I bought a Mahjong set today. It turns out it is Hong Kong Old Style Mahjong (no bonus tiles). My friend Helen and I are trying to get two more people to join us for a game tonight.
So it turns out that I’m pretty good at this game… for a rank amateur anyway. The people I was playing with were:
1: Helen who played a long time ago but forgot the rules and has trouble reading Chinese numbers.
2: A friend of ours who had watched family members play before but had never played himself.
3: A student of ours who had played a little with her friends.
So not world-class competition by any means but I still rocked them.
Played since I was about five. Reckon that’s why I can remember kanji relatively easily compared to many other gaijin. Generally do OK, and some of my happiest memories are from playing as a kid at my grandmother’s house with an antique ivory and bamboo set.
Incidentally the sets I grew up with have two sets of bonus tiles (pretties) and the set I just got for my birthday from my gf has too, but that seems to be short of tiles so I think I should Google the Japanese rules (it didn’t come with any!)!
Other than bonus tiles there should be:
4 sets of 4 - winds
3 sets of 4 - “dragons” (white, red, green)
4 each 1-9 Characters, bamboo, dots
I played for the first time the other night with Mat. Highly recommend this game to anyone, it’s great fun!
Mat, we must have a mahjong night sometime soon after I get back.
If you guys ever get over here to Shanxi… say for a throwdown in September… we’ll have to play a game of Mahjong. Baji Omar do you play?
Get your mahj on!
Seems like this gets some attention every once in a while in American pop culture. Here it comes again…
Mah-jongg catching on with young set
Kellie Ell, Special to The Chronicle
Monday, October 24, 2011
Game night in Sara Linden’s Potrero Hill apartment starts off with food and wine.
“But not too much wine,” Linden says with a shy smile. “Or else you won’t win.”
There is talk of work and books until Linden declares, “It’s time to get your mahj on!”
A few minutes later, the group is gathered around the dining room table, paired in teams of twos with their poker faces on. The only sound is the plastic tile pieces being passed between players.
“I’ve got dots and cracks,” says real estate broker Keith Brown, as everyone chuckles. “Consecutive crack. Now that’s a party!”
Linden, 32, quickly gets down to the task of teaching nine participants the ancient Chinese game of mah-jongg. In addition to Brown, the group includes lawyers, nurses and a photographer.
After dreaming for five years of turning mah-jongg into a full-time business, last spring Linden took the leap and is now “building a tribe” of young people who play.
Not just for grandma
“It’s catching on,” Linden says of what she calls the new Gen X mahj renaissance. “It’s an excuse to unplug, see your friends once a month. I’m trying to convince people that mah-jongg is not just for their grandma.”
Linden, a Scottsdale, Ariz., native who wears a mah-jongg-tile bracelet, picked up the game as a teenager after reading “The Joy Luck Club” and received her first mah-jongg set as a college graduation present. For the past decade, the former medical sales rep has been traveling the country, playing the game and teaching others along the way. Recently, about 25 players from her Mahj Club, both young and old, had their first Mahj-a-thon to raise funds for a local charity.
Mah-jongg (the spelling varies depending on the country and culture) is similar to gin rummy, but uses up to 152 domino-size tiles instead of cards. Four players get thirteen tiles each and take turns picking and discarding tiles until a player obtains the 14th tile needed to establish a specific hand.
The table game originated in China, and while there is no clear document of when, records show it probably dates as far back as Confucius. Mah-jongg started to spread to other countries near the turn of the 20th century as Westerners in China began to export the game.
It became especially popular during the 1920s in Jewish families, probably because many lived on Manhattan’s Lower East Side next to Chinatown. In 1937, a group of Jewish women in New York created the National Mah Jongg League, helping to standardize the game and interweave the two cultures. Today, the league is made up of more than 350,000 members. In 1999, the American Mah-jongg Association was formed, hosting tournaments all over North America.
Linden is one of many spreading mah-jongg fever in the Bay Area. In the East Bay, Toby Salk hosts weekly multigenerational classes for beginners in a North Berkeley cottage. Sometimes, Linden stops by to help with instruction - or just to play.
The duo met after Linden saw a flyer advertising Salk’s classes at Afikomen, a contemporary Judaic gift shop in Berkeley.
“I was expecting my grandma,” says Salk, of the first time they met. “Some short, older Jewish woman. Then I met her,” she says mimicking how her jaw fell open. “I think it’s always been thought of as an old Jewish lady game. But that’s changing.”
Show-and-tell
On a recent Wednesday night, as neophytes ranging in age from 29 to 85 shuffle into the cottage, Salk does a show-and-tell of the mah-jongg sets she’s collected throughout the years.
“This is ridiculous fun!” says Robin Brooks, 58, a psychotherapist in Oakland’s Rockridge, who describes herself as an “L.A. Jew.” Adopted and raised Jewish, she says mah-jongg is a “playful kind of way to connect with others without the religion, politics and mishegoss.”
In the era of Facebook friends, mah-jongg offers an opportunity for face-to-face meetings - and combat.
“There are a million different rules,” depending on the personal style of who is playing and where, according to Salk. The New York native insists you don’t have to know the Chinese characters on the tiles to play, and those Internet mah-jongg games have “nothing to do with what we’re doing.”
Despite the fact that everyone in her family played, Salk didn’t learn until her late 20s, after moving west 35 years ago. Her 95-year-old mother still plays. Three years ago, after being laid off from a “very serious corporate job” as the director of creative services for the Sharper Image stores, she decided to pursue teaching mah-jongg as a profession.
‘Hard hands’
At the end of the lesson, Salk packs up her car with her mahj sets. “You’ve got to be sharp on the table. You have to keep up. I like playing very fast, going for the hard hands.” And she’s off, in her white Mazda mini-convertible.
On Wednesday afternoons, Linden can be found in the halls of San Francisco’s Jewish Community Center, where there’s a lot of “shushing” if anyone dares speak too loud. With change purses out and playing cards set firmly on the table, these women are here for some serious mahj action.
Linden, who is practicing for an upcoming tournament in Las Vegas, is by far the youngest at the table. Some of the women are pushing 90, but they’ve scolded Linden more than once for being too slow.
“It keeps you on your feet. It keeps you crazy,” Linden says. Apparently, her time with the veterans is paying off. “I’ve been keeping up with the bubbies at the temple. Now I can hang.”
Learn to play: Find Sara Linden’s San Francisco Mahj Club classes and events on Facebook or Twitter, or e-mail sara@mahjclub.com. For Toby Salk’s classes, go to bit.ly/nx5XQz.
[QUOTE=SimonM;660234]I bought a Mahjong set today. It turns out it is Hong Kong Old Style Mahjong (no bonus tiles). My friend Helen and I are trying to get two more people to join us for a game tonight.[/QUOTE]
Mahjong is chinese for swinging?
ttt 4 2015!
Wife ‘killed friend who got husband addicted to mahjong’
Source: Shanghai Daily | March 2, 2015, Monday
A 47-YEAR-OLD woman has been prosecuted for allegedly fatally stabbing her husband’s gambling buddy, People’s Procuratorate of Pudong New Area announced over the weekend.
The woman, surnamed Zhang, is said to have blamed the victim, surnamed Ren, for getting her husband addicted to mahjong, and for covering up for him when she would try to get her husband to come back home. According to prosecutors, Zhang stabbed Ren in his left armpit on October 23 last year, after he refused to help her find her husband.
Wonder how the husband feels about this. You think he still plays?
another random ttt for this thread
I keep thinking I need to do some sort of article on mahjong, but have never been able to make a solid tie to martial arts.
I remember playing it a lot with at family gatherings when I was a child, so perhaps it’s a personal sentimental attachment.
'Gambler who lost at mahjong killed winner’
By Ke Jiayun | May 5, 2015, Tuesday
A GAMBLER beat a man to death with a brick and stole back money he had earlier lost to him, prosecutors in Songjiang District claimed yesterday.
The accused, an unemployed man surnamed Shen, has been arrested for murder and robbery.
According to prosecutors, Shen withdrew 2,000 yuan (US$322) on September 11 last year to gamble on mahjong but lost most of the cash.
Shen is said to have followed a man, surnamed Wu, who had won the money from him and asked for a lift on his moped.
Wu gave him a lift but on the journey Shen attacked him, striking him repeatedly on the head, it is claimed.
Shen allegedly took 2,000 yuan and a gold chain from Wu’s body, before dumping the body, along with Wu’s cellphone and moped, in a river.
After having a bath at home, Shen left his bloodstained clothes in a garbage site, it is claimed.
Wu’s body was soon discovered and police targeted Shen as the suspect after studying surveillance video.
Initially, Shen denied involvement but confessed when police found his blood on the brick and discovered his bloodstained clothes, according to prosecutors.
hand carving Mahjong tiles
When people talk about being ‘traditional’, well, this is tradition incarnate.
[QUOTE=GeneChing;1284228]When people talk about being ‘traditional’, well, this is tradition incarnate.
[/QUOTE]
Dang… tile carving sifu!
Mahjong dumplings
They will bring you good fortune! Food lover makes dumplings that look like mahjong tiles
One man in China has put a creative spin on a traditional dessert dumplings eaten in winter
The food is typically enjoyed on the Lantern Festival at the end of Lunar New Year for good luck
Game lovers joked that people might eat the real mahjong tiles by mistake if they play while eating
By TIFFANY LO FOR MAILONLINE
PUBLISHED: 06:29 EST, 10 February 2017 | UPDATED: 06:30 EST, 10 February 2017
Food plays an important part in Chinese culture and different dishes are dedicated to different festivals.
A man from east China has put a creative spin on the traditional Chinese dessert dumplings, which are eaten on the last day of Lunar New Year celebrations in hope of good fortune.
Web users have been amazed by the pictures of his lucky food which are shaped after mahjong tiles, a popular game in China usually played by four people.
Tasteful game! A man in China has shared pictures of innovative dumplings which look like tiles of a traditional game
Vivid: The mahjong dumplings (right) look so real that people have joked that game players might mix the two by mistake
Got a sweet tooth? The dumplings are filled with red bean paste, like the ordinary sweet dumplings found in Chinese stores
According to People’s Daily Online, the images have attracted great attention on the Chinese social media because the Lantern Festival, the occasion to eat these dumplings, will fall on this Saturday.
Lantern Festival, also known as Yuan Xiao Jie, is an event characterised by its iconic red Chinese lanterns. The festival marks the first full moon in a Lunar New Year.
Traditionally, the festival also signals the end of a two-week-long Lunar New Year celebrations.
Normally, sweet dumplings eaten on the day are shaped like a ball, a reminiscent of the roundness of a full moon. The sweet dumplings are made of glutinous rice flour with various fillings such as sesame paste and red bean paste.
The food lover’s mahjong dumplings, however, are decorated with dots, strokes and Chinese characters, just like the tiles used in the game.
Quick and easy: Shaped in a mold, the sweet dumplings can be made with glutinous rice flour, jam and red bean paste
Mahjong lovers commented on social media that these colourful dumplings might bring extra luck to the diners
Time to make your own! Mahjong dumplings can be made easily at home, with a simple recipe and few equipment
Mahjong lovers joked that the sweet dumplings will bring them luck. However, some are concerned that people might eat the real mahjong tiles by mistake if they have the food while playing the game.
Web user ‘New Hao’ said: ‘What if people play pranks on the others and they eat the real tiles?’
According to China Daily, mahjong dumpling first appeared in China in 2015 at a one hotpot restaurant, called ‘BaShu LongMen’ in Shanghai. The dumplings come in a portion of four, available in peanut paste and black sesame paste and cost six yuan (70p) per bowl.
[QUOTE]STEP-BY-STEP GUIDE: HOW TO MAKE MAHJONG DUMPLINGS
Ingredients: Mahjong tiles baking mold, food colouring or jam, glutinous rice flour and red bean paste
Mix glutinous rice flour and water to make a dough
Reshape the dough to a long stick and cut them into small pieces
Take a small piece of dough, flatten it with hands and place the red bean paste in the middle
Place the mixture into a mahjong tiles baking mold
Decorate the characters with food colouring or jam using an icing decorating pen
[/QUOTE]
144 tiles in a set. That’s a lot of dumplings if they make them all.
Next article will be about lead and chromium based pigments in the ink on those dumplings.
Another facebook vid
March 29 at 6:09am ·
..
Playing Mahjong turns out to be a sport. #VideofromChina
You’ll have to follow the link to see what this is all about. :rolleyes:
Mahjong set carvers
How mahjong is changing with the times in Hong Kong
By Kate Springer, CNN
Updated 3:59 AM ET, Mon April 10, 2017
Photos: The world of mahjong in Hong Kong
Keeping the craft alive: One of just three or four mahjong carvers left in Hong Kong, Ho Sau Mei wants to keep the craft alive.
Story highlights
Hong Kong’s hand-carved mahjong tile carvers have dwindled in numbers
Ho Sau Mei is one of Hong Kong’s last tile carvers
Mahjong is seeing renewed interest from younger players thanks to contemporary venues
CNN Travel’s series often carries sponsorship originating from the countries and regions we profile. However, CNN retains full editorial control over all of its reports. Read the policy.
Hong Kong (CNN)“The setting sun’s endlessly endearing, but the light of day is disappearing,” says Ho Sau Mei, one of Hong Kong’s last mahjong tile carvers.
The 59-year-old quotes a Chinese saying, to express a mix of sorrow and joy as she watches her industry fade.
In the 1960s, there were more than 20 mahjong tile carvers – and even an association dedicated to the industry.
Now, Ho estimates that she is among the four or five remaining tile-carving shops – the rest, she says, closed because of low sales.
The art was named an “intangible cultural heritage” by the Hong Kong government in 2014 – along with umbrella making, folk songs, kung fu and various street foods.
While the traditional craft may be winding down, the game itself – like a more complicated version of gin rummy played with tiles – seems to be alive and well, with contemporary new mahjong venues springing up throughout the city. (See below for the basic rules.)
“One good thing about mahjong is that it has a history,” says Ho.
“Mahjong is the national essence.”
Labor of love
Ho Sau Mei helms Kam Fat Mahjong shop in Hung Hom, Hong Kong.
Tucked away in Hung Hom – east of Tsim Sha Tsui on Hong Kong’s Kowloon peninsula – Kam Fat Mahjong shop is hardly larger than a Post-It Note.
The walls are a clutter of newspaper clippings and family photos – there’s a tiny old TV in the back corner and a glass showcase of mahjong sets.
“The shop contains my childhood memories – I grew up here,” says Ho, who has been hand-carving mahjong tiles since she was 13 years old.
“My parent raised me to do this job, so I have a very strong connection with mahjong.”
When her father retired she inherited the family shop, because none of her three siblings was interested in continuing the art.
“This industry is dying,” she says. “Even before manufactured mahjong sets (became more common), not a lot of people were buying these hand carved tiles because they last a long time.”
When you purchase a high-quality mahjong set, she says, you tend to keep it for at least 20 years – sometimes up to 50 years.
“If you need to support a family, it is impossible to survive (from this job),” says Ho. “I never did this for money. For me, I can do this for a living because my husband is also working.”
Carved into memory
It takes Ho roughly four days to complete a set.
Despite the industry decline, Ho is as busy as ever – the waitlist for one of her hand-carved sets is at least one month.
In the past, they were made with wood, ivory and bamboo – but now they are made of hard plastic, which lay flat and store easily.
A four-person Hong Kong mahjong set comprises 144 pieces, including the four suits – bamboo, dots, characters, directional winds – and special tiles like flowers, seasons and dragons.
“Every step is carved into my memory, so it isn’t difficult for me,” says Ho. “But due to my back and eye problems, I am slower than before.”
Ho spends four to five hours a day hunched over a small workspace, where she uses a heat lamp to soften the plastic rectangles so they can be etched.
“I actually retired for a few months last year, but my customers (and public interest) made me come back,” says Ho.
“I think it is cruel to turn down the students (for interviews) and I want to promote this art to the others. That’s why I came back.”
Ho sharpens and mills every tool herself, from an iron ruler to a Macgyver-esque circle shaper.
Once each design is etched, she uses a brush to paint the grooves red, green or blue, wiping away the excess, so only the pattern remains.
She uses the heat lamp again, this time to dry the paint. With intense concentration, she then repeats the process with the next tile, and the next, and the next.
It takes Ho roughly four to five days to complete a traditional mahjong set, which she sells for roughly US$230.
A family affair
Ho softens the hard plastic using a heated lamp, before etching the patterns.
Thought to have originated in the 1800s, China’s national game is one of the world’s most-played with an estimated 350 million players in Asia alone.
Walking through the lanes of Hong Kong, the game is ubiquitous. Day or night, you’ll hear the click-clack of mahjong tiles echoing from shops and homes.
“Every Sunday, I play mahjong with my siblings,” says Ho. "It encourages communication. When people don’t have enough communication with each other, mahjong can lighten the mood.
“Some people in the older generation will feel ill if they don’t play for a week. They’re like mahjong addicts!”
She says youngsters are more likely to play mahjong alone on their phones – or around an electric mahjong table – than with traditional tiles.
“My son is 30 years old and he plays on his electronic devices on the MTR (metro), where you don’t need someone to play with,” she says.
Elsewhere, contemporary restaurants offer upscale dim sum and cocktails to modernize the experience.
Where to play
Dim Sum Library offers cocktails, dim sum, and mahjong.
The good news is, you don’t need to be part of a Hong Kong family to get in on the action.
Dim Sum Library – a new restaurant in the Admiralty District’s Pacific Place Mall, near Central – provides a contemporary atmosphere with cocktails and upscale dim sum.
At the back end of the restaurant, diners enter into a new-school mahjong parlor that’s outfitted with Chinoiserie-style decor and, of course, square tables for groups of four.
“Every Hong Konger grows up with mahjong tiles stuck to their fingers,” says David Yeo, founder of the Aqua Restaurant Group, behind Dim Sum Library.
“The game has been played in Hong Kong for hundreds of years and passed down from generation to generation, bringing people together over tea and snacks.”
In addition to all-day access to the restaurant’s mahjong tables, Yeo says the restaurant will soon introduce mahjong classes aimed at locals, English speakers, as well as young Hongkongers – anyone who is looking to learn.
“It’s part of the DNA of this city – it’s part of most family traditions,” says Yeo. “I really wanted to keep this tradition alive.”
Joy Luck Club 2.0
Dim Sum Library’s contemporary mahjong parlor.
In some circles, mahjong is not just alive – but thriving.
A luxury fashion brand and marketing consultant, Caroline Roberts says she’s played with limited-edition mahjong sets from the likes of Louis Vuitton and Shanghai Tang – the latter retails for over US$5,000.
“[Playing mahjong] is actually quite a chic habit,” says Roberts, who hosts regular mahjong nights at the Dim Sum Library for her “Elite Joy Luck Club” – mainly for English speakers.
The game, she says, is popular among professionals who are looking for healthy outlets and fresh ways to exercise their brain.
Roberts started playing mahjong when she was about five years old – a favorite family pastime during weekends and holidays.
“I want to promote mahjong as an important part of the Chinese culture,” says Roberts.
“Most expats may not have time to become fluent in Cantonese, but perhaps they can learn how to play mahjong while they are living in Hong Kong.”
Mahjong basics
A more complicated version of gin rummy, mahjong sees a group of four players huddled around a table for hours at a time.
Players pick up and discard tiles to coordinate pairs, trios, and runs of a suit in sequence.
The rules vary across Asia, but in Hong Kong, each player starts with 13 tiles and the goal is to develop a 14-tile hand using every tile in a combination of pongs, eyes and runs.
Specialty tiles, such as flowers and dragons, make it more complicated, but beginners can disregard these tiles until they get the hang of the basics.
When a player has a winning hand, they shout “mahjong!” – or commonly “sik woo” (meaning “eat pudding”) – to end the round and tally up points.
Translation by Gigi Yeung.
I think my family set is hand-carved. I should look at that again. It’s an old set my parents got in Hong Kong.
Mahjong
…because when I think ‘zombie shooter games’, I think mahjong. :rolleyes:
Infinite Warfare’s Newest Easter Eggs Have Nothing To Do With Shooting Zombies
S.E. Doster
Yesterday 6:30pm Filed to: CALL OF DUTY
Screen capture of YouTube video by MrDalekJD.
Shaolin Shuffle, the latest map for Call of Duty: Infinite Warfares Zombies mode, has players performing some rather un-Call of Duty-like tasks in order to access all of its secrets. Tasks like playing an ersatz version of Candy Crush. Or even mahjong.
Released last week on PlayStation 4 and headed to Xbox One and PC next month, the Continuum map pack included, among other things, an epic Zombies mode experience set in a gritty 1970s New York City filled with undead donning giant hair and wide bellbottoms. As with previous Zombies modes, they also feature complex Easter egg quests, a series of hidden steps which are usually so difficult that they are solved by the entire community working together in tandem. The secrets conceal massive boss fights, badass weapon upgrades, and more storyline.
Screen capture of YouTube video by MrDalekJD.
Mahjong plays a surprisingly big part in the game. Ceramic mahjong tiles spawn all over the map, which you can pick up and put down anywhere you like. Some of the secrets require you to simply match similar tiles together for special equipment, like a sentry gun or a lava lamp.
But one big secret requires you to actually have knowledge of the rules of mahjong, finding tiles and assembling a winning hand. Im not ashamed to say I needed YouTube to help me here.
If arcade games are more your fashion, all you have to do is die. No, really: Every time you bite it in Infinite Warfares Zombie games, youre teleported to a magical arcade where you can play a number of games to recharge your soul and get back on the battlefield, shooting hoops and playing Skee-Ball for the right to live again.
Theres also an arcade machine called Skull-Buster inside a certain building; its broken but you can go through an elaborate series of steps to repair it. Once its up and running, you can teleport inside it to play a trippy retro game. Shaolins is similar to Candy Crush, matching groups of colors to bust the skulls and score points. This lets you unlock the very powerful Perkaholic, which instantly gives you all the perks currently on the map. Its actually a fairly easy trick to pull off, at least compared to previous Easter eggs, and also grants you easier access to upgraded weapons. Its definitely worth pulling off if you can.
And you thought Call of Duty was just about shooting people!
I reached out to Pam Grier’s agent for a possible interview the Shaolin Shuffle thread because we were both at SVCC 2.0, but I never heard back. Some friends got her autograph and got to chat with her for a while - she was going for $30 or so.
What? Noooooooooo!
Say it isn’t so. :eek:
‘Horse racing and mahjong are for old people’ as Hong Kong’s youth gravitates towards poker
Players association managing director Stephen Lai says he wants to open dialogue with the government about legalising playing for money
PUBLISHED : Thursday, 01 March, 2018, 12:58pm
UPDATED : Thursday, 01 March, 2018, 10:09pm
Sam Agars
Young people are shunning horse racing and mahjong for more inclusive pursuits like poker, says Hong Kong Poker Players Association managing director Stephen Lai.
Lai has seen the game come on leaps and bounds in the past decade, to the point where he hopes the HKPPA can one day open dialogue with the Hong Kong government about playing for money.
“The younger generation feel like horse racing is for old people, same with mahjong, so they look for newer games that will include more people,” Lai said.
“A lot of kids got into board games and iPhone games – phone games have introduced poker to a lot of young people. Poker is seen as a more fashionable thing than mahjong.”
From as few as 200 players 10 years ago, Lai says there are now more than 5,000 poker players in Hong Kong, with 2,000 of those members of the HKPPA.
Hong Kong Poker Players Association members (from left to right) Ray Chiu, Alan Lau, Sparrow Cheung and Stephen Lai. Photo: Sam Agars
While horse racing is as popular as ever in Hong Kong, Lai expects the balance to shift as the population ages at an accelerating rate.
Poker has taken off in China in recent times and Macau is the gambling mecca of Asia, but Lai is confident Hong Kong would offer something different again if playing poker for money was made legal.
“We look forward to having some kind of dialogue with the government about poker being a legal thing in Hong Kong,” he said.
“The biggest case for it is the popularity of the game in mainland China. They call it stationary golf, the game rich people can play without having to move.
“It’s like a status symbol, Jack Ma of Alibaba is obsessed with the game and plays all the time.
“If Hong Kong had poker, they would come to Hong Kong. It has so much to offer as a tourist destination.”
Horse racing is for old people, according to the youth of today. Photo: Kenneth Chan
In the meantime, Hong Kong is thriving as a training ground for star players and holds its own on the global poker scene, with the HKPPA hosting regular free tournaments and clinics.
Alan Lau is the reigning Asia Player of the Year and Sparrow Cheung set a Guinness World Record in 2017 for the most “in the money” finishes in a calender year, earning a collect from 67 live tournaments.
Chinese poker queen Celina Lin overcomes cultural barriers to drive game to new levels of ‘glamour and prestige’
Having Macau on their doorstep ensures Hong Kong’s best have no shortage of competitions to play in, while they also travel to the Philippines, South Korea, Las Vegas, Australia and Europe.
“I think our current mode of working is grooming a lot of good players who travel to play for big money. Hong Kong is a good training ground for them to move forward,” Lai said.
Hongkongers play mahjong in Yau Ma Tei. Photo: Saskia Wesseling
And while playing poker for money in Hong Kong is some way off, that hasn’t dampened the poker world’s enthusiasm around what the city has to offer.
“We talk to so many operators around the world who want to do exhibition matches in Hong Kong because the backdrop of Victoria Harbour is so stunning,” Lai said.
“They want to have a table at the Intercontinental [hotel] or something with the backdrop of Hong Kong. They all have a dream of doing something in Hong Kong.
“But even though it could be 100 per cent legal as an exhibition match because there is no money changing hands, we still don’t want to ruffle too many feathers because we haven’t engaged the government on this yet.”
Alibaba is the owner of the South China Morning Post.
This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as: Poker seen as ‘more fashionable’
Old Skool trades
Print publishers are joining this list soon. I’ve long hoped I wouldn’t live to see that day, but it’s coming fast and I’m living longer than expected. You can support us by subscribing.
Fortune tellers, letter writers and the last of Hong Kong’s traditional trades
Published 18th February 2019
Credit: Gary Jones
Written by Lindsay Varty
Lindsay Varty is a Hong Kong-based journalist and professional rugby player. The following is an edited excerpt from her book “Sunset Survivors,” accompanied by photos by Gary Jones.
From fortune tellers to professional letter writers, many of Hong Kong’s street-savvy, traditional entrepreneurs have devoted their entire lives to ancient and increasingly forgotten practices.
These tenacious tradesmen and women – however clandestine against the city’s frantic urban backdrop – are essential ingredients in Hong Kong’s cultural identity.
But with almost no willing successors, skyrocketing rents and little chance of competing with larger companies, simply surviving has proven almost impossible. Along with photographer Gary Jones, I captured a glimpse of the hardy few who have battled the odds and continue to run their businesses today.
Mak Ping Lam, traditional seal maker
Mak Ping Lam learned the art of seal-making from his brother-in-law, and has since passed on his trade to his son, who works with him. Credit: Gary Jones
Despite having been in the seal-making business for half a century, Mak Ping Lam keeps his tools simple: a few rusty knives, a small wooden vice, one scrap of sandpaper and the bottom half of a soda can, which he uses as an ink tray.
Chinese seals, or ‘chops,’ were used as a form of identification for legal papers, bank transfers and documents requiring authorship. In mainland China and Taiwan, they are still used on checks in lieu of a signature, though not in Hong Kong.
To make a seal, Mak drafts a 2-square-centimeter (0.6-square-inch) design, and draws a mirror image of it onto the base of the seal. Only then can he begin to etch it into stone.
“Some fortune tellers tell people to come here, make a chop to put on their desk and they will get good luck,” he said. “I don’t know if it works or not.”
Au-yeung Ping-chi, paper effigy maker
Au-yeung Ping-chi hand-makes paper effigies, which are burned as offerings to the deceased. Credit: Gary Jones
Burning paper effigies as offerings to the deceased is a common religious practice in Hong Kong. Artists carefully bend thin strips of bamboo into various shapes, before coating them with joss paper and paint.
For ten hours every day, effigy maker Au-yeung Ping-chi hand-makes some of the most detailed and often bizarre paper designs found in Hong Kong. From food, clothes and houses, to laptops and even full-sized massage chairs, he produces replicas of items that customers hope will join their loved ones in the afterlife.
Over the years, Au-yeung has seen people’s requests change, from simpler pleasures like shoes to more modern items, like Nintendo Gameboys.
“People in the past were simpler – they didn’t need much even when they were alive,” he said.
“When I die, I would like some cars, houses and a hi-fi system … A super deluxe seven-foot-long Mercedes-Benz and Porsche will do.”
Luk Shu Choi and Luk Keung Choi, copperware craftsmen
The Luk brothers are sons of the late Luk Bing, who established Bing Kee Copperware in the 1940s. The store still produces copper items for restaurants, homes, tea shops and hotels. Credit: Gary Jones
In the 1950s and 1960s, most Hong Kong families used copperware pots, pans and kettles. But the material was gradually replaced by stainless steel, which is easier to clean and less reactive to acid.
Chinese herbal tea shops still choose copper over steel – as do some chefs, because of its ability to heat quickly and evenly. However, very few places in Hong Kong continue to make these products.
The Luk brothers learned the trade from their father, and they still work in the family’s old shop. It takes a full day to finish one pot, which they sell for about 700 Hong Kong dollars ($89). Their shop is brimming with handcrafted kitchenware, urns, door knockers and other trinkets.
“I cook with copper utensils,” older brother Luk Shu Choi said. “But I also like to use an electronic rice cooker as it’s really convenient. You can’t just stick with the old things; we also have to follow trends and the development of the world.”
Chan Lok Hoi, bamboo birdcage maker
Chan Lok Choi has been making cages since he was 13 years old. He still operates from a small shop in the Yuen Po Street Bird Garden. Credit: Gary Jones
Chan Lok Choi has been making birdcages since he was just 13 years old. Taught by his uncle and another famous cage-maker, Chan’s craft sees him bending bamboo rods into place, carving patterns or scriptures onto them and then painting the cage.
Taking caged birds to parks in the morning was once a common practice in Hong Kong. You would often see the cages hanging from trees, while owners read newspapers or played mahjong.
A handful of these bird-lovers can still be found today, either in the city’s parks or at the Yuen Po Bird Market, where Chan’s shop is located. But criticism from animal rights groups and the arrival of avian flu in 2012 – which led to caged birds being banned on public transport – have dampened this tradition.
“I would love to have an apprentice,” Chan said. “But no-one with a school education seems to be interested in learning these handicraft skills any more.”
continued next post
Continued from previous post
William Kam, fortune teller
Fortune teller William Kan operates a stall on Temple Street, home to Hong Kong’s soothsayers since the 1970s. Credit: Gary Jones
William Kam is a self-proclaimed, 100%-accurate face and palm reader. Located at the end of the Hong Kong’s famous Temple Street night market, Kam’s brightly-lit stall proudly displays his accreditation and 25 years of experience.
Soothsayers first set up shop on Temple Street the 1970s, offering everything from palm and tarot card readings to “bird fortune telling,” where a small wing-clipped bird would peck out your future from a deck of cards.
Kam expresses optimism about the future of his trade – perhaps he knows something we don’t.
“Twenty-two years ago, most of my customers were locals or people from (mainland) China, but now that this street is famous, I get people from all over the world. Tourists love it here. Hopefully that helps conserve this place.”
“I tell people the whole truth according to what I see, even if it’s bad news.”
Cheung Shun King, mahjong tile maker
Cheung Shun King learned his trade from his father and grandfather in the family shop, where his first job was painting the tiles. Credit: Gary Jones
Mahjong, a four-player game of skill and strategy, has been popular in Hong Kong for hundreds of years. It involves drawing and discarding tiles, each with a different character on it, to form winning hands.
Today, most people opt for factory-made tiles, but Cheung Shun King continues to carve and sell them from his family shop. He mostly replaces lost or damaged tiles, though he occasionally engraves and paints entire sets from scratch. These sets cost about 4,000 Hong Kong dollars ($510) and take months to complete.
Ironically, between work and his personal life, Cheung has never learned the game. “I would rather rest than learn how to play mahjong,” he said. “But my children love to play.”
“We can’t do anything to help the industry, as mechanic production is replacing us,” he added. “I foresee that all mahjong shops in Hong Kong will disappear (within) ten years.”
Kan Hon Wing, tailor
When qipaos were widely worn in Hong Kong, tailor Kan Hon Wing’s family store, Mei Wah Fashion, would sell hundreds of the garments a week. Credit: Gary Jones
Established in the 1920s, Mei Wah Fashion is the oldest and last remaining tailor of its kind, specializing in traditional qipaos and cheongsams. Master tailor Kan Hon Wing grew up in the store, which was originally opened by his grandfather.
The qipao, or “Mandarin gown,” was once everyday attire in Hong Kong. They were worn by almost all women, regardless of social class, so tailors were in high demand. But nowadays, the garment is reserved for more formal occasions, such as banquets or weddings.
Every piece must meet Kan’s exacting standards, so it takes him more than a week to make one qipao. But with shrinking trade comes exclusivity: While a qipao in the 1920s could cost as little as one Hong Kong Dollar (13 cents), Kan’s dresses today sell for up to 20,000 Hong Kong dollars ($2,549).
“Every qipao is unique,” he said. “Tailors need to be very detail-minded. I will give people suggestions if their ‘dream qipao’ is too ugly.”
Leung Lo Yik (Chen Kau), letter writer
Originally from Vietnam, Chen Kau has been a letter writer in Hong Kong for nearly 40 years. Credit: Gary Jones
Letter writing was a profitable business in Hong Kong during the 1950s and 1960s, when the city’s literacy rate was as low as 60%. Professional letter writers would help people contact relatives overseas, write legal documents and fill out forms or applications.
But with the introduction of compulsory education, and the rapid evolution of technology, demand has fallen. There may now be fewer than 10 professional letter writers in the city.
One of them, Chen Kau, has a handful of regular customers who he helps with tax forms, welfare applications or visas. Most days, he has none at all, so sits reading the newspaper or chatting.
“The development of technology like smartphones and computers is the biggest enemy of our industry,” he said. “But at the same time, it is essential for a city or any society to improve with time. There must be some jobs that are replaced or even eliminated.”
Wu Ding Keung, stencil maker
Stencil makers like Wu Ding Keung begin by drawing the Chinese characters onto thin iron sheets, before carefully cutting them out with a hammer and chisel. Credit: Gary Jones
Stencil making is among Hong Kong’s oldest trades and was once a thriving industry. The delicate process requires a sharp eye, a steady hand and expert calligraphy skills.
Craftsmen first draw the Chinese characters onto thin iron sheets, then very carefully cut them out with a hammer and chisel. These hand-cut stencils were used for advertising, wall notices and shop signs, though they’ve have been largely replaced by digital or laser-cut alternatives.
Wu Ding Keung is among Hong Kong’s last stencil makers. Stooped over a small table with only a hammer and bag of chisels, the 82-year-old can go for days without seeing a single customer, but he continues working to keep himself busy.
“I’ve forgotten how long I’ve been working here, but I know I started before the handover of Hong Kong,” Wu said.
“I once helped a couple make a stencil for their wedding party. I liked that.”
Lo Sai Keung, photofinisher
Lo Sai Keung’s store, Sunrise Professional Photofinishing, is packed with new and second-hand cameras, some of which date as far back as the 1930s. Credit: Gary Jones
In the 1990s, there were about 1,000 shops developing film around Hong Kong. Now, there are fewer than 50. Most shop owners responded to the demise of film by switching to digital cameras, lenses, photo processing or printing, but a few hardy shops still sell film and analog camera equipment to passionate enthusiasts.
Lo Sai Keung’s shop, Sunrise Professional Photofinishing, is packed with new and second-hand cameras dating as far back as the 1930s.
Nowadays, he develops about 20 to 30 rolls of film a day; however, in the 1970s and 1980s, he would process about 200 a day. Most of Lo’s customers are young, curious photography students looking to try their hand at analog photography.
“Hong Kong people love selfies,” he said. “You can still do them with film cameras although it’s harder and you would probably need a mirror.”
“Sunset Survivors,” published by Blacksmith Books, is available now.
THREADS
Fortune Telling
Mahjong