A few spottings of the “Tao” character while I was in Hong Kong. The word is somewhat ubiquitous, since it can mean “road”, “path”, or “way”, and so marks road signs everywhere. This is the same character that I got tattooed on my right wrist.
It’s interesting to see how different Chinese characters can look, whether they’re engraved, painted, written, or stamped.
I’ve been back from my trip to Hong Kong for a little over a month now. Here are some little differences I’ve noticed between there and here.
Space is at a premium in Hong Kong, so parking spots are tiny. Most cars have folding side-mirrors, and proximity sensors that beep faster the closer you are to something when backing up. Vans and SUVs have mirrors on the back windows that lets a driver see the back bumper through the rear-view mirror. That way, you can squeeze into a space without any guess work, although it takes about three or four turns, Austin Powers style.
Some parking lots also have these lights above the spots that let people know if a car is parked in the space — green means it’s available. That way, you can see what spots are free with a quick glance, instead of driving around and hunting.
In the parks, there are workout areas for the elderly. They include things like Gazelles, bench steppers, and wheels you can rotate for flexibility. This is so awesome. Canada should have something like this. My grandma used come to this park to work out before she had colon cancer.
How cool is it that the symbol they use is the silhouette of someone doing single whip. I found this symbol in many parks actually, and I think it means that it’s a public park.
There are also speakers that beep at the traffic lights to let blind people know when to cross, and subway escalators that click constantly, so they know where to get on.
I’ll miss the way you comfort me with crowds. I’ll miss the smells of your streets. I’ll miss your alleys and their stories. I’ll miss your mix of classical and contemporary. I’ll miss the diversity of your food.
You made me feel comfortable, like I belonged somewhere, and with all your rich and somewhat mysterious culture, renewed my pride in being Chinese.
It’ll be a long time before I see you again.
Goodbye, you beautiful city. I miss you already.
Upper Lascar Row, also known as Cat Street, is a narrow alleyway market that sells decorations, trinkets, and antiques. It’s not quite like other Hong Kong markets because it’s less commercialized (i.e. doesn’t sell as many touristy things), even though the most common buyers there seem to be foreign.
The name comes from a joke in Chinese: it’s said that if you have something stolen, you’re likely to find it for sale on Cat Street. Thieves are known as “rats” in Cantonese slang, and people who purchase goods from rats are called “cats”.
The final week of my Hong Kong food diary. It’s safe to say that I gained a few pounds, as I would continue eating even after full. The weight is mostly in my face (good) and midsection (bad). Yes, my cheeks have filled out, but now I have a muffin top. It was totally worth it though, as I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to eat many of these dishes again.
The Kwun Yam Shrine is a Buddhist shrine off Repulse Bay (named so after the British fleet repulsed pirates based there who would terrorize Chinese merchants). Unlike other Buddhist shrines, this one wasn’t off-limits to photography. It was quite interesting, as there are so many different and colourful statues, large and small.
Each statue represents a different figure in Chinese mythology, and it’s said that if you perform a certain action to a statue, something positive will happen. For example, there was the statue of a fish god there, and if you throw a coin into it’s mouth, it’s said you’ll have good fortune. There’s also the Longevity Bridge; a plaque proclaims that every time you cross the bridge, you’ll have three days added to your life. The two biggest statues at the entrance — Guan Yin and Tin Hau — were worshiped as goddesses of the mercy and the sea, particularly important if you’re a fisherman.
At one point, I came to a statue of a rock with writing engraved on it, and red ribbons around the base. My dad said, “Jeff, you need to take a lot of ribbons and tie it around the rock”. “Why?” “Because this is the god of marriage. This way you’ll meet a lot of girls.” Funny, dad.
My grandma’s apartment is in Kowloon City, a very old area of Kowloon, characterized by dirty buildings and slummy areas. There’s so much character here. It seems like every shop has a story, and every street a history. My dad told me that since it’s so hard to find parking, some restaurants have a valet park your car for you if you go in.
Since it’s a long-established area, there’s pretty much everything you need within a couple blocks, or a few minutes walk. This includes:
One of Hong Kong’s famous real estate agents said that living in such high density is a habit, and that Hong Kongers could expand outward (instead of upward) if they wanted to. I can understand why this is true, because everything is so close and convenient. When you live in the middle of all this, you really feel like you’re part of the city’s pulse.
Everyone carries an Octopus card in Hong Kong, because it’s used everywhere. When you take the bus, you pay the fare by tapping your wallet (with Octopus card in it) on the scanner; the fare may change depending on whether you take it before or after crossing the harbour. Subway fares aren’t flat-rate either, so shorter routes are cheaper. The distance you travel is tracked by scanning your card when you get on and again when you get off, and the appropriate amount is deducted.
Even vending machines, parking meters, convenience stores, and restaurants have Octopus scanners used to pay for their services. It’s also used as an identity system, where students sign-in to class by tapping their cards on door scanners, or residents enter their apartment buildings without needing a key.
The Chinese name for the card is “eight arrived pass”, because eight has special meaning in Chinese, especially when it comes to directions. The English name comes from an octopus having eight tentacles, and the logo is an infinity symbol that’s also in the shape of an eight. So clever.
(This is a 360° panorama that pops up in a new window. Be warned: it’s big.)
The best place to see Hong Kong’s skyline is at Victoria Harbour. Along the walkway is the Avenue of Stars, Hong Kong’s version of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, as well as a bus terminal, and the docking area for the Star Ferry.
The world’s largest permanent light show is here, running every night at 8:00, where many buildings across the water time their lights to music. I recorded it, but my footage didn’t turn out so well with the fog. So here’s someone else’s awesome recording, that does the show justice.
I had the chance to take part in some apartment hunting, and saw two suites in a new sky rise. The smaller was $1.3 million CAD, the larger $1.8 million CAD. Which pretty much means that I could never afford them, even if I won the lottery, but I still dream of living here one day. A cozy space with a nice view and modern trimmings. Mortgages go up to 30 years in Hong Kong. If you’re buying a place that hasn’t been built yet, you get to design the layout of your condo like a house.
Space is so expensive here that offices are often combined with bedrooms, unlike Canada where there’s a separate room for each (unless you’re a student). Furnishing a place would be much cheaper though, since empty areas get filled quickly. I imagine that it’s hard to be a pack rat when storage areas are at such a premium.
I just happened to be here during the Hong Kong Flower Show, a demonstration of various flower cultivators and appreciation organizations. Each group had their own little sections to present their areas of specialization. It’s amazing to see how creative people can be with flowers; living things, no less.
Tung Choi Street (or Ladies’ Market), as seen in my Hong Kong: Markets video as the area covered with blue tarp, is for the ladies, and opened all day.
Temple Street, on the other hand, only starts to come alive at night, and is also known as Men’s Street. There are no stalls out during the day. This is the street that one of my favourite Stephen Chow movies, God of Cookery, is based on, so it was awesome to be able to see it in person.
Instead of handbags, clothes, and posters sold in Ladies’ Market, they sell cheap men-oriented trinkets like batteries, lighters, baseball caps, electronics, camera gear, and sex toys. There’s also a section with rows of stalls for fortune telling (at 2:12), offered in both Chinese and English languages, and European (tarot) and Asian (face, palm reading) flavours.
Temple street is also known for it’s roadside dining, where you can order pots stuffed with meat or deep fried delicacies. I was warned not to eat anything on temple street though, as the standards are too low now1. One might get away with an upset stomach at best, and end up with a trip to the hospital at worst.
Since Temple Street is notoriously shady, where there’s more open prostitution, drug dealings, and other unsavoury activities, I limited my filming on the off-chance that I may have captured something I shouldn’t2. Can you spot the two hookers?
Victoria Peak is the highest mountain on Hong Kong Island, offering an otherwise unavailable view of Hong Kong, including the Kowloon side. On clear days, you can see the horizon go on into the distance.
To get to the peak, you can a tramway train, which is about a five minute ride. On the other hand, waiting to get on the tram took me about 30 minutes on a good day at a good time. The tram actually has stops like a bus, because some people actually live on the peak, though these are considered luxury estates.
At night, the lights of Hong Kong’s famous skyline start to turn on, and the view changes dramatically. The skyline is normally seen and photographed from the Kowloon side, so this is a different perspective from usual Hong Kong photographs.
There’s an entire little village at the peak, with lots of touristy areas selling overpriced memorabilia.
Hong Kong is commonly divided in two — Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Peninsula — by Victoria Harbour. One of the most iconic ways to travel between the two sides is by Star Ferry. It’s a popular and picturesque method of transportation, because it’s inexpensive (about $2.2 HKD or $0.30 CAD for a one-way ride) and allows for a great view of Hong Kong’s famous skyline. A fleet of 12 ferries carries 70000 people a day, even though there are many cross-harbour tunnels and bridges that have been built to allow for automobile transportation. The ride takes about 10 minutes, including boarding and alighting.
When I tell the taxi drivers here the name of the street I want to go to (pronounced from memory because the names are too complicated to understand), they don’t always know how to get there. That’s why I always have the name of a popular landmark in close proximity memorized, and when I mention this, it usually gets me where I want to go. Sometimes I get a part-time cabbie though, who doesn’t even know where this landmark is. That’s when they ask me how to get there, or what else is around, or if it’s close to such-and-such-a-place adjacent to such-and-such-a-street. Somehow, they assume that I’m a local.
Which is odd, because I know I have an English accent when I speak Chinese, so I assume most people can tell I’m not from around here. When I was here five years ago, most people said they knew I wasn’t from Hong Kong before I even opened my mouth. Something about the way I looked or dressed or acted.
Guess I’m fooling someone now.
