The ancestors in question are wild papa H's parents, who live in fancy jars on a shelf in a temple along with about ten thousand other people's ancestors in jars. Despite our having gotten out the door so impressively efficiently we were battling pretty significant crowds climbing the stairs to the fourth floor of the temple; when you get to to the altar of the floor where your ancestors are parked, a monk hands you an incense stick, which you hold while you have a brief inner chat with the ancestors/Buddha, and wild mama H. had brought a bowl of kiwis and oranges for the ancestors to leave on the table in front of the Buddha.
We then went and said hello to the jar with the ancestors in it (interestingly you are supposed to spend long enough doing this that the ancestors have time to eat some of the fruit you brought before you take it away again) and then wild mama H., Big Kahuna, and wild brother-in-law went to go help ring the ginormous temple bell. I have no idea why more people were not lined up to help do this, because it was AWESOME.
We had about ten people all together, five or six on either side of an enormous battering ram type thing, and a monk says some chanty religious things which no-one was able to really translate properly for me, and then on the signal, you bong the battering ram as hard as you can all together into the gigantic bell and the noise is fun, but the whole building vibrates for about three minutes afterwards which is pretty exciting. Then an abortive attempt to go for a walk on the hillside (poor wild papa Hsiao. The best-laid plans of mice and men, etc. The optimism to realism ratio is very, very high) before heading home and going instead for a walk in the park, which was great because I chased wild niece around the play structures just enough times that I have been (finally) crossed off her long, long list of people too scary to make eye contact with and am now on the cool list: I know I'm in now because she gave me her 1950's movie star sunglasses to wear after dinner.
Lunch at aunt's house again, this time with about twice as many people (group photo was taken, which will get posted eventually, mostly so that I can have another stab at remembering everyone's names), and lots of kids, which meant more finagling of red envelope funds. One prepubescent cousin was targeted as the vehicle for equalization of funds, but the politics involved are really something else: the envelope had to come from Big Kahuna, since he'd not been there the day before and thus had been the only member of the immediate clan not to be able to distribute envelopes, but wild papa and mama H. had to be in the room and standing by so that it was clear the lolly was _actually_ coming from them, and prepubescent cousin's parents also had to be there while the lolly was counted so that _they_ would know that honour was satisfied, and the whole project was made that much more difficult by the fact that prepubescent cousin was very, very slippery & that the meal was being eaten in about four different rooms at once. (The group photo was actually less for the photo than an excuse to get everyone in the same place at the same time so the red envelope could exchange hands in the correct way).
I spent most of the post-meal period playing giant Legos on the floor with baby and cousin and watching a totally absorbing parkour contest on TV in Japanese; wild brother-in-law spent it knocking back shots of Johnnie Walker with elderly uncle and was given a jade chicken at the end of the afternoon, so he's REALLY in now. (I forgot to mention before that elderly uncle was wearing a T-shirt with at Playboy bunny (!) embroidered on the pocket; when I delightedly (but discreetly) pointed it out to babydaddy, he said that the pocket was not in fact original to the shirt but had been specially added, so that elderly uncle would have something to keep his reading glasses in. We don't know the justification for the Playboy bunny logo.
Last stop of the day's outing was to the mall, which is the biggest shopping mall in Kaohsiung or Taiwan or Asia or somewhere; whatever it was, it confirmed for me that I really, really hate shopping malls. I get overwhelmed with the sense that we are doomed as a species by our own crass greedy stupidity whenever I go into one. We tried to take the kids to the "Children's Kingdom" which was a hellhole of loud noises and flashing lights - I am something of a nonbeliever in ADHD as a diagnosis for people, but I might revise my opinion when it comes to environments - but the overall consensus was "too expensive" so mercifully we peeled off and went and wandered around the kids' section of the bookstore instead, where (a) it was quiet (yay) (b) there were lots of books for baby to entertain herself pulling off the shelves without anyone to really mind terribly (yay) and (c) i could sit on the floor and look at kids' books rather than feel yucked out by all the CRAP for sale elsewhere. Even when the clothes are nice, when I see a picture of a gorgeous model having a fabulous time with their friends while wearing a great outfit, it's hard not to think, which would I rather have, the really fun friends, the model's body or the outfit they are wearing? and it's always 1/2 rather than 3, which tends to make you pretty much immune to marketing, for better or, some might argue in my case, for worse :)).
Brilliant insight of the afternoon after cruising the bookshop: the quality of a book for at least very small children is 99% the personality of the illustrations and almost nothing to do with the plot or character.
Back home to watch the Australian Open while eating (yes, again. It keeps happening) pomegranate and pistachio Turkish Delight...
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