When my friend, Tina, returned from Hong Kong, she brought me a gold drawstring bag and a tin full of candies. The bag is small and made from fabric worthy of a royal robe, but the tin is uninteresting and void of color. The candies are small and hard and wrapped in a waxy paper that smells of oranges, old shoes and urine. I unwrap one and bring it to my nose, unable to do mored than speculate about its appeal and wonder if the Chinese reserve the candies as punishment for petulant children.
Or maybe they place them in the mouths of deceased relatives, an offensive offering designed to ward off evil spirits.
Tucked inside the tin is a piece of brittle yellow paper. Lilies and what looks like figs and mangoes trail delicately down the sides of the page and scroll along the bottom in red ink, then blend into brush strokes of Chinese script and one line of English that reads, Mr. Chan Tea Room.
Over the next few days, I find myself drawn to the tin, repeatedly opening the lid and grimacing at the repulsive odor. Surely, there is something I’m missing. I decide to give the candies another try. Perhaps the flavors will meld and reward me with an exquisite surprise.
I unwrap one and place it in my mouth, grimacing as the foul smell permeates my nose and twists my tongue in disgust. As I resist the urge to spit it out, I unfold the yellowed paper inside and re-read the small red script: Mr. Chan Tea Room. The longer I stare at the page, the more the decorative border resembles a proscenium, surrounding a stage…
on which my imagination begins to project faint and faded scenes like the ones on the outside of the tin.
Narrow buildings are crowded along a bustling street where passersby hurry to complete their afternoon shopping. Old men lean from upper story windows and smoke long, crook-necked pipes. Slowly the figures become more animated and colorful.
I imagine Mr. Chan Tea Room is known only to the residents of Hong Kong, and it serves diminutive women with round bun feet; their hair slicked back and knotted tightly behind their neck. The women enter from the street, shuffling in a halting manner on stilted wooden shoes, their true feelings hidden behind masks of polite propriety. A small, flat-faced man, presumably Mr. Chan, ushers them through a curtain of cloisonné beads, to an ornate room with rice paper ceilings that float high above dark marble pillars.
The women take their seats and order tea and small cakes of goose liver, sandwiched between sliced hard-boiled eggs, wrapped in cabbage leaves. They sit stiff and erect, silently observing the other residents, who also dwell near the street of Long-Necked Swans. When their tea and cakes arrive, the women eat with pinched precision, their chopsticks clicking rhythmically on plates hand-painted with mockingbirds and tall bamboo.
Between bites, their voices rise, as they exchange high nasal-sounding complaints about the fishmonger who charges too much for whole fish and insect crabs.
They trade greedy bits of gossip, about the family behind Woo Fong’s, whose daughter abandoned them to study western marketing in America. Surely her family knew she would disappoint them. The girl’s eyes are too large and see too much, unlike her mother and her mother before her, who saw much, but acknowledge only what is put in front of them.
When the women finish their cakes, the waiter brings more tea, and Mr. Chan presents a lacquered tray full of small candies for their approval. The women’s eyes light-up as they each take a candy from the tray, then pop it into their mouth and purse their lips. In ritualistic fashion, they fold their hands in unison and place them in their laps.
In a few moments, the oldest one begins to speak. “I see another woman here with us.”
“I see her too,” says the woman in the red dress. ”But she is not one of us. She is not Chinese.”
The older woman leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. “No,” she says. “But she is most fortunate to have discovered the pleasures of our candies.”
29 thoughts on “CANDIED IMAGES”
The picture you paint of Mr Chan’s Tea Room is delightful, I could imagine the tiny old women sitting there sifting the information they have garnered and delivering their opinions on all and sundry. Beautiful, descriptive writing, I can’t wait for your book.
Thank you, Samantha! I appreciate you and your thoughts about my post. It’s different from anything I’ve written, so I’ve been wondering how all of you would like it. xoxox, Brenda
Isn’t this clever, beautiful images and interesting. Certainly curious about the candies!? Perhaps an acquired taste.
They’re definitely an acquired taste! Eeeuw! Thank you! xoxox, Brenda
This is hilarious!! Hopefully, you will not feel the need to eat another!!
No. One was all I could handle. xoxox, Brenda
Perhaps the candies are not simply an indulgence of the taste buds, but the invitation of an open window.
Mr. Chan may be more than meets the eye.
Hmm… What an intriguing comment.
You are such a good writer Brenda! It doesn’t matter what the topic is, I wouldn’t miss one of your blogs. And like someone else said, I can’t wait for your book!
I love that! Thank you, Angela! I hope you like it as well. xoxo, Brenda
I LOVE this story Brenda! Were these hallucinogens? Woah!
LOL! It was just a story I made up, but the candies were a real gift from my friend, Tina. They smelled and tasted terrible! One was all I could handle. Thank you, Arlo! xoxox, Brenda
Delightful tripping! Ah; you transported me to Hong Kong almost out of body!
Love your comment, Neni! Thank you for reading and leaving me a note. xoxox, Brenda
Brenda ya BLOW my mind! You are a wonderful storyteller. As I started to read this, it became very clear to me that we are having the pleasure of watching a budding artist! Please keep writing and I WILL be buying your soon to be released book. CONGRATULATIONS!
You’re funny, Barb! FYI, I wrote this over 20 years ago, so I’ve already budded and bloomed. It was based on the real candies… icky…. my friend, Tina, brought me from Hong Kong. They were disgusting! xoxox, Brenda
Yikes! Okay who do you know that can read Chinese and tell you about these candies? Is this an imaginative tale or a hallucinative trip?! Great writing, as always, and great entertainment! Love you and love your posts!
Great question, Beckye. I wrote this over 20 years ago after my friend brought me these candies from Hong Kong. They were AWFUL!!! More punishment than treat. I wrote this strictly from my imagination. Love you, too, friend! Brenda
I’m not only excited for this book, but your next one!!!! ❤️
That’s so great! Thank you, U. Brenda
Brenda, your writing and imagination is magical. I loved the story and am so looking forward to the book. Have a wonderful weekend.
Thanks for reading and leaving me this lovely comment. I’ll be eager to hear what you think of my book! xoxox, Brenda
One would think you stepped back into that picture of life you described; it is so vivid! Your story telling expertise knows no boundaries!!
Thank you, Laureen!! I appreaciate you! xoxox, Brenda
Every brilliant detail transported me there! Round bun feet, cloisonné beads, greedy bits of gossip, and eyes that see too much. You see everything! Such talent. I agree with Barb: “Ya BLOW my mind, Brenda!” You can write everything. I stand in awe! Thank you!
I’m flattered, Hannah! Thank you! I appreciate your wonderful note. You made my day. xoxox, Brenda
Brenda,
You are an amazing story teller, with a vivid imagination. With this type of talent you must be an author of books.
You are something else again. I enjoy you.
LOL! And you’re an original, Katherine! Thanks so much!! xoxox, Brenda
Oh my! I felt like I was there. A Chinese restaurant is nearby, and there are always older women drinking tea and chatting. I’m going to have to pay more attention to them!