Back in ten

This could be pre-emptive but my journey is now over. My bags sit packed, surf board suitable insulated, in the Hong Kong hostel where I am out-staying my welcome. My flight is around 8am tomorrow so to make check in via public transport I have to leave tonight at 10 then sleep/not sleep at the airport.


Hong Kong is the last stop on my trip because that is where I was born all of 22 years ago. I didn't return in a particularly asupicious manner, five hours on the plane, a vague idea of where to stay and incorrect change so I had to skip the bus fare. I had been worried about wandering Kowloon with all my bags since in every picture I have seen the chinese stand cheek to shoulder with one another but it was fine. After Bali where the sun went down at 7pm and street lights are scarce it was a change to be under the neon lights and pressure selling of electronic goods small and smaller. Its not just bus drivers and airline meal providers who like things diminutive.

On Monday I embarked on a personal cultural tour within Kowloon to the former site of the British Military Hospital. The city doesn't make much sense in the day, with most businesses shut and the fog lending to the bleached appearance of everything. I risked SARS by asking directions in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, this is't a joke the hospital was on a high alert. Whilst I appreciate the poetry of dying in the hospital opposite the one I was born in, this blog isn't worth such sacrifices. The BMH site is now taken up by a block of trendy flats which I photographed. On to Broadcast Avenue and to the flat we used to live in. This too has been ripped down and the air is so poor that people there wear surgical masks. My appartment is a hospital and my hospital an apartment.

Having weathered the possible identity crisis I set about the last two days of the trip. Yesterday I took the iconic star ferry to Hong Kong Island, a centre of commerce and shopping as well as home to the Victoria Peak tramway. This rides up a steep hill to a plateau giving specatcular views of the city, even with the seasonal fog. It is 5c cooler than the city and breezy making it a tranquil retreat above the pneumatic drills and pedestrian crossings. There are still a few colonial buildings standing, one of which is a tea museum which convinces you through sights, poetry and sounds of the wonders of tea only to not serve it on the premisis. Later I read of a traditional tea/dim sung restauarant in the area so today went there for breakfast only to be serverely priced out and even charged $20 HK for the usually complimentary tea. All was rectified after a trip to a tea shop where the kind lady was continually brewing tiny pots in the traditional fashion. The best one, a floral oolong, tasted of apricots.

Since this trip was supposed to serve some sort of eductional purpose I went to the Hong Kong Museum of History, a multimilliondollar enterprise that walks you through artifacts and reconstructions from 400 Million BC to 1997. The final exhibit is a movie of the 156 year British lease of area with a strong focus on China's interest in the area and the bold Modernist future under the People's Republic, Kowloon Disneyland included.

Tomorrow after 189 days Britain gets me back.