Hong Kong day 2

I have breakfast in the congee shop downstairs. The menu is stuff like tripe and congee, but thanks to a menu surprisingly also in English I get a soya milk, sesame dough cake and a bowl of mandarin and red bean soup. It turns out to be very filling as I don’t eat again until dinner time. 
I meet KK at the hsbc where we get the tour of the virtual app, then head off up flights of steps then elevators which take us up the mid central hills, passing a quaint algae stained blue mosque on the way. Reminds me of the Royal pavilion, I tell KK. He is reluctant to enter initially. Seems he has some prejudice about how welcoming it might be. As it turns out the garden is open, but the mosque is not. When the escalators end we have to find our bearings and discover we are not en route for the peak as expected and have to skirt around the hill before picking up the very steep old peak road which twists up through the trees, past some road works for cable for those elite that can afford a mansion on this prized location. The peak is a little bit anti climatic, we are not the only ones there of course, and it is crowned by 2 malls and an antique funicular tram car which serves as an information centre. After some drinks we head for the roof of the mall which doesn’t require a fee. The view is the famous one through the gap to the sky scrapers of central, the bay and Kowloon. It truly is outstanding. This is a famed spot for silly selfies. This obsession with self is reinforced with a facility called 3D photos or something like that. It seems to be a place full of scenes and models that you can pose with and live out fantasies. Ride a lion, be a Qing emperor etc. Reminds me of the weird culture of Madame Tussaud s and the places at the forbidden city and the terracotta warriors where you can dress up and pose in a diaroma for faux photos, at a charge. The view on the other side is also dramatic. The south side of the mountain, the sea and lamma island with its power station chimneys in the near distance.

Refreshed, though with sweat sodden shirts we agree to walk on, down the other side of the mountain to Aberdeen, but not in Scotland! The walk is easy, and not very remarkable. It’s Tarmac, flanked by trees and stone buttressing. There are streams rushing down to the reservoirs, two of which we pass. We see a row of huts cut into the Rock, but now bricked up. Probably some kind of ww2 guard posts, we guess.



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