I’m not sure that writing a blog retrospectively really is such a good idea, but then again we can never right at the moment; there is always a temporal delay, some processing and editing in how and what we choose to record. This is 3 weeks late.
So, this was my second trip to HK, and only 4 months after the last one. Was it too soon? What were my expectations and how far were they met?
In choosing where to go cost is a factor and I’ve developed good skills in searching out dates and costs and destinations that match my criteria and work within my parameters. Travelling over Christmas and New Year is prohibitively expensive. 5 weeks without work with few friends becomes unbearable, so I have to get away.
I was hoping to see KK. I was planning to pursue a photography project. I didn’t want a “holiday”, rather to spend time living for myself and being active.
The journey lasted an age as I had a 7 hour stopover in Dubai. I toyed with the idea of leaving the airport to see what this place was like and take in the tallest building in the world. To be honest, there wasn’t much to entice me. I opted to search out a curry stall in the airport that I remembered dimly from a previous trip. I walked the length of the vast terminal 3 finding nothing but costly franchises. A waiter in one place, on failing to secure my custom, told me there was an Indian at C gate. Which involved getting the shuttle train back again to where I had first been looking. After almost 2 hours I found A Taste of India, excited to get my longed for mango lassi and masala dosa. Dismay and disappointment. No dosa at night. I had to settle for idli, dry samosa, and a small lassi, over-priced, unsatisfying….The remaining hours at the gate were tedious.
On arriving in HK, and queuing at immigration, having skipped baggage reclaim as I had only hand baggage (something I had longed to be able to do each time I’d come to Asia), I checked my phone and had the pleasant surprise of reading that KK would be picking me up. Once through passport control and avoiding being swabbed for viruses, I spied KK in arrival and he takes me to the family vehicle, which is more minibus than car. The weather is warm, around 21 degrees. The smog is heavy and the views of Kowloon are obscured as we drive over Tsing Ma bridge. KK tells me about his exciting new venture: some kind of shared workspace where he is building a sound studio.
We are heading to Fortress Hill and to the Yesinn Hostel. After parking in a tower block multi storey, we are on the streets of a neighbourhood I have become familiar with. The concierge in the lobby of the tower block in which the hostel reception can be found is stroppy and antagonistic: fussing stupidly about my not having the door code to enter the building. Of course I don’t. I havent even checked in. After taking the lift to the wrong floor we end up in the reception on floor 15. My room is in another building, on Tin Chong Street. On the corner is the ex-National Theatre, a place which fascinates us both. Underneath is a rabbit warren of corridors of boarded up shops, hair dressers and workshops; we see the neon sign maker’s shop (this is the guy who tried to make me write my name in Chinese last time around). This almost forgotten mansion fascinates me and I return to it on several occasions.
My room is better than the one I had in the summer: lots of drawers and an enclosed shower area rather than having to shower over the toilet. I discover later that it’s noisy. The walls are thin, and the plumbing loud. My neighbours’ showering and running taps is clearly audible. The pipes rumble. Conversations are loud. Light is an issue too as my window has no blind and gives onto a shaft that other residents’ windows give onto. I use a blindfold to sleep with.
After a quick unpack, and presenting KK with his gifts we go out onto Java Road then Electric Road looking for somewhere to sit and drink. I am dead tired and KK has little time as he has to get home for a family dinner. Reluctantly (for me) we end up in Fortress Hill McDonalds as it sells ice cream. It’s full of Sunday families and has no finesse or calmness. We percha at a messy table and have about 10 minutes to chat before a sweaty lump with a tray loaded with burger, fries and soft drink elbows himself a space onto our table. This signals the time to leave. Our meeting is almost over. We cross over Kings Rd agin, this time by the green foot bridge, I want to linger on the bridge and re-orientate myself. Much of my familiarity comes form the photos I took last time and have looked at on countless occasions. Even how I see KK is shaped by a photo, and he assumes a pose on the bridge where he leans his chin on his hand and rests his angular elbow on the railing of the bridge. I ask him if he misses UK. I don’t think he really understands this question. On Electric Rd we investigate a brick building which stands out among the new and modern: a low building backing onto Electric Rd enclosed by a high wall, east, west and south. We walk through the gate in the south wall and find ourselves in a courtyard and notice signage for the dismantling of an exhibition in a building resembling a cricket pavilion. I spy a board on the gate and read up to discover that this is the ex-Hong Kong Yacht Club, and old colonial building which would have looked onto the waterfront. This has long lost its access to the harbour, due to reclamation of land making room for the Island Eastern Corridor and office development. This is Oi, an arts space.
I walk KK to the car, and accompany him as he negotiates the spiralling ramps down the 5 floors of the car park. We say goodbye, and make no plans. He has not been very communicative on his availability during my visit and a feel a bit deflated. I’m hungry but crave sleep more than food, and go back to rest. I make the mistake of unnecessarily using the aircon and feel cold during my sporadic sleep.