On Saturday Ingrid’s knitting abstinence kicked in so we headed off to Kowloon Tong to find some wool shops. We soon found one with lots of wool but with only patterns in Japanese. Undeterred Ingrid bought the wool and the owner photocopied the pattern and translated key words into English. Next stop was Page One, a large book store for me to get my fix, a couple of paperbacks, lunch at the store’s cafe and then on to the Sik Sik Yuen Wong Tai Sin Temple. Apparently Wong Tai Sin was a shepherd who is said to have turned rocks into sheep. He also learned how to make a herbal potion that could cure any illness. So he is worshipped both by those who are ill and those who want to avoid becoming ill. The temple was built in 1973 and is full of devotees burning joss sticks and shaking containers of luck pins. You take those that are shaken out to a fortune teller. It is the Chinese temple of your wildest imagination. Next to it is Good Wish Gardens with turtle and carp ponds, bridges and winding trails through hilly banks of shrubs. What makes the entire experience surrealistic is that the backdrop is a wall of skyscrapers on all sides.
On Sunday all five volunteers headed off to the container port and the Danish Seaman’s Church, not at all resembling a church. The big attraction was the Danish lunch. We met a bunch of other Scandinavians. The pastor was dressed in the black garb and the ruffle collar worn by European gentlemen around 1600 and that was abandoned by Norwegian pastors in 1986. The lady in hot pants who read the prayers was also a priest and also the hostess at the Seaman’s Church. You cannot complain at the lack of breadth in the Danish church.
The sermon, too, had its points of interest, despite the less than charismatic delivery. It was about the resurrection of Lazarus. Our Danish friend wondered if Lazarus was glad to be raised from the dead or would have preferred to remain in the grave and enjoy some peace. This reminded me of my mother's near death experience. During an operation for the removal of her tonsils, she lost a lot of blood. Under anaesthetics she felt herself rising, above her own prostrate body on the operation table and being drawn into a dark tunnel with light at the end. As she approached the end of the tunnel, she felt great relief and joy but saw below the figures of myself, my sister and father and heard a voice telling her she had work to do. Reluctantly, she was drawn back through the tunnel and down into her body. Did Lazarus feel like that? It was, I reflected, an interesting question. He also asked if once their brother had returned, did Martha and Mary find life was different or did things go back to what they were before after a while?
Øystein, as a pastor himself, was interested in our reflections on the sermon and indeed tried, unsuccessfully, to get them manuscript from the priest himself.
The lunch was superb and the company stimulating. I should mention that along with the herring curry and homemade liver paste a bottle of Aalborg aquavit, chilled from the freezer, stood on the lunch table. Afterwards we parted our separate ways. Ingrid and I headed for the Mid Level Escalator, said to be the longest moving staircase in the world.
On Sunday all five volunteers headed off to the container port and the Danish Seaman’s Church, not at all resembling a church. The big attraction was the Danish lunch. We met a bunch of other Scandinavians. The pastor was dressed in the black garb and the ruffle collar worn by European gentlemen around 1600 and that was abandoned by Norwegian pastors in 1986. The lady in hot pants who read the prayers was also a priest and also the hostess at the Seaman’s Church. You cannot complain at the lack of breadth in the Danish church.
The sermon, too, had its points of interest, despite the less than charismatic delivery. It was about the resurrection of Lazarus. Our Danish friend wondered if Lazarus was glad to be raised from the dead or would have preferred to remain in the grave and enjoy some peace. This reminded me of my mother's near death experience. During an operation for the removal of her tonsils, she lost a lot of blood. Under anaesthetics she felt herself rising, above her own prostrate body on the operation table and being drawn into a dark tunnel with light at the end. As she approached the end of the tunnel, she felt great relief and joy but saw below the figures of myself, my sister and father and heard a voice telling her she had work to do. Reluctantly, she was drawn back through the tunnel and down into her body. Did Lazarus feel like that? It was, I reflected, an interesting question. He also asked if once their brother had returned, did Martha and Mary find life was different or did things go back to what they were before after a while?
Øystein, as a pastor himself, was interested in our reflections on the sermon and indeed tried, unsuccessfully, to get them manuscript from the priest himself.
The lunch was superb and the company stimulating. I should mention that along with the herring curry and homemade liver paste a bottle of Aalborg aquavit, chilled from the freezer, stood on the lunch table. Afterwards we parted our separate ways. Ingrid and I headed for the Mid Level Escalator, said to be the longest moving staircase in the world.