Hong Kong

The Luxe Guide to Hong Kong, which was written by one of the guests at this rooftop barbecue, starts something like this: “Don’t start planning a holiday to Hong Kong on a budget. If you’re already on Holiday in Hong Kong with a budget, start crying”. Thankfully, some exceptionally kind friends of my cousin whom I’d never met before were very understanding when I rang the bell of their apartment on the 37th floor, dropped my rucksack and flopped down on the sofa. The view is awesome; it’s the picture you’d see next to an article about Hong Kong in the Economist. It is certainly better than the view from the room I looked at on Nathan Road, global microcosm with an extra helping of backpackers and disarmingly honest “copy-watch” salesmen. The view there was either a wall or someone’s laundry. Here I can see the lightshow that is the Hong Kong skyline at night, the dazzling, incredible, multi-coloured, flashing carbon footprint. In the daytime the carbon footprint is a more conventional browny-grey or greyey-brown making the view a lot less dramatic than it might have been. I have to say, after Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou and here I have come to appreciate that air pollution is not a problem to be sniffed at. I’d thought wearing a mask seemed a little effete, why couldn’t you just manfully suck in a few noxious vapours? The problem in Asia is on a different scale. The moment I was truly convinced was in one of the interviews on the train. A Chinese guy had been to Sheffield for work experience and so I asked him what he liked about England. The weather, he replied. I searched through my phrasebook, sensing I must have misheard. But no, he meant the weather. OK so it is often windy and rainy, he conceded, but at least the air is clean. I can think of no better illustration. If people are going to start coming to England for the weather, surely people must recognize that change is necessary.

Amazingly though, 75% of Hong Kong is actually green. I had heard that before but thought perhaps it was one of those statistics which prove you can prove anything with statistics. But its true, even the addition of the sugar coated plastic trees of Disneyland caused only a small dent in the figure. I headed over to Lantau Island, home of a monastery with a big bronze Buddha. I was joined by Babu, a delightful retired Indian bus driver from Leicester. He told several very humorous anecdotes on the bus from the port, all with a distinctly Indian flavour. For example, one joke set in a restaurant next to a Spanish bull fight had the protagonists eating bull testicle curry and rice for one pound a head. I decided not to quibble. Up through dense forest we drove until we arrived at the Tian Tan Buddha as it is properly known. It is the tallest outdoor sitting Buddha in the world apparently. I have to say I’m becoming a little cynical about these Buddha records. I have seen various Buddhas that have claimed to hold various obscure records. This seems slightly childish and I can’t help think that this is another aspect of the rather overblown modern Buddhism that probably has Siddhartha turning in his Nirvana, if there is anything to turn and anywhere to turn to when you’re in a heavenly state of peace and nothingness.

Talking of records one other thing I was really keen to see while I was in Hong Kong was the Central to Mid-Levels Escalator, the world’s longest. Except it’s the World’s Longest Outdoor Escalator System. So that means its not 800m of intense, heart-pounding diagonal action but several quite long sections strung together. It is still heart-fluttering even though it turns out the really long single span ones are actually on the Moscow and St Petersburg Metro systems. For heart-pounding try arriving in a rush at the wrong end of the (One way) escalator when it changes direction and take the stairs instead. Babu enjoys it as it saves on his taxi fare. He doesn’t enjoy the walking bits in between as he feels we have already walked enough today.

After the Buddha we ate at the monastery's vegetarian restaurant, where Babu regaled me with more stories, some about curry. Then we took a taxi to the stilt village of Tai O. It may be only a few miles by boat but Tai O a whole world away from the skyscrapers of Hong Kong. The residents are propped up above the river by ramshackle balconies, boats tied to the stilts that are sunk deep into the mud below. Others are selling fish, fresh from the boats on the water or dried from the shops on dry land. Puffer fish with plastic teddy bear eyes spin mournfully, alongside some rather striking but tatty auditionee's who failed to make the grade for Hirst. The longer you spend in China the less strange shark fin soup seems. Crossing a bridge we encounter Mr Le, a thin, effusive man carrying too many bags. He takes us to another monastery where here they are celebrating a big feast held in honour of their generous donors. As with many institutions donations are recognized with names and photographs. These are then prayed over by the monks, ensuring you more good fortune, some of which may be able to fund a bigger photograph. At the moment the monks are chanting before an altar, with their voices amplified by a mic and speaker for the benefit of the crowd. Nearby stacks of prayers are being burnt on a small fire, watched over and blessed by the abbot, who in turn is watched by the two-abbot-high, glaring papier mache statues that are doing an excellent job of scaring away evil demons, as there are none to be seen. There are terrapins however. Actually, the stuff about donations reminds me of a sign I say at the monastery earlier. The monks there had a long explanation next to the cashier’s desk about how donations would be matched, not by the government, as with GiftAid, but by karma. Seriously, the sign said that any donations would result in corresponding karmic gains. I’m still not sure its what Buddha would have wanted. Mr Le says he wants to have his picture up there some day, but I think he is joking. It starts to rain. Babu is walking slowly, because we have walked a lot today and he is talking to his son on the phone. I offer Mr Le the umbrella I bought in Shanghai. He says he will walk under it but he does not want it, as he hates umbrellas. I decide not to delve too deep.