What year in Hong Kong?

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Into the time warp. Now, I go back....years (I won’t give the number just yet). I live in Manhattan, and I just ended a temp job. I have money and six weeks on hand. I’ve heard that you could travel to incredible destinations for a pittance, as a courier. The agency of those days is Now Voyager, on Varick Street. One morning, I go there and look at the large board behind the reception counter. Round trip, Six weeks duration, New York - Perth, AUS - New York, leaving in four days: $299. Not bad.
NY - Kingston, Jamaica - NY, two weeks, $150. Hey now! NY - Hong Kong - San Francisco, six weeks: $399. Hm, not bad but a little steep: gotta arrange the SF - NY trip as an extra. I leave the office and think about for two days.
I return set on taking the Kingston flight, and see that the HK courier has dropped to $99. It leaves in two days and has no takers. Instantly, I ask the counter for that flight.
The lady who arranges things gives me the rundown: “Only a carry-on luggage. That’s all for you. Commercial luggage is registered in your name. In this case, you’ll be travelling for Xerox. No visa required for Hong Kong. Let me see your passport.”
As she checks it, she talks on: “You want a courier SF - NY with us?” - “Yes.” She looks at her computer, “I can get you on a plane three days after arrival in SF. Sorry, but that one way is also $99. Your total is $198. Ok?” - “Ok.”
It’s all arranged. I hurry to a store and get Frommer’s guide for South China. Two evenings later, I’m in JAL 747, destination: Tokyo - Narita. They’ve registered as luggage, in my name, thirty huge bags filled with documents, with a big Xerox label for each bags.
It’s a 14 hours flight, but I’m in Business class, it’s half empty, there is an individual video screen for each passenger and several stations to pick from. On the menu, unlimited appetizers and unlimited tea or wine. Bravo, JAL! The crew and amenities make the long flight a breeze. I don’t sleep and watch very crazy Japanese music videos. It’s all fast moving, disconnected, kinky, surrealist, and very, very weird. For a young fellow, it does make urban Japan seem attractive. Too bad Tokyo is over-priced.
I land at Narita and stay in transit as a couple of young fellows unload my ‘luggage’ from NY and load up forty huge Xerox bags for HK at lightning speed. The weather is grey and rainy. I don’t care. I climb aboard another 747 for the final leg of the trip.
I land at Hong Kong airport at midnight. The fellows waiting for me check that all the bags are accounted for, then they wish me a pleasant journey. I’m on my own.
I wander the airport a little, heading for the exits. The question is: “At this hour, is it worthwhile getting a hotel?” I have the address of a youth hostel, but it’s on a hill top just outside of town. As I step out of the arrivals building, I realize that I’m in Kowloon. Hong Kong is behind me across the Bay. I do see dead ahead a six story building titled YMCA. I bet it’s not packed. Do I get a room? I’m not tired. I’m super-exited!
Why? Apart from the occasional shuttle NY - Europe (where I am from) I have never travelled so far in my life. I’m on the other side of the planet and I can’t really take it in, not yet. Ok, I get in a cab, “Hong Kong, please.” Driver speeds off and we dash into a tunnel that goes across the Bay. “Where to?” He says. “Eh....Holiday Inn? Big Hotel?” - “You have reservation?” - “No, no.” (I think I just want to sit in a hotel lounge and be a lizard for a while.) As we come out of the tunnel, I can see that the streets are quite empty. There’s no point in being outdoors at this hour. I’m less and less interested in getting a room. It’s just too late. Taxi-man drops me in front of some large high rise, “Here, Australian hotel. Bar open!”
Say no more.
I walk into said hotel past the reception and head for what smells like the bar. It’s here all right, but almost empty. The barman stops me before I even get near, “Sorry sir. Last call was five minutes ago.” I turn tail and head out. Behind me, a couple of Aussies at the bar yell, “Say goodniiight!”
Another taxi. “Airport, please!” Back in the tunnel. I will check out this Hong Kong when it’s day time. Kowloon is definitely better lit. I’m dropped off in front of the departures entrance, and I see a cop locking up the gate. The airport is closing? It does seem totally empty in there. Well.....
I turn and cross the broad street. To my left far away, that big YMCA building. Insurance. I walk across an empty parking lot and spot what I needed. A down and dirty all night Chinese restaurant. Saved! I can eat. I can, who knows, mingle.
I’m in. It’s very well lit and crowded with what looks like airport employees. The boss, a beefy Cantonese in his fifties, hands me a menu in English and I quickly order lots of food, and local beer. My first Tsing Tao. They come liter-sized and, if ice cold, they taste outstanding. Tsing Tao is the Chinese Budweiser, and a universe away in quality. Love at first sight. The food arrives. It’s all seafood and veggies served in large bowls. Super-soups, a staple as I shall discover. I eat fast. Bossman turns up and sits at my table. He’s in a good mood. I try small talk but it doesn’t look like he understands English. Oh well. Then, he signals some fellows at a table nearby and one of them gets up. He comes over. He’s young and wears glasses. A student?
“Hello, I’m a student.” --- “Do join us.”
“You just arrived. You don’t a hotel?” - “No. I’m not sure I want one. I’m too wired. The problem is, I’d need an all night place where I could sit. This way, I can see Hong Kong Bay at dawn.” --- “Good idea. How long you’re here?” --- “Six weeks.”
“That’s a long time. You ought to go to Red China.”
“I’ll get a visa tomorrow.” We chat away for a while, then he proposes, “I think I know this Aussie bar in Kowloon and they stay open all night.”
“Can you show me where it is?” --- “I’ll take you.”
I pay the bill and we head out, jump in cab, and it speeds away through Kowloon, a very modern city, lit bright as daylight, and not a soul in sight. Now it occurs to me, “You know, you’re trusting this stranger and you don’t know where he’s taking you. It could be down some alley and your trip to China ends up very shortened. Damn, why the risk? Too late anyway.
It turns out my guide is a good fellow. We walk into a lovely, wood panelled Aussie pub and it’s fairly crowded. My guide as one beer and then excuses himself, “Well, it’s late and I gotta work tomorrow.” --- “I’ll be fine. So long and thanx!”
I’m alone at the table with this large can of Forsters, listening to Lou Reed on the juke. I’m not going to socialize any more. Still, I get up and ask the barman, “What time do you close?” --- “Four AM.” Damn, I look at the wall clock and see it’s only three. At closing time, if I don’t find another spot to hole up until dawn, I will have to go to that YMCA. But I’m not keen on sleeping in Kowloon. In the Frommer’s, I noted the address of a hostel located just outside Old HK, but on a hill with a sweeping view of the entire bay. There was something to note: “It’s up a private road and if you don’t have a cab, the climb is almost two kilometres uphill.” So what? I’m in shape. But that’s for tomorrow, or later on today. What to do until dawn?
I get up and go to the stand at the bar. Immediately, I strike up a conversation with an affable Canadian guy, Mike. He’s burly, a little balding, in his mid forties with a thick mustache. He’s noticed that I carry my ‘luggage’ around. I explain that I’m a courier.
“Ah! That’s a great way to go, but only for short spurts!”
“I know, six weeks.” --- “That’s not enough”, he says, “When your time is up, you won’t want to leave.” I already believe him. Then I get to the gist of things, “Are you familiar with this town? I’m looking for a spot to sit out the rest of the night.”
“Yea, I know one nearby. I’ve been here ten days arranging formalities, since I’m moving to Thailand.” Ah, a real expat, I see.
We get along so great that, at last call, we jump into a cab and speed to a ‘tiddy bar’. That’s the kind where the girls sit across the counter, bare-chested, and talk you into running a huge bar bill. I’m not worried. It’s 4 AM and we won’t have time to get too foolish.
A few narrow, dark, empty streets later, and we’re in. We’re also the only customers, and no girls in sight. We order stiff cocktails: a long island ice tea for me, and God knows what for him. We chat with the crew for a while, two young bartenders and a bouncer. No music, no other customers. Suddenly, Mike gets pissed off, “Where are the girls?!”
“Finished. Gone to bed. Too late.” Says one of our hosts.
That sets him off. Out of nowhere, Mike launches into a tirade about the high competence of Tokyo tiddy bars and the total ineptitude of Hong Kong tiddy bars. “You are unprofessional!! Money is all that counts! You don’t know how to do things! As soon as we walked it, you should have pulled two girls out of bed and brought them here! It’s pathetic! You don’t have a chance! Hong Kong goes broke, Tokyo takes all! And I don’t even tell you about Bangkok! Over there, the girls verry verry sassy, and the bars never close. There would be two for each of us right now, slurping and crawling all over us, whispering ‘boum, boum! You go boum, boum! You so haaandsooome! I wuve youuu!’ But here in Hong Kong? To bed they go. What are they, union members? They’re not allowed overtime? How much you pay them an hour? One dollar, I bet. And HK dollar, not US! Ridiculous.”
The three guys in the crew stand behind the bar facing us, hands in their pockets. They’re smiling. They seem amused. But I wonder. I tell myself, “If this goes on much longer, we’re getting our arses kung-fued outa here.”
I’ve been silent all this time, but now I hazard a suggestion, “No girls. We might as well go.” --- “Yea, man. But this is the only place still open.” - “Too bad. I’ll take another stiff one and be on my way.”
“Where to?” --- “That YMCA by the airport.”
“Yea, this time of year, you’re likely to get a room.” He turns again to the crew, “In Tokyo tiddy bars, I go in a 5 in the morning. Two girls are waiting for me. Japanese girls. Sooo beautiful. Munchy. Chinese girls? Ugly. They hide in their rooms. In Manila, I go to a tiddy bar at 6 in the morning, four girls waiting for me. Four just for me. Philipino girls? Very pretty. Nice. Hong Kong girls? Ugly. They hide in their rooms. Tell those ladies I’m disappointed. With the hours they keep, they won’t get movie roles any time soon! You gotta be up and about! You gotta have ‘get-up-and-go’! You know what that means? Not in Hong Kong! They’re all lazy here. I think it’s the seafood, and all that salt in the air. And furthermore....” Ect, Ect. The crew guys are highly entertained. I manoeuvered Mike out of the stool, out of the bar, and out of trouble. I feel like walking. Mike stops a passing cab, “I gotta sleep this off. My flight leaves this evening.”
“Well, I envy you. Moving to a place like Thailand...”
“Who knows. In six months I might be envying you!”
“Yea, watch out with your money.”
“Have a nice walk. The bay is that way, less than a mile. And don’t worry about those alleys. It’s too mate for muggers; they’re as lazy as the whores. So long!”
He jumps into his cab. So long, pirate.
I turn south and walk alone with my bag. It’s all very quiet, except for this old Cantonese sitting next to a doorway. “Hello, Yawoy. Want Japanese girl, Philipino girl?”
“No thanks.” I keep going and that’s the end of that. I walk like this in totally empty side streets. Not a sound, except for a cat. Then I hear some noise to my right. I look and see this enormous big-assed rat racing across a side alley. I increase marching speed.
5:30 AM. Back to square-one. That parking lot across from the airport. The restaurant is closed. The YMCA is still here on my right. And I can hear the see dead ahead of me. There must be some kind of public park that shoulders with the bay on Kowloon side. To the left, facing east, the airport and the runways spread out. To the right, past the YMCA, it looks urbanized. I turn there and indeed come into a long wide walkway just next to the bay. It’s getting light and the visibility is good. I see all of Hong Kong spread out before me to the south. I take out my walkman. Inside is a tape some girl in New York gave me, instrumental music from Brittany. I put it on: it’s slightly Celtic and bittersweet in mood. Guitar and violin get very busy. A hazy sun day rises and joggers begin to appear. About a third are westerners, the others Chinese. Most carry a walkman like me. There are benches. I’m no longer wired. I’m not drunk. And I’m not tired. I haven’t slept in thirty hours and it doesn’t matter. I’m on the other side of the globe, and I can’t believe it. I have to believe it.
6:00 AM. Full dawn, a light brown overcast shields us from the sun, who battles to break through. The view is stunning. All of Hong Kong Bay looking south from where I stand. Shuttle boats are already busy going back and forth the mainland. Hong Kong Island is about two miles from where I am. Looking to my left, the island, entirely urbanized near the water, stretches out for maybe ten miles. To the right, same spectacle.
I smoke a ciggie and turn up the volume to that Celtic jingle in my ears. The other side of the planet. HK Bay, dawn. Unbelievable. Unforgettable. It’s April Fools Day, 1985.

Next week, I go to Red China....

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Comments

[Herzog]

APRIL FOOL!
APRIL FOOLS! Hong Kong, 1/4/85 Ah! China before Tienammen Square, those were the days! Right? But wait, we’re in HK. It’s seven in the morning and I have to find a hotel. First, I’ll get: 1. an International Hostel Card(Always have one, you never know.) 2. A visa for Red China from the HK consulate. I leave the beautiful sight of HK Bay and hail a taxi. He drops me in the middle of rush-hour old town. The streets are packed with pedestrians and traffic. I go to the World Youth Hostel Association and get a temp card to have access to the cheapo hostels. Then, I find the Chinese Consulate and buy a visa I shall get in three days. Next, a long stroll across this splendid town. I quickly retreat from the main avenues by the Bay and climb up the hills, to the smaller alleys of old Hong Kong. It’s a charmer, just like the Bruce Lee movies. Everywhere they have stalls that sell steaming calamari and Octopus. I purchase and munch away. The food is sober but delicious. They don’t have coffee around here. Once in a while I settle at a street restaurant: basic tables and benches set under a large tent, and guzzle jasmin tea. The natives ignore me. I’m glad. I haven’t slept in two days and I’m not up to any more socializing, not after my evening with Mike from Vancouver! I’ll just wander around those streets all day, and comes dusk, catch a bus to the southern edge of town. There is a hostel there, but up a huge hill. The guide warns me that you have to hike two miles up before you get there, unless you insist on a cab. We’ll see. I walk along a narrow street full of High Fi stores. Boxes of pirated cassettes. perfect. I snoop around and find "Around The World In A Day", by Prince! Buy it. Play it. Ram it in your ears! And I continue my stroll to the sounds of "Pop Life". End of day. Bus. Suburb. A two mile road up the hostel. It's nice and fenced in like a minimum security jail. mama san is at reception. rent is cheap, cheap: $5 a night. Mama san adds; "You have to do your duty." My duty? After wake up and breakfast, I must take on a cleaning shore before I step out of the property. No problem. The hostel is made of two separate houses, one for the girls and one for me. I collapase on my bunk. I'll take a boat around the surrounding islands for a couple of days, eat a lot of octopus. Then, red China! A good day for a Fool.