Hong Kong

Hong Kong is weird. Even beyond the whole driving-on-the-left thing.
I can’t understand a word anyone is saying, but I can mostly read signs. Because obviously the signs are in either English or Chinese, and everyone speaks Cantonese. This is weird, because it’s usually one way or the other—reading AND listening or neither. And usually with Chinese my reading comprehension is worse than my listening comprehension. People here do understand both Mandarin and English, but they speak Cantonese amongst themselves, so I can’t understand what’s going on around me. Even my relatives only speak Cantonese, so communication has been a bit troublesome. Pretty much I only speak when spoken to.
An uncle said during dinner yesterday that I was exactly the kind of girl men are looking for—passive and quiet. That got my American-born blood up. Even beyond the surface implication, the judgment was unfair because a) I couldn’t understand the conversation, so how could I possibly join in? and b) I pretty much hadn’t slept in 48 hours and am also jetlagged 12 hours off of my time zone. So I was annoyed, even though I admit I generally have a pretty passive personality.
I know it probably sounds like I’m pretty easily offended, but I was really hoping to get to know my relatives, since this is my first time meeting most of them. Language barriers are so frustrating.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like Hong Kong in general—the public transit is great and I love the urban feel. Plus affordable shopping. The beaches and seascapes are also lovely, even in this terrible grey weather. And my cousins are awesome. I really just wish I could understand Cantonese.