Hong Kong: The New Territories (Day 3, Part 1)

Back to the travelogue!

So. Having conquered Hong Kong Island and Kowloon, Kelly and I decided to explore more of the mainland above Kowloon. This large area between Kowloon and China is known as the New Territories, and is peppered with cities and towns of various types (from poor villages to industrialized areas to college towns), and has many pockets of natural beauty. Like the rest of Hong Kong, just about every place has a street market and a ginormous mall.

There's a ton to do, but we only had a day to explore. We had a tough decision ahead of us: of the two train routes that branch from Kowloon, do we go either west on the KCR West line, or east on the (you guessed it) KCR East line? The KCR West line seemed better for natural beauty - Shing Mun and Tai Lam Country Parks, Tai Mo Sha (Hong Kong's highest peak), botanical gardens at Shek Kong, the Mui Fat Monastery, and - most intriguing - the Mai Po Marshes Nature Reserve and the Hong Kong International Wetland Park. The East line, on the other hand, snakes due north, hitting the famous 10,000 Buddhas Monastery in Sha Tin, the markets of Tai Po, and finally Sheng Shui, the furthest you can go on the rail before crossing into the Chinese border.

My wife loves birds and parks and crap like that, and, reluctantly, some of that has rubbed off on me. I agonized with the decision, but, randomly hearing that the Wetland Park may be off-limits to foreigners, I settled on the East line.

Our first stop was Sha Tin. Ignoring the mall, we walked down a road and was greeted with a HUGE structure - a temple so large and multi-leveled that it had an escalator! Certainly this had to be the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery!





We climbed up, veering off into side areas with turtle and koi ponds, and simple, elegant rooms housing shrines to the deceased. My wife's grandfather's ashes are in a similar Buddhist temple in Los Angeles, so I knew what I was seeing - thousands and thousands of little cabinets with the remains of loved ones. Maybe the 10,000 Buddhas refer to the departed?



Solemnly, we moved from one room to another, all the way to the top. During the ascent, I spotted awesome posters warning visitors about the wild monkeys that apparently wreak much havoc, especially if you happen to be carrying around bananas.



The poster was super cute and I headed over to the administrative office to see if they had an extra. As I inquired about monkey posters, the office attendant dug into her pocket and unfolded a page that said: "I do not speak English. You are in the wrong place. 10,000 Buddhas Monastery is down the road."

We had mistakenly wandered into the Po Fook Ancestral Worship Halls! It was an excellent mistake, as the Halls and shrines were amazing. Hopefully it's not bad karma to photograph and reprint pictures of the deceased, but I found the temples to be lovely. I wouldn't mind spending eternity at one, so long as I didn't have to deal with dumb tourists like myself.



We climbed down and then walked through a nondescript alley. We came upon an upwardly winding trail lined ad infinitum with gold Buddhas. Each one was different, and they were all amusing - many had funny expressions and seemed to be enjoying watching Western tourists get shin splints. This trail went on for a very, very, very long time, but it was really neat.









After awhile, the Buddhas started looking like people I knew. This guy looks like Oliver Platt:



And this one has a remarkable likeness of my friend Kelly!



At the top is a large temple with the walls lined with Buddhas. I'm talking A LOT of Buddhas. This place is the Buddha jackpot.





Amazingly, each one is different and each are named.

Also at the summit is a large courtyard with giant animal statues and a vegetarian restaurant, where we feasted on delicious crispy veggie rolls, sweet & sour tofu, and a mixed veggie dish, and drank tea by the buckets. Sated, we walked around the courtyard, enjoying the ornate statues and views of Sha Tin.






I also spotted Falcor from the Neverending Story!



Snooping around a bit, we took an unused pathway and came across workers building MORE Buddhas! Because, you know, 10,000 isn't enough.



We took a different trail down the mountain, one that started out with lots of Buddhas but then became part of a pathway through a somewhat sad and downtrodden village (I think Pai Tau).



We weren't quite sure where we were, but we saw a sign that said "Bookstore and Bee Farm" and immediately headed there. I could use a new book for the plane home, I thought to myself, maybe a breezy Nick Hornby novel. And I could always use some fresh honey.

What followed was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.

We followed handwritten signs to the "bookstore", a private residence up a flight of stairs. As I tromped up, a man gruffly called out: "Who goes there?" (He actually said that.) "Umm, I'm here for the bookstore...?" I said uncertainly. "Yes, yes, fine. How many are with you?" "Just two," I said. "Fine."

We stepped into the small residence and a tall, wiry Chinese man paced around with agitation. "Okay, fine, you want to see the bookstore. Then we start from the beginning. Come with me." We followed him through three other small, nearly bare rooms, and we stopped at a wall. He pointed to a childlike, semi-abstract drawing of stars. "I write about life, the stars, and the universe. I drew this."

Then he hurried us into the next room, this one with two or three books on a shelf. "I wrote these in Chinese and English. They are about the universe." Then the third room: "I made these three tapestries. These tapestries explain everything in the books." At this point, I felt it polite to say something. "Wow. They are very nice," I said. "Yes," he assured us, "but you can not buy these tapestries. I will never sell them. Come."

The last room was the entrance, where there was a pile of the books he had written. "These are not for sale. I only keep copies for myself. You can offer me anything. One man from Florida offered me $2,000 but I would not sell them!"

I wasn't going to offer anything, but politeness again took hold. "Well," I said, "you must be very proud of these very fascinating and important works you have created and devoted your life to." "Not really," he said dismissively, "but people seem to like them."

We paused awkwardly and then left in a bit of a daze. What just happened?

We stumbled over to the Bee Farm, which appeared to be an abandoned cage with some angry-sounding bees flying around. We decided to leave Sha Tin.

We hopped back on the KCR train, and after considering stopping off at Tai Po for their markets, we decided to stay on and go all the way to Sheng Shui.

Sheng Shui is just a couple of miles from the Chinese border and, by many accounts, is a Hong Kong city that is most like what you'd find in China. Sure enough, it seemed to be overcast in that gray, hazy palor that's always in my mind's eye when I think about China, and the streets were choked with blaring traffic, establishments of ill repute with gaudy advertisements, and industrial griminess. Far from Kowloon and Hong Kong proper, there were no English signs here, and English comprehension is limited if present at all.

We walked through the crowded, commercial streets, then turned down some alleys and into a huge market area, sprawling with narrow arteries of stands filled with meats, fruits, toys, trinkets, and clothes. In the shadows of closely placed buildings, the market was dark and mysterious - even a little exotic. It was one of those moments when I felt like I was in a truly different place. That stranger-in-a-strange-land feeling is one I crave whenever I travel, but was often times elusive in the rest of English-friendly and accessible Hong Kong.

See, told ya it was dark:





Although the multitude of hanging meat tubes were tempting, I bought a set of dice that had pictures of prawns and other sea creatures on them. The woman at the stand explained in Chinese that the dice are for a betting game. I understood that much through pantomime, but when she tried explaining the rules for the game, we both fell into fits of laughter. Just from that cute experience, my humble prawn dice might be my favorite thing I brought back from Hong Kong.

Having our fill of the smells of dried fish and intestines, we took the train back toward Kowloon, where our day continued. Oh, yes, there is more to this day - we haven't even gotten to lunch yet! Stay tuned.