Post your home town story here. Try to have it posted by Tuesday night so we can all have a chance to read and review.
NEW: Brad's home town story at Writeboard. I finally did my homework and made the changes to come up with a second draft.
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My Hometown
I grew up in a small village, Yung Kang, in the south of Taiwan. The small town was between a modern city and the other big town—six kilometers away from each one. Most of the inhabitants were farmers; their farmlands located outside of the town. The main religion was Taoism, but some people were Buddhists and Christians.
The village had a special annual festival in July, which was in the lunar calendar. People believed all the spirits were released from hell for one month. In order to let them enjoy their holiday, the whole village rejoiced to entertain them.
They said that spirits were invisible but might dwell in any kind of creatures because they were happy to come back the world, so people were very cautious about their actions. For example, they would not leave their clothes or shoes outside in the night, children were warned to leave the insects alone, the word “ghost” was forbidden in conversation. The reasons were: If the spirits tried on their items, they would get sick or suffer from bad luck. If the spirits transformed themselves to become the insects, whoever caught them might confront an unfortunate accident. As well, to call them “ghosts” might be considered an offence. Therefore, people watched their actions as carefully as possible.
The celebration included various parades, decorated food, candle lamps, and hell’s bills. (a piece of tinfoil attached on rough paper represented hell’s money.) The members for parades would rehearse a couple of weeks before the festival, especially one of the programs –martial arts demonstration. Moreover, every family would hang two candle lamps on a long bamboo stick in their front yards during the whole month. Dramas and puppet shows were playing for around one week or more.
The parade represented many kinds of traditional customs. Such as, the temple God led the procession, the performance of plowing fields, the eight funny generals walking on stilts, the clam making fun of the crane, the exhausted senior carrying a young wife on his back, and the imitation of battling tactics. There were the other performances too numerous to mention. The most exciting thing was the martial arts.
The members of the latter arranged themselves in three lines. Each line carried its own weapon, such as, spears, two-prong lances, daggers and shields. In addition, a big crescent knife with a long shaft that was quite heavy; only a strong man could hold it, and he was the leader of the group. When he shook the knife and leapt in front of the rows, he and his members exclaimed, “Ho!” The performance was repeated a few times. The leader showed his power and distinction by striking some pose and he called “Ho” again, then they took turn to attack the other line by crisscross. I liked it very much because my father was once the man who carried that big crescent knife.
For worshipping the spirits, food was offered in a big square row by row in front of the temple. A big boar with an orange held in his mouth was leading every row. Each family provided at least three basins of different kinds of food, and each basin was decorated like an art work. For example, a chicken with a small stick inserted in the wing and stood in the middle of a basin filled with fish nuggets. The end of the stick was hooded a string and a nugget that was similar to fishing. Or a pasta shaped sow breast feeding her cubs lay on the noodles, and the noodles looked like bales of straw in a pen. The food was not only used for worship but also symbolized the wealth and artwork.
The hell’s bills were piled up like a pagoda. The Taoist priests recited Taoism’s scripture then prayed for peace and prosperity for the people. Then those bills were burnt so that the spirits could spend the money in hell.
The last procedure of the ritual was that a priest threw candy, cookies, or fruit to the audience. The crowd, especially children was interesting in catching the food. After catching the snack, villagers could take their food home. Then they expected the spirits would not make any trouble for them until next July.
712 words
City of Doll by Masaru
After the World War Second, my family made the move to Fukuoka city, southern part of Kyushu Island of Japan in where I spent happiest childhood time. Fukuoka city, or another name Hakata, is one of seven biggest cities and like other cities have a good fishing port. A geographical feature of my home town is face to China continent and has histories of invasion. I can still find some evidence of fighting, such as stone banks, on beaches. Based on those historical background and warm climate, people act very rowdy or happy go lucky way but inside of their mind they are so naive that one can never forget their kindness.
People in Fukuoka are very fond of festivals. “ Yamakasa” is one of three biggest festival in Japan and on July 1st to 15th it attracts more than 500 000 visitors from outside of city. During that time, 15 shopping males make their own doll towers, 20feet wide by 50feet high. On July 15th, 8 neighbourhood groups will have a race to get best time to carry a portable shrine around the designated root. Twenty necked men (they wear only short underwear) rush to the goal and spectator through cold water for them, then worship with clap hands. What an epic scenery it is! It starts 6 o’clock in the morning and ends 7 o’clock, will televise by T.V. throughout Japan every year.
“Hakata doll” is another famous souvenir. It has almost 1000years history. Made out of clay, they form various kind of human figure. Size wise, they measure 2inches small to 2feet tall and price wise they sell 5 dollar to 5 thousand dollar. On my way home from school, I passed the street crowded with Hakata doll distributors and sometime I could watch the doll makers were painting dolls. Sitting beside windows, I spent hours by watching them to do their job.
I lived in Fukuoka city for 12years. My house located nearby seaside and I had good memory of playing with nature such as catching fish, digging clams, or picking sea weeds for food. After graduating high school, I went to Tokyo to find a job. Many years interval, I returned to my home town to find cultural enlightenment had affected all over the place. No more seasides. There are high rise apartments on reclaimed ground. No more streetcars. Subways run across underground the city. To my grief, Hakata doll welcome me with a smile. After all , Hakata is my only home town forever.
425 words
My Home Town
My home town is Kabul- the capital city of Afghanistan. In contrast to Vancouver, it has less vegetation, but it is not a desert, either. It rains most of the time here in Vancouver, but in Kabul each three months you can see weather changes: rainy springs, hot summers, yellow autumns, cold and snowy winters.
What differs most Kabul and Vancouver is the street level. Kabul has crowded streets with sounds of the music coming from shops, sellers are trying to draw customers’ attentions by yelling about their special offers.
This tradition is still here after hundreds of years- since the Silk Road was passing through Afghanistan connecting India with other Asian countries such as: Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and China.
The most popular things in café’s are ice creams, French fries, burgers, and the Kabul‘s special kebabs- a selection of small pieces of tender meat threaded onto a stick and grilled. Even passing the cafes, the smell of kebabs catches, and makes you hungry to go inside and have some.
There is no alcohol drinks in any shops. It is against the law to sell, or drink because it is forbidden by the religion to drink alkohol.
My home town is different now. It is ruined. Kabul had witnessed several wars. Many people moved from there to other countries. It is dangerous to be in a crowded place now because of the bomb blasts.
I hope the good days will return back, and I’ll be able to visit my town.
249 words
My Home Town
My home town ,Peking, is a famous cultural city in China.
The unique "cultural avenue" is only a block away in the north from our community. All of the shops are for antique, book, Chinese stationery and music instrument. Nothings and no items are not about cultural in this street, so it was named after "cultural". Most of the shops are dealing with curios. They are quaint, bright and clean. Actually, they are expositions of the antique:the master's ancient paintings and calligraph hanging on the walls,the porcelains and the curios showing in their cabinets. The Scholars and the riches are their customs. After my lessons, My classmates and I often went there for window shopping. The clerks welcome these "young customs" too, for they were relaxed. One transaction a day, or a week even a month was enough for these shops. The shop assistants liked to talk with us and told us how to appreciate the master's works. The "window showing" were the most enjoyable thing after school at my teenage. I were edified by these person.I had benefited a great deal from them, some of them were the connoisseur in his field.
I grew up in the traditional quadrangle compound of Peking. Living in there was unique , friendly and harmonious. While you left home, there was no need to lock the door. The neighbours would watch it, even looked after the baby for you. Sometimes you could taste two or three kind of dumplings that your neighbours made and wanted you to share. In the hot summer days,after dinner, people enjoyed the cool in the cool. The adults gathered for chattering,or played the chess, or lay in the bamboo chair zipping their tea. At this time,I usually played the hide and seek in the dark places with my peers.
At the weekend night, when I heard the Chinese fiddles and the flute were playing from a temple nearby. The main aria of the Peking Opera began. I always arrived first. Soon after, people gathered gradually and the whole drama were on. I listened and watched interestedly and usually followed the melody in my heart. I was surprised that all the music instruments came from their shops and the faces of the actors were so familiar, for all of them were my neighbours.
This is my home town in the past.
My Home Town (revision)
My home town is Kabul- the capital city of Afghanistan. Although, it has less vegetation, it is not a desert. It rains most of the time here in Vancouver, but in Kabul each three months you can see weather changes: rainy springs, hot summers, yellow autumns, cold and snowy winters.
What differs most Kabul and Vancouver is the street level. Kabul has crowded streets with sounds of the music coming from shops, sellers are trying to draw customers’ attentions by yelling about their special offers.
This tradition is still here after hundreds of years- since the Silk Road was passing through Afghanistan connecting India with other Asian countries such as: Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and China.
The most popular things in café’s are ice creams, French fries, burgers, and the Kabul‘s special kebabs- a selection of small pieces of tender meat threaded onto a stick and grilled. Even passing the cafes, the smell of kebabs catches, and makes you hungry to go inside and have some.
There is no alcohol drinks in any shops. It is against the law to sell, or drink because it is forbidden by the religion to drink alcohol.
Kabul had witnessed several wars. It is ruined. Many people moved from there to other countries. It is dangerous to be in a crowded place now because of the bomb blasts, but the city is continuing to have it's usual life.
I hope the good days will return, and I’ll be able to visit my town.
252 words
MY HOMETOWN
I spent my entire childhood in Manowo, a small village by the Baltic Sea, in Poland. My town is located in a hollow and spreads around the main road connecting northern and central part of my country.
I remember that as a child I was never allowed to play near the road, for it was very busy and dangerous. The traffic almost never stopped! But children always have the greatest fun when they do something forbidden. One of our favorite activities was counting cars that were passing by. Every child counted vehicles in a colour which we first had to choose and the one who counted the most of them was announced the winner.
I really enjoyed my daily activities. Something new and fascinating was happening every single day. I had lots of friends and we always spent time together. Our village was like a big playground for us, full of high trees, rivers, bridges, and old, abandoned buildings. We even built a kind of “headquarter” for our small “gang” on the top of a tree, in a park that was surrounding my house. Few wooden planks, nails and a hammer and our base was finished in a one day. What an accomplishment!
Even now, after so many years, I can not stop smiling when I am trying to recall all the memories from my hometown. I absolutely love that small, charming place, filled with happy faces of children and a sound of barking dogs. Wonderful!
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