Hong Kong

So off to Hong Kong it was.  After a bus journey on a minibus with half of China and a woman attempting to put her kids through University on what she was trying to charge us for the pleasure we arrived at Guillin train station.  After much delibeation we decided that travelling soft sleeper class to Shenzen would be our best option ( a 16 hour journey ) we were ushered away from the common folks and placed in the equivalent of the first class waiting lounge.  In other words the seats didn't make your bum go quite as numb.  Once aboard we got our cabin and where sharing it with a student girl who didn't speak much English and a mother with her boy who spoke none.  All of us placed in a room the size of a closet, where when sitting on the bottom bunks we were knee jousting in the middle.  But there were no major incidents and the language barrier became useful when Lynds removed her boots before snoring through the night!!  Then it was customs and into Hong Kong.

The difference hits you immediately as the trains are smart and new, signs in English appear and everything seems a bit more........organised.  Onto the new smart train and then the even smarter tube and we were nearly able to ditch our bags (which caused a few smirks on a busy tube).  We emerged into Kowloon on the otherside of the bay to Hong Kong island.  Pootled down the street and were accosted by an Asian chap who had a guesthouse in the building we had been looking for.  Bags off and faces washed we took in our surroundings.   Firstly the building we were in was a 15 storey building that looked somewhat past its sell by date.  On different floors were various things from women sewing furiously as their machines, to guesthouses for the weary backpacker.  Cats roamed the corridors looking I imagine for the odd rat for tea.  Our room however had just been redone so it was clean and new.  In fact everyday on our return there would be addition to the room (eg. air-con, telephone, loo roll holder).

We jumped on the Star ferry for a trip to the island proper and mooched around the city.  Bladerunner came to mind as the city rises to the peak you are unable to tell if you are on terra-firma or there is something beneath you.  A brief walk led to the area where high flying types in suits sit down to drink expensive cocktails and murmur about NASDAQ and PROZAC.  So we fitted right in with hooded sweaters and baseball caps.  Feeling slightly like Kevin & Perry from Harry Enfield we sat and drank quite a few expensive beers.

One of the things that strikes about Hong Kong is that all public areas are pretty much spotless.  No beggars and from what we saw very little crime as we felt very safe there.  However, the further you went from Hong-Kong into Kowloon and towards the New Territories the picture started to look more like the rest of China, with big ugly buildings and a bit more squalor.  But still with the signs that the British had made it slightly more organised, with red lights that stopped traffic and lanes that were adhered to.

Fashion is obviously huge here and is a sign of the locals prosperity.  Labels are emblazoned on all clothing and the women looked far more attractive (thats the power of cosmetics I guess).  Also the western influence has brought better food which we both were relieved about as so far we had struggled to find a nice meal.  Its definatley a place for the rich.

A trip to Lantau (an island nearby) led us to the Big Budda.  And what a big chap he was too, cast in bronze for the local monks.  However, as he was only built in 1986 I did get the feeling that the monks had embraced the tourist market and sussed it was a good way to relieve the tourists of a couple of dollars, as the rest of the island seemed a little quiet. In the monastery itself there was a massive insence smell that could fell a hippy.  Also some Shao Lin monks were putting on a display of their mastery.  Not one of them was over 12 years old and all could have kicked our ass!  The youngest, who was about seven bounced around like Yoda from the latest Star Wars film, while the largest had bamboo sticks snapped over various body parts.  I was kinda glad I'd stuck to a paper round at that age. The trip there was an event, as the bus from the train station creaked its way through the mountains.  The road was single lane and as twisty as they come, with a sheer drop alongside you.  Lynds looked slightly pale and her knuckles paler.  I did think that if the driver started to laugh crazily then he really was the bus driver from the Italian Job, and we never did get to find out what happened to that bus!!

Time to leave again, and off to Hanoi in Vietnam