Hanstedt - Hong Konged: one modern American familys (mis)adventures in the gateway to China

The armchair tourist couldnt ask for a better guide than Paul Hanstedt. With equal parts compassion and humor, he details his familys journeys in Hong Kong and Asia in a fresh, new voice of the American abroad. All youre missing is the food.

Stephanie Wilkinson, cofounder/editor of Brain, Child: The Magazine for Thinking Mothers

Paul Hanstedt has written a wonderfully charming memoir about his time in Hong Kong, full of the kinds of carefully hewn details that make great travel writing lovely to read. His descriptions of the place and the people, and of his own family in this alien context, are a joy, first to last. Make no mistake: Hong Konged is pretty much like being there yourself, a rich and satisfying read, and a wonderful trip.

Frederick Barthelme, coauthor of Double Down and author of Moon Deluxe, Second Marriage, and other novels

Hong Konged is a laugh-out-loud recounting of an American couples year-long Asian tourwith three young children. This fast-moving adventure is always engaging and filled with profound observations of how children take on new challenges. A personable tale, by turns a bit scary and tender, its told with a big heart by a father who has the ability to laugh at himself even when scared to death. Its a complex meditation on how a family works and the most enjoyable piece of writing Ive read in years.

Tim Gautreaux, author of The Clearing

Paul Hanstedt writes about family with warmth and wit and grace. Hong Konged tells the story of his and his wifes time in China with their three small children. The book introduces you to the culture and the landscape through the eyes of a father who is sometimes put-upon, sometimes doubtful, sometimes unsure, but always deeply in love with, and fiercely protective of, his flesh and blood. Hong Konged made me laugh, made me worry, made me contentedsuch a richly textured fabric, like a carefully and lovingly stitched heirloom quilt.

Lee Martin, author of The Bright Forever and From Our House

HONG
KONGED

PAUL HANSTEDT
Editor of the Roanoke Review

Id like to think this book passes the Oprah test, that were she somehow to invite me (hint hint) onto her now nonexistent show, she wouldnt nail me to the floor with that look of hers that says Ive blown it so badly Ill be lucky if the local paper ever prints my name again, much less my stories. That said, Im sure someone somewhere will read this book and say, But thats not how it happened. Thats not how I remember it. And that person may be right. These are my words, these are my stories, and Ive done my best to recount them in as true and gracious a manner as possible. To the extent that I may have failed, I invite those who feel offended (including Oprah) to join me some evening for a nice glass of wine, a good dinner (likely involving squid), and a chuckle over the wonder that was our year in Asia.

For William, who knows who he is,
Lucinda, who will try anything,
James, who brings joy to our lives,
and Ellen, who keeps it all together.

I wish to thank the Fulbright Organization and Po Chung for making our year in Hong Kong possible. I also wish to thank Roanoke College for allowing me the chance to explore. Thanks as well to my wonderful friends and family, particularly to those who guided us so generously and kindly during our time in Asia and to those at home who read my blogs and encouraged me to keep going. And many thanks to my agent, Coleen OShea, for working miracles; my editor, Katie Corcoran Lytle, and copyeditor, Skye Alexander, for making me make sense; and the designer, Frank Rivera, for creating a cover that captures the spirit of the book.

I ts our first night on the junk in Ha Long Bay, and our ship is sinking.

Or at least I think it is. I base this on the fact that, when I creep to the bathroom at midnight, the water outside the porthole seems awfully, well close.

Granted, its not like I have much to compare it to; I hadnt spent much time in that particular restroom during the day. What with the amazing scenery (lush green mountains rising out of the sea), the activities (touring through a local floating village and ducking into caves), and the amazing food plucked fresh from the bay, wed been pretty busy. Not much time for me to climb down into our family-sized room and take measurements out the bathroom window, eyeballing the exact level of the water outside the porthole.

But even so. The few times I had been there during the day, and had glanced out that particular window, my sense had been that I was looking more above the water than along it. Staring out the porthole now, muddled and swaying with sleep, Im struck by the sound of waves lapping only inches from my face. I squint, peer more closely into the dark: The sky is moonless and clear, sparkling with starlight. Against that, I can see the distinct soft-peaked mountains of the bay, and below that, glowing ripples of water as the tide comes in. Very close glowing ripples of water, have I mentioned that?

It probably doesnt help that during dinner Thinh, our Vietnamese guide, had asked us how old we thought the ship was. We glanced around at the red-brown paneling, the latticed windows, the slightly worn floorboards, and guessed anywhere between fifteen and thirty years old.

Wrong! he said, grinning. Only three years old.

Really, we said. Are you sure? He nodded, still smiling. Only three years old. They built it after the last one sank.

Now he had our attention.

Sank? said Bay, the only passenger other than Ellen and me and our three kids.

Thinh nodded. Then, realizing suddenly what we were thinking, waved his hands in front of him. Oh no, no, he said. In the harbor. It sank in the harbor. The captain put it in too close. The tide went out, the keel broke, and it sank. There was no one on board.

Even so, an image like that tends to stick, tiptoeing back into your mind in the middle of the night when its dark and youre tired from a long day of adventure. Going back to bed doesnt help. Curling up next to Ellen, I tell myself not to worry: Well be fine. The boat is small, yes, and, well, cheap. Were in Asia on a Fulbright, after all, so its not like we can door would want to doa five-star cruise. And Vietnam is a developing country, just getting the hang of this tourist thing. But even so, the company we signed on with got great reviews online. The crew members seem to know their way around the bay, theyre a little young maybe, but theyve done this hundreds of times. Surely they can keep one tiny boat afloat for three short days.

I listen to my kids, ages nine, six, and three, snoring in the next bed. This reassures me some, and laying my head down on the pillow, I try to sleep.

The only problem is that my pillowwhich rests on my mattress, which rests on the bed, which rests on the floor of our cabin, which rests in the lower part of the boatacts as a sort of megaphone, magnifying all the sounds of everything below me: the rustle of the sheets, the squeak of the mattress, the scrub of the bedpost on the wooden floor.