Tin Hau's Birthday, Wandering Maccau

April 28-29: The Special Administration of Macau is Las Vegas in China. The city may be synonymous with gambling, but its landmark is a crumbling relic of imperial Portugal - the Ruins of St. Paul’s. The Cathedral of St. Paul was built at the end of the 16th century (more than a century before Britain secured a foothold in Hong Kong). The cathedral burnt down during an 1835 typhoon, and the remains provide Mainland tourists a backdrop to the same classic tourist snapshots that Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower might offer in Paris. We take the obligatory self-portrait at St. Paul’s and visit the nearby Fortaleza de Monte.

Free shuttles run from most hotels and all casinos. We booked the Metrople Hotel at a travel agent near the Turbo Jet ticket counter for a discount - although I’m not sure about the savings. For the record, we paid $900 HK for two nights (just over $100 US). A form behind the door listed a price higher than $1,000 per night.

Joyce returns to Hong Kong, and I head to Taipa and Cologne (islands south of Maccau that have been joined by reclaimed land). A free shuttle crosses the bridge to the Crown casino, and a $2.50 bus fare takes me to the base of Coloane Hill. A-Ma Cultural Village and Tian Hou Palace near the summit of the 560-ft. hill.






Today, April 28, is the birthday of Tin Hau – also known as A-Ma. The goddess of the sea or “Queen of Heaven” is especially revered in Macau and surrounding areas (including Hong Kong). According to the Macau Government Tourism Office, “Legend has it that centuries ago the goddess, posing as a Fujian girl, saved several fishermen from a raging tempest off the coast of China, in gratitude for which the survivors built the famous A-Ma Temple.”

The village at Alto de Coloane is actually an enormous Qing-era temple and courtyard devoted to A-Ma (or Tin Hau) Inside, a group of women bang gongs and sing sporadically. Worshippers light firecrackers on the side of the temple. Giant incense sticks (more like logs) burn in front of the regular incense burners.
Nearby, at the hill’s highest point, an enormous white statue to A-Ma looks across the island.

A free shuttle transports tourist up and down the hill every 30-minutes, but you can hike up (about 30 min.). I choose to hike up. For the sake of time, I’d recommend the free shuttle to the top, and hiking down. I take the shuttle down.





Another $2.50 bus. Taipa Village offers the cobblestone sidewalks of a displaced European village, surrounded by towering residential complexes and casinos. I wander then walk to the Venetian, the world’s third largest building at 10.5 million sq. ft. (after the Netherlands’ Aalsmeer Flower Auction and Beijing Capital International Airport).

The Venetian is huge. Canals snake about both outside and inside. Gondoliers sing under an artificial sky as families peruse fancy boutiques. The gaming floor stretches as if falling off either horizon. Even the food court is modeled after an Italian square beneath a constantly azure sky. The casino shuttle takes me back to the ferry pier, where another shuttle takes me back to the Macau city center. I walk to the far west of the island, to visit the A-Ma temple supposedly built by the fisherman saved by the goddess.

The temple hosts a Cantonese opera in a make-shift bamboo structure. The practice is common throughout the region in Hong Kong and Guangdong Province. At the back of the theatre, close to the ceiling, an altar to A-Ma (Tin Hau) allows the goddess to view the performance in her honor.

Another bus ride, and I’m near Senado Square again. I return to the Metrople and stop at the Portuguese restaurant across the street. Macau is popular for food tourists from Hong Kong. Shamefully, I have only $110 HK in my wallet, $7 has already gone to bus fare and $95 goes for a Portuguese baked fish. The meal is amazing. The fish is baked with gobs of onions, tomatoes and green peppers atop a potato shelf, all doused in olive oil, with a single green olive on the side.







The next morning, I return my room key for a $200 HK deposit. I wander the island more, walking till my legs ache. I eat a pastry, drink a Pocari Sweat (essentially Japanese Gatorade).Ready to crash (and eat) I use the deposit money to buy the $142 return ticket. After a short nap on the boat, I’m home for an early dinner.

Rebecca's Concert in Maccau

April 27: The “Turbo Jet” boat speeds across the South China Sea, and the Pearl River Delta passes in a flash. Hong Kongers use the phrase, “crossing the big ocean” for the 30-minute boat trip to Asia’s gambling capital - Macau. After a quick run ‘round historic Senado Square and environs, we head to Rebecca Pan’s concert at the Wynn casino. We pass a ridiculous flaming pineapple, the Grand Lisboa, and other giant flashing casinos.

Rebecca performs at the birthday banquet for a wealthy Hong Konger. The man had attended her previous Macau concert in 2007. The banquet offers eight amazing courses; although, I pass on the ducks leg/foot. If I weren’t in such a formal setting, I’d try to eat it, but I’d rather not embarrass our host. The leg/foot is too big and slippery for me to maneuver with chopsticks.

One of the banquet guests (from Singapore) at our table says I look familiar, "Clark... Clark... Clark Kent! Hey Clark, there aren't many telephone booths for you to change in Hong Kong, are there? Hahaha!"

He's correct. Public telephones in Hong Kong are all placed on the wall, with no space for privacy.

The Big Buddha

April 26: Off to see the world’s tallest seated, outdoor Buddha statue – the 242.5 ton, bronze Tian Tan Buddha.

A ferry from pier #6 in Central takes me to Mui Wo, where a bus leaves for Ngong Ping and the Tian Tan Buddha. We pass Cheng Shan beach, a large strip of white surrounded by tropical foliage (and maybe less garbage than other Hong Kong beaches, maybe).

Tourists stream up the steps to the Buddha like ants on an anthill. I go up, then down, and visit the Po Lin Monastery. The Monastery dates back to 1927, while the giant statue was built in 1993.




The monastery features a restaurant, but I merely pass through, look at the environs and snap a few photos.

A hostel sits by the base of the Buddha, near a path that leads to the “Wisdom Path” where 38 tree trunk slices exhibit the Heart Sutra (a 5th century Buddhist prayer exploring the virtue of emptiness, or so my guidebook says). There is no translation, but the little circular path is pleasant, and it sits beside the trailhead for accessing Lantau Peak (If it weren’t already late afternoon, I’d like to do this, as well as visit the beach!)




The 360 Skyrail runs to Tung Chung from the Ngong Ping (tourist) Village (full of trinkets and souvenirs). I take the bus. The gondola lift has both an expensive ticket price and a bad reputation (delays on the 2006 trial run, in 2007 an empty car fell 50 m to the ground, and a too-recent suspension of operation) to dissuade me.

From Tung Chung, the metro return to Hong Kong Island.

Rehearsal and Lan Kai Fong

April 25: Rebecca Pan practices with her band for a concert at the Wynn casino in Macau.

Rebecca, 78-years-old, has performed with Louis Armstrong, but her brass section is far more familiar today. The trumpeter has performed with her for more than 40 years.

I leave the studio in the Wan Chai neighborhood. Bars and strip clubs line the street. An old woman wraps her arms around my body. “Cheap drinks, nice girls,” she repeats. “I have to go,” I say. She struggles to maintain her grip, then I’m free.

In the evening, at Lan Kwai Fong, I meet with Joyce and friends. It’s my first night out in Hong Kong. The Lan Kwai Fong bar district is one of Hong Kong’s most popular (along with Wan Chai). I’m surprised by the laid back atmosphere on the ground floor bars. I don’t dance, so I can’t comment on discos or upper-level clubs (which I assume are the places that earned Lan Kwai Fong its wild reputation. But I don’t really know).

Searching for the Temple

April 24: In Sha Tin, I look for the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas. A block away from the metro station, a paper sign points down the block. I walk farther. No more signs. So I turn where my map suggests that the temple is located. A massive tiled-entrance appears, looks like the gate to a temple.

Inside, I find pools of fish and turtles. Buddha statues abound. This must be the place, I think incorrectly. I wander the enormous hillside complex of shrines, statues, incense burners and burial walls. The facility is rapidly expanding, and a giant crane towers over the construction scene. I wander until women slide the burial-room doors clanging shut. The place is huge. Heading back down, I feel like this is not the temple I was looking for. I watch an escalator take elderly men and women down the steep hill. As I leave, I notice a sign that confirms my suspicion. Po Fuk Shan (寶 福 山,or Treasure Fortune Mountain).

It’s late, so I head back to Ap Lei Chau. When I show Joyce my photos, she’s surprised. “Three of my ancestors are buried there!” she says. This is where her mother went to sweep her family’s graves for the Clean and Clear Festival.

I will return to Sha Tin to find the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas, but I’m glad I visited the graveyard. Now I know what the final resting places look like after bodies finish their 6-year burials in Hong Kong’s crowded cemeteries.

If you visit the Temple of 10,000 Buddhas while in Hong Kong’s New Territories, take time to wander this graveyard as well. It’s an interesting place, so close to the metro.

The Ghost of South Horizons

April 22-23: I’m the ghost haunting South Horizons. Lately, I’ve been spooking about the residential area and nearby Aberdeen.

White people are ghost people, to the Chinese. A Caucasian male from Europe or the States is often referred to as, “gwai lo, 鬼 佬" (ghost man). Because I am young, I can still be called a “ghost kid,” or “gwai tzai, 鬼 仔," hence the title of this blog.

The pronunciation of the term confuses my English-accustomed ears. “Gwai” is also the transliteration for both “good” and “strange.” Change your pitch at the end of the pronunciation of “gwai,” and you could say “good kid, 乖 仔" instead of “ghost kid.” I try to be that, too (rather than the strange kid (怪 仔) bumming around the house).

Stanley Market and Temples

April 21: Past the stalls of Chinese kitsch, Stanley Market is surrounded by subtle spiritual tributes. A temple to (the “Queen of Heaven” and patron goddess to fishermen) Tin Hau and a smaller temple flank the market, while another temple is tucked away beside the ocean at the beginning of a forest trail.



I follow a trail through the woods, reach a bus stop and entrance to a monastery. Inside the grounds, a statue of a goddess watches over the Stanley Market waterfront, tourist shops and surrounding residential buildings.

Back at Stanley Market, I consider buying presents for friends and family. A “Bruce Lee is my Homeboy” shirt seems funny. Lots of chopsticks, tea sets, miniature Buddhas and paper lanterns look cute/cheap. Ties cost only $10HK at one stall. I probably should buy a bundle as security for next Christmas, but I don’t regret saving my money.

Tourists and their children fill the market alleys. A film production team films a kung fu scene. Some ridiculous-looking white guy in long sleeve shirt sports a doofy green rat tail. A girl kicks him in the face, and he does a front flip and then a back flip. He repeats the scene over and over. In the scene, extras crowd around snapping photos and recording videos from camera phones. They follow him as he chases after the girl martial artist. I join the real tourists taking photos of the scene, a mirror of the scene being recorded. The rat-tailed guy looks exhausted.

Hardcore Museum Day

April 20: Chinese Cake Baking Class: Can’t find Wing Wah’s shop in Kowloon, where the Hong Kong Tourism Board organized the class. I’m late. Can’t participate in making “wife cakes.” Get to make egg rolls – seem more like rolled pancakes (but taste great!).





Hong Kong Science Museum: Located next to the Hong Kong Museum of History in Kowloon. The museum is amazing. If I were still 10-years-old, it would be my favorite place in the world. Lots of interactive exhibits attempt to educate, and provide great fun for screaming kids running circles round the building. Cost is covered by weekly pass. I feel too old for the place, but with a companion, it could make a fun day (too bad Joyce is at school!). The museum also hosts the Shell Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. Oil company sponsorship seems strange, but the work is spectacular.





Hong Kong Museum of Art: Located beside the Star Ferry in TST – walking distance from the science museum. Ceramics don’t thrill me. Even so, the extensive gallery of ceramics offers a good sense of different styles throughout the various Chinese dynasties. About half of the museum’s exhibits are closed for changing, and my weekly pass doesn’t allow me into the special exhibit on jewelry. Oh well. Jewelry is lame anyway. A bit like this museum (I’m thinking), until I view the “New Literati” exhibit.

The introduction to the exhibit explains that “New Literati” is not a formal school of painting in China. The term is used to encompass art in the late 70s through 90s; rather than painting political works or propaganda, New Literati artists take inspiration from classical Chinese painting styles while also experimenting with stylistic innovations. The name “New Literati” came from two touring New Literati exhibits in the 80s and 90s. The artists featured here at the Hong Kong Museum of Art showed in these exhibits, and they represent the variety of artistic style during the period.







Hong Kong Space Museum: Could be a good museum, but most of the exhibits are closed. Also, some basic typos or flaws in translation disappoint early: The museum is covered by the weekly pass. An IMAX theater is attached, but shows cost extra. Maybe they, at least, are worthwhile. Be sure to check availability of shows in English (there are a couple each week).

Typhoon Brings Rain, Opera and More History

April 19: Typhoon Neoguri crept north from Hainan over night, and mariners south of Hong Kong filled Aberdeen Harbor.

Yesterday, a white card at the front desk of the apartment announced the No. 1 typhoon signal. This morning, when I left the building, it had upgraded to No. 3.

Typhoon Neoguri brought the earliest warning to Hong Kong since the No. 1 standby signal from Typhoon Violet on April 9, 1967.

Today, everyone scurries to escape the rain. Most carry umbrellas. The wind whips the umbrellas inside-out.

I wear a raincoat, but my pants aren’t protected. I appear at the Hong Kong Heritage Museum as if dipped in the ocean. The museum in Sha Tin hosts the Cantonese Opera Appreciation Class (organized by the Hong Kong Tourism Board).




The guide is late, and he has to change from his wet clothes. Introduction, “My name is Paris.” He explains some of the motions that represent scene. Cantonese opera stage setting does not use props. He demonstrates the male singing voice at a normal pitch. Very pretty. He demonstrates the female singing voice, a high-pitched song. Wow. Paris says he performs opera. It shows. He explains that male and female roles are played by either sex, depending on the ability of the actor or actress’ voice. We watch a segment of performance in the museum theatre – a bride argues with the groom. Unfortunately for me, there are no subtitles.

Cantonese opera came to Hong Kong from Guangdong Province, just north of Hong Kong. The entertainment flourished in the city as Mao’s cultural revolutions suppressed Chinese opera elsewhere in China in the mid-20th century. Cantonese opera is one of many regional opera styles in China, and it combines elements of symbolic body language, kung fu, singing and dialogue.

The Hong Kong Heritage Museum is a great museum. A special exhibit on Canto-pop explains the regional pop music’s rise to prominence over Cantonese Opera. The exhibit on Cantonese opera is interesting. An exhibit on poster art, also nice. Unfortunately, I run out of time to view the ancient Chinese artifacts. Very disappointed, I head back into the rain.

Sewage drains overflow, like volcanoes erupting with water.

City History, Tea Appreciation and Three Kingdoms

April 18: The Hong Kong Museum of History is big and good. Located in Kowloon, you could stay here all day. If you are a history buff with kids, there is also the family-friendly Hong Kong Science Museum next door.

Special exhibit: discussed banking in Hong Kong and Shanghai. I’ve been carrying Hong Kong dollars in my pocket, but until the exhibit, didn’t realize that they are issued by three separate banks – HSBC, Standard Chartered Bank and the Bank of China. Also, all coins and $10 notes are issued by the Hong Kong government, while the head of Queen Elizabeth II still adorns many coins in circulation.

Permanent exhibit: “The Hong Kong Story” explores Hong Kong’s history since the beginning of time. The replicas of folk life are neat – the diorama explaining how the Hoklo cultivated rice, village settings and early 20th century city scene.





The Tea Appreciation Class, courtesy of the Hong Kong Tourism Board, provides free tea, but I wish I’d remained at the history museum. The tea master is absent. A girl leads the class. The boiling water drowns her out, her voice is so soft. We try different teas. I try white tea for the first time. White tea is unique for being sun-dried, it takes longer to prepare, and is cultivated predominantly in Fujian Province (China’s tea capital). Good taste.

Afterwards, I take the tram to Causeway Bay and Times Square. I meet Joyce for a fancy Japanese dinner and Mandarin movie. We tour the supermarket below the square - taste free samples, buy wasabi-flavored green beans (my favorite) and ice cream (taro and tofu ice cream with walnuts, cake and cinnamon mixed-in).



The movie, “Three Kingdoms: Resurrection of the Dragon,” packs an all-star cast of Maggie Q and Andy Lau, but it doesn’t live up promo posters shellacking all of Hong Kong. The period of the three kingdoms is great history, Joyce’s brother later tells me. However, he says this movie was a disaster. When he saw the movie, it put him to sleep. Because I lack knowledge of the historical events and characters, I must not appreciate how bad the film really is. I thought character development weak and plot dissolved, but the fighting was cool.