Hong Kong and trip home

We didn’t get past baggage claim before people start saying, “we’re back to civilization!” While I wouldn’t have put it that way, the very distinct shift from still-developing China to Hong Kong was all around us. Randy, our guide, would have us guess how many 7-11s were in Hong Kong. I think he later told us it was something like 700, adding “but that was two weeks ago.” It’s also awash in 24-hour McDonalds. Just in the airport, there was a Burger King, Krispy Kreme and Dunkin Donuts.

The drive from the airport was beautiful, even in the dark. We passed a sign to Disneyland, which we would later learn has been a disappointment. One theory is that it’s not big enough, doesn’t have enough attractions. Its tourists are mostly Chinese, so it will suffer even more once Shanghai follows through on its threat to build a Disneyland. On the bright side, admission is only $40/day, so if Disneyland is your thing, Hong Kong’s is relatively affordable.

Randy, warned us to be careful crossing the street and to look left. He also told us that subways weren’t subway stops (they’re pedestrian underpasses).

I was pleasantly surprised to discover after I washed my hair the following morning that it looked less like crap, perhaps because it's not cut to be straight, which was how it was trying to settle in the drier parts of China. After breakfast, I went in search of ATMs that would take our cards. My mother threatened to go with me, but even she realized that she was frittering away the half-hour we had by reshuffling through her stuff and wouldn’t be able to pull herself away in time, so I went alone. It was really nice to walk around on my own. I didn’t realize at the time that the Bank of China-Hong Kong had additional ATMs that would actually work for us, so I ignored the one across the street and decided to go around the block. Before I knew it, I had no idea where I was. I thought if I just followed the block, I’d be fine, but Hong Kong was confusing. I found a Kimberly Street, but our hotel was on Kimberly Road. I had to concentrate and really think to find the way back. With a few minutes to spare, I ran into the Bank of China vestibule and was relieved to find that it worked.

I can’t quite put into words what was so odd about Hong Kong. It wasn’t that street names were in English—the ones in China were written in pinyin too—but that they were English. It was just such a unique place.

We took Star Ferry to Hong Kong Island, where we went up to Victoria Peak. With more time it would have been nice to walk around, but such is the downside of a tour (the upside is substantial, especially with so many domestic flights). We rode on to Aberdeen, and then to Repulse Bay, which was near a building with one very impressive dragon hole, as well as a smaller hole for the baby dragon. Both Victoria Peak and Aberdeen revived my somewhat-calmed allergies. Mom wanted to take a picture of me on a bench in front of some flowers at Aberdeen, but I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Mom: Open your eyes!
A.: I can't!
Mom: Just for a second!
A.: I can't!

With our free afternoon, we went for a walk in the stunning Kowloon Park. We came in not far from the amazing aviary, where mom said “hello” to the parrot, attempting to solicit a response. I said “ni hao” several times, to no avail. Then, I realized that I was trying to communicate with a Cantonese parrot in (mispronounced) Mandarin. I couldn’t remember “ni hello” in Cantonese, so we moved on to the lake where the swans and flamingos lived.

We walked through the sculpture garden and Japanese garden, and exited to the north to go on to the afternoon market. The Chinese knock-off market has always amazed me, but what amazes me more is that people actually buy the real thing. Joe had told us that in Guilin girls will spend months’ salaries on designer bags, and sure enough, our second day in Hong Kong there was such a line outside Louis Vuitton that the entrance was cordoned off. My mother didn’t understand this at all. I told her it was to preserve the luxury-shopping atmosphere. What atmosphere, she asked. I shrugged.

I had taken out too few HK dollars that morning; I hadn’t factored in that half of the amount would go to tips. As it turned out it was fine, but it was partly fine because we were cautious. My mother was looking for a pair of Crocs (I made my opinion known, but she insisted that they were so comfortable that she didn’t care) and I for a nice set of chopsticks. Neither of us found anything to our satisfaction. The market was definitely an experience.

I preferred the atmosphere of the market to that of LV (mind you, I’ve never ventured inside the latter and I don’t particularly care to). Many of the vendors had taken off their shirts to cool off. Others were fanning themselves with various wares.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about how mom had signed us up for an optional tour in Hong Kong even though we’d all decided against it. She spoke to Janet, who had gone on the same tour in the early 1970s and liked it. Do you have any idea how much Hong Kong has changed in the last 40 years??? Anyway, behind our backs, mom told Kathy to sign us up. I had wanted to walk around Hong Kong, but I break down in the heat and by the time we were there, was quite happy to be driven around (although I wouldn’t have minded spending the day at the beach at Deep Water Bay). Dad has stronger feelings against the tour, but ended up liking it more. It wasn’t bad. We visited a flower market and bird market, and then a Taoist temple, before going to the New Territories for lunch. The Taoist temple was the best part.

Before we went into the temple, Randy predicted that we would be handed Falun Gong propaganda. If we were heading back to China, he’d warn us not to take it, but since we were going back to the states, we were free to do as we wished. He said the same about photographing the “heaven will destroy the CCP” sign. Mom took the FG literature, tried to get me to read it. I suppose this would be a good time to say that while I hardly find the Chinese government beyond reproach, I don’t think it’s constructive to treat it as if it were evil incarnate. I don’t know a lot about Falun Gong, but I know they’re not doing themselves any favors (and on the other hand, that they shouldn’t be subject to torture). I’m certainly not going to learn more about the situation by reading the propaganda of one side or another.

The temple was impressive. It held five smaller temples, one for each Chinese element (water, fire…). Randy was a great guide in many ways, and we particularly appreciated his honesty. “I’m not going to tell you why people are circling that fountain. Books will speculate, make up reasons, but honestly, no one knows how that tradition started.” He did tell us that people would get their fortunes from the temples and then have them interpreted by fortune tellers at the booths just outside the temple. Since the fortune tellers were “leaking” the knowledge of the gods, it was only right that they not keep most of the money they made doing so, give it to charity.

The New Territories were so-so, or, as we’d learned to say, “mamahuhu.” I felt really bad for the live shellfish and other sea creatures outside the restaurants, and thought about giving up seafood, at least the more sentient kind. I’d written down somewhere the history of the inhabitants of the New Territories, who used to be much more clan-like but have opened up in the last generations as a result of the need to sell or at least rent out their land. Randy told us a lot about government housing and how it has evolved over the last 60 years—particularly that that had existed for refugees from China when his parents fled the revolution in 1949. I’ll include it here when I find my notes.

That afternoon, we passed through Kowloon park again on our way to the harbour. We lingered in the park—it’s just so beautiful—longer than planned, and rushed through the crazy Canton Road, relieved to reach the more peaceful walkways along the harbor.

We would visit the park the following morning, before our trip home. That morning was both wonderful and full of unnecessary drama. I had mentioned the night before that if we had time, we should go for a walk in Kowloon Park, say goodbye to the flamingos. Since mom woke me up at 4am to ask what time it was, and I couldn’t go back to sleep, we had plenty of time. Around 6am, she went to check on dad. Her side of the story was that he said he was exercising and left it at that. I couldn’t understand why he would opt to exercise in his room when he could walk around the park, but didn’t think too much about it. Mom and I had a lovely walk in the park and thought it was too bad that dad wasn’t there. We saw the usual tai chi, as well as other forms of exercise and imitation. We went up to the aviary, where the birds were squawking madly. To parrots—the same couple we’d seen two days earlier—would kiss every few seconds.

A few minutes after we returned to the hotel, dad asked why we didn’t wait for him. Apparently, he’d said he had another five minutes of exercises to go and then he’d join us. How my parents managed to misunderstand one another was only kind of beyond me. Mom neither provides context nor uses it to figure out what other people are saying; dad regularly blames other people for his predicament. Back in Shanghai, he had called to ask for moisturizer, after we’d already packed it in the luggage to be checked. I suggested he look for it in the hotel bathroom. I assumed he’d found some there, since he didn’t call back, but later, I asked him about what looked like a cold sore on his lip, and he said, “remember when I called to ask for moisturizer? You wouldn’t find it for me, and now I have this.” I just shook my head. Anyway, I don’t know what happened, but at least dad did go to the park on his own, even though he didn’t stay as long as he would have had we all been together. I asked him whether he’d already had breakfast, he said he had. Mom and I were about to go down to breakfast, but first a fight broke out for no reason at all over labeling suitcases. It’s so dumb I don’t even want to get into it—in fact, I didn’t even listen to it—but it made me understand how the morning misunderstanding could have happened. Later, at breakfast, mom was asking where dad was. She suggested perhaps he’d lost his breakfast coupon, maybe that’s what it was. She managed not only to miss that we’d established that he’d already had breakfast—when he said it and when I told her in the elevator—but to project onto dad her own inability (or rather, willingness) to keep track of things like breakfast coupons. Countless times throughout the trip, she would misplace her hotel key or lose track of her passport (thankfully only temporarily).

The road back to the airport was beautiful, even the parts dotted with lots of shipping containers. Hong Kong used to be first in container shipping but was recently displaced by Singapore. We went over the sixth-longest suspension bridge in the world and saw another massive one under construction. Apparently, a bridge to Macau is also in the plans. It’s been discussed for twenty years or so, but only recently has the government approved it.

***
The Hong Kong airport didn’t disappoint for walking distances. I thought three hours would be a bit much, but between checking in, going through immigration and security, and getting to the actual gate, we didn’t have a lot of time to spare.

Just before boarding, I said goodbye to some of the people from the tour. This would be unnecessary, since we would meet again in Chicago, but it seemed appropriate at the time. Janet and I told one another it had been a pleasure traveling together (which was true, at least on my end). She then told me she hoped I would meet someone with whom to share my future travels. I didn’t say, ‘I’m an only child. I find that sharing is overrated.’

The counterwoman at the airport did not seat mom in the Economy Plus between dad and me, the way the one in Boston had. We thought about buying it for her but she refused, said she was perfectly happy where she was. As it were, she was somehow moved from a window to a middle seat, so she wasn’t. We both offered to switch, but she said she was okay. When we went to check on her an hour or so into the flight, she was asleep, so it couldn’t have been that bad. I feel really bad saying this, but having almost 14 hours of peace and quiet was kind of nice. This hit home when it was ruptured by mom’s hissy fit toward the end of the flight.

Mom: Where’s the embroidery?

We’d bought an embroidered painting on the boat. I insisted that we hand-carry it throughout China, since we knew that checked luggage was subject to theft. At first, mom balked and blamed me for having to lug it around, even though she was never doing the lugging. It was too large to fit into the carry-on bags, so it was kind of its own thing.

A.: In the overhead. I placed it very carefully.
Mom: YOU DID WHAT? I KNEW I COULDN’T TRUST YOU WITH ANYTHING.
A.: Lower your voice, please. Can’t you see people are sleeping.
Mom: How could you put it up there, it will get creased!
A.: It’s fine, mom, I’ve checked on it several times. It’s carefully placed.
Mom: I have to do everything myself!
A.: Look, if you’re going to do this, just leave. Just leave.

She went back to her seat. The embroidery was fine.

I hardly slept at all. For one thing, the man across the aisle was so large that his seat belt wouldn’t buckle. The flight attendants made him wear it over his waist anyway, and it kept falling to the ground with a bang.

The screen showed where we were as we flew over the Bering Strait. Dad pointed out some places of significance.

Dad: See that bay just there?
A.: Yeah.
Dad: That’s where your mom’s dad died in a labor camp. It’s perpetually frozen there.
I didn’t have anything to say to that.

***
We retrieve our luggage in Chicago, go through customs. Mom is once again having a fit about something. Oh, she’s trying to convince dad that they need to go back and get boarding passes.

Mom: How will we know which seats we have?
Dad: We got boarding passes in Hong Kong.
Mom: No, for this flight.
Dad: We got boarding passes in Hong Kong.
Mom: How will we know where to sit? We have to go check in…
A.: We got boarding passes for this flight in Hong Kong.

This seems to have satisfied her. She’s a frequent flier, I don’t understand the confusion. Maybe having to clear customs and recheck the luggage through her off, but it’s not like she’s never had to go through that before.

As we get to the security line, they debate whether they need their passport. I have to say four times that they need one form of ID or another.

Mom: But that person has a passport.
A.: That’s a form of ID. You can use your license if you prefer.
Mom: I see another passport.

Then she starts to complain about the line, which is actually moving pretty quickly. She continues to complain about the line, mutters something about how it’s government so of course it’s not done intelligently.

We get to our respective gates, which are nearby. It gets to be time to board and part ways, I already miss them.