第6章 Yan

All started at the end of my junior secondary when I chose to pursue a programme in applied arts. I did not want to follow the classic curriculum and take maths, literature, or economics subjects like my fellow students. If my mother had been like the Chinese tiger-mums, she would have definitely pushed me get the baccalaureate diploma and go to university at any cost. Even the career counsellor told me that artists only become famous after their death. However, my parents were open-minded and I was stubborn. So after obtaining a diploma in applied arts in Lyon, I then went to Paris to get a higher diploma in industrial ceramic design.

Paris was at about 500 km from where my parents lived, so I applied for a student's residence at the Nanterre University (Paris X) which accommodates foreign students studying in France and provincial students like me. Nanterre was in the western suburbs of Paris, at about 45 minutes–by train and metro–from the 15th arrondissement where my school was located.

In September 1983, a few days after settling down in my room at Nanterre, the residence's caretaker introduced me to an Architecture student, Momo, a Cameroonian who then introduced me to his friends. Among them was a young man from Hong Kong who seemed to be interested in me. His name was Yan. After learning that I already had a boyfriend in Lyon, however, he was avoiding me. While feeling attracted to him, I was unsure if I should start dating him. Momo's wise advice was to let things happen naturally. One month later, my relationship with my Lyon boyfriend ended. I started seeing Yan. We quickly fell in love and became inseparable.

The Chinese name of Yan sounded like the French name Yann, the Breton form of John. His given name, composed of two characters, was Yan-leung, meaning benevolent and good-hearted respectively. With a name of "Yan-leung", my new lover could not be bad! Yan showed me how to write his name. These two characters did not have too many strokes and were not difficult to write and remember!

Yan was a slim handsome man, with brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and long black hair. Later I would be the one who trimmed his hair. He was so cute in his blue quilted Mao-style jacket. To be sure, he was not totally perfect. Like many Hong Kong folks, he had myopia, which was recently corrected during his cataract surgery. Back then he was wearing contact lenses and when he woke up he could not see much without his thick framed glasses.

Yan was studying at University of Paris VI. Luckily, he was speaking fluent French albeit with a cute accent, so we could communicate easily. I had studied English since secondary school but like many French I could not speak it well. Yan had followed his older sister's path and, like her, after studying French for two years at university he had applied for a two-year scholarship from the French Government, to further his studies in France. When I met him, it was his second year in Paris. Luckily a few months later he asked the French students' welfare office to extend his scholarship so as to give him more time to complete his thesis. His request for an additional academic year was granted. This was great as we were able to stay one more year together.

About once a month, he invited me to a Chinese restaurant to have dim sum, those delicious bite-sized food served in bamboo steamers. I liked to discover and taste the small dishes arriving all at once on our table. The rice flour rolls which are similar to translucent French crepes and the white barbecue buns at first seemed uncooked, but after tasting them I was astonished: despite their paleness they were really tasty. There were lots of various steamed dumplings that looked very delicate and exquisite. It was fun to try a bit of everything. These were only a preview of what was available in Hong Kong. I liked to tease Yan for being richer than I was. Although he was not as "rich as Croesus", after paying for his monthly rent and transportation pass for Paris' three circular zones, he had more money left in his pocket than I, and could afford to invite his poor French girlfriend to lunch.

To go with the dim sum Yan ordered pu-erh tea, the same tea he likes to drink every morning, a dark tea that coloured the inside of his teapot pitch-black. The pu-erh had a woody flavour and was different from the flavoured Earl Grey tea I used to drink with my mum. The only Chinese tea I had until that day was the Jasmine tea and each time I felt dizzy after drinking it, because as I learnt later, it was too cool for my body (according to Chinese traditional medicine). Pu-erh tea, however, was good for me and did not make me dizzy. I liked it not too concentrated and was still brown-golden in colour.

During the week we came back to the hall late in the evening. We either had our dinner at the university cafeteria next to the students' residence or we ate in my room. It was convenient and fast to open and reheat a can of sliced pork in Szechuan-style or pork luncheon meat that Yan had bought in Chinatown. Preparing rice was also very easy, thanks to Yan's rice cooker. This was amazingly useful. How come French kitchen which are often well equipped did not have this appliance? But this diet was high in salt and fat and I was putting on weight. Somehow Yan did not seem to be affected by the same diet, thin as ever.

One day we went to visit Yan's eldest sister's friend in Paris, a French woman named Blandine. She had just returned from Hong Kong and brought back a pack of dried Chinese mushrooms. Suddenly Yan decided to cook "braised chicken with black mushrooms" at Blandine's place to impress me by showing me that he could do better than opening and reheating canned food. "Wow, Yan can really cook!"[3] Being the only son and with five sisters he had never cooked before coming to France. Later he would teach me how to cook Chinese food and would occasionally cook on Sundays for me.

On the weekends, we often had lunch with our friends living at the residence. Some of us would be in charge of buying the food and others would cook. Because of the group's size, we would eat in the student's common room. Our meals and conversations were varied, and occasionally we talked politics.

One weekend Yan invited 15 guys who lived at the residence to eat a Chinese hot pot for dinner. He had prepared a broth and had to slice the meat himself as he could not find any pre-packed sliced meat at the supermarket of La Défense near Nanterre, unlike those commonly sold in Hong Kong. We could not sit all around the table and some of us could not reach the pot, so we stood and moved around the table to get food. This was my first Chinese hot pot and I found it really entertaining. I still remember us walking around the table and using forks to get food out of the pot. To be sure, there were no shrimp or seafood or fresh noodle, but Yan had made it as close as possible to the authentic version that I discovered three years later in Hong Kong. Yan's Chinese hot pot was probably healthier, with lots of vegetables that complemented the meat, than our "fondue Bourguignonne"[4] or "fondue Savoyarde"[5].

Making pancakes for me was another way of Yan to woo me. I remember one Monday morning when Yan rang up at my door with a plate of hot pancakes before I went to class. I had a very tight schedule and every day would leave the residence at 6:45 a.m. We never saw each other at this time as it was far too early for Yan. He used to study during the night when everybody was asleep and was seldom up before lunch. I had returned to the residence the night before as I had spent a short holiday with my family. Yan had a "pancake party" on Sunday with his friends and had kept some pancake batter for my breakfast the following day. I was both surprised and touched to see him at my door so early delivering a hot and yummy plate of freshly cooked pancakes.

One time Yan tried to see how brave I could be. I remember the first time he took me to a Chinese supermarket in the 13th arrondissement's Chinatown and asked me if I would mind having a snake soup. I was afraid of snake (and I still am) and had never considered eating any! He wanted to put me to the test and I wanted to show him that I was adventuresome and brave. So I agreed to the challenge and Yan bought a canned snake soup. Later that evening he reheated the can on his electric stove and we shared it together. But when swallowing the soup I couldn't help but visualise a snake crawling up and down my throat. I can't say that I really enjoyed my first snake soup. On that same day, at the same supermarket, I saw white blocks in a bucket and was happy thinking that Chinese could make cheese too. Yan gently mocked me and explained that these were fresh tofu.

Besides, we visited museums and walked in the Saint-Michel neighbourhood, the Luxembourg Gardens, and through the Île de la Cité. We also liked to go to the suburbs with our friends. On Sunday we sometime went for a picnic in the forest of Saint-Germain-en-Laye. During longer weekends we ventured further to the provinces by car. Once one of our friends who graduated the year before drove us in his old 2CV[6] to Moulins, a city in the centre of France, where we spent the weekend at his mum's place. Another time we went to Saint-Gervais-les-Bains in Haute-Savoie (near the Swiss border), and another to Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy and Saint-Malo in Brittany. I recall these outings with great fondness. We had fun and the time passed very quickly.

From the beginning of our relationship I knew Yan would be leaving France after his studies. He had always told me that he would not stay in my country, and if I ever wanted to join him at the end of my studies he would wait for me in Hong Kong. I was curious about Hong Kong but he would seldom say good things about it, and would tell me that it was very crowded and very hot. He mentioned strong storms called typhoons hitting the city during the summer. He also said once that if I ever lived with him I would have a domestic helper because it was common for middle class families to have one. I did not realise what he meant and I must say that I quickly forgot about it.

I would have liked to go on holiday to Hong Kong to see if I could live there with him. Sadly, I could not afford such a trip. While my parents paid my basic daily expenses, I could not ask them to fly me to Hong Kong. They had never travelled so far themselves so I had to find a way to pay for my trip by myself.

In September 1984 at the start of my second academic year, one of my senior classmates asked me if I would be interested in taking over her part-time job. The offer's timing was great! However, she told me that I would need to wake up early because I would be helping a stall-holder at the open market. Most of the French markets operated from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m., once or twice a week. This seemed all right with me. But when she told me that she was selling cow tripe and offal I was momentarily taken aback. I would have preferred selling clothes, toys, plants, vegetables, or even fish but could not be too choosy. I was very happy to have found a way to fund a plane ticket to Hong Kong and I gladly accepted the job offer.

I worked at Mr. and Mrs. Choux's stall at "Porte de Bagnolet" on Saturdays and "Maison Blanche" on Sundays. I really worked hard for my trip to Hong Kong. I sold a lot of kidneys, pork cheeks, oxtails, sweetbreads, tripe, and calf livers. My boss was kind, weekly giving me a flank steak, a noble and tender meat with a delicate flavour, or a slice of pre-cooked "Tripe a la mode de Caen". In winter my fingertips hurt because all the goods were displayed on ice. Even with wool gloves under latex ones my fingers were icy stiff. Luckily the Chinese quilted sleeveless jacket that Yan lent me protected me from the cold.

On Saturday nights we joined the residence parties and I had to leave at around midnight in order to be able to get up early the next day to go to work. Yan would accompany me back to my room and then return to dancing with his buddies. After he had left me, I could still hear Michael Jackson's high-pitched "Cos this is thriller... Killer thriller tonight"[7] or the haunting voice of David Bowie "Oh oh oh oh, little China girl" resonating in my head.

In the morning I had to cross the campus at about 6 a.m. to go to the market and I was quite nervous. Nanterre University was close to a slum and some people would often come into the residence to use our toilets and showers. I prayed not to meet any bad person on my way to the RER[8]. I remember one day when a tall big man was walking directly towards me. I was quite scared and lowered my head, telling myself that I was only a small ant on this huge planet and he could not see me. The man walked past me without even paying attention to me and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had always been irrationally cautious. Strangely, I have never felt unsafe in Hong Kong.

During that school year, we were both busy. Yan had to finish writing his thesis and I worked on weekends. Yan moved from the third floor to the second floor, where I was, so we could be closer to each other.

In early 1985 during the winter school break Yan brought me to London. We took the ferry to cross the English Channel. I had never been to the United Kingdom. We planned to stay at the home of one of Yan's secondary classmates who was studying in London at that time. I remember us crossing the border in Dover. I thought Hong Kong was a British colony and its citizens were British. Yan was holding a British passport but it was more difficult for him to get a visitor visa than for me. Then Yan showed me the words "second-class British citizen" on the first page of his passport. I was shocked by the wording. He later told me that his mother, who was born in China and came to Hong Kong in 1949, had no passport but only a Hong Kong Certificate of Identification.

The other event that marked this holiday was that when we arrived late that day in the suburbs of London, Yan's friend was not at home. He and his Chinese flatmates had all gone back to Hong Kong to celebrate the Lunar New Year with their families. He told us later that he had only received Yan's letter announcing our visit after he had returned to London from Hong Kong. That evening was freezing cold and we only had 20 GBP on us. A kind taxi driver agreed to bring us to the nearest Bed and Breakfast, knowing that we could only afford the minimal amount. Albeit this bad start and very limited funding, our six-day London trip was marked by a wonderful time visiting museums and walking around in London.

After defending his Ph. D. thesis in statistics in May 1985, Yan prepared his return to Hong Kong and emptied his room. He left me a few things he had used during his three-year stay in Paris: a teapot decorated with a weeping willow, a cup with the Chinese character "fu" meaning happiness painted in blue, a large flat plastic plate with a blue and white rice pattern, two bamboo tea boxes, a small TV set, a blue Chinese silk jacket with a removable white cotton band protecting the Mandarin collar, a quilted black silk sleeveless jacket, and last but not least, the small orange rice cooker that "had saved his life", as he liked to say. His precious appliance had been brought back from Hong Kong by Blandine and is now sitting at my parents' home in Lyon and we use it when we are at their place.

Before returning to Hong Kong in 1985, Yan also wanted to travel. He bought an InterRail Pass to visit some European countries with his friends from Hong Kong. Unfortunately I could not go with him as I needed to work during the month of July so that I could save money for my trip to Hong Kong. After his rail trip, Yan went to Lyon to visit my parents. It was the first time my father was meeting Yan. My mother went to Paris to meet him the year before. She was very curious to meet the Chinese boy with whom her daughter was deeply in love and hence the special trip to see her future son-in-law. Yan's visit was to tell my parents his love for their daughter was eternal, and he was determined to wait for her in Hong Kong.