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Christine Cappio moved to the city in 1986 and immersed herself in local culture, taking on creative, teaching and charity projects. Photo: SCMP Pictures

A French artist’s illustrated love affair with Cantonese life to be showcased at Hong Kong Book Fair

After years of persistent study and awkward ventures into ­karaoke bars, Christine Cappio became fluent in Cantonese, enabling a sense of belonging that eludes many foreigners in Hong Kong

Cantonese

When she was an art student Christine Cappio sold tripe in a Parisian market to save up for a trip to her boyfriend’s far-flung hometown. The gig paid for self-professed country girl Cappio’s first flight to Hong Kong – which would ignite a love affair with the Cantonese world.

Cappio moved to the city in 1986 with then boyfriend, now husband Stephen Cheung, and never looked back. Professor Cheung rose the ranks to become president of the Education University while Cappio ­immersed herself in local culture, taking on creative, teaching and charity projects.

After years of persistent study and awkward ventures into ­karaoke bars with friends and family, she became fluent in ­Cantonese, enabling a sense of belonging that can elude many foreigners coming to Hong Kong – particularly those whose native tongue is not English.

“Back when I first arrived, it was easier to get totally absorbed in the culture” she said. “There was no French radio, no French TV, you felt really cut off.”

She recalled the move as thrilling, buoyed by the confidence she said came with being “young and in love.”

She remembered the sensory overload of arriving at Kai Tak airport, with the humidity, salty sea air and smell of fish drying in the summer sun mingling with frenetic crowds and honking rows of red and green taxis.

She moved in with her boyfriend’s family in Wan Chai months after her first visit and described the old district fondly, recalling the makeshift mahjong tables lined along the bustling streets, and feeling unimaginably far away from the suburbs of Lyon, where she grew up.

“When I first got a job in Hong Kong, my mother-in-law would have to take me by the hand to the bus stop, because I did not know where it was,” she said, adding that navigating a city with predominantly Chinese chatter and signage took some adjustment. Learning the local tongue meant she no longer felt so out-of-sync.

Now, thanks to heightened connectivity, expatriates don’t have that ability to fully wrench themselves away from their old worlds, which can make it harder for them to fit it.

“Your body is here, but your heart is in another place,” the slight, elfin woman said.

In a globalised world, with smartphones, Skype calls and Wi-fi, the feeling can be that people live everywhere and nowhere at once, Cappio said.

She wondered whether some expats might be missing out on the character building experience of losing, and finding oneself in entirely unfamiliar terrain.

“Much of Hong Kong is westernised now, it can feel like any other European city,” she said.“But it’s still magic living here like a local.”

This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as: French artist explains what drew her to Hong Kong life
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