The main temple is full of colour and incense, the rustle and swish of prayer and the clatter of rattling lucky sticks. Everything is very informal; there are no robed hierophants directing how people pray, no-one enforcing a particular format or theology. Worshippers buy incense and other small items such as paper parcels, oranges or apples. The incense is lit at one of the numerous burners. Many people walk round the court yard several times, waving the sticks. Others stand, kneel or prostrate themselves in front of the temple, praying earnestly. Many acquire a box of the chim, bamboo sticks tightly packed; they shake the box until one falls out, revealing a number. The box is free; the interpretation by one of the many diviners requires a fee.
There are many containers in front of the temple. A small notice suggests that you put at least three incense sticks in each of these, to seek success in whatever endeavours you feel might benefit. Sarah bought a pack of incense and stuck them in.
The many, many busy worshippers completely ignore everyone else, whether westerner or Chinese, whether taking pictures, peering inside the temple or simply leaning against a pillar watching the show. It's a very open, democratic place.
After an hour or so in the temple, it was time to go. We made our way back to the airport. A good thing we were early, as our luggage was overweight and we hastily repacked. This isn't uncommon as people leave the land of cheap shopping. Our hand luggage got rather heavier, but we squeaked in with only a small amount over to pay.
Time to get south of the equator.