experience, came relatively easily. "Life to them is one big gamble, just for the fun of it,” he commented on his co-workers, "but there is no purpose behind what they are doing, not for themselves nor for their families." Those he felt uncomfortable with openly ridiculed him as "country-boy” and “socialist scum,” and blamed him for lowering their pay. I asked whether he planned to do something with his mechanical skills. He could only give me a bitter smile: who would want a farm machinist in Hong Kong; his family was in the restaurant trade; his father was a cook in China, and his uncle was a master baker; he would feel obliged to learn the family trade; after all, the skill to make Cantonese luncheon delicacies was sought after in the West; his family expected him to migrate to the U.S. one day to start a restaurant of his own. At the time, he had one purpose in mind to learn the skill from his uncle and to get out of the miserable working environment. He relished our conversations about family and friends in the commune (whom we knew through fieldwork). My frequent trips to the commune served as a physical though somewhat invisible bridge between him and home. In a sense, I and my research assistants became part of his emotional network.
As months passed by, changes in him were noticeable. He permed his hair. He also got rid of the oversized leather jacket and bell-bottomed trousers. With his slightly pointed shoes and loose sweater, he had acquired the "grease look" so popular among Hong Kong's working youth at the time. He talked less about his friends at the commune but more about barbecue picnics at Repulse Bay with co-workers. He also wanted to move to another restaurant in order to gain a more comprehensive view of the trade. He seriously discussed the thought of opening a bakery with friends in a housing estate. He had finally enrolled in an evening English class. It seemed that within a short time, he had established his own networks and orientations in Hong Kong by affiliating with a more forward-looking group within the working class youth culture. He became less attached to the social network provided by his relatives. Instead, he enjoyed his economic independence with friends and asserted his own goals in life quite apart from family obligations." He felt he was finally sinking his roots in a society that was oblivious to its precarious existence.
experience, came relatively easily. "Life to them is one big gamble, just for the fun of it,” he commented on his co-workers, "but there is no purpose behind what they are doing, not for themselves nor for their families." Those he felt uncomfortable with openly ridi- culed him as "country-boy” and “socialist scum,” and blamed him for lowering their pay. I asked whether he planned to do something with his mechanical skills. He could only give me a bitter smile: who would want a farm machinist in Hong Kong; his family was in the restaurant trade; his father was a cook in China, and his uncle was a master baker; he would feel obliged to learn the family trade; after all, the skill to make Cantonese luncheon deli- cacies was sought after in the West; his family expected him to migrate to the U.S. one day to start a restaurant of his own. At the time, he had one purpose in mind to learn the skill from his uncle and to get out of the miserable working environment. He relished our conversations about family and friends in the com- mune (whom we knew through fieldwork). My frequent trips to the commune served as a physical though somewhat invisible bridge between him and home. In a sense, I and my research assistants became part of his emotional network.
As months passed by, changes in him were noticeable. He permed his hair. He also got rid of the oversized leather jacket and bell-bottomed trousers. With his slightly pointed shoes and loose sweater, he had acquired the "grease look" so popular among Hong Kong's working youth at the time. He talked less about his friends at the commune but more about barbecue picnics at Re- pulse Bay with co-workers. He also wanted to move to another restaurant in order to gain a more comprehensive view of the trade. He seriously discussed the thought of opening a bakery with friends in a housing estate. He had finally enrolled in an evening English class. It seemed that within a short time, he had estab- lished his own networks and orientations in Hong Kong by affiliating with a more forward-looking group within the working class youth culture. He became less attached to the social network provided by his relatives. Instead, he enjoyed his economic inde- pendence with friends and asserted his own goals in life quite apart from family obligations." He felt he was finally sinking his roots in a society that was oblivious to its precarious existence.
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