4 I 2008
Rather than the product of a single visit, these thoughts reflect the collective impression on this particular city from both my current trip and the previous one from last August.
the Airport
This is where languages, partings, and first impressions intercept in its usual busy operations. Mechanical waiting lines is inundated by the vibrant shops and shoppers nearby. Movement natural or artificial contradicts the color of florescent light everywhere. Regardless of their nationalities, visitors become close to equals before immigration, knowing that their stay in this international hub is but temporary, and that travelers and exiles alike must make their way home, or elsewhere. Every twelve minutes one of those trains exchange one group of visitors for another for a mere hundred; the visit to this museum of walkers, however, will always be one way, unless you are one of those unfortunate souls trapped in time.
Wan Chai
A happy combination of small shops, meeting places, and luxurious hotels. Compared to its counterpart in Peking, the Grand Hyatt here has a darker, but perhaps more grandiose undertone imbued in its halls. Strangely, noodle shops, laundry shops, and the Joint Press shape my memory much more than the turtle like exhibition and convention center.
Causeway Bay
Layers and layers of shops and malls open until midnight. Neon lights illuminate the busy streets in the evenings, while pedestrians dressed in fashion linger on them, as if the night were more desirable than the day. Ten in the morning, I traversed in this once busy area to find few people around and few shops open. Caucasian faces and Latin alphabets on signs and shop windows make one forget that this place was, and perhaps will be, a part of a distant Oriental culture. Hidden behind the main street I saw signs of small bookshops, forced to retire to second and third floors. From the aged doorways and dirty stairs I climbed to another world that doesn’t seem to belong here. My world.
Central
Bank buildings, IFC, and professionally dressed men and women on the street without much expression reminds one that after all, this city is established and known for the dismal science. Sophisticated false consciousness is forgotten by the ephemeral glory; for now we, too, must crunch our numbers.
University
A city upon the hill noted for excellence and English education. This is a vertical place. In clotted space dorms, classrooms, auditoriums, and cafes paint together a completely different picture.
Mong Kok
Compared to Causeway Bay, this place belongs to a different class–infinitely more indigenous. At night, electronic and clothing shops attract much attention from street-goers, while long line waits for the movie theater. Independent sellers and their carts of goods form a street on their own, while booksellers pile themselves on top of one another in two apartment buildings. On one of them, after climbing up six or seven floors, one finds a second hand dealer of classics, and the one on top, a seller of treasure: books in both English and Chinese cover much of contemporary humanistic and social studies, from deconstruction to critical theory. Even the newest books–for instance, Peter Gay’s Modernism–are on display here. Its collection of vast interest form a great contrast to its tiny size. Nearby a rather sketchy cybercafe situates, and thus I, sitting here, find my morning full of color.
Lo Wu
As the train approaches China proper, scenes outside reminds one that despite all illusions, the concept of that particular nation long has penetrated the heart of this harbour. No, one needs not look outside to the China Petroleum station to remember that Chinese banks and businesses are everywhere on the streets of Hong Kong, and that the PLA, shaped in a strange rectangular building, occupies a key position in Central. The gate has long been opened. But outside of it, will one find those contemptible shops of fake goods, or a brave new world? Despite this ambiguity, I must leave, to return to homeland of my fear and love.
January 4th, 2008 at 1:53 am
Isn’t it strange that Hong’s life in Hong Kong sounds so peaceful and meaningful while Hong Kong is generally considered as a city of high pace and vanity?