Be free Steve Choi

 

It was day two on our week-long excursion into mysterious world of Hong Kong and while I embraced the cleanliness, order in the subway and devoured every dumpling in site, I was still coming to grips with some of the more foreign elements.  Particularly around grocery shopping.  A private cooking class had taken us to a local market where cages of live frogs croaked next to baskets of alien-looking “vegetables” while freshly plucked chickens swung about our heads.   I just about had a heart attack when the grocery bag I was carrying for our cooking instructor appeared to come to life as a fish inside had its final flop.  But I still wasn’t ready for wandering the Night Markets.

It wasn’t the stalls of cheap t-shirts or lucky goldfish that caught my attention; it was the turtles.  Teeny little turtles in bags.  I was admiring what turned out to be rows and rows of Chinese softshell turtles.  An eager salesperson was chatting with me about the benefits of this reptile and she kept saying “delicious”.  This was clearly a ‘lost in translation’ moment…obviously she meant “delightful”, “easy to care for” or “great pets for children”.  When it became oblivious that her English was just fine, I panicked.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” came the appropriate roar of my travel companion when she discovered me standing on the street clutching a little bag, turtle inside.  Perhaps not my most thought out plan.  Jen had apt questions…” where will the turtle live in our hotel room? What will we feed him? Where will he go when we fly out in five days?”  As I stated, not my most thought out plan.  But, this is not the first time Jen and I have travelled together, and she has grown immune to some of my more impulsive quirks…so, initial shock over, we quickly set into planning mode. 

Steve Choi, freshly named, gave us a new purpose for our trip.  That very night we headed out to the Temple night market in search of a new plastic enclosure to house our guest.  “Why did you buy a turtle?” was a question that we frequently faced when trying to explain our predicament to shop owners.  Finally, we met a sympathetic couple who, despite Jen’s frequent offerings, wouldn’t Steve Choi home but they did take an interest in helping create a comfy home with the donation of an inverted soap dish to try and create a faux island.  Just a few hours later, Steve Choi was nestled in his new home, albeit it temporary, home overlooking Hong Kong. 

The next few days our focus was on finding a home for Steve Choi.  An e-mail to our home country customs office made it apparent that bringing him in as a pet was not an easy solution.  Jen offered him to every salesclerk and waiter that we encountered, all conditional upon the agreement not to eat him.  No takers.  We briefly came up with the plan to release him in the wilds of Kowloon Park – a downtown park where I had seen hundreds of turtles sunning themselves on logs.  This strategy went so far as a reconnaissance mission to the park where we scoped out the best spots to secretly release Steve Choi despite the plethora of signs promising fines and jail time if caught.  The widespread video cameras and fear of developing a foreign criminal record resulted in me chickening out before the deed could be done.

With no progress, we decided to head grab a ferry and head Macau for a day trip.  I worried that we shouldn’t leave Steve Choi alone so long, but Jen pointed out that 1) we cannot let our vacation be dictated by a turtle would by all other circumstances would have been an amuse bouche by now and 2) He’ll be ok on his own for the day, because, after all, HE IS A TURTLE.  I wish I could tell you more about Macau…I have a vague recollection of some temples, egg tarts, a few busses and a casino that had a 2:1 special on champagne.  I don’t remember exactly how we made it back to the ferry from a far away casino, but I do remember asking Jen to grab me a bottle of water when we were on the boat – she returned with beer.  And so, the night continued.  But…the drunken debauchery paid off!  Slightly incapable of walking the several blocks back to our hotel and flagged down a passing taxi.  Lubricated and chatty, we explained the turtle predicament to our driver. 

What happened next, to the best of my recollection, it what I am choosing to remember as fact.

Driver: “I have a young son whom that I am trying to teach to be responsible.  A pet turtle would be perfect.”

Jen and/or I: “But do you have the set up to care for a turtle?” (the irony that he was living in a plastic tub with a soap dish island is not lost on me)

Driver: “Yes, I used to have turtle and I have all the equipment ready to go!”

Jen and/or I: “Do you promise not to eat him?”

Driver: “Of course!  I could never eat a turtle!”

He said that last bit while pulling up to the curb of our hotel.  As I struggled to make sense of the currency in my state to pay the driver, Jen decided to leap into action lest any second any thoughts flare up (still not sure if it was mine or the drivers she was most worried about).  I swear it was seconds later that Jen returned from a mad dash to our room and simultaneously thrust all of Steve Choi’s meager belongings and the confused reptile into the hands of our driver while yanking me from the cab. 

I remember lamenting the loss that night over a few more beers and what I am choosing to believe were dumplings stuffed with pork and not the siblings of recently liberated Steve Choi…