35 floors up yet many neighbours climbed even higher, scratching the sky with mountainous peaks. Hong Kong is a city on stilts. With an area of just 427,000 square-metres to accommodate its 7 million inhabitants, it’s been forced to grow along the vertical axis.
My hotel room was box-like compared to one in which I’d spent the first month in Vietnam. It was also twenty times the price. The view was something to behold though, especially once the sun had sunk out of sight – towering columns, window-glow studded from base to spire, rising out of the gloom. Past the sky-scrapers of HK Island, the nightscape descended towards Victoria Bay; a wide expanse of black water spotlighted with flashes from passing vessels. On its far shore Kowloon rose up, a crenellated horizon of urban beauty. The view alone justified the price.
After checking in I was privy to the berating of a poor concierge by a fellow Brit staying one room over. ‘Where’s my bath? Where’s the cupboards? This place is a shithole. An absolute shithole!’ Clearly, he expected his sterling to stretch out a bigger floor space.
The brother and his wife were residing about twenty floors below, and we met in the lobby before heading to Soho to meet our cousin and her partner. The food was awesome, my favorite being dim sum – a kind of Chinese dumpling filled with tasty morsels. Unsurprisingly, it was also exorbitantly priced. Afterwards, I decided to check out the Hong Kong nightlife. A pint set me back the equivalent of seven quid, twice as much as my local back in Bristol. It was pretty lively though, and being such a cosmopolitan city, everywhere you looked there were people from all different parts of the world. Had a chinwag with a few of the tourists and called it a night.
We hiked along the Dragon’s back for several kilometres the next morning, a trail of summits and defiles that offered up breathtaking views of the city and the surrounding islands. At the end, after a steep decline, we emerged onto a beautiful secluded beech and dipped into the cool water.
Next on the agenda was to ascend even higher, and we took a tram up the central mountain of the island. It had been built by the British a century before and lumbered slowly up a forty five degree incline until we reached the Peak. Perched atop the mountain, this futuristic looking building offered an even more spectacular 360 degree vista from its uppermost viewing platform, whilst housing several tiers of shops, restaurants, and amusements below.
Day three was spent at Ocean World, a theme park situated on the edge of the island. It was split into two parts with a mountainous ridge separating them. One had to take either the underground express tram, or the slower, but far more scenic, cable car to move between the two. The rollercoasters and log flumes weren’t memorable, especially if one has been to Florida, but the wildlife was. Pandas gnawing on bamboo canes, arctic foxes huddled together in their white coats, emperor penguins diving into freezing pools. Then, below the surface, ragged-tooth sharks drifting past with their nightmarish grins, huge translucent jellyfish, alien-like Japanese spider crabs, mammoth elephant seals, ugly as sin yet courting each other in a graceful aquatic ballet. We had to witness one of the shows as well, and so finished by watching a pod of acrobatic dolphins and a hungry sea lion perform.
Had a final meal that evening with all the relatives. Cantonese hotpot. The menu was indecipherable but Dan’s Hong Kong, Leicester Uni table tennis buddy, now successful lawyer, made quick work of the ordering. A gas hob built into the table allowed us to add various dishes into the boiling water and take them out when we chose. We have the same in Vietnam, and hotpots are very popular, but needless to say this hotpot was (and I took the time to calculate this exactly) twenty times the price.
Asian food is all about sharing. You don’t buy one dish each, but several for the whole group, with each party in attendance having a little bowl and a pair of chopsticks with which to pick and mix at what’s on offer. It’s definitely a more social way to dine, and just one of many examples of the communal culture of Asia. There are other cultural traits, especially in Vietnam, that are less appealing however: speaking when ones mouth is full, having no respect for the queue (one of my pet hates), and in less respectable eateries, brushing your left over food on the floor, emptying your face – through both the buccal and nasal cavaties – on the floor, and then throwing the rest of your unwanted shit on the floor. It’s not surprising that rats are ubiquitous in your average diner. A Western health inspector would have a field day, but I’m fairly used to it now.
Heading back to Bien Hoa in Vietnam was like getting in a time capsule and turning back the clock fifty years. No high rises with animated billboards or mass transit systems. In their place were dwarf buildings and mass motorbike systems, haphazard with little discernable rules. I prefer the order and technology of a developed city for sure, but its developing counterpart, though not without frustrations, holds its own quaint cultural charm.
Attended the ILA Christmas party last week. It was pretty special. A busload of all the teachers, TAs (teaching assistants), and office staff, from our centre was shuttled over to a gigantic event hall in Saigon. Here, our group met with about twenty others from the city and Southern Vietnam in an epic congregation of teachers. There was a six course dinner menu provided to some 1500 diners spread over a hundred odd tables, with its own ‘ILA’s got Talent’ show, and complimentary booze all round. One could not but be impressed. The Thai company I’d been with previous, who shall remain nameless, wouldn’t have even entertained the thought of a staff night out, and this really did give a sense of unity and motivation over and above what we get from the individual centres.
Am now a regular visitor to Nghi’s house after an unscheduled, impromptu hook up with her ma and pa. I’d only planned to pick her up outside on the moto and go for a spin, but she’d invited me inside and had promptly disappeared upstairs. I found myself in the precarious situation of sitting opposite two expectant parents who didn’t know an English word between them for the next half an hour. Threw every bit of Vietnamese I had at them, most of which seemed to be understood, thankfully, but I’ve never had to concentrate so hard on a conversation in my life. Listening is by far the hardest skill for a foreigner, because, with six tones, you have to focus on the pitch and quality of every syllable in order to deduce its meaning, and when Vietnamese speak at their natural pace, it’s extremely difficult to hear what they’re saying. After every other sentence I had to say ‘nói l?i’ or ‘nói ch?m’ (repeat and speak slowly) just so I could process it. Ran out of steam before long and had to whip out google translate on the phone, but it seemed they took a shine to me. I now go around for lunch twice a week and Nghi’s mum cooks up some badass nosh: Vietnamese curries and stews, spring rolls, frogs legs, noodles and rice dishes to name just a few. Then her dad and I wash it down with some local beer. Love all of it, and have since fostered a healthy relationship with them. Did have to decline a fishing trip with her dad though, as I can’t think of anything more boring than sitting by a river dangling a rod into the water for hours on end. Plus, I’ve got too many holidays in the pipeline to really justify it at work. Have been told that Vietnamese parents are often none too keen with their daughter’s foreign boyfriends, as exemplified by a couple of couples I know. The guys in question speak zilch of the lingo, turn their noses up at the cuisine, and don’t seem overly fond of the culture in general. This strikes me as weird and begs the question ‘why are you here?’ Nghi’s parents are very friendly, generous people who like to have a laugh, especially when I make a verbal mishap. The best example of this was when I thought I was saying, ‘last night I took a walk along the river’ but because I mixed up a couple of tones, what I actually said was, ‘last night I took a shit in the river.’ We had a good laugh about that! My only criticism would be their stringent rules precluding taking their daughter to my apartment or going on holiday with me. Hope that in time said rules will slacken, but fear it may be a misplaced hope.
They have a good-sized house, tall, narrow, and deep; architectural hallmarks of French colonialism, and like most Asian households (I saw this in Thailand as well) they have an additional room that would seem out of place in the Western home; the karaoke room. Nghi has treated me to a few songs and I thought I was listening to Vietnam’s Got Talent; she has an awesome voice, even wanted to try and make it as a singer once. Having never made it into the school choir myself, I was content to be an audience member.
I’ve tried to Westernise her with very limited success. Took her to a fancy rooftop restaurant in Saigon a couple of weeks ago. We had a nine course taster menu. Very hi-so, very posh. She struggled with the amount of cutlery, and wasn’t used to drinking wine, but she enjoyed the experience nonetheless.
Looking ahead to the distant future, I’ll have to make some difficult decisions. I still want to live in all the major Asian countries, learn their languages and learn their cultures, but Nghi will be unable to follow. I’m planning to spend two years in Vietnam, so I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Looking ahead to the near future, I’m heading back to The Land of Smiles in two weeks for a reunion with my best friends from Bristol and Brisbane, opposite ends of the globe, with me somewhere in the middle. We’ll be seeing the New Year through on an idyllic island off the coast of Thailand, and I can’t think of a better place to see the blooming of a new year. Plus, I get the added bonus of seeing mum and showing her around my neck of the woods when I arrive back in Vietnam. Next year, trips to Malaysia and Cambodia are already planned. With such a wealth of culture and exploration on your doorstep, it’s hard not to love life out here in South-East Asia