Hong Kong Contrasts

My time in Hong Kong was filled with contrasts. Remnants of British culture mix with the new Hong Kong that has given rise to the Chinese slogan “One China, two systems.” It is obvious that the economic and cultural power of this city will not be quickly subsumed into the communism and socialism of mainland China. I also experienced comparisons with my previous voyage here, a natural response I know, but one I try to guard against if I can, hoping to stay focused on the magic of this new voyage.

2002, when I was here before, was only five years after the handover and now it’s eight. Maybe it’s a bias created by the observer but I was struck by how few Westerners I saw either downtown or at tourist venues. The business people on the street were much more predominantly Chinese. I wondered if transitional personnel had finally gone home and left the Chinese in charge. Japanese tourists were even more in the majority than in most places, joined, I think, by Chinese who are being encouraged to travel within their country. I saw virtually no Americans.

The one place I did see Westerners was, of course, the venerable and delightful Peninsula Hotel. I wandered around its halls, evoking memories of a childhood visit there. The marvelous new performing arts and museum complex down on the waterfront unfortunately obscures the grand old dame’s previously spectacular view of the harbor. Nothing, however, can sully her classic ambiance and grandeur. I couldn’t resist afternoon high tea in the lobby, complete with a three-tiered silver tray of a wide assortment of goodies going way beyond the traditional cucumber finger sandwiches and scones with butter and jam. A corner of the mezzanine balcony held a quartet of piano, bass, violin and flute who wafted the Moonlight Sonata and Pacabel’s Canon down into the gilded lobby below. I thought about how nothing had changed in decades inside this room but that everything had changed outside. I’m usually uncomfortable in bastions of colonial power, with an old liberal’s fear of “come the revolution” being caught on the wrong side of town. But here a peaceful evolution has taken place and the Chinese are firmly in charge. This small remnant of Hong Kong’s British history will hopefully be allowed to coexist with her exciting future.

I felt disappointment that our ship was not here, not docked at the Ocean Terminal with the Star Ferry right outside. The kids who went up to Victoria Peak couldn’t feel the excitement of seeing her in the harbor far below. All 750 of us were at one huge convention hotel out in the New Territories, think suburbs without the grass. This arrangement, although sadly substituting for the ringside seat of the ship, was better than being scattered at as many as seven hotels in the other two ports we had to fly to. An enormously important aspect to the Semester at Sea experience is being a part of this diverse community, bonded by a love of learning and travel and, in our case, by the challenges of our experience in the North Pacific. I missed the ship terribly but more than that I missed our community being together.

I particularly enjoyed spending time with my new friends Linda and Tom Hunter. We had great fun striking out on the Metro or bus to explore various parts of the city. One day we went on a self-guided walking tour that included several specialized markets. We marveled at the variety and brilliance of the flowers in the Flower Market, everything imaginable from orchids in astounding abundance to bountiful pots of some small white flower I still can’t identify. We delighted in the dark bamboo, intricately carved cages in the Bird Market, complete with traditional blue and white porcelain water dishes. I once again marveled at the variety: small finch-like birds with green bodies and orange and yellow heads, black and white ones with brilliant hot pink beaks; dozens of small birds all crammed into one tiny cage or a single specimen of toucan regally watching us from his perch. Because the weather was quite nasty (what could we have done to offend the weather gods so egregiously?), only one man was out “walking” his cockatoo, as is the tradition here, drawing a crowd of admirers like a cute puppy in the park.


Tom, Linda and I had what I have to say was the very best of my lifetime of extraordinary dining experiences at a stunning restaurant called Hutong. Only two rows of tables lined a broad expanse of windows overlooking the harbor. My new best friend, the concierge at the Peninsula, had fixed us up with a fabulous table (note to self: if you want a truly memorable dinner, go to the nicest hotel in the city, even if you’re not staying there, ask the concierge for his recommendations and tip well). The food was unique with gourmet Asian flavors and presentations I’d never seen before: shrimp marinated in a special spice and smothered in fresh garlic; eggplant in thumb-sized pieces delicately steamed, seasoned and molded into a mound – it melted in your mouth; and so many more. Each dish was presented in a container that had never seen the inside of a commercial dishwasher: a red, wooden, narrow, rectangular platter with a 6” square carved box at one end, a sage green ceramic bowl shaped like a partially closed leaf, a large basket complete with handle and painted with orange figures, a hefty block of old, dark wood slightly scooped out to contain the sauce; and on and on. The service was just right, that unobtrusive presenting and sweeping away of dishes at just the right moment, not before or after you were ready. But with all this, the very best was the décor. You got the feeling of entering into an old Chinese farmhouse decorated for an architectural digest shoot. Dark wood and old rattan were everywhere, illuminated by candlelight and punctuated by blood red diaphanous muslin hangings swaying in doorways. Old farm tools contrasted with exquisitely simple porcelain candleholders on surfaces and even worked into one stone wall with chicken wire. Our eyes simply could not take it all in and it’s beyond my powers of description. Some very, very talented decorator had obviously gotten carte blanche and had created a masterpiece of a restaurant. But the crowning touch was the restroom. Tom had been to the men’s room and came back and said we HAD to see them. The door to the ladies room was an antique looking, ornately carved and arched gate. Inside, the sink stole the show: a long piece of white marble about the size of a small picnic table with a slight lip around the edges that had exquisite river stones and fresh flowers around the periphery and a very large, old wooden bucket suspended above it. To get water, you pulled on a small stick and water splashed out of a 4” bamboo spout in the side of the bucket. Luckily we were alone in the bathroom and we could ogle and giggle and take pictures like the awestruck tourists we were. All this for about a quarter of the price of such a dining experience in New York. Hutong in Hong Kong – write it down!

The last day I was there I went to see “The Big Buddha” and Po Lin Monastery on Lantau Island. After a very time-consuming mistake of going the wrong way on the subway line and then a long bus ride after the subway, I finally made it and was amazed by the size and majesty of the 35 meter bronze figure. This important Hong Kong landmark was not built until the early 1990’s when the handover was a certainty. I was interested to read that it faces mainland Communist China. I wonder if that slogan of “One China, two systems” will be stretched to encompass religion as well. Hopefully the economic success of the second system in Hong Kong will have a positive ripple effect on other aspects of Chinese culture and politics.