On the Edge of a 1800s Hong Kong Graveyard

I look out the window of my apartment. It's a graveyard out there. Not good vibes, or favorable Feng shui, as they say here. The tombstones line up in rows beneath my bedroom window. I check to make sure my bed isn’t facing the same direction. The atmosphere grows heavy.

If you lived here, what would you do to lighten the mood? The cemetery is a pleasant enough green space during the day, one could choose to ignore it. But, there are literally decaying human bodies buried beneath the ground. What could be creepier than that? I can't get it out of my mind.

The day after moving in, I decide to confront my fears and have a walk within. Perhaps I'll give the departed an offering to placate these lost souls from the 1800s: a few oranges, a small bottle of vodka; those are common gifts for those in the after world here. Whatever it takes to keep them content and occupied. But, my good intentions are thwarted. When I reach the graveyard's entrance, the gate is locked.

I peer inside at the ancient tombstones. (Here are a few pictures from another one a few streets over. I do find it odd how men get broken down into categories down to and including 'drummers', while women and children are listed as a total at the bottom.)

This new, slightly haunted, apartment wasn’t my first choice. I viewed a dozen others before choosing it. The others were tiny. Or tiny and weird. One had a jet black floor and nightclub lighting. This apartment at least was reasonably spacious and normal, at least on the inside.

Chinese balance a lack of organized religion with a strong belief in superstition. Wind and rain are both considered “dangerous”. Hong Kongers scurry for cover when there are a few drops of rain, whilst British residents walk through torrential downpours without an umbrella. Being American, I’d place myself in the middle of these two extreme examples of bravery versus the natural elements, and then take a step toward using very large umbrellas or staying indoors until things calm down.

Feng Shui can be loosely translated as the balance of the energy of your environment. Balance the light and dark, the wet and dry, busyness with calmness. Even when Feng shui itself is not strictly believed in, it's a weather vane for local superstition. And it all points toward the bad fortune of living next to a graveyard.

Most cemeteries are hidden away on distant coastlines. During the Qingming Festival, Hong Kongers take long bus rides to visit their ancestors graves in remote parts of the territory. But the early British colonial authorities had to do things differently, and put theirs in my backyard.

Feng shui instructs that if you face a negative energy source in your home, you must counteract it.

I keep my eyes open. At Ikea, I see a pile of shark plush toys. Perfect.

A shark comes home with me. I place it on the windowsill to ward the bad spirits away. But shark plushies don’t talk much. Ghosts still haunt the quiet stillness of the apartment.

And it is quiet. Having lived with two teenage daughters until a divorce a few years ago, I’m used to a constant chatter of new ideas and opinions.

In the quiet, I grow restless. I venture out to the local supermarket every night. My cupboards fill with canned goods. I turn on the TV and the computer. When I turn them off again, the quiet stillness presses in. I go to the bedroom and peer out the window. The cemetery sits there, pressing out with its dark energy.

I can’t blame Ikea. They were not advertising this as one of their use cases for plushie toys.

My mind returns to the principles of Feng shui and the balance of metal, earth, fire, water, and wood elements. With excessive stillness, activity is needed. This means adding the element of fire. I read the list of fire elements: candles, lights, electronic equipment, painting the walls red. (is this similar to painting the town red?)

I spend the next few days pondering it all. Living alone and having no proclivity for manual labor, the dust bunnies on the floor grow. They soon combine forces and become small moveable dust carpets. Another problem I need to tackle soon when I'm not working or writing.

The next week, I find what I'm looking for.

An electronic device that is willing to work the graveyard shift, combat the dust bunnies, and bring a buzz of activity into the haunted bedroom.

It comes precharged, I push a button, it beeps and whirs and begins to explore. The Xiaomi M2 soon draws a map of my apartment and presents a proposal. Every day, on a schedule, it will thunder into the cemetery facing bedroom, vacuum every nook and cranny, all while making a load of racket. If I push a button on the app, he will even do this again at nighttime, just in case.

References:

A simple guide to using Feng shui to enhance apartment interiors:

https://www.hgtv.com/design/decorating/design-101/the-elements-of-feng-shui