Hong Kong

Hong Kong is a peculiar place.

Louis Vuitton, D&G and Burberry (all of which we were too scared to go into) sit comfortably, it seems, alongside street markets and food stalls; sleek buildings have been built next to run down high rises whose air con boxes are threatening to fall out into the street.

Everyone is in a hurry, all the time.  It reminds me a little of New York City - enjoyable but exhausting; always moving, always noisy.

The smell.  Hong Kong is a hot-pot of smells. The name Hong Kong translates as "Fragrant Harbour", although I'm not sure fragrant is the word I'd choose to use.  One minute you can be gagging at the overwhelming stence of, what is probably, human feces, and the next inhaling the sweet scent of waffles.


Something you would never guess from pictures of Hong Kong is that there is permanent blanket of polluted smog lying over the city, which annoyingly stops you getting any decent photos.  On our final day we travelled across Hong Kong Island to Stanley, where, blissfully, the sky was blue and sun shining.  The Scottish snow of a few days ago suddenly seemed very far away.

We did some of the touristy things (Victoria Peak, the Star Ferry through Victoria Harbour - which disappointingly, not longer has any junk boats), but for the most part Hong Kong is just the kind of place you want to explore and absorb.

Our second two nights were spent with my friend Bart at his lush apartment block overlooking the harbour.  The comparison to hostel USA was like that between lovely Louis Vuitton and a dodgy market stall selling knock offs!  Our final night was spent eating cheeseburger pizza (taste bud heaven - seriously!), drinking cocktails and playing board games with Bart and cousin Calvin.  The view from their apartment was to die for, and something we won't forget in a hurry.

The next day we were off on a bus to Guangzhou to get another bus to scenic Guilin.  Arriving with 170 Yuan (not enough for the second bus), we headed for the cash machine.  But having had no problems in HK, suddenly no Chinese cash macine would give us money.  We were stranded with the equivilent of 17 pounds, no bus tickets and no way of communicating because almost no one in Guangzhou speaks English.  After two full scale melt downs (poor Phil), I managed to call home.  Dad got onto the Bank of Scotland, who called me (still in tears), and in a few minutes managed to register our cards so they would work in China. 

All this last approximately an hour and a half, and probably doesn't sound as traumatic as it was, but with only enough money to stay one night, and the Western Union shut til Monday (it was Saturday), I'm not sure how we would have got ourselves out of it.  When I heard the roll of the cash machine dispensing, I wept for joy, and praised (and are still praising) our faithful God for getting us out of such a hopeless situation.