Just as the House of Lords will look the same at the next opening of
Parliament, even though Tony Blair has chiselled away most of the hereditary
peers, so Hong Kong looks more or less the same after the ten years of
Chinese sovereignty that have followed 150 years of British colonial rule.
Surveying what is on offer to a traveller who typically visits Hong Kong for
three or four days, I doubt that I would recommend anything different from a
decade ago. OK, the Star Ferry pier has moved down the road, but it still
runs at four-minute intervals, and it is still better to go second-class on
the lower deck because you are nearer the water and the brass engines, not
to mention the locals – which at least gives a slight hint of Indochine as
you cross the choppy harbour.
Across the road the flea market of Cat Street – indeed, the whole of Hollywood
Road, famous for its antiques shops – remains as good a walk as ever. But
try to travel from west to east since prices are lower at the west end and
it is more charming to start with a sobering coffin shop, and a few tea and
rice shops where goods are still sold in wooden barrels.
To start the day, there is no more charming place than Luk-Yu Tea House on
Stanley Street in Central. My great-grandfather used to go there, and a few
of the waiters have worked there for 30 years. Don’t be put off by their
grumpiness, for each of them can be quite charming, especially if their
palms are well-oiled. They might even start speaking pidgin English. Then
the sweetest women go around the three-floor restaurant with trolleys of
dim-sum, a disappearing tradition.
Ask for tea with an extra hot bowl so that you can roll the cup in the hot
bowl to heat it up – very Chinese and sensible. The whole place is decked
out a là chinoise and there are, when I last looked, still one or two decent
classical paintings, although most of the good ones were stolen several
years ago in a dawn raid. There was also a Triad raid when someone was shot
at point-blank in one of the booths – second from the back on the right. So
the entire establishment has some good Chinese provenance.
There is, however, something “new” in the past ten years: the Chi Lin Nunnery
at Diamond Hill, the site of a famous slum and street stalls that sold the
best dan dan noodles (hot and spicy). A few nuns built this oasis of
tranquillity with a proper understanding of Ming and Qing craftsmanship and
architectural techniques. Not many visitors know about it because, in line
with the virtue of silence among the nuns, the place is not advertised and
even the Hong Kong Tourist Board is banned from vulgar secular promotion.
Avoid the Nan Lian Garden across the bridge. Perhaps because of the
involvement of the Government, this garden has two ghastly turn-offs:
terrible piped music through hidden speakers and revoltingly painted
pavilions. So stay on the side of the nunnery. And for vegetarians, I would
recommend lunch at the refectory. The longevity of the nuns is a testament
to healthy ingredients.
And don’t forget the sturdy electric trams that squeak across the island. The
clangour and jerks of the ride are redolent of the good old days when people
somehow appeared infinitely more polite and well-dressed. But for sheer raw
and jostling crowds, go to Causeway Bay at night between 7 and 9pm or Temple
Street on the Kowloon side. The latter peddles a lot of fakes and the Hong
Kong Tourism Board is petrified of promoting it. But many locals buy the
rip-offs and each stall is run by enterprising Chinese who are the backbone
of a city that has grown into an enviable economy.
Watch your feet, however, especially at the crossroads where there are a
couple of “seafood” restaurants with local customers ejecting well-chewed
crab claws and legs and empty clam and mussel shells, or even more unsavoury
matters. Avert your gaze from the ground if you are squeamish about
cleanliness.
So come to Hong Kong. It has not “changed”. Ninety-nine per cent of us are
still Chinese. Most of what we do now we have been doing no differently for
decades. An intellectual microscope might just appreciate the political and
social changes of the city. Otherwise it’s the same vibrant place.
It’s still a place of impeccable service. It’s still replete with the refugee
syndrome of “yes, can do”. And it’s safe – 100 times safer than Kensington.
And it’s relatively inexpensive – the pound has appreciated 20 per cent in
the past couple of years. It’s fun precisely because it has been a Chinese
hybrid community stuffed with British history.
And we are successful at building the place. There is US $100 billion (£51
billion) in the treasury and more billionaires and millionaires per capita
probably than anywhere in the world, and yet you can satisfy your hunger
easily by having a bowl of won-ton noodles in any café for 50p.
