Smoke that catches the throat?
Police on the scene at speed? It has to be Hong Kong. But not the protests; an event called Ceilidh on the Beach, with Dashing White Sergeants and a spit roast.
That's right. A ceilidh. On a beach. In October. If the Scottish seaside were its venue, no need for a partner; the wind would spin you.
This is HK. October has temperatures of 28 degrees; perfect dancing weather for an event, run by two Scots entrepreneurs, rescheduled from May. Then, the sand was washed away, beachlifted by a typhoon.
The location was the waterfront village of Shek O. We convened at the Canny Man pub near the city centre. It's HK's only Scottish pub and, identifying my accent, a girl asked the meaning of "canny".
"Someone who is savvy, a bit smart," I replied.
"Like Scottish for awesome?"
"Mmm. Kind of. It also means no."
Upon arrival at Shek O, we were piped along the beach by one of the entrepreneurs. The sound of our flip flops provided his bassline. The roast hog was already well on its way. Smoke from the spit stung the eyes, but we're used to that in tear-gas hardened HK.
I was Glaswegian Exhibit Number One. "A real Scottish person," said a German. I felt obliged to talk. We were near the spit and it was breezy. I picked up a shuck and emptied charcoal from the fire that had been blown inside. "Shell soot. Very Glaswegian.'"
Whilst there were, perhaps, few actual Scots, there were many canny men and women. Some originally hailed from Scotland, or had attended school there; or possessed a Scottish grandmother. One such, a banker, had the best-packed sporran I'd ever seen and that wasn't a euphemism.
It contained crib notes for dances. And a dance card. My Canadian friend and I were quite thrilled. Others among the 140 or so were American, English, Welsh, Singaporean. Some were twirling virtuosos, other beginners. When the band struck up, and the reels commenced, the beach was both cover story and cushion.
Overheard, from a fallen whirler: "Well, I can usually do this dance, but you know ... the sand."
"Are you hurt?"
"Not at all."
The ceilidh was held on the other side of Hong Kong island from the protests. Yet Chinese people watched, and began to join in. Might, I wondered, video be sent to remaining protest sites? Students there were playing ping pong and singing, between demands for democracy.
Scottish dancing has recent political form; there were ceilidhs in Glasgow's George Square before the referendum. Pipes rouse, reels foment. Might this inspire ad hoc ceilidhs at any future HK protests?
It's Scottish, which is still British, and Hong Kong demonstrators have waved Union flags in the recent past. Or would protestors think the Dashing White Sergeant was a police raid? And need reassurance the Military Two Step didn't involve the People's Liberation Army.
But it wasn't an evening for politics. One question, much discussed among women, referenced the scene in Braveheart when the men lift their kilts. How many moons came out that night? You want us to tell? Canny, man.
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