Tea

In addition to my grand auntie, I was met by two of her children – that is, cousins of my father.

And, as you expect, the four of us went to a local Chinese restaurant for lunch.

No, it was not in the China town. In fact, there are Chinese restaurants all over Vancouver, and we just had one nearby – it was a rainy day and my grand auntie is 95.

Seriously, the dim sums were entirely acceptable in terms of quality, just that the size of their dish was so much influenced by the Americans: The shrimp dumplings (蝦餃) had the size of a lion's head (獅子頭), and the small bowel that they used to serve congee was clearly borrowed from Shaquille O'Neal.

Of course it was never a matter of quality of the food, but the fact that the (extended) family could get together and shared some old stories.

PS. As a rule I have phobia to restaurants in China town – largely a result of some horrible experience when I had my overseas training. The glutinous rice chicken (糯米雞) that I had in London was not wrapped in lotus leaf, but aluminum foil.

I can still remember the rusty taste that I hallucinated nearly 15 years ago.