#64: Factory Reset

Airplane eggs (derogatory) and Instagram saves.

Hello from my parents’ in Hong Kong, and happy Chinese New Year! May the Year of the Snake bring you fulfilment and time with the people you cherish most.

I arrived yesterday afternoon, dehydrated by a 13-hour flight during which I was surrounded by a chorus of crying infants, and queasy on a few, poorly judged bites of a full English—every time I give airplane eggs the benefit of the doubt I’m punished. They are never a good idea.

In those circumstances I defaulted to easy watching in my in-air entertainment line-up: Twisters was good popcorn-y fun; Saturday Night mirrors Uncut Gems (Rachel Senott is magnetic and I’ve been lapping up the filmic romanticisations of 70’s New York post-A Complete Unknown); some fantastic kitchens were ogled in It’s Complicated (a rewatch) and Practical Magic (one of Nicole Kidman’s several entries in the movie hair hall of fame—I’d say steer clear if you’re avoiding bangs but who are we kidding); my interest in Challengers tanked in the third act, which feels both like a feature-length tennis racket ad and a snippet off cinematography bro Instagram.

It’s been ten years since I’ve been in Hong Kong for Chinese New Year: uni and work holidays in the UK set a precedent for Christmas to be the de facto homecoming holiday. The punchline is that I’m breaking that habit at my last available opportunity to harvest some lai see (red packets); after our wedding this summer we’ll be the ones giving them out, which is surreal and I’ll admit, a little scary: minus child-rearing, receiving lai see feels like one of the last thresholds of youth, once jobs and tax returns are in the rearview mirror.

Here I revert to being a child, sustained largely by my mum’s cooking and cups of my dad’s Chinese tea, journeying to our favourite shops for mahogany-hued roast meats and clear noodle soups. My childhood stuffed toys (one Elmo and one baby blue bear, an old AmEx freebie that came in a pair with my sister’s lilac one) sit bedside, and embarrassingly annotated high school copies of King Lear and Animal Farm bookend alongside Toni’s Archie comics on the shelf. It’s a factory reset of sorts while entailing a good dose of existentialism.

I made this trip alone, though it’ll be one of three I’ve planned for the year, with Ivan joining on the other two in May and November. I don’t think I’ll ever stop living like a toddler when I’m with my parents, but returning alone for this holiday, ahead of this year’s milestone, feels appropriate.

Speaking of food, mum pulled no punches last night, it being New Year’s Eve. We had homemade char siu; fish maw, sea cucumber, shitake mushrooms and abalone braised in the latter’s sauce; and red grouper steamed with spring onions, my favourite. I spooned the fish, shredded onion and its sauce over a bowl of white rice and had two comically large strawberries for dessert before a dreamless sleep. Bliss!

Today, we donned our red jumpers to see my grandma for a dim sum meal bookended by silky tofu pudding (something I could eat everyday but struggle to find in London). A bittersweet meal: she’s well into her 90s now and seems smaller every time we meet; my heart hurts when I see her, and more when I have to leave. I think I’ll write more about this in a future newsletter, but for now I’ll leave this here with a nudge to call your parents and grandparents, and tell them you love them.

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A short list of beautiful things I squirrelled away on various apps for your enjoyment: