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| The Hong Kong Chronicles |
| Posted on 13/05/04 at 04:30 by LMBY Fan Zhiyi |
The initial outlook was bleak. Waiting in Heathrow for our connecting flight to Hong Kong I noticed a small headline in The Guardian above a small article about Thailand. Fighting had broken out overnight in the South of the country and over 100 rioters had been killed. There was a bleak warning that the fighting may spread to Bangkok, which is were we were due to arrive a few days later.
A few hours later I lay semi-concious, blindfolded and strapped to a chair and confined to a couple of square metres of space. I expected more of British Airways. I'd gotten a couple of hours sleep on-board so went and stretched my legs before landing as the threat of deep vein thrombosis (do porn stars get deep throat thrombosis?) looming after an exhausting 12 hour flight.
A mixture of a Hong Kong guidebook and some welcome advice from a native who was sitting beside us on the flight helped us find our feet on arrival. The first thing that hits you is the humidity, it wasn't easy breathing and Tunes won't help here. The terminal was bustling with people wearing face masks with the risk of Sars still prevalent (one of the top mainstream tv shows on a Saturday night is called "Sars in Your Eyes". "Tonight Mat Hu, I am going to be coughing quite a bit").
The train into the Central Station was perhaps 1763 times better than Iarnrod Eireann's "We're not there yet, but we're getting there" efforts. This has got to be one of the most impressive ways of arriving in the big city. The train is immaculately clean, with aeroplane style TV in the back of the seat in front of you. Considering the distance you travel, its probably a reasonable bargain at $90, about 10 euro.
But the taxi ride into from the Station to our proposed accomodation revealed that the masks may also be worn for combatting something else - the foul stench that emanates throughout the city and regular intervals. The taxi dropped us at the corner of Nathan Road and Jordan Road and it was only then that it sunk in that the adventure had begun. The street was chaotic with street hawkers, locals, and no other visible Westerners.
The search for a place to stay began and our search lead us to a labyrinthine complex housing numerous (ambitiously called) "hotels". We chose the Hoi Shing Hotel for the very important reason that it was the first one seen. It was all I expected, and less. There wasn't room to swing a Cat boot and the "en suite" bathroom consisted of a shower handle, sink, and toilet. I presumed you stood in the toilet if you wanted a shower. But the owner, despite limited English, was friendly and it cost about 8 or 9 euro each per night.
After dropping our stuff off we went to explore. The area contains some of the most densely populated areas on Earth so it took us quite a while to walk around the bustling streets. Again, the smell was intermittently horrendous, but tempered ocassionally with the aromas coming from dai pai dongs (cooked food markets) which offered a wonderful blend of Cantonese, Thai, and Szechuan dishes. There was more neon streets than after a Provo punishement beating spree in Belfast. Shop signs protruding halfway across the Kowloon streets and dodgy looking bamboo scaffolding all added to the buzz along this so-called Golden Mile.
The initial food was impressive. Ordering a bowl of Szechuan noodles and a sweet and sour main dish was a bit ambitious when I saw the biggest bowl in my life emerge from the kitchen with oodles of noodles. It was also probably one of the nicest soups I've tasted with differnet flavours in each mouthful. The toilets in this establishment provided the first viewing of the infamous Asian restroom facilities, basically a hole in the ground with a hose. I wondered how the likes of Heather McCartney would manage it or what the disabled toilets were like, and merely washed my hands. The sign above the toilet was interesting - "Beware of wetting clothes during flashing". It must have been a Tai Po. Another sign exclaimed "Beware of Slippery". I decided I would.
The first night led to the SoHo and Lan Chai areas which were packed full of locals and tourists. The fact that it was Labour Day (Hong Kong residents work half days on Saturdays) only added to the crowds. Drinks were roughly the same price as at home, which led to much sipping of bottle whilst playing Lucky Dice, an overtly complicated local game.
Jet lag led to a long, long lie-on the second day. Again, the market offered great tasted, including the freshest fruit smoothies for under a euro which acted as breakfast. The nearby park was full of locals - old men playing board games huddled around tables, elderly women keeping fit with weight machines, and young locals playing "soccer" poorly. We left by bus to The Peak, Hong Kong's must-see attraction. As the highest point in the territory, it offers the best views of the magnifgicent harbour and also boasts some of the most expensive property in the world. One house, Genesis, was sold for 540 million US dollars in the late 90s. The meandaring route led through Wan Chai, snaking above Happy Valley, past the Khalsa Diwan Sikh temple, then hugs the hillside (too tighlty at times)before reaching the Peak.
As the bus goes past skyscrapers you start to feel as though the skyscrapers were built at 45 degrees& a strange mind-bending feeling. The view though, is best from the top where there are plenty of look-out points and places to eat. The views in the day and at night are both stunning with Hong Kong's architecture the most modern and amazing I've encountered. Feng Shui masters are consulted before construction of major buildings which leads you to think "What are they on?"
Tht night we needed to find new accomodation, mainly so we could have a shower and shave without breaking a limb. This led us to some of the bigest kips I've ever seen, and I've been to Kildare (Hello Anne!). Most of the hostel owners must go by the old adage "A cobbler's children go without shoes", as it seemed their accomodation consisted of a mattress behind reception. Alot of the receptions were manned by the owners teenage children, as they had some English, who seemed to spend their days playing loud Nintendo games and on (free local calls). We decided on one ran by no-nonsense Kevin, a Jackie Chan-alike, but perhaps older, maybe Jackie Healy Chan. He was determined to show us reviews in Rought Guides and other guide books which were along the lines of "Ah, Kevin's a great fella altogether". Which he was. He was no-nonsense, wore his shorts Simon Cowell-stylee and probably hasn't smiled since Hong Kong was handed back to the Chinese, but he was pretty helpful and even led us to the airport bus stop when we were leaving.
The best way to get from Hong Kong island to the Kowloon side though has got to be on a Star Ferry. These ferries take you on an 8 minute journey through the busy harbour, again with amazing views of the skyscrapers. They were built some time ago and have their own atmosphere about them, it feels like a traditionally Chinese experience. Its also very cheap at about 22p for one of the best ferry rides you will ever experience
Even though its a financial centre, Hong Kong is very relaxed with various civil servants asleep behind counters until you tap on the window, including the local police (who also walk around banks dangerously using rifles as walking sticks). Again, we had a few beers in the Wan Chai area which was amazingly dead on Sunday night. We cut our losses and went for a takeaway, a red curry from a restaurant with the most obvious looking ladyboy ever sitting masculingly outside. I hope (s)he kept the receipt. My friend Aidan couldn't resist saying something smart which resulted in a hilarious attempt at a kung-fu kick from Jacqueline Chan himself.
The third day included a welcome Irish Breakfast in Murphy's Pub, with no Irish staff in sight, unless you count Pad Tie. We got the ferry over to Lamma Island, a former hippy enclave, which is now renowned for its seafood restaurants and laidback lifestyle. Along the way we encountered sea binmen, fishing rubbish from their boat/home, Buddhist monks hawking all sorts of stuff, and countless groups of women having picnics together. We got the efficient Star Ferry back, sipping a Tsing Tao beer, in time for a quick look around the Hong Kong Space Museum, which was an interesting way to pass an hour. The exhibition included early astronomical theories (ancient Hindus believed that the Earth was carried on the backs of four elephants, who were on top of a tortoise shell. They could be onto something there), how rockets work etc. There were plenty of interactive facilities too, although I was deemed too overweight to have a go on the G-Force simulator, being 4kg over the 160kg limit for astronauts. This was possible explained by the camera, wallet, coins, phone, and guide book in my pocket. It was probably explanied by the Irish breakfast earlier. It seems I'll never be an astronaut, but I discovered I wouldn't be the first Irish spaceman, as a fella be the name a Ruari Gagarin beat me to it in the 1960s. Again, I was too big for the moonwalk simulation, being more Jesse Jackson than Michael Jackon. Who wants to go to Space anyway?
And, who wants to go to Hong Kong? Well, if you've got 5 days to spare, plenty of cash, a strong nose, and an interest in East meeting West maybe you.
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