06 August 2006
Postcard from Hong Kong - July 2005
“One country, two systems” is the way Hong Kong’s relationship with the mainland is described. And it shows – immediately on arrival – as we get whisked through the airport in a blend of Chinese energy and Western efficiency. The airport express train is quick, clean, and – like most things in Hong Kong – cheaper than its London counterpart.
We are staying on Hong Kong Island near the exhibition centre, not (as some wag has suggested) because it is within walking distance of the night clubs on Lockhart Road, but because I’m managed to get a good rate. Ah yes, something else about the “two systems”: this is nothing like as cheap a place as the mainland. But you can access the BBC website, watch BBC World TV (there appears to be no censorship here at all) and even photograph policeman (no, we didn’t try; it just seems as if it should be possible). It’s not that the Chinese are invisible – with the Red Flag flying over Governor’s House it’s difficult to miss their presence – it’s just that they are not trying to impose the more extreme aspects of their regime. There is progressively more Mandarin to be heard, and more simplified Chinese writing to be seen. It will not take long for HK linguistically to look like any Chinese province, with Cantonese being relegated to a regional dialect. But there are many larger hurdles still to overcome before full unification will be comfortable or welcomed: individual freedoms, the legal system, corporate governance, a transparent financial system… and that’s without adding that HK drives on the left and the mainland on the right (although we found out last year that China used to drive on the left, but changed over at some unknown time and for some unknown reason). Fortunately HK was never very democratic, so at least Beijing does not need to worry about irritating things like a mandate from the masses.
Just to underline how different HK is from China, we have BLT sandwiches from Prêt à Manger for lunch, at the bottom of the Lippo skyscraper, a weird glass monster that looks like one of those wooden puzzles Father Christmas pops into your stocking and you find you can’t get back together after taking it apart for the first time. The walkways that link so many of the skyscrapers are useful as – being much farther south – we are treated to quite a few tropical rainstorms. But everyone takes it in their stride; like in the French Alps: if you don’t like the weather, just wait 15 minutes.
Right outside the hotel is a Star ferry terminal, and we take one of these wonderful historic relics across to Kowloon. The boat we are on was built in 1964, but this post-steam design dates back to a 1920’s design in Liverpool, and that is more the age it feels. We chug over leisurely with enough time to appreciate the modernity and higgledy-piggledy condensed architecture of the skyscrapers at Central, the peak rising behind it and the ships queuing to enter Kowloon port. At 15p, it’s great value too. In Kowloon, we are accosted by tailors offering overnight suits and even a Rolex salesman. Intrigued, we establish the watches are not of the “3 for £10” variety so common in China, but beautifully made copies for about £80. IP theft is illegal in Hong Kong, and we are spirited away to a dingy flat at the top of a scruffy skyscraper to look at the merchandise. We feel vaguely surprised to be still in one piece on the way out. There is also a (legal) shop selling products from the mainland, with prices that seem lower. I accused the Chinese on the mainland that when they say “special price”, they in fact mean foreigners are charged double. Perhaps there’s no such premium here.
Once back on HK island, we take another English engineering relic: the Tram. It rattles and groans its way through Central, Wanchai to Causeway Bay, where we walk around the lovely Victoria Park which, with several children’s amusement parks and beautiful gardens: rather as if Kew Gardens were equipped with swings and roundabouts.
Completing our rebellion of Chinese food, we eat at an excellent Italian restaurant in the evening, washed down with Pinot Noir from Tasmania (a quick toast to Paul W for introducing us to it). The waiter, a bouncy young Dutch chap, recommends us to go to Lang Kwai Fang, the party area of Hong Kong. Always up for a challenge, we end up at a bar called “The George” (well, we thought it appropriate) with an interior that looks like a cross between an English pub and an office in Canary Wharf. This seems to be where the hard-working financial community comes to unwind: there are lawyers in expensive suits drinking San Miguel from the bottle and a woman who looks like an efficient investment banker by day, but who falls over from too much alcohol. This is not really my kind of place: there’s no-one over 40 and the music is so loud we can’t hear each other speak. George points out that there is no-one his age here either; this seems to be a place for early career 30-something singles to come and chill out (or fall over) after a hard day’s work. Or perhaps this is where the resident “Filth” (Failed In London, Try Hong Kong) meets the visiting “Swell” (Single Woman Earning Lots in London).
The next day, after a long brunch at a Starbucks-like café, we take the peak tram, another museum-piece of Victorian engineering. It is very simple, with two cars – one going up and one down – connected by a single cable going round a pulley at the top. It wobbles rather alarmingly on arrival, with the cable stretching and contracting. At the top there are great views all around the island, a huge shopping centre and a branch of Mme Tussauds wax museum. Li Kai Shing’s house (the owner of “3” amongst other things) is apparently up there, but the closest we got to him is his wax model outside the museum.
With its beachfront restaurants, low-rise apartments and vibrant market Stanley, on the other side of the island, is more reminiscent of the French Riviera than China. We end up in a Thai restaurant, with the tables inside being more popular because it is so hot outside.
Hong Kong is a hit with us both, but our time is up and we must move on. Next stop: Tokyo.
We are staying on Hong Kong Island near the exhibition centre, not (as some wag has suggested) because it is within walking distance of the night clubs on Lockhart Road, but because I’m managed to get a good rate. Ah yes, something else about the “two systems”: this is nothing like as cheap a place as the mainland. But you can access the BBC website, watch BBC World TV (there appears to be no censorship here at all) and even photograph policeman (no, we didn’t try; it just seems as if it should be possible). It’s not that the Chinese are invisible – with the Red Flag flying over Governor’s House it’s difficult to miss their presence – it’s just that they are not trying to impose the more extreme aspects of their regime. There is progressively more Mandarin to be heard, and more simplified Chinese writing to be seen. It will not take long for HK linguistically to look like any Chinese province, with Cantonese being relegated to a regional dialect. But there are many larger hurdles still to overcome before full unification will be comfortable or welcomed: individual freedoms, the legal system, corporate governance, a transparent financial system… and that’s without adding that HK drives on the left and the mainland on the right (although we found out last year that China used to drive on the left, but changed over at some unknown time and for some unknown reason). Fortunately HK was never very democratic, so at least Beijing does not need to worry about irritating things like a mandate from the masses.
Just to underline how different HK is from China, we have BLT sandwiches from Prêt à Manger for lunch, at the bottom of the Lippo skyscraper, a weird glass monster that looks like one of those wooden puzzles Father Christmas pops into your stocking and you find you can’t get back together after taking it apart for the first time. The walkways that link so many of the skyscrapers are useful as – being much farther south – we are treated to quite a few tropical rainstorms. But everyone takes it in their stride; like in the French Alps: if you don’t like the weather, just wait 15 minutes.
Right outside the hotel is a Star ferry terminal, and we take one of these wonderful historic relics across to Kowloon. The boat we are on was built in 1964, but this post-steam design dates back to a 1920’s design in Liverpool, and that is more the age it feels. We chug over leisurely with enough time to appreciate the modernity and higgledy-piggledy condensed architecture of the skyscrapers at Central, the peak rising behind it and the ships queuing to enter Kowloon port. At 15p, it’s great value too. In Kowloon, we are accosted by tailors offering overnight suits and even a Rolex salesman. Intrigued, we establish the watches are not of the “3 for £10” variety so common in China, but beautifully made copies for about £80. IP theft is illegal in Hong Kong, and we are spirited away to a dingy flat at the top of a scruffy skyscraper to look at the merchandise. We feel vaguely surprised to be still in one piece on the way out. There is also a (legal) shop selling products from the mainland, with prices that seem lower. I accused the Chinese on the mainland that when they say “special price”, they in fact mean foreigners are charged double. Perhaps there’s no such premium here.
Once back on HK island, we take another English engineering relic: the Tram. It rattles and groans its way through Central, Wanchai to Causeway Bay, where we walk around the lovely Victoria Park which, with several children’s amusement parks and beautiful gardens: rather as if Kew Gardens were equipped with swings and roundabouts.
Completing our rebellion of Chinese food, we eat at an excellent Italian restaurant in the evening, washed down with Pinot Noir from Tasmania (a quick toast to Paul W for introducing us to it). The waiter, a bouncy young Dutch chap, recommends us to go to Lang Kwai Fang, the party area of Hong Kong. Always up for a challenge, we end up at a bar called “The George” (well, we thought it appropriate) with an interior that looks like a cross between an English pub and an office in Canary Wharf. This seems to be where the hard-working financial community comes to unwind: there are lawyers in expensive suits drinking San Miguel from the bottle and a woman who looks like an efficient investment banker by day, but who falls over from too much alcohol. This is not really my kind of place: there’s no-one over 40 and the music is so loud we can’t hear each other speak. George points out that there is no-one his age here either; this seems to be a place for early career 30-something singles to come and chill out (or fall over) after a hard day’s work. Or perhaps this is where the resident “Filth” (Failed In London, Try Hong Kong) meets the visiting “Swell” (Single Woman Earning Lots in London).
The next day, after a long brunch at a Starbucks-like café, we take the peak tram, another museum-piece of Victorian engineering. It is very simple, with two cars – one going up and one down – connected by a single cable going round a pulley at the top. It wobbles rather alarmingly on arrival, with the cable stretching and contracting. At the top there are great views all around the island, a huge shopping centre and a branch of Mme Tussauds wax museum. Li Kai Shing’s house (the owner of “3” amongst other things) is apparently up there, but the closest we got to him is his wax model outside the museum.
With its beachfront restaurants, low-rise apartments and vibrant market Stanley, on the other side of the island, is more reminiscent of the French Riviera than China. We end up in a Thai restaurant, with the tables inside being more popular because it is so hot outside.
Hong Kong is a hit with us both, but our time is up and we must move on. Next stop: Tokyo.
# posted by DavidF @ 14:49 
