Last time we left you, we were enjoying our final days in Cape Town, SA, when the sun finally came out properly and we enjoyed a cloud and wind-free trip up to the top of Table Mountain, which was truly stunning and delivered the lasting memories of a fantastic trip in SA that we were looking for. We joined a free walk around the top of the table, led by a spritely 72 year old by the name of Clem Barker, alongside his wife Dot, whose family came over from Norwich in the 1920's. He put us to shame with his tales of springing gaily up the moutainside each day since he was a youngster, living in a family-built house at the foot of the mountain, which made him a mine of information on all things Table Mountain-related and a lot of fun - thanks Clem, we salute you!
So it was with a little sadness, quickly banished by mounting excitement, that we boarded the flight to Hong Kong to start the Asian leg of our trip, emerging from the plane after several hours and precious little sleep, blinking into the sunlight and smog of Hong Kong at 7am local time.
After successfully negotiating the airport bus to our hotel in Yau Ma Tei, Kowloon, we caught up some sleep with a quick power nap, then headed into the thick of things to explore our new home - which we quickly fell in love with. Armed with the most helpful information so far from the excellent HK tourist board and some fantastic insider info from good friends, we spent the next nine days eating, drinking, (window) shopping and exploring the far-flung reaches of all that central HK and it's diverse outerlying islands had to offer.
As you will know, the first - and most important - thing we always start with is where to eat - and Hong Kong did not disappoint us. Keen to eat as locally and cheaply as possible, our request for any information on good places to stuff our little faces at the tourist office was met with a knowing look and a specially unearthed leaflet, hidden away in a dusty draw, which turned out to be an English version of 'The 50 Best Places to Eat in HK'. Compiled by three of the cities most well-known and respected food writers/critics, this was no bible of the latest european-inspired chic and expensive restaurants however, but rather a treasure-trove of the city's best-kept secrets: tiny won-ton noodle bars hidden away down little alleys, age-old HK institutions serving everything from fantastic and insanely cheap dim sum, to the Chinese version of comfort food to specialities such as claypot rice and tasty noodles. It really put those pale imitations of Chinese food you get in the UK to shame. Even the fast food chain versions of popular dishes were tasty and cheap!!
It often required a little bravado to match the Chinese characters listed to those above the door of these restaurants/canteens and to walk boldly in and sit down, no other western face in sight, hoping for at best either an English menu, a Chinese one with pictures, or if all else failed, inspecting what everyone else was eating and pointing at the dishes we liked best to the bemusement of the staff! One thing was always the same though - a welcoming smile, huge pride in what we were cooked, help in the best way to slurp it all up and great satisfaction when we cleared our plates.
We were starting to realise the absolute obsession with good food that exists in China, a theme which I'm afraid is going to reappear rather regularly in this post!
Aside from the food, we had a ball in Hong Kong. Highlights of our time there included a free tea appreciation class in a beautiful old tea house in HK's Gardens; a fun ride up to the top of Victoria Peak in the restored tram for great views over the skyscrapers below (including an umissable photo opp with the wax version of Bruce Lee, see flickr for more on this); tranquil walks and great seafood on the pretty island of Lamma, contemplation and more photo opps with the impressively huge Buddha at the Po Lin monastery on Lantau, another of HK's islands; bargaining with tough grannies for the best price for a ride on a sampan in the old port of Aberdeen; ferry rides across the harbour both at night and in the day between Kowloon and HK Island; fine wine and cocktails under the stars at both the Sheraton and RED bar (the best views over the harbour at night); walks through crowded night markets, selling everything from birds to flowers to the latest hi-tech gadgets; seeking out hidden away temples and cafes stuck in the 50s, enjoying Kung Fu demonstrations with HK's elders on a Sunday afternoon in the park and overall, just taking in the smells, sights and sounds of this amazing city. Safe to say, we plan to come back!
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After soaking up the spirit of Hong Kong it was time to hit China 'proper', and where better to do it than Beijing - the imperial capital: redeveloped, repackaged and represented just in time for 'Beijing 08' (we were soon to discover that our '05 guide book was well past its expiry date - streets and buildings renamed, bars and restaurants replaced, entire areas torn down and rebuilt, new international style malls in every major district, four new ringroads, 5 new tube lines and 'Beijing 08' merchandise EVERYWHERE. The furious pace of redevelopment was mindblowing).
As you enter modern Peking, you are first struck by the scale - it's a huge, massive, collosal sprawl of a place. The eight-lane six ring roads that circle the city (like several M25s around Traflagar square or Berlin's Potsdamer Platz multiplied by a hundred) mean that on an 'Autumn hazy' day (apparently the heavy smog in the air was simply seasonal mist) it was impossible to see the other side of the street, let alone the end of it. Our first hint at size was arriving at the airport, having to take a shuttle train to the baggage area, up and down several flights of stairs and finally locating the ticket desk for the well-hidden airport bus. We've come to the conclusion that any normal person suffers from A.A.B (Airport Arrival Blindness) - symptoms include losing all ability to read signs (even those in your own language), follow directions, retrace your steps, or communicate to anyone - including your travelling partner. Previously intelligent beings reduced to rabbits in headlights, the glistening glass and shimmering white floors rendering your brain completely useless.
Seventy-five minutes later and we arrived at Bejing Zhan - the central railway station. Our 'hotel' was down a hutong (cobbled side-street) and thanks to some detailed directions from a fellow traveller on Tripadvisor, we were stood in the lobby ten minutes later. Our walk there gave us a glimpe into life in Beijing - thousands and thousands of people everywhere, hoards of bemused countryside folk arriving for the first time in Capital City - afraid and uncomfortable with the unfamiliarity of it all, people spitting everywhere, plenty of scammers, pickpockets and petty theives, the feeling that you are being stared at by everyone - yes, everyone, and the sudden, overwhelming feeling that you are a mere number, a dot in a city the scale of which you could never fully comprehend. No wander there are few dissidents in this country of state control - hard to make your voice heard amongst 1.3 billion other people.
At the reception desk of our new home for the next seven days, we got our first taste of 'customer service' in China - a particular trait of hotel reception staff. Their training goes as follows: at all cost avoid eye contact with the guests (after all, they may be mind-reading communist subverters out to bring down the state), communicate as little as possible (limit your words to 'passport' and 'money'), resolutely refuse to answer any of the guests questions (they may be on a quest to hunt down state-sensitive information) and if all else fails follow the I.W.A code from your basic training module (ignore and walk away). We certainly had an interesting time during our one week stay - knocks on the door at 2 am, 'you likee massage?' calls during the early hours, a power cut at 1 am and a small fire in one of the rooms at midnight (we awoke to a haze of smoke in our room). Still, this is the Chinese way - like a living, breathing reverse-Nike campaign: 'impossible is everything'.
Taking all this into account - and how endlessly exhausting it can be to get around - Beijing's sights make it more than worthwhile: the jaw-dropping experience of climbing the Great Wall of China, the beautiful lakes and pagodas of the Summer Palace, the sense of history, beliefs and superstitions that hang in the air around the Temple of Heaven - infused with the sound of high-spirited septagenarians singing old Russian comrade songs, the impressive grandeur of the Forbidden City, the Bird's Nest in all its glory and the awesome towering sandalwood Buddha at the Yonghe Gonghe temple.
And as much as you live, breath and experience the sights you have longed to see - pictures in books brought to life for the first time, it is often the smaller interactions that mark an imprint on your mind:
The constant spitting (the gravel-sounding drawing up of mucus, the silent narrowing of the tongue and the rapid projection of the newly unearthed phlegm - on the street, in the cafes/bars/restaurants, first thing in the morning, into your bowl at the end of the meal. It is a sound that you hear constantly. A sound that you forever attempt to excuse on the grounds of cultural difference. All said and done - it's pretty rank.); the 80 year old couple from the countryside - sat down, arms interlocked - curiously looking us up and down for the entire tube journey - a look of intrigue, wonder, confusion - not hostile but bemused, perhaps interested and the sense that they were thinking 'if they can do it, then I guess we'll be ok'; the constant pushing in the 'queue' at metro ticket machines (the pincer movement from the side, the bowling ball strategy right through the middle or the 'up and over' where a random hand shoves a note in the slot just before you can press your destination stop); the time you and the waitress were in fits of laughter neither able to fully understand the other (and the soft smiling help that you receive in the most local establishments); or the old lady who took time to show you how to enjoy a certain dish that was delivered with pride, care and attention.
Sure, Beijing is exhausting, frustrating, tiring but it is also utterly amazing. By the end of our seven days, we felt settled, confortable and used to the Chinese way - we even managed to pick up a few Mandarin phrases.
It's difficult to say how quickly Beijing will change and whether the capital of a Communist State will improve its customer service to give tourists what they individually want to access rather than what the state deems you should see. In any case, our time in Beijing will always be memorable, fondly recounted and a great introduction to mainland China.
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