Friday, May 24, 1991
Friday morning I decide to take another tour, not so much because tours show a lot, but basically because the tour bus is air conditioned. My flight is not until 10:00 PM and I have a lot of time to kill. I could spend the day walking around, but in this heat and humidity I would turn into a steamed vegetable.
The tour I sign up for is called “The Land Between” and leaves Kowloon and tours the country side in the New Territories. It leaves at 9:00 AM and returns around 3:00 PM which leaves me time to do some other things before catching a cab to the airport. I figure that I need to be back at the hotel by 7:30 to head for the airport. I pack a change of clothes in my soft sided briefcase so I can get cleaned up before I go to the airport. I plan on using the health club in the hotel (since I have checked out of my room) to shower and change.
Well it is now 5:30 PM and I have returned from my tour. The tour comprised the following: a large Buddhist temple; a mountain top park with a view; a fishing village; a duck farm; an indoor marketplace; and lunch at a Chinese restaurant.
All of this was in the New Territories section of Hong Kong. For those of my readers who don’t know, Hong Kong is really three distinct areas. Two of them were ceded to the British. The third was leased. Hong Kong island was ceded as a result of the British victory during the Opium Wars. Kowloon is a small section of coast across from the island that was also ceded. The New Territories was leased to the British for 99 years and is the largest part of Hong Kong, consisting of maybe 300 square miles. During the negotiations with the British on the leased land the Chinese basically said that they were no longer recognizing the legitimacy of the ceded treaties. Britain originally held her ground but somewhere during the negotiations agreed to return all the land to the Chinese in 1997.
I met an English woman named Danielle on the tour. We were sitting together on the bus. Her husband trades in third world debt. While he is doing business out of their hotel room she is out sightseeing. She seems to be a nice lady, but is sterotypically British. She uses adjectives like “horrid” and “stench” a lot.
One of the highlights of the tour is the Buddhist Monk at the temple. He is a charming character that looks just like a small Buddha. He is dressed in bright yellow robes grinning at us. I catch his attention and produce a coin from the air. I vanish and reproduce the coin several times to his delight. I ask him if I can take his photo and he readily agrees. I shoot about five shots. The trouble with taking tours is that you are surrounded by other tourists and you are always being pulled along to get back on the bus to go to the next stop. I would have loved to spend several hours at the temple taking pictures, but dutifully follow the others back to the bus.
The other engrossing place was an indoor marketplace. This was a gruesome place with chickens, meat of various unidentifiable sources, ducks, etc. hanging from hooks dripping blood and gore onto the ground. The “stench” was “horrid.” I took many photos, but because of the low light I suspect many will not turn out.
Most of the tour was only so-so. I did get a pretty good adrenaline rush at the duck farm. Now a duck farm is a pretty boring place, no matter in what country it is. This one was no exception. It consisted of a small road/driveway down to a small grey building. To the left was a large pond with penned in areas for ducks.
I walked down towards the building because next to it was a pen containing young ducklings, which are relatively more photogenic that old ducks. Personally I feel that when you have photographed one duck you have photographed them all. But I was determined to try to take an artistic photo of these ducklings, so I was sitting on my haunches, crouched down trying to compose a shot.
Suddenly, I hear the hair raising sound of two large, black, mean looking Alsatian dogs charging at me from the building. I have to admit it was difficult to really get a good look at the dogs with my life flashing before my eyes. I did nothing, simply because there was nothing I could do. Not to mention being immobilized with fear. All in all, that was the best strategy because I think it totally confused them.
They stopped, looked me over and then walked back into the house. The English woman came up and exclaimed “That was exciting, wasn’t it…” I didn’t get a good shot of the ducks either.
The fishing village was also interesting. Chinese junks moored together haphazardly. Jury rigged gangways etc. Laundry hanging from the boats. Children were just coming home from school dressed in school uniforms. Their mothers would motor out on new looking motor boats to pick up the kids and taxi them back to the junks. The tour guides explained that due to land reclamation, many of these people were losing places to moor their boats.
All in all, Hong Kong brings to mind the character Arthur Dent, in “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, who remarks when transported to a Vogon spaceship, “. . . it’s a bit squalid, isn’t it…”
A lot of the housing in Hong Kong is government built. According to the guide, the government finishes an apartment every 15 minutes, 12 hours per day. Typical apartments are about 800 sq. feet and hold a family of 6. The buildings are about 20 stories tall. The outsides are grey and look like they have never been painted. Clothes lines jut out from the windows with laundry hanging. The apartments are so close together that neighbors can shake hands with each other in the morning. They make New York City tenements look luxurious (well maybe not, but close).
The guide books I have looked at compare the housing to bee hives and it seems appropriate. After the tour, I offer to act as a guide for Danielle, and show her the bird market. This time I’m smart enough to catch a cab from the hotel to the marketplace. Not that it matters, for after about five minutes of walking through the market we are both soaked with sweat.
After walking the marketplace and some other sections we catch a cab back to the hotel. We say goodbye and I head into the hotel to change my clothes. I retrieve my small bag from the bellman’s desk and head upstairs to the health club. Much to my dismay I find that the club is closed for repair. Now the thought of spending twelve hours on an airplane hot and sweaty does not appeal at all to me, as I’m sure it wouldn’t appeal to whomever was seated next to me.
I go back down stairs to the desk where I plead my case to the clerk on duty. Standing there dripping sweat and making a puddle on the floor I explain the circumstances to the young man on duty. He listens carefully and then goes and talks with his manager. He comes back and hands me the key to a room that the occupants have checked out of, but hasn’t been made up yet. The only request the hotel makes is that I shower and change quickly, within 15 minutes. I gladly accept this condition and dash up to the room to shower and change. Afterwards a much refreshed individual returned the key and profusely thanked the manager for helping. I still had several hours to kill before having to leave for the airport so I head for the lobby bar and a happy hour beer. Now the beer was only to replenish minerals that I lost walking in the heat. It was strictly medicinal, as was the second and third and fourth and fifth. The first beer went down the throat smoothly, with barely a ripple. Since it was happy hour a second beer materialized at the table and I attempted to nurse it to no avail.
While on the second beer I was joined at the table by a young couple (Pam and Tom) from Australia. Tom works for Airbus, the French aircraft manufacture. They send him to various parts of the world for typically three month stays to work on maintenance issues. What was interesting is that the company pays for his girlfriend Pam as well. As they put it, it was a typical French thing to do. They are currently living in Toulouse, France. They were very pleasant, and of course eventually I did magic for Pam, frustrating her a great deal. It is the story of my life however, that I seem to always meet nice, intelligent, attractive woman .. . and their men.
While performing I ordered my third beer, and since it was still happy hour, my fourth came as well. Then they brought me another by mistake. It became apparent, that assuming I could order a cab, I would have no difficulty sleeping on the flight to London. At about a quarter to eight I head for the airport. At the airport I tried again to get booked on a Saturday flight from London to Nice, but have no luck. After clearing immigration I look for a phone and call home to talk with my mother, knowing she would be awake at 6:00 AM. I tried to call Michel in Nice, but the time there is 3:00 in the afternoon and no one is home. I had hoped that his answering machine would be on, but it wasn’t. It is almost 9:30 and they are lining up at the gate.
In Hong Kong most planes park away from the terminal and buses take you out to them. I figure as long as I have a boarding pass there is no reason to stand in line. I spoke to soon. The line is now looping around on itself. I decide I might as well stand in line, since for the next 12 or so hours I will be sitting, cramped, in a coach seat. Fortunately I should be able to sleep for most of this flight. When I get to London I will try to call Michel again, but I don’t feel to confident in making a stand-by flight to Nice on Saturday. I am currently expecting to stay in England until Monday night. John Barker and I spoke on the phone recently and he recommended a hotel near the airport.
When we got on the bus to take us to the plane I took a seat towards the rear. As the seats filled up, an elderly Nun came on. I stood and gave her my seat. By moving over, she made room for a young girl (about five?) to sit down. The little girl sat, but didn’t speak at all. She was wearing a white blouse with English embroidered on it, and a blue skirt with shoulder straps. Her shoes were white and her socks red. In other words, she was a typical cute five year old. She turned to the Nun and gave her a big smile. She did this several times. I smiled at her and she gave me a large grin as well. When we got to the plane, she stood and waved to the Nun, and the Nun returned her wave. The girl turned away, and then suddenly turned back and kissed the Nun on the cheek. I think the Nun was a little surprised, but pleased.
As I boarded the plane, I found myself sitting next to the Nun. Now I realize that many times I have bemoaned the fact that rarely do I get seated next to women on airplanes. Now some who know me would argue that this proves the existence of God. For not only were my prayers answered, but God gave me a jolt of my own sense of humor. At least He has seen fit not to put anyone in the seat between us. That makes the flight a little more comfortable. It is now nine hours into the flight. That makes it 9:00 AM Hong Kong time and 2:00 AM London time. They just finished the movie (Ghost.)
About two more hours to go. I manage to sleep some on the plane, but sleeping in a coach seat is not a recommended practice. I think that chiropractors design airline seats to increase their business. I start to reread my notes from the sales calls in Japan. I find our presentation material to be in need of additional work. I think of many questions our potential customers are likely to ask. It isn’t clear to me that our literature and presentation materials clearly answer these questions. I think it is something we need to continuously address.
Well they are serving breakfast now, so I’ll quit this attempt to at least give the impression I have been doing some work on this trip. We have just crossed over the Soviet Union and are entering Baltic states airspace. 4:20 AM, about 10 minutes from Heathrow Airport. A very uneventful flight. The only magic I do is some flourishes for a three year old girl who was excited by the noise of the cards springing between my hands.