand. All I can do is be a voice on the phone and try to offer some solutions and some understanding. It is tough, which is one of the costs of living so far away from family.

It is hard to hear the frustration in my mom’s voice as she tries to navigate the healthcare system back in Canada. There is this urge to make suggestions – you should, you could, you must…. It gives me the feeling of doing something or helping, even though it isn’t. These suggestions are adding more to her stress and strain, but it only makes me think I am helping when I may not be. I still remember when my father got ‘sick.’ It was a nasty skin rash, and then a few weeks later, he passed. It adds to the anxiety. It happened once, so that it can happen again.

I bought a ticket home for the Chinese New Year. After all the jet lag, it will be only ten full days there, but at least I will be home to do something.

I finally put up the Christmas Board in front of the English room. It is something I’ve been procrastinating for a long time. It’s the one part of my job where my motivation is not there.

I spent most of my lessons in an ‘English room’ where the students who came in must speak English. The room is decorated with English words, phrases, pictures and other things to help the kids have enough resources to do the writing, speaking and reading in the classroom. The board is in front of the room and takes up a lot of space.

Changing and maintaining the board is one of my ‘duties’ or my ‘responsibility,’ but it is usually ignored or unnoticed. That is why changing the board ranks low on my priority list. I still need to change it. I still need to maintain it. If it is mentioned, I feel guilty about not changing it. The last display was a ‘welcome back to school’ display. It has been up since September.

I did a Christmas one this year, as I have done last year as well. I went to Sham Shui Po, an area of Hong Kong where there is a ‘street of Christmas decorations.’ The street is called Fuk Wing Street and where a lot of the toy and stationary shops are found in the area. It would make the board easy to put up. I was lucky to have my partner to help me ask and find things which can help make the board nice.

I put it up today since it is December 1st and feel Christmas decorations shouldn’t be put up until now. As I was putting it up, the kids would walk by and mention how the board looks ‘nice.’ A few gave me a thumbs up, which was great to see.

It is up and will need to change it quicker, when I get back from the Christmas holidays in the New Year.