13) FRUIT WITH THE CONCERTMASTER

It's embarassing to admitt, but when I stepped into the marbled foyer of the Wong family apartment, I had no idea I was stepping into the home of such an esteemed musician and Hong Kong resident. The man in the blue tracksuit is indeed Wong On-yuen, the concertmaster of the Hong Kong Chinese Orchestra. As we sat on the blue leather couches in the living room that looked out, once again, over the beautiful harbour, the concertmaster pottered about with the kettle, and set the table for tea. Yet as he flops into a recliner and slips off his maroon flip flops, it is hard to imagine he has cut 27 albums and has a very succesful DVD currently on the market. (I received a free copy from the maestro himself!)

For a journalist, losing control of an interview is never a good situation to to be in, yet when you require the help of a translator, (mine being Jonathan in the suit) you must put all your faith in their capabilities to express your ideas and in the belief that they actually know what you are trying to say. Luckily, we are working as a well-oiled machine at this point, and when long stretches of conversation occur, I sit back and take in the view of the ocean, or scribble notes on the furniture and photographs about the room. Physical clues are often more interesting than background research, and when I ask about a lone Er-hu that stands in the corner, we soon discover there are another hundred just around the bend. Lining the walls of numerous glass cabinets, each bares a special significance- an album finished, a concert with a special conductor played. His Er-hu collection tells a story he says, the maturation of his life as a musician.

During the Cultural Revolution, Wong was hand-selected by Mao's wife, Jiang Ching, to play the violin in the revolutionary Beijing Opera. In those days, every performance was graded, and the next morning musicians would check to see if there was a red or black flag beside their name. A red flag was satisfactory,a black flag was a dire situation. And when I asked "and two black flags?" His response: "it would be unthinkable."

The intervew is winding down, an hour with the concertmaster at his home is a great honour, and especially in Hong Kong when few people entertain guests in private. We gather our belongings, yet Mrs. Wong is intent that we stay and produces a plate with sliced pear. On her orders as we demolish the pear, she reappears with a plate of sliced apples. They all talk loudly to one another and I much fruit in silence, trying to pick words out of the stream of chatter. Mrs. Wong's did direct one comment directly to the Anglo: "Summer," she says pointing to my three-quarter length cotton sweater. "Winter" she says pointing at her own polarfleece jacket in neon yellow. (It was 21 degrees today).