Hiatus

June 1: Gone to China...

Prep for China Backpacking Trip

May 31: We leave tommorow for the Mainland.

The June itinerary:

Enter Shenzen by train, fly to Xi’an, fly to Chongqing, boat to Yichang, bus to Wuhan, fly to Nanjing, train to Suzhou, bus to Tongli, bus to Shanghai, train to Hangzhou, bus to Huangshan area, train to Shantou, bus to Guangzhou, train back to Hong Kong.

There might be a large influx of evacuees leaving earthquake affected areas as we begin our trip. Dams have formed enormous lakes in Sichuan Province, and the government is ordering areas evacuated . Xi’an and Chongqing are big cities with relatively easy access from the devastated areas. I’m not sure, but we might witness some of this.

Joyce recently finished an internship with CNN.com International, and we are planning to work on a travel blog during this backpacking trip. I’ll post the link in the comments below if and when it turns out.

Here are the rest of my plans leading up to September:

I’ll be in Hong Kong July 1-4, then I fly to Bangkok from Macau.

I have a Thailand “Lonely Planet,” but I haven’t started planning. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for the trip. I’ll be in Thailand until Aug. 1 when I fly to Beijing.

After a month in Beijing, on Aug 30. I return to Hong Kong, where I will depart for San Francisco on Sept. 2.

I don’t have a flight or bus booked to Omaha, but if anyone is heading that way, do you mind if I bum a ride?

Hong Kong Travel Insurance Bargain???

May 30: Big savings on travel insurance if you depart from Hong Kong (maybe). Joyce and I both purchased a year's membership to Hostelling International for $100 apiece at the Hong Kong office in Shek Kip Mei. The membership gets us discounts on Lonely Planet guides and a %20 discount on Blue Cross (Asia Pacific) travel insurance plans (only available when you purchase in person from the Blue Cross office in Millennium City in Kwun Tong, Kowloon.

The “Super Diamond Worldwide and China” insurance costs $1,840HK normally for 95 days of coverage. With our IYHA membership, we pay $1,477HK apiece (it’s still expensive, but compared to alternative travel insurance, it’s the cheapest by far – that we could find - less than $200US for 95 days).

If we weren’t concerned about insuring our digital cameras, Blue Cross offers a less exclusive plan (about half price) that only covers $5,000HK instead of $20,000. After we bought the plan, I continued reading the small print in our paperwork. Any single item or set is redeemable for only $3,000 HK in the case of theft or accident.
Buyer’s remorse begins with this clarification.

What are your thoughts on travel insurance? Is there a better bargain for traveling in Asia?

After securing our insurance, we visit Joyce’s grandmother to watch Cantonese Soap Operas and eat lunch at a nearby diner. She shares her congee with me and Joyce, and I try coffee with lemon (very acidic).

Kung Fu Surrounds Historic Star Ferry

May 29: Star Ferry offers ideal transport across Victoria Harbor for both locals and tourists – providing transport between southern Tsim Sha Tsui in Kowloon and Central District on Hong Kong Island. However, if you don’t have time to spare, or don’t want to sightsee, take the MTR.

The ferry has a special connection to Hong Kong history, and was the primary means Hong Kong’s cross-harbor commute from its beginnings in the early 1900s until 1972 when the first underwater tunnel spanned Victoria Harbor.

Tonight is clear, and one of my most memorable trips on the Star Ferry, which I often ride (because I have time to spare).

After arriving at the ferry pier, an elevated walkway takes us into Central, past the ongoing reclamation process. An enormous ship swings earth into piles. Land forms over Victoria Harbor in front of our eyes.



As I wonder at modern engineering at work, a black t-shirted man walks past. He mutters into a microphone. A fedora, pulled low, casts shade over his eyes.

His perfect English grumbles from a handheld speaker, crackling with static: “Kung fu is everywhere. It’s not behind you, it’s not in the bushes, Kung fu is everywhere.”

Losing Money at Happy Valley Racecourse

June 28: I visit Happy Valley Racecourse for the Wednesday night race with Joyce and her mother.

Early in my trip, a fortuneteller advised that I don’t gamble. I will lose, he said.

I didn’t gamble at all when I visited Macau,. I usually never gamble. Even so, I thought I’d try my luck in the last race of the night.

I had already dropped $120HK on a pitcher of Stella Artois (still cheap by American sporting event standards). Wouldn’t it be nice to win it all back with a profit? Of course.



Mrs. Choi goes to help me place my bet, and she makes a wager of her own.

We wait around for the race to begin. The horses run past. They speed down the grass out of view. My heart beats fast. The crowd screams. I'm not wearing glasses, can't see the results.




We return to the bet counter. Of course, the fortuneteller was right. My $90HK disappears into the Jockey Club coffers.

Mrs. Choi, however, is smiling. She wins about $150HK.



Here’s a link to one of the three videos
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/3a8d8761061/video.html

North to South: Tap Mun Island, Jumbo Floating Restaurant

May 27: I visit far-removed Tap Mun Island (塔 門, or Grass Island).

The “Public Transport Atlas” proves invaluable or navigating Hong Kong’s massive (although straightforward) system of public transport from Ap Lei Chau to northeast New Territories.

After bus 592 to Causeway Bay, I take the MTR to Diamond Hill (after two line interchanges), bus 90 to Sai Kung, bus 92 to Wong Shek, ferry to Tap Mun. The trip takes close to two hours, but the bus departures seem to be synchronized, which saves a potentially long wait in between. I wander Tap Mun, a small island known for its camp grounds, wandering cows and seafood. The trail around the island’s perimeter takes about an hour and a half, very leisurely.






The sprawling Sai Kung East and Sai Kung Wset Country Park preserve the natural integrity of vast swatches of mountainous and oceanfront land (with plenty of well-maintained trails). I save these trips for a future day. I’m hungry, and don’t feel like eating alone. The long return trip back south takes me to Joyce and her mother for dinner at a Hong Kong culinary legend, the Jumbo Floating Restaurant, moored in the middle of Aberdeen Harbor. A slew of small private junks and sampans offer onboard meals along the main stretch of Aberdeen’s waterfront. These places would undoubtedly offer a lower price, and completely different experience, than Jumbo (albeit, better suited to my sweaty white t-shirt and baseball cap).




Captains of different walla-wallas tout transport to Jumbo. WARNING. Don’t be fooled. Jumbo offers free ferry service. Look for the flashing Christmas lights and the enormous “Jumbo” sign.



Jumbo is notorious for its pricey fare. Joyce and her mother pour over the menus and order a dinner set of their own design – not on the menu – pasta in cheese sauce with lobster, Peking duck (my first time eating the dish), and to make full use of the duck, lettuce wraps of minced duck, soup boiled from the bones, and a plate piled with the leftover parts. The quantity of food is overwhelming. So is the quality. And, unfortunately, so is the bill – around $1,500HK (including cucumber/tofu appetizers and tea) – but most of the cost came from the lobster pasta at around $850.



Mrs. Choi treats us. She’s been winning in mahjong, says it’s a reason to splurge.

Thank you!

In Cantonese, “mm-goi (唔 該)” means “thank you (for a favor),” as well as “please,” and “excuse me.” When someone gives you a gift, like buying dinner, bigger thanks are needed. Use “Do je (多 謝)” in this instance (“many thanks”).

I can’t say “do je” enough – for both this meal and my stay in the Choi family’s home.

多 謝, 多 謝, 多 謝, 多 謝, 多 謝!

Here’s a link to the video that Joyce’s mother took at Jumbo:
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/d02e8760449/video.html

Before leaving Jumbo, we pose for photos on the throne in the center of the enormous third-floor dining room.



My camera lens fogs over when we leave the air-con. It creates an interesting effect.

Four Random Anecdotes

May 26:

Anecdote 1: The metro is crowded. I sit on the bench between two people. The woman on my left exits. An old Chinese man sits beside me. I try not to take up too much room, I realize that my shoulders are wider than the average MTR passenger, my legs are longer than the average Hong Konger. The old man, short and fat, spreads his legs. After a few minutes of rubbing against me, he asks in perfect English, “Do you mind moving your legs closer together? I want more room.”

Anecdote 2: On a bus, a boy plays with a package of Trident chewing gum. He wears a blue and white elementary school uniform. Tired of the game, he reaches into his mouth. The chewing gum becomes silly putty in dirty fingers. The bus hits a bump in the road. The gum falls onto the bus floor. The boy picks it up, examines the speckled crumbs, brushes them off, pops it back into his mouth. I laugh, and the mother wakes from her daze. She appears to scold the boy without conviction. The boy continues to chew his gum. I laugh. People give me dirty looks.

Anecdote 3: Men and women fish from the South Horizons oceanfront. I sit for a few hours around sunset. I see one man catch a three-incher. He puts the fish in his cooler and leaves.

Anecdote 4: Nighttime pedestrians walk and run along South Horizon’s oceanfront path. An elderly man speaks in an American accent to a young Chinese woman. He’s balding and wrinkled. She has a luxurious black mane and tight pants. “Baby, I wanted to talk to you about…”

Visit Maternal Ancestral Home, Victoria Peak Tram

Meet with Joyce’s mother’s family at a shopping mall-based teahouse near their ancestral home in Hang Tau, Sheung Shui in New Territories.




Everyone is impressed that I can hold chopsticks. They practically clap when I pick up a dumpling from the communal bamboo containers piled with dim sum at the table’s center. No one seems to notice that my chopstick prowess ends with piling my plate. Transport of food vertically to my mouth is more difficult.

Showing appreciation for your hosts’ culture goes a long way. When I take a picture of the family, I count down from “three” in Cantonese, “yut yee sam.” The table seems very surprised and happy. “When did you teach him Cantonese,” Joyce translates an uncle’s question. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh – she knows how much Cantonese “I know” (or don’t know, rather).

The tea drinking tradition of dim sum provides insight into the group/family-oriented traditional Chinese culture. Food sits at the center of the table, people spin the center dolly so others can reach, they rinse off each other’s chopsticks and bowls in tea, they pour cups of tea for one another (To show respect and thanks when someone pours your tea, bend your index and middle fingers into an arch, as if they were bowing, and tap them on the table gently. Or, you can simply say, “thank you, or, mm goi (唔 該).”).

An aunt offers tissue to everyone at the table before we eat. Afterwards, an uncle offers toothpicks to everyone. The actions further represent Hong Kong’s modern communal eating/drinking culture.

We go to Hang Tau village by minibus. New three-floor Spanish villas surround .We walk the street. A shiny black Mazda Miata passes, and a group of old homes materializes. Aunts and uncles still live in them. Her grandmother’s brother occupies the home where he and Joyce’s grandmother were born.




Joyce’s Grandmother is the eldest sibling. Here she is with her younger brother and sister in front of their childhood home.

We tour the village. Drumming sounds fill the air. We come upon some of Joyce’s distant cousins practicing their lion dance for the Guan Yin festival – an event of special importance to the local people living around the area.





Here’s a link to video that Joyce’s mother took:
http://video.xanga.com/amywong0709/b3022758375/video.html

They welcomed us into the paved back yard to watch. During a break, they even let Joyce and I pose for photos with the lion costume. The dancers invite us to return and learn the moves.



We visit what’s left of the family’s farm land, and retire to an aunt’s house.




The family catches up with one another. Joyce hasn’t been back to her mother’s ancestral home for more than 10 years. Joyce translates bits and pieces of the conversation. Talk turns to Guan Yin and the household altar beside the dining room table.

The great-uncle says he knows she’s real, Joyce translates. Once, after he had left his home (the one where Joyce’s grandmother was born) for an extended vacation, a thought appeared in his head. He should go back to the house. So, he did. He found the fire had been left on. If he hadn’t turned back, surely, the home would have been consumed in flame.




On our way home, in Kowloon City, we say “hi” to aunt Daisy, then head to a block of Thai and Vietnamese restaurants nearby. The pineapple fried rice with shrimp is new for me, and the tom yum koong soup is super hot.

The night has cleared as we part company – a perfect opportunity to view Hong Kong from Victoria Peak. We take one of the street trams to Admiralty, where we board the Peak Tram to the mountaintop. Clouds creep in slowly, but the view is still spectacular. lights for Bank of China and IFC Two turn off around 11:15 p.m. We take the last tram down at midnight.

Foot Massage

May 24: A man caresses my feet with oily hands. This is my first time paying a man to touch me. In the couch next to me, Joyce drink complimentary herbal tea while a woman kneads her calves

Hong Kong is famous for massage parlors, and not all of them are brothels.

We visit one in Aberdeen for a more economical massage (compared to the wrinkled touts milling around TST) Even so, with weekend prices at $148HK per 45-minute session, it’s not so cheap. If you want cheap, go to remote towns in New Territories or enter the Mainland.

The man smiles sheepishly. He rubs the arch of my left foot.

“This is a meridian,” he says. “In traditional Chinese reflexology, there are six meridians. This is the meridian for stomach. If you have problem with digestion, it will hurt. Do you feel pain?

“It’s kinda sore.”

In Cantonese, he asks Joyce about my bowel movements. “Mo mun tai.” No problems.

“I climbed a mountain yesterday.”

“Oh. Maybe just sore feet.”



Near the entrance, a giant foot explains reflexology points in the human foot.

From Suburban Valleys, Tourists Take to the Hills: Hong Kong’s Highest Mountain – Tai Mo Shan

May 23: Mountains ring the horizon. Homes crowd the valley. Urban sprawl creeps across New Territories in the form of cheap 3-floor, Spanish-style villas. Vegetation (trees and grass) line roadways, but an absence of personal lawns differentiates the area from American-Dream-style suburbia.



Kam Tin Kat Hing Wai Walled Village is a relatively short walk from the Kam Sheung MTR station. We pass beat-up trucks and junk piled behind fences. Constructions workers dig pipelines in the street. Old women shuffle their feet. The local lifestyle seems more relaxed than in the city.

A swampy, thin moat separates the walled village from the rest of the suburbanites in New Territories. A solid stone wall protrudes from a different millennia. In the 1100s, a century after the Tang clan first moved to New Territories, a villager married a Sung princess.

Kam Tin walled village is one of New Territories’ best preserved. The walls surrounding the city date back to 1650, with significant repairs completed in 1725. According to a historical market nearby, around 50 walled villages remain in New Territories; only 12 still have their walled entrances.




Four Hakka women notice our approach. They shuffle outside and line up for a photo, Each dons the signature wide black-rimmed Hakka hat. “Photo. Photo,” they chant. I take three photos. “$10 dollar, $10 dollar,” goes the chorus. The lead woman continues, “Four photos, Four photos,” and she waves four fat fingers in my face. Joyce gives the women $20. The woman continues after me. “Four photos! Four photos!!!! $10 each!!!” We prepare to enter, and another woman points at a sign, “For charity purpose visitors entering the village are requested to contribute HK $3.00 to the ‘Kam Tim contribute box.’” Joyce hands the woman $6HK in coins, and she seems to urge the other, still chanting woman, to quiet.



Inside, we pass a room full of mahjong playing women. Joyce laments, “We should have put the money in the box instead of giving it to them.” Most likely, it will end up on the mahjong table instead of the village’s much needed renovations.

Narrow alleys separate buildings identical to many of the 3-floor suburban villas outside the walled village. Some older residences remain mostly intact. Some have totally collapsed - filled with garbage, old bicycles and splintered roof timbers.

After walking back to the station, we take a bus to the Lam Tsuen Wishing Trees. Once we arrive, more old women offer services. Here, it’s prayer. Traditionally, especially around the Lunar New Year, oranges attached with written wishes would have been thrown on the tree’s branches. After an accident in 2005, a branch collapsed under the fruits’ weight and a woman was injured. Now if you throw any oranges at the injured tree (propped upright with countless bamboo poles), you’ll be slapped with a $1,500HK littering fine.



She wants us to buy prayer papers to burn in incense. Joyce bargains for two papers for $10HK down from $20HK. But there’s a catch. After she takes us behind the main banyan tree to a booth, we write our names on the paper, and she springs a hidden fee. The package of three incense sticks costs $60HK. “No way,” Joyce tells her, politely (I think) in Cantonese.

The woman become angry. Joyce translates her comments, “Why not pick up a rock in the street and decide your own fortune…” “People come all the way from Tibet to make their wish here…” “You can owe me money, but you will have to pay back sometime, your boyfriend can pay for your incense, but you’ll have to pay him back too. This sort of offering must be made at your own expense. It’s a duty.” Etc…

We take the papers, quite pretty as souvenirs, and walk the opposite way around the tree – to avoid the women. A minibus takes us to Tai Po Market, where Joyce introduces me to some new flavors of herbal tea at a local shop. Beneath the glass is a list of food combinations that are toxic for the body.




A nearby minibus takes to the base of Lead Mine Pass (part of the Wilson Trail), which we climb to access the MacLehose Trail. Mosquitoes bother Joyce for the first two-three hours, but once we reach a boulder-covered hillside, the bugs are gone, the forest disappears, and the sky opens to a spectacular view of Tai Po, Sha Tin and distant Kowloon. The new danger is cow pie, which covers large portions of the path. An ocean breeze whips a thick fog up Hong Kong’s tallest mountain, Tai Mo Shan (958 meters). The mountain’s name (大 霧 山) translates directly to Foggy Mountain. The fog makes poo navigation more difficult.




Sunset arrives just as we reach a paved portion of the trail, which makes hiking in the dark easy. The sun has fallen entirely by the time we reach the summit. A weather station sits at the top in a shroud of creepy pinkish-orange fog. A dog barks hysterically. A shadow appears at the gate. We pass and begin our descent.






Aside from a white line that continues to materialize from the night, we are engulfed in inky fog. At the bottom of the mountain, under the fluorescent glow of street lamps, we meet the wild cows who had made the organic landmines along the trail. They watch us suspiciously as we leave Tai Mo Shan Country Park in search of a bus or taxi.