Hong Kong – 02/11/2019
After an excellent brunch of shrimp and pork dumplings at the only Michelin-starred restaurant I could ever afford, and catching up with my friend Claudia over bubble tea, I headed straight for Chungking Mansions. After walking past it on my last stay in Hong Kong, I read everything I could get my hands on this building- It’s shabby melting pot of low-end globalization right in the heart of Hong Kong is a fascinating counterpoint to the sanitized extravagance of the rest of this place.
Annoyingly, I was already footsore and exhausted at that point, so I limited myself to a few lazy walks around the first two floors, a beer outside the shop I purchased it from, an excellent Indian meal, and a handful of ill-conceived photos.
What struck me is how tight-knit the staff seemed to be, relationships enforced by calls across stalls, and quick handshakes, all surrounded by Indian music and smells of cooking. the tourists I saw seemed mostly in a hurry to get to their accommodation on the higher floors, as if they were removed from the whole situation- In a famously expensive city, Changking and Mirador Mansions are widely known as the cheapest lodgings in the city.
None of the usual harrasments I have learned to expect seemed to be evident, and I felt just by sitting, eating and drinking a beer without rushing to somewhere more polished I felt like I was in some small way accepted by the community.
As the light started to fade I walked around Tsim Sha Tsui. in front of shops selling Rolexes, I was offered fake ones, as well as drugs, tailored suits and massages. I was wanting to witness some of the riots that had gotten so much attention in the western media, but apart from graffiti, there was not a riot police or a masked protester in sight. Everyone seemed to be busy with having a good time, or getting somewhere else as quickly as possible.
Eventually my attempts of voyeurism left me mildly unimpressed with myself, and I had to make my way back to the airport.
In the metro stations the situation seemed more tense. Groups of riot police kept a watchful, if bored eye on commuters, and PA announcements delclared disruptions to services that I could never quite catch. The riot police seemed to be ignored by most, but I did notice a few older, I assume mainland Chinese men approach them and thank them.
I approached an infomation desk, where I was informed that yes could get on the airport express from that station, except when I found it it was all cordoned off, and a bored transit worker sent me to another station. When I got there I found all but one of the accessways were blocked off, and when I got to the one that was not I had to show my passport and boarding pass before getting to the platform, a process that I had to repeat as I exited the train station. This procedure must have been implemented after the disruptions a month ago at the airport.
Once safe in the airport, drinking an overpriced imitation orange juice, I messaged Claudia that I had gotten to the airport. Apparently in Central, the most obnoxiously fancy part of Hong Kong , some friends of hers were watching rugby and were bizarrely tear-gased from police responding to something a short distance away. Earlier while nearby this area, Claudia pointed out boarded up storefronts yet to be repaired from previous riots.
Adrian's Got The Moose 