Almost China

Hong Kong was meant to be a jumping off point for China. We didn't think of it much for a destination, only a place to secure our Chinese visas (and we had given up hope for that in Bangkok). So here we had four days in a place that we both knew little about. There was something about a harbor and a ferry, maybe an awesome skyline, but we had no guidebook and were busy plotting out a new course through Southeast Asia. I guess in that sense, Hong Kong came as a wonderful surprise.

It was the closest to China we were going to come. And indeed, it was very much like I would expect Shanghai to be—very modern, very dynamic, very capitalist. The skyline was second to none I've ever seen (and that's including my beloved Chicago skyline), the transportation cutting edge (moving sidewalks which carried pedestrians up the hillside) and the parks world class. Chinese was the spoken language, but English was written on every sign. I guess I could say that English was also widely spoken, but the accent was so heavy it was like another language all together. Being a former British colony, there are pockets of the city that are incredibly British, such as the pubs and shops. There are also many British businessmen hurrying about in business suits, just as you would see in London.

I loved Hong Kong for the unique mix of cultures. Largely Chinese with a colonial British undertone, and strong ethnic pockets of Indians and Nigerians. Along the harbour, down on Hollywood Street, the feel was overwhelmingly American. The grand hotels and malls made it cosmopolitian, while the outerlaying areas were an interesting mix of old and new China. We only had four days, but I would say that we got to see many faces of the city in that short amount of time.

Chungking Mansions

Our first cultural experience hit us right away, just a few steps from where the bus dropped us off in Kowloon. Mindful of our budget in this expensive city, we had booked the cheapest accommodation we could find online. A place called Paris Guesthouse (there was nothing Parisian about it). Instead of finding this place right off the street, it was located, along with a plethora of other guesthouses, in a complex named Chungking Mansions. We knew it was going to be an interesting stay, just from the crowd gathered around the entrance to this place. Almost all of them were Indian, and almost all of them were trying to sell us tailored shirts (or Chris anyway, they ignored me for the most part). Moving through a corridor we could see moneychangers and shops, and further on, food booths. We had arrived in Little India. The smells, the sights, the overwhelming chaos and shabbiness of it all—Indian. We could have been in Delhi.

We came across a number of elevators, though we couldn't find our guesthouse on any of the lists. Chungking Mansions can be quite disorientating to a new arrival. It's a labrynth inside, and you don't know if you're heading anywhere useful or to a place potentially dangerous (and yes, it did have that dangerous edge to it). Someone directed us to the right elevator. Turns out that certain elevators only go up to certain areas. You cannot cross over from one place to another. In trying to figure out Chungking Mansions, I think they're made up of several different buildings. It's hard to tell from the outside. The place is massive.

Our room was actually quite decent, once we settled into it. The room was bright and cheery with a huge window looking out over more buildings. The most important thing was that it was air conditioned, and this was an absolute must in the heavy Hong Kong humidity. The only thing in our room I wasn't liking was our bunk bed. Chris took his usual position at the top, and every time he moved I watched the cheap wooden slabs bow above my head. The safety of the beds were highly questionable. I insisted on switching places. I rested much easier after that.

Outside of our room the facilites were a bit below par. The toilet in the one bathroom flushed, I'll give it that, but there was no sink to wash our hands in. The only sink I could find was one off in the laundry room, and it hardly looked clean to me. There was a soap dispenser, but no soap. There also was no room to put anything. It was very awkward when it came to washing up. There were sheets hanging everywhere, and you had to move laundry aside every time you needed to use the sink. There was also no privacy as there were Indian guys coming and going all the time. There was also no garbage can in the bathroom, so all garbage had to be brought back to the room. Again—awkward, especially seen as how I was having a period. The comfort level was gone, and I guess I missed that in Hong Kong. The cultural experience was interesting though. Looking out the window, brushing my teeth while staying out of the way of laundry, I could see life being lived in the apartment complex across from us. Window upon window upon window—each one framing a different family's life. I especially loved this at night when all the windows were lit up. I was impressed how many people can be crammed into such a place. This is how people live in many cities across the globe. After all, Chungking Mansions is essentially a slum. These are apartments for families. Many have turned rooms into dorms or guestrooms for tourists, such as our place. But even at our guesthouse, we had permanent residents on our floor. Catching a peek inside a room I saw a bedroom; a huge poster of a bearded spiritual leader splayed across a wall. These Indian residents were part of the family, I can only assume. It must have been interesting, them living with young backpackers on their floor (especially young cute ones), watching them come and go to the only bathroom, which was just outside their door.

We were sharing our room with two Scandinavian girls. Yona, a svelte brunette, was Finnish, and the hot young blonde was from Iceland. I appreciated how they spoke almost perfect English. I watched Chris' reaction as they talked to us. Sharing a room with these two beautiful girls—I found it amusing. I trust my husband completely. He didn't even let on how lucky he felt in that situation. I guess I felt lucky myself.

The girls were helpful in showing us the tourist sights. They had a map and handed over a guidebook, which had been passed around the dorm many times over. We were impressed how close we were to the harbor. You can fault Chungking Mansion on many things (which I will do) but you can't fault it on location. It's ideal.

Getting out of the complex can be a bit tricky. We tried catching the elevator.  It took forever, as there are many residents that take it, not just guests. We were on the 6th floor. By the time the elevator had come down from the floors above it was too full to stop and bypassed us. Chris and I had no other option but to go down the stairwell. It was daunting the first time. I can't think of a more perfect place to get mugged or killed in. We kept imagining shady characters emerging from the shadows of a landing, but we never ran into anyone of this type.  The stairwell took us to an unfamiliar floor. From there we had to find another set of stairs down to the main floor, then we had to find our way out to the street, sidestepping all the hawkers. It was a maze.

It bears in mind that Chungking Mansions is somewhat of a fire trap. I read that there was a fire that broke out years ago, and one tourist died in the blaze. That said, there are maps on each floor, by the elevator, displaying the exit routes. This was a great idea, only the one on our floor was covered over by a No Spitting sign. Funny that.

Everything said, Chungking Mansions was quite an experience. We ended up eating there more than once. The food was phenomenal. The samosas being sold at the food stands were superb. Chris was more adventurous with the Indian food. I thought for sure diarrhea would be on the cards for both of us, but no. The food was tasty and cheap, not to mention convenient. By this time in the trip, I had been fully converted to Indian food. I used to hate the stuff, now I rank it as one of my favorites. It hasn't done me wrong one time on this trip. (Now pizza on the other hand...)

Seeing the Sights

As mentioned before, we were ideally located. The harbour was only a five or ten-minute walk away. On the Kowloon side was the Avenue of Stars, a type of Hollywood walk for the Chinese film crowd. We viewed the handprints of Jet Li, Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, and countless others. Most of the names weren't recognizable to us, but the Chinese tourists were out with their cameras, snapping away at names I'd never heard of before. This was their Hollywood.

The skyline was impressive. Skyscraper upon skyscraper, stacked up along the water. The hills rose behind the buildings and heavy clouds rolled dramatically over green peaks. It's breathtakingly beautiful. During the day the scene is worthy of picture-taking, but at night it really turns it up a gear or two with the lights. Hong Kong is the city of lights. It's like Times Square times a million. The lights are designed for viewing pleasure, as can be evidenced in the nightly Symphony of Lights. Music is played for the masses congregated by the water, and the city comes alive. Green lasers fan out from the top of skyscrapers, lights up and down other buildings blink and snake in patterns, synchronized with the music. It's an unmissable spectacle, especially with the wooden junk boat, with its red square sails, cruising back and forth across the water. Hong Kong at its finest.

Visiting Hong Kong island itself, we took the world-famous Star Ferry. In a city where prices are high (especially compared to the rest of Asia), the Star Ferry is nothing short of a bargain. The crossing costs something around 20 cents. Once over, you can follow any of the covered passages across the city. This really impressed me, that you can get around Hong Kong without stepping on a sidewalk. The passages lead from one mall to another to another, all raised above the city streets. It's pedestrian heaven. Also, if you need to work your way up one of hills, you can take a moving sidewalk, thus saving you sweat and energy (though you do have to take the stairs down).

One of the main attractions is to take the tram up to Victoria Peak. This was a tricky thing to plan, as the peak is nearly always cloud-covered. We took our chances one day when the clouds seemed to thin out some, and were rewarded with a hazy view of the city. By this time my eye was starting to go bad, so everything I viewed was through a squint. There was a heart tree stationed in one corner, where we could write and leave a message. On most hearts were written “I love the Peak,” which I guess was the idea. Me, I wrote “The Peak—eh rainy and cloudy. But I do love Christopher Novell-Lane.” How's that for romantic?

There was a whole complex of shops and restaurants at the top of Victoria Peak, yet impressing upon us that Hong Kong is unashamably capitalist. Wherever you go, money is being made, even ontop of a mountain. Chris and I laid low in Hong Kong, enjoying the air-conditioned interiors of the malls, but purchased nothing. Just food and transport, which I guess shows that Hong Kong can be done fairly cheaply. The parks are all free, and they are great hanging out points around the city.

It was perhaps on the outskirts of the city we found our favourite park: The Walled City of Kowloon Park. It was like stepping into old world China, with the temples and bridges and circular doorways. We were the only tourists about. Locals, mostly older people, were gathered there, socializing or performing Tai Chi. It was hard to believe that this used to be the site of the city's most notorious slums. Gangs and hoodlums used to run the streets here. Poverty was rampant, most of the residents being illiterate. The old photos at the museum on the site depicted how life used to be here. I don't know where all the people were moved to once they cleaned it up (maybe Chungking Mansions) but I've never seen a better, more beautiful park. Entirely enclosed in walls, it created an oasis-like feeling in the middle of mass civilization. One of my top sights in Hong Kong.

Chinese Health

Is it wrong to say that the Chinese are a bit strange when it come to health matters? Then again maybe they know what they're doing. I just don't understand what all the stretching and face-mask wearing is supposed to accomplish. In every park, even in our own dorm room, old people were stretching and waving limbs around, even making weird, supposedly theraputic, throat sounds. We'd be sitting in a park, trying to escape the heat, and come upon a man behind some bushes doing squats or scissoring his arms. We got the sense that these were daily routines for them, though nothing they did seemed overly physical. A lot of times it was just some old man walking around in circles, clearing his throat. I believe in the good effects of physical activity, it was just the manner of seriousness that made me tilt my head in puzzlement. After all, I had never heard so much phlegm being coughed up. Surely a steam bath would be better?

The last two nights we had an older Chinese gentleman staying in our dorm. He had the top bunk across from me. He belched and cleared his throat throughout the night. In the morning he'd start his exercise routine, stretching each limb and belching, totally unconcerned that anyone would be watching him. His whole routine took about an hour. I even caught him out in the hallway when I was on my way to the bathroom. Swinging his arms around, running in place... it was good stuff, just weird, especially because the guy was still in his underwear.

All this stretching and belching, does it really pay off? I can't say for sure. No one looked overly healthy to me. And again the phlegm—what was with the phlegm? While passing through a corridor under a street, I saw little troughs at the side of the pavement. I asked Chris, “Are those for spit?” because many men (never women) were hacking into it. I guess the pollution is quite heavy in Hong Kong. Still I never felt an impulse to spit.

Quite a few people on the street wore face masks. What they were protecting themselves from, I couldn't say. This part of the world has made headlines for some pretty serious stuff in the past—SARS, avian flu... This was contagious disease territory. So I guess it seems fitting that I picked up something in this place.

I thought I had a viral infection. My left eye and nostril started running and wouldn't stop. My eye looked like classic pink eye, and I cursed myself for taking a nap with my contacts in. It was hardly surprising though, bacteria abounded in Chungking Mansions, and the inconvience of the laundry room sink didn't help. Nothing bad had happened on our trip before. I figured whatever I had would clear up.

By the end of Hong Kong I wanted to rip my eyeball out. I was in a terrible mood, due to the pain and my inability to sleep, as my nose and eye ran all throughout the night. Our departure from Hong Kong was a bad one, as Chris had to lead me like I was blind. I was starting to get pissed off with the hawkers, still pressuring us to buy a tailored shirt (like my husband would wear anything remotely similiar to anything they were promoting) and with the Hong Kong people themselves. A pushy bunch. Trying to get on the bus, in the rain, locals rudely pushed past me. One lady shook off her umbrella right onto my leg. I was ready to move on I guess. To where, I didn't care. I was in so much pain.