Umbrellas

The common umbrella became quite a weapon if you were unsuspecting, taking your life in your hands on rainy days just by walking. There were no allowances made for the multitude of concave nylon accessories protruding from outstretched arms, no deviation, the level never faltered leaving you to up-stretch yours in order to pass between two people. It was all too common to be poked in the head or worse, in the eye. Even when no umbrella was in sight, all of a sudden one could explode in your face with the use of a little button. A British woman one afternoon in Tsim Sha Tsui was obviously so frustrated by the number of times she was being hit by umbrellas, lashed out with her folded-up umbrella and gave an unlucky pedestrian a whack on the behind as they passed. The next passer-by lifted his to let her walk under to which she yelled out ‘thank you’. However the next person obviously did not take the hint and after passing she called ‘it’s ok, I have two eyes’. The ‘brollie’ was not even let down while walking undercover, so there was no respite to the ducking and diving out of the way of certain injury. In the absence of an umbrella, the plastic bag or newspaper was used for covering the head, never mind the rest of the body.  It became necessary to use your umbrella even if the rain was too light to worry, or have both arms free to flail the oncoming attackers.

Vanity

Asians, although appearing shy, were remarkably vain creatures, always preening themselves, scrutinising their profiles in reflections of windows and doors. Little mirrors appear from Hello Kitty bags and eyes, mouths and noses were inspected at great length, examining every little imperfection. It was not so much the makeup which was scrutinised, a lot of Asian women wore little makeup. The ones that did wear makeup could be seen applied the full kit whilst commuting on the bus or train, totally oblivious of the eyes that watched them. The precision in which lip gloss or balm was applied really amused me. I observed on many occasions women carefully outlining their lips then filling in the centre part with the most deliberate of strokes, viewing and reviewing their images to ensure they did not overstep the contour of the lips – bearing in mind we were talking about a colourless stick. The hair was a major part of appearance for both male and female with constant brushing/combing, smoothing, flicking etc. No embarrassment was obvious in exercising this personal grooming in public, whether it was in mirrors aligning store escalators or MTR door reflection. No abashment either was shown in the blatant staring at others that seemed so natural here. The eyes would be cast up and down your profile taking in every little notable or idiosyncratic detail until they realised they were being stared at in return which was obviously made them uncomfortable, although I doubt embarrassed.

Walking

One of the amazing things I found was that even though in Hong Kong they drove on the left, they instructed you to walk on the right, although ordinarily they walked all over the place cutting right across you without compunction. On the escalators however, the right hand rule applied. ‘Stand on the right so that anyone in a rush can walk up on the left’. Walking in the street was frustrating if you were in a hurry, as the pace was generally leisurely and appeared aimless, but the MTR stations were another story. People were running for trains, bombarding alighting commuters and barely squeezing through the closing doors, even though the frequency was every few minutes. Early in the morning a lot of elderly people could be seen out walking or in the parks performing their Tai Chi. When I first moved to my area of Fortress Hill, I would get up early and venture out for a walk in the summer mornings. The first morning down in Victoria Park, just a short distance from where I lived, I encountered probably a thousand mostly elderly people scattered throughout the park at 6.30a.m. doing their exercises. Some, barely able to walk, were at least attempting some simple arm movements. Little groups were assembled on grassy areas with music playing and usually someone instructing the gathering through various routines. It was actually quite a pleasant sight in the mornings. Other than the odd male Caucasian jogger, I was frequently the only westerner in the park at that time of morning.

While walking down the street, I have on countless occasions found myself either on the road or hard up against a wall or shop because people will not move over or deviate their line of walking to accommodate you and share the footpath. I am now of the belief that Asian babies are implanted with a magnetic device, thus causing them to be drawn into walking into people. I became quite aggressive in this simple task, by deliberately not deviating either – with natural first reactions being to move aside. This was made easier for me by not looking ahead and therefore not supposedly seeing the oncoming, leaving them to realise I was not about to move either. I decided that this was the necessary Asian approach. After several hours spent walking while shopping in Causeway Bay on a Sunday, I would come home exhausted just from ducking and dodging people in the simple task of trying to walk around. Being alert in this exercise, thus avoided being battered and bruised by the bodies that were forever walking into you.

Weddings

Just before leaving Hong Kong, I was invited to the wedding of one of the girls in our office. She and her fiancé had actually had their wedding photos taken several weeks prior to the wedding date. The Saturday night was the banquet dinner where a number of work colleagues on both sides were invited, as well as family. This particular wedding was held at Maxims Chinese Restaurant which was a large chain of restaurants scattered throughout Hong Kong with many being in the same area. Earlier in the day I had pin pointed the one I thought it was in Causeway Bay and arrived soon after 8.00pm. I checked with the maitre ‘d that the bride was Wong and proceeded to sign the table cloth and look for anyone I knew. There was no one I recognised and finally saw the bride who looked nothing like Candy. It happened to be the wrong Wong wedding at the wrong branch of Maxims. Along the road was the right one. I went through the same procedure of signing the cloth and thankfully started recognising people from the office. First I was summoned to have my photo taken with the Bride and Groom, as everyone did upon arriving. Although time consuming, I thought this was a nice idea to have for the couple. Tables of Mah-jong were set up in the rear of the restaurant and the clicking of tablets could be heard faintly in the background. People actually arrive a few hours earlier especially for this purpose. Just prior to the banquet beginning, table tops – fully set up with glasses, bowls etc and just clearing the chandeliers - were carried high overhead by two waiters to the areas to replace the mah-jong tables. The bride had changed from her formal wedding white wedding gown into an red, full length evening gown with matching flower buds in her hair and highly adorned with many gold bangles over her full length gloves.  

The banquet began with the first of many courses. Chinese tea, beer and soft drinks were served. Two thirds through the meal, the couple and family started moving from table to table for toasting. There wasn’t the usual ‘Yum Sing’ yelled as was the custom in Singapore, but then neither were there any toasts. This was an unusual wedding banquet which was held actually before the official marriage which took place the next morning at the Registry Office in Central. There was to then be another formal dinner that evening, no doubt with all the toasts etc. No sooner was the last course consumed, people were up with the coats in hand and leaving. Our Golden Village party was the last to leave and we went through the ritual of meeting and shaking the hands of the family then Candy and Kelvin and those with ‘red packets’ handed them over before leaving.  

Weather 

While I was in Hong Kong, there was a direct hit of Typhoon Victor. The highest warning in 14 years was reached at no.9, with the possibility at one point going to no.10. Fortunately once the typhoon was over Hong Kong it started to loose force and it never reached 10. It was a Saturday and by 11.00a.m. people were starting to disappear from the office, trying to get home. To me it seemed like just a wet, awful day. I was in fact the last to leave the office at just around 12.30pm and the no.8 signal had just been hoisted. Walking down the road to Diamond Hill, I suddenly realised the force of the wind was stronger than I thought and I was at times, blown down the road. There were broken and discarded umbrellas lying on the footpath. My umbrella sustained a little damaged and by the time I reached the shopping centre, my lower half was fairly saturated. Still the storm did not seem as bad as I would have expected, however TV. coverage in other areas showed a different story. Most businesses had closed and staff and gone home. At 5.30p.m. the no.9 signal went up and I decided it was time to go out and take a look at what all the fuss was about. I walked to Causeway Bay, very few cars were on the road although people were still walking around. Broken branches of trees were strewn around and in hindsight it was probably not a smart move to have walked under the trees. Everything looked a little like it did at Chinese NY with everything shut. Sandbags had been placed in front of doors of some hotels and restaurants as a precaution. Ferries had been suspended earlier in the afternoon along with the light rail transport. Aboveground MTR services were stopped and so were the trams. KCR services stopped operating at 7.00p.m. Flights in were being diverted from landing in Hong Kong, and flights out ceased altogether. Window fronts were tapped up in anticipation of further bad weather. I was possibly lucky that I lived in a relatively sheltered area. I had been waiting to experience a typhoon, and I think I expected something a little more like a hurricane. Not so.

The winter months were not too severe to most people and not a lot of wet weather was experienced. However the first drop in temperature had shoppers out buying all their winter clothes and even when the temperature went up a little, it seemed that the clothing didn’t change.  Our office at the Golden Harvest Studios however was not centrally heated and we insisted on a heater being bought to warm our area as it was really quite cold. I had my own little heater right beside me as well. After Singapore, and even though I do not like the cold, it was nice to wear some different types of clothes for a change.  

Wet Markets Amazing places to visit and witness shopping ‘local style’. There were either determined buildings that reserved a couple of floors, the lower being for meat, poultry and fish and the upper floor for fruit and vegetables, or non-traffic lanes and streets which were set up with stalls or shops. Everything sold was very fresh, although to the western mind, the act of display of meat and fish out in the open polluted air, probably did not conjure up ideas of being the most hygienic. Blood-red meat was slung on hooks and slapped onto wooden blocks. Live chickens were crammed into wicker baskets awaiting their fate, or their dissected portions stuffed into plastic dishes. Fish, either still alive in water tanks or bloodied from being filleted laid in tubs side by side with vine bound crabs, eels etc. The turnover of produce was swift as people were inclined to shop daily, not in the habit freezing goods, or refrigerating for any more than two days at a time. Footpaths were usually quite slippery in these areas from surplus fats from meat vendors which were hosed down at the close of day. Quite a diversity of vegetables was available at reasonable prices, a lot of which I was never sure what they were or what I should do with them. Eggs were sold loosely (as in the supermarket) and you chose what type and how many you wanted. I was amazed that I managed to get home with my eggs in one piece with them just being put loosely in a plastic bag and having to dodgingly negotiate the Hong Kong pedestrian.  With buying fruit, there were usually signs which often had two numbers, one above and one below. The number below represented the number of pieces you could buy for the number shown above which was the cost. Once you learnt this it was a lot easier for the non-reading/speaking Chinese shopper, otherwise the amounts were just written in Chinese.