October 1st is the one-year anniversary of me being an attending surgeon, the beginning of a new month, the start of breast cancer awareness month, and Mid-Autumn Festival (15th day of the 8th month in the Lunar calendar). Mid-autumn festival, the second most important holiday in Chinese culture, has always held a quiet corner of my heart. In Hong Kong, we used to go to these crazy night markets full of glowing plastic lanterns in all shapes and sizes, giant stuffed toys shaped like sushi, snacks like dragon’s beard candy, and sweet rice balls; every possible thing a young girl could want to buy. My parents loved the hustle and bustle of rubbing shoulders with other people, buoyed by the holiday spirit and that invisible energy of being. I guess we don’t rub shoulders anymore. When I was young, we had to learn the poem about the goddess Chang’e. She drank a magic potion and flew to the moon, forever separated from her lover. The moon festival has come to represent harvest, family, and gratitude. It’s a time when we all get together, from near and far, and share a meal or two. As an adult, I use this day to reflect on how far away from my family I’ve become. In years past, I could never take the day or the week off of work to be with them, and, now that I have a little bit of breathing room, I can’t go because I would have to quarantine for a month. Instead, L and I went to Chinatown to buy a few mooncakes and some cha siu (roast pork) rice. My grandma always says if you’re too tired to cook, go buy some cha siu rice. Somehow a styrofoam box of white rice topped with tender, salty-sweet pork is the epitome of luxury, and it is. It is a treat that I relish. We lit our little lanterns, sat on the balcony, and watched the candles burn out— first orange, then blue near the wick, and then the glowing red before darkness.
Happy October 1st!
Happy October 1st!
Happy October 1st!
October 1st is the one-year anniversary of me being an attending surgeon, the beginning of a new month, the start of breast cancer awareness month, and Mid-Autumn Festival (15th day of the 8th month in the Lunar calendar). Mid-autumn festival, the second most important holiday in Chinese culture, has always held a quiet corner of my heart. In Hong Kong, we used to go to these crazy night markets full of glowing plastic lanterns in all shapes and sizes, giant stuffed toys shaped like sushi, snacks like dragon’s beard candy, and sweet rice balls; every possible thing a young girl could want to buy. My parents loved the hustle and bustle of rubbing shoulders with other people, buoyed by the holiday spirit and that invisible energy of being. I guess we don’t rub shoulders anymore. When I was young, we had to learn the poem about the goddess Chang’e. She drank a magic potion and flew to the moon, forever separated from her lover. The moon festival has come to represent harvest, family, and gratitude. It’s a time when we all get together, from near and far, and share a meal or two. As an adult, I use this day to reflect on how far away from my family I’ve become. In years past, I could never take the day or the week off of work to be with them, and, now that I have a little bit of breathing room, I can’t go because I would have to quarantine for a month. Instead, L and I went to Chinatown to buy a few mooncakes and some cha siu (roast pork) rice. My grandma always says if you’re too tired to cook, go buy some cha siu rice. Somehow a styrofoam box of white rice topped with tender, salty-sweet pork is the epitome of luxury, and it is. It is a treat that I relish. We lit our little lanterns, sat on the balcony, and watched the candles burn out— first orange, then blue near the wick, and then the glowing red before darkness.