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gold, one black and one red. The drummer did his best to bring down the houses, banging for all he was worth. A martial arts troupe followed, performing acrobatics as they passed us on the street.
    ‘Any of them ours?’ I said.
    John shook his head.
    A small altar followed, carried by four proud young men. I peered down to see inside; it held an effigy of a god seated on a throne with his hands on his knees, his black robes flowing around him and his long hair over his shoulder. His face was square and dark, and his bare feet perched on a snake and a turtle.
    John squeezed Simone. She whispered in his ear and he nodded. She leaned back to stare at him, incredulous, and he nodded again. She collapsed over his lap laughing.
    John and I shared a smile.
    About twenty people followed, all holding lanterns with good-luck characters on them.
    The next altar contained a serene goddess sitting on a lotus flower, wearing flowing white robes and holding a small bottle in her hand.
    ‘Aunty Kwan!’ Simone yelled, pointing.
    ‘That’s right,’ John said.
    The next altar contained a goddess with colourful flowing robes and a benign smile. She wore a hat with a square brim with beads that hung in front of her face.
    ‘Tin Hau?’ Simone said, naming the Goddess of the Sea.
    John nodded.
    ‘Do you know her?’ she said more softly, barely audible over the noise of the drums and gongs. John nodded again.
    Simone turned back to the parade and jiggled with excitement in John’s lap.
    The final altar contained Guan Di, the red-faced God of Justice, holding a huge halberd and glaring fiercely.
    ‘He’s actually a very nice man,’ John said into Simone’s ear. ‘But he doesn’t come for this. This is mostly for me.’
    ‘Why you, Daddy?’
    ‘A long time ago, a vicious band of pirates was attacking this island. The peaceful fishing folk here had no defence against them. The pirates attacked again and again. So I came down and had a small chat to them about their behaviour. They went away, and the people of the island built the temple for me, and hold the festival every year.’
    ‘I heard you cured a plague,’ I said.
    ‘That too,’ John said, smiling. ‘I’m not sure if any of us remembers the exact origin of the festival. There were a few things. But the talk with the pirates is the one that sticks in my mind the most.’ He gestured over the balcony railing. ‘Here come the Floating Children.’
    ‘Floating Children?’ Simone squealed, standing to see better.
    The five- or six-year-old children wore elaborate costumes and make-up. They were poised on the end of long steel poles, making their feet level with the heads of the crowd. But the poles were invisible, camouflaged by complicated accessories that matched the children’s costumes. The children appeared to be standing, but it was obvious that they sat on chairs inside the costumes.
    The costumes depicted traditional mythical characters as well as modern celebrities and politicians. One little boy dressed as a fireman sprayed water into the crowd from his miniature fire hose, making the audience scream with delight. Many of the girls were dressed as fairies and spirits in flowing robes.
    ‘Uncle Sun!’ Simone yelled, pointing to a little boy who was dressed as the Monkey King.
    It was dusk by the time the procession ended. Simone yawned furiously. We moved inside and Monica presented us with a vegetarian meal that we ate at the dining table next to the upstairs living room.
    Later, as we shared a pot of tea and discussed the parade, a chorus of thumps echoed on the door downstairs. John nodded to Monica, who went to open it.
    John rose and stood to one side, his face fierce. He gestured for me to stand next to him, and I did.
    Monica led a Taoist priest up the stairs. He wore the full regalia of a senior practitioner: vividly coloured robes with yin-yang symbols on them, and a high, square black hat. The face under the hat was mid-forties, with a kind, jolly