Hong Kong: HK Island

New York, London, Tokyo, and Hong Kong are in some ways spiritually lumped together, and not just because they're major cities with major economies. They feel connected in some familial way; perhaps London is the stuffy matriarch while New York is the overbearing father. Tokyo is the rebellious, smart-alecky teen son, and Hong Kong is the youngest - an impressionable tyke with an insatiable appetite for pork.

Before I arrived, my ideas of what HK would be like were pretty much based on what I'd seen in 1970s kung fu flicks (non-period), 1980s crime/Triad movies, and Hanna Barbara's Hong Kong Phooey. Some aspects were similar - skyscrapers, lots of people, good restaurants, and dingy areas with weird stores, cheapo electronics, and tasty/creepy street food. There was even a kung fu dog cartoon that I caught on tv, though I think the show was from Japan.

But most of my imagination was inaccurate: I was expecting dark, noir alleys where old men with long, white mustaches would sell me crickets and tell me riddles; women in yellow floral dresses serving tea with soft smiles and low bows; a bustling port city with foreign sailors fistfighting outside of bars. Essentially, I had in mind 1940's Shanghai with some 1930s New York mixed in. (I watch way too much Turner Classic.)

Most of my ideas about Hong Kong are closest to the realities of the Central area of Hong Kong Island, the downtown business district congested with huge skyscrapers that bely a sibling rivalry toward NYC, with buildings being torn down and rebuilt to be bigger and flashier. This was the first stop on Kelly's and my Hong Kong adventure, proper.

We took the ferry to HK Island, then the MTR (subway) to Admiralty, the stop after Central. Our goal was to start off in Hong Kong Park and the zoo/botanical gardens while it was still early and therefore birds may be found (it was on this trip that I discovered that my wife's birdwatching rubbed off on me -- damn it).

Admiralty is more or less an extension of the Central area - a densely packed grouping of skyscrapers with no way of getting around on the ground level, which is problematic.

Let me put it this way - there are two ways of saying "Fuck you." One is to go up into someone's face and say, "Fuck you." The other is to design elevated pedestrian walkways on Hong Kong Island.

The Central/Admiralty area is devoted to cars. There aren't even many traffic signals, as far as I could see. To prevent stupid tourists like me from getting flattened like scallion pancakes, guard rails are set up all along the sidewalk and lane dividers. So if you want to get around on the ground level, you have to walk about half a mile in the other direction until you can find a crosswalk (which likely doesn't have a traffic signal, so your live-action version of Frogger is still in play), or take to the elevated pedestrian walkways.

The walkways serve two purposes: to piss you off and to make you go through one of Hong Kong's five million malls (which in turn pisses you off more). Want to simply cross the street? Well, you first have to go up three flights of stairs, through a shopping center, down an escalator, through another shopping center, up more stairs, and down another pedestrian walkway. Hopefully after that 20-minute excursion, you'll be on the right side of the street. Otherwise, you're even further away.

As if to mock you, when there are signs for a tourist destination - like the goddamn park - the arrows point in two opposite directions. One is toward the park, geographically (presumably for cars). The other directs you to the opposite direction in which you have to go to find stairs and walkways to get you to your goal. Nonstop construction in Hong Kong means further labyrinthine routes.

After dubiously enjoying a lengthy game of chutes and ladders, we stumbled upon Hong Kong Park, a tiny, round oasis with a nice pond. A single sign suggested "Good picture spot," where I took this one:



We then took more walkways and found our way to the trams for Victoria Peak (or "The Peak"), a popular tourist destination that offers fantastic views of HK's skyline. The Peak trams are connected to a Madame Tussauds branch dedicated to HK's film and Cantopop industries. Jackie Chan stands outside, so you can take a pic next to his likeness without paying an entrance fee.

Jackie Chan must be HK's hero, spokesman, and god of all things. As well he should be. A video for The Peak features him, as does most tourism videos. I'm a fan of his work, but the movies I found at the video store that feature him were unknown to me - romantic comedies, dramas, even what appeared to be a remake of Three Men and a Baby.

Anyway, the tram goes up to the Peak, and - after having to go through a mall - you can get to great vistas of the city (see header image).

Instead of taking the tram back, we hiked down the mountain, catching great views along the way and spotting hawk-like black kite raptors. The walk down was a steep and strenuous, but rewarding, challenge. Unfortunately, when we approached the bottom we were back to avoiding traffic and signless, confusing directions. However, we soon found our way to the Zoological and Botanical Gardens. Slightly larger than the Park, it houses some caged primates and birds, the latter featuring some very nice pheasants. It also has this receptacle, which fulfills your desires to shove garbage down a dolphin's throat:



The best part of the Gardens, though, is the Tea Museum's gift shop. The museum itself is a ridiculously large two-floor affair with two wings, but the exhibits themselves are a little sad. A typical exhibit room is huge but features just a couple of teapots and cups of no apparent value. We breezed through the rooms and, hilariously, guards (of which there were many in this tea museum) would be like, "Oh, don't forget this room!" which would inevitably be on how to brew tea using ironwork or what kind of crumpet goes best with oolong.

But the gift shop was stupendous. They had jars and jars of tea of the best quality with samples ones you could sniff. Kelly and I spent at least a half hour just sniffing teas. We got a nice high there.

It was early afternoon, so we walked northwest to the market areas in Central to heard toward lunch. These areas are known as Soho, Noho, and Boho, as they surround Hollywood Street. Like most of the world's Soho's, the area is gentrifying and a neat place to hang around. There are winding streets with nice restaurants and bars (we stopped at one for beer and cider), but the best fun are the rows and rows of markets on the side streets. This is where I got my first taste of the true essence of Hong Kong.

Before the markets, we stopped off on Wellington Street for dim sum. (FYI - many streets in Hong Kong have English names due to being a British colony - HK Island most especially.) We went to Lin Heung, a traditional dim sum place that was featured on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. I was surprised the namecheck didn't make it a tourist destination - the place was packed, but by native Cantonese. Kelly and I were, in fact, the only white folks in there, and the surprised looks on the staff's faces said we were an anomaly.

As with most traditional Cantonese dim sum places, you have to seat yourself, typically at a large round table with other people. We snagged a couple of seats just as a pair of businessmen left, but had to contend with a revolting table. People at these types of dim sum places spit bones, fat, other undesirables straight onto the table. If you want a napkin, bring your own. We were face to face with what appeared to be the losing side of a pig's colon, smeared across the table. A staff member eventually showed up with a sopping wet, orange-stained rag to half-heartedly sweep off the bones and guts. I bet Kelly a dollar to lick the table. She didn't.

Women rolled around the dim sum on carts, and they largely ignored us. I waved my food ticket at one passing roller-woman, and she shouted, "Not for you! You won't like!" I impetuously waved my ticket again and she exasperatingly handed me some bamboo steamers, which held amazingly delicious balls of beef (I hope), pork dumplings, and shumai. We ultimately asked for a menu and ordered way too many dishes, all of which were amazing. The man sitting next to me congratulated us on our choices, while the woman across expressed her disgust at our gluttony (while spitting her own chicken ligaments onto the table).

We waddled to the markets - Wyndham St., Peel St., Elgin St., Graham St., Aberdeen St., Ladder St., up to Possession St., and then Upper Lascar Row - otherwise known as Cat Street, which used to be a thieves' hangout. Some of the streets were lined with upscale antique and furniture stores; others were pedestrian thoroughways with food markets. Cat Street was the best - it had cool flea market-like trinkets, and I bought one of my only souvenirs there - a reprint of an old advertisement poster for Peiping Beer.



Along the way was Man Mo Temple, one of Hong Kong's oldest and from the 1840s. My pic is a little lopsided and not great, but I was wonky from dim sum overdose.



Having gone an hour or two without booze, we found a great wine bar in Soho, where I got tipsy and tried sounding smart by explaining Irish history from 1620's Battle of the Boyne to 1997 (when the book I just read was published). I didn't make an ounce of sense, but neither does Irish history.

We walked up to the Sheung Wan area, checking out the sights along the way, then took the MRT back east to Causeway Bay. (This is as good a place as any to discuss my love for the Octopus card, but it warrants its own entry.)

Although I knew we'd hit the Causeway Bay area later in the week for the horse races at Happy Valley (held every Wednesday), I wanted to check out the area anyway because I heard there was a good toy market. No, I didn't go to any real museums in Hong Kong, but I did go out of my way for toys. Toys rule.

The Causeway Bay toy market was pitiful and it made me sad. It was mainly three blocks of children's clothes and backpacks made out of plastic and asbestos. Even mainland China is like, no thanks. I think I got cancer just walking around.

We headed back north and stumbled upon a large arena where an amateur soccer game was underway. I liked the arena and the surrounding buildings - it was a nice, laid-back scene.



We headed back west to Central and walked down to Lan Kwai Fong, a bar area popular with ex-pats, sort of a mini-Roppongi. For a Monday night and not too late, the place was packed. We settled on a bar that was nearly empty perhaps due to the happy hour deal that required higher math. (Though all monetary transactions in HK require some mathematics acrobatics - HK $7 is equal to US $1, and 7 is a terrible number to divide by. Dan, who I forgot to mention is a blithering genius, suggested thinking about HK $100 as $13, which confused me even more before it all clicked a couple of days later.)

Dan met us there after he escaped work, and we headed to the Mid-Levels for dinner. Mid-Levels sounds Tolkien, but it's a cool area in Central with huge escalators that branch off into platforms with restaurants and hot nightspots. It actually made HK Island's elevated walkways something cool - almost Blade Runner-esque. A pic of the street from a Mid-Level perch:



We were heading to a Sichuan place, but then I saw it. "KAITEN!" I squealed as I saw the sushi go-round through a window. I've said it once, I'll say it again. All food should be served on conveyor belts.

Sated by fresh sushi, we headed back to Discovery Bay, where I slept soundly, dreaming of Hong Kong Phooey and fish swimming toward me.