Journey's End

Ah, Hong Kong. Hustle, bustle, noise, and people, people, people. EVERYWHERE. I'm trying to walk, get out of my face!

In such spirit, we decided that today was a good day to escape the chaos and visit the nearby, small and quiet Lamma Island. We'd heard great things about it from the Astrids, and apparently it was a roadless and carless little haven of calm only half an hour away. Perfect! This would be a chilled day. It started promisingly, with a nice lie in, during which I had some vivid doze-dreams about teaching Mark how to play tennis and having a Ferg Burger (shit, it's so well publicised it even infiltrates your dreams! Is nothing sacred?!). After getting out and about, we grabbed the customary cheap croissant and jumped on the ferry across to HK island, from where we hopped on board another to take us to Lamma.

After docking at the end of the wooden pier we emerged to behold Yung Shue Wan, one of Lamma's few villages. This 'skyline' of ramshackle, one-storey buildings backed by softly rising hills could not have been in greater contrast to the glitz and glamour of that of Hong Kong island. Lamma is essentially small, green, undulating and almost untouched. There are only two fishing villages and one strange industrial complex that was thankfully for now tucked out of sight in another bay...and everything else is, well, nature. No skyscrapers. No development. Still tourism, but a slight percentage of HK itself, and people mainly come for the seafood. As we moseyed around the tiny streets of Yung Shue Wan, perving at the basic restaurants with tank upon tank of all kinds of exotic, freshly-caught marine life, at the puppies and small children running amok, and at the little houses with outdoor shrines that haphazardly dotted the hillside, we felt a sense of familiarity, and a little pang of reminiscence for some of the places we'd been to two months previously. The delicious-looking seafood in unpretentious surrounds was a definite echo of Mui Ne, and the dogs padding around everywhere was just like any Southeast Asian street. This was old-world Asia again. Asia minus consumerism and modernism, minus men in suits rushing through the crowds to catch the metro, minus the stylish Hong Kong teens walking around with head bowed to iPhone, and plus all the enchanting sights and smells of basic, honest living. It was crazy to think that just thirty minutes away there were people carrying pampered rat-dogs in designer handbags around vast and resplendent underground shopping malls, looking at chinchilla coats for £6,000. So close, and yet worlds apart.

Amongst all of this Chinese rurality, Jess and I decided to be very English and have a cup of earl grey in an appealing little place called Bookworm Cafe. Once fueled, we went for a pleasant, slow-paced hike across the island, along a route leading to Sok Kwu Wan, the other fishing village. Part-way we stopped for a picnic on a peaceful beach, before continuing up and over the ridge of the island, taking in constant views over green coastline and the hazy South China Sea, sparkling in the sun and dotted with big freightliners, seemingly motionless as if engaged in a real-life game of 'battleships'. We passed two little temples, (one in each village), both of which were dedicated to the god of seafarers/fisherman, Tin Hau. (People here definitely pray in an admirably practical fashion). At walk's end, there was a beautiful view down into the bay at Sok Kwu Wan, with its floating boathouses. In the far distance you could just make out the skyscrapers of Hong Kong island - a fascinating contrast if ever there was one.

We killed the time before the ferry back to HK by pottering around the restaurants that lined the one street in the 'village', wishing it was late enough to warrant a delicious but reasonably priced seafood dinner (bad planning). Oh well. We'd just have to continue our quest for good Dim Sum back in HK instead. As our boat pulled out and the sun went down on Lamma, we were happy to have spent a day of peace wandering around the quiet fishing communities, and felt prepared to throw ourselves once more into the heady neon metropolis just a few minutes across the bay.

Later on, as we made our way slowly through the dark bustle of Central, we couldn't help but notice that something most odd was afoot. Everywhere you looked, and in the strangest places - under road bridges, in doorways, and anywhere else there was a place to sit happily in the street - there were women. They were gathered in groups, sat around on cardboard or throwcloths just playing cards, eating dinner, and having a drink and a natter. It was truly bizarre - seemingly all the women of Hong Kong had suddenly decided to try out homelessness for an evening. Why not, eh? Perplexed, we decided we'd ask Al about it when we saw him, and continued on back to City Hall to see if we could finally procure some reputable Dim Sum at Maxim's Palace. When we got there we found out they'd stopped serving it much earlier, and that the grander and more expensive menu had come into play. Shit.

Back across the water to Tsim Sha Tsui we hurried, and ended up dining instead at the Wu Kong Shanghai Restaurant in Kowloon, another one we'd spotted before. It was the best Chinese meal we'd had so far...but still not a patch on some of the spiced and subtle flavours we'd had in Southeast Asia. We'd been trying desperately to find some genuine Chinese food that we really liked. At home, 'Chinese' takeaway often means gloopy, deep-fried, and msg-laiden food, (which in itself is no Thai...), but everything we'd experienced here was completely different again. It was all bland dumplings and unrecognisable, inexplicable 'meat'. Best of all though, the commendably literal and honest way in which Chinese menus often translate their dishes into English does little to whet the appetite. But it does make you smile.

After emerging back up the stairs into the street, Jess noted with much interest that the man in the turban who had been stood outside doing nothing as we went in was still there. He had been on that exact spot every time we'd passed it in the last few days. Always leaning on the railing, always mute and still. Something odd going on there. We decided not to ask him what, going instead for a long stroll up the infinite Nathan Road towards the 'Ladies Market' in Mong Kok, the next district up from TST, which we browsed at leisure. Having procured a few presents for people, it was time to head back for a Tsingtao tinnie in our cute little room. Today had been a good day.

Meetup with Alastair Day

The next cold, sunny morning we had a croissant (standard) and headed for the Museum of Art on the harbourfront. After a browse around a pretty dull section on caligraphy and traditional scroll painting we discovered the far more engaging ceramics display. It housed all kinds of pots, plates and sculptures through most of the Chinese dynasties, with a few real treasures. One big vase had me particularly stunned, not by its beauty - it was re-built from shards and completely faded - but by its very existence, because the date on the card said it was four thousand years old. This bastard pre-dated Christ by two thousand years! There was also a great section on auspicious animal symbolism in Chinese tradition. We learnt how animals like the bat, monkey, crane, magpie, and butterfly each represent an aspect of 'luck', (for instance longevity, wealth, happiness, or prosperity), and often for the simple reason that the Chinese word for the animal sounds a bit like the word for the aspect. So that's why they're all over Chinese art, clothes, ceramics and temples...to bring that luck to the owner.

Bathing in the chilly sunshine on the Tsim Sha Tsui promenade we devoured a bakery lunch and a starbucks doughnut, before heading back to The Box to re-energise for the evening ahead. That done, the Zoological Gardens were our planned time-filler before we met up with Al, and so we headed HK island-wards to go and stare at some animals. We stared at racoons, giant tortoises, flamingos, several howling lemurs and an apparently empty orangutan enclosure, but were particularly mesmerised by one funky little monkey. He kept reaching his little man-hands through the cage to grab at some grass, sniff it, and then decide it wasn't edible. This amusing process was repeated indefinitely, and we were stood there marvelling at him and inventing a 'monkey commentary' for about a quarter of an hour before we realised we were massive losers and should probably move on.

We had time for a pint before we were due to meet up with Al and the Dickies, and so moseyed awhile around Soho trying to find one that was less than a fiver. It's a ludicriously awesome place, but it ain't cheap - all of the 'happy hours' generally mean a drink is around £4 instead of the normal higher price...eep. We struck luck after a valiant search, however, in a place that was technically a Japanese restaurant, where we sank a crisp pint of Asahi before hurrying down to metro stop D to find the Dickster. And there he was, head and shoulders above the sea of people flowing down the pavement, waiting with his parents, in the middle of Central Hong Kong. How surreal! It was lovely to see them all, and to catch up in such exciting surrounds, as we glided up and down the giant outdoor escalators of Soho looking for a nice place to eat. We ended up at an Italian called 'Verve' that Jess had spotted before, where we had good food, good beer, and good company, before moving on to a bar called 'The Pickled Pelican' for some more good beer - and to top it off this was all Tom and Janice's very generous treat. After we'd all had a jolly chinwag, Al, Jess and I retired to his rather civilised and plush hotel room at the Langham to drink more good beer and hang out until the wee small hours. After we'd said bye to Al at the end of the surreal and sublime soiree, we were amazed by the sudden freedom of the streets, which were practically ghost-like by Hong Kong standards. Why, there were only around a thousand people on this pavement...where had the other nine thousand gone?! I suppose that's what you get at 3am.

We went to bed very aware that we'd just had our last proper night of the whole trip. Scary. I was glad it'd been such a great one.

Tues 18th Jan - THE LAST DAY OF THE TRIP!

And so the final day of our epic journey began a wee bit groggily. Having risen inevitably late, we demolished our customary croissant and made swift plans to make the most of the little time we had left, deciding to go and check out a temple called Sik Sik Yuen Wong Tai Sin (quite a mouthful), a fair way to the North down the MTR line. It was an awesome experience. The place was much bigger than I'd expected, and more beautiful - a feast for the eyes, full of vibrant Chinese reds and golds, animal symbolism, and intricate details wherever you looked. It also housed the tranquil 'Good Wish Gardens', a haven where we sat in the sun for a while watching the little terrepins messing around in the murky pond. Simple pleasures.

The peace out there was a huge contrast to the chaos within the temple, where serious hordes of people were busy making excessive incense offerings. There was a very 'conveyor belt worship' feel, as a constant flow of people dropped in for a minute or two on their way home from work. We theorised that each were probably praying for luck in some specific and practical capacity, like good health for a new baby or happiness in a new job - a quick fix of offering to tide them over. In contrast to this flow of people, there were many others who were clearly taking their time, having settled down on the floor and meticulously constructed their own shrines of food and drink. Some comprised just an orange and a glass of tea, wheras others were really quite extravagant - to our amazement one woman had laid out an entire roast pig. Maybe she was praying for a new car...

Yet more people were engaged in a different activity altogether - fortune telling, with 'Chim' sticks. This is a process where you shake and gradually tilt a pot full of thin sticks until just one falls to the floor. Then you read the inscription on that stick, and go and take it to a fortune-teller to interpret its meaning for your future, probably at a price. Hong Kong strikes me as so funny that way. It's a modern metropolis, a mecca of logical and forward-thinking capitalism, and yet these seemingly incompatible ancient Chinese beliefs somehow fit in with all that. A great example would be the official opening date of the Bank of China Tower. This beacon of modernity first opened its doors on 8/8/88 because, according to traditional superstition, the number eight signifies prosperity. It's a really interesting juxtaposition, and all so alien to us Westerners. It was with thoughts like this that we stood around the temple just observing for a good while, peacefully looking on at all the people making their offerings and conducting their divination rituals, soaking up the wafts of incense and the amazing atmosphere of the moment. What a place.

We left the temple feeling very happy to have squeezed it in as one of the final experiences of the trip. The next plan was to celebrate in style by going to take afternoon tea at the incredibly grand Peninsula Hotel. It was an end-of-journey treat that we'd been scheming up for a week, and it was simply delectable, darling. We felt all posh and pampered for a change, sitting and supping in the regal hall, to the gentle, ambient tinkling of fine cutlery, savouring every morsel and lapping up the luxury. Om nom nom nom. Afterwards we watched the night descend and the lights of the famous skyline come alive from a nice spot on the harbourside, before taking in the 'symphony of lights' show for a second time.

After having pensively basked in the glow of the city for a long while, we agreed that it had been a magnificent day, to end a truly magnificent journey. In contrast to the luxurious afternoon tea, we found some strange, greasy dim sum in a litte cafe for supper, and headed back to have one last beer in the room as we packed for the return journey. It felt very strange, but we were so happy. We'd done it. It had been epic. How to summarise it all? Well...

We'd scratched the surface of six countries, explored a bunch of ancient and modern temples, eaten a plethora of awesome food, made a lot of temporary but lovely friends, immersed ourselves in exotic culchers, went to some gigs, learnt how to cook Vietnamese style, wandered amazing markets, kayaked and sailed around tranquil bays, thrown ourselves out of a plane, driven a campervan 700 kilometres, walked through a million-year old rainforest, had a lot of cheap beer, as well as the odd really expensive one, learnt the meaning of 'Manchester' to Australians, learnt how to cross a road in Vietnam without dying, scuba dived on the Great Barrier Reef, chundered everywhere, taken some hair-raising motorbike taxis, relaxed with the lovely Mallinders, been on the 'world's steepest railway', horse-trekked through rivers, snorkelled with sharkies, hiked on a glacier, relaxed on pure white beaches, avoided death by jellyfish, death by spider, death by earthquake, and death by skydive, wined and dined in some seriously cool cities, as well as some seriously tiny backwaters, learnt what things like 'schooner' and 'chur' mean, seen a whale dive, sneakily photographed several theravadin monks, had a sunny christmas barbeque, brought in the New Year 13 hours ahead of the UK, and travelled through time for that matter, mastered the art of the haggle, pranced about in flipflops 90% of the time, sweated our arses off, frozen our tits off, met some Maoris, walked across two active volcanoes, been there, done that, and bought several T-shirts...And I'd loved every minute, because I'd got to share it all with Jess.

But now it was time to go. When all was backpacked up, we settled down for our final night together, with feet sticking out of our cosy, dinky-chinky bed, in Room D, Lee Garden Guesthouse, Flat B, Fook Kiu Mansion, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon, Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, China, Asia...The World.

Bring on home, and the next chapter.