“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”—John Steinbeck
Just a few of the locations I have been since arriving on Sept. 4th.
Hoi Ha is a village consisting of about thirteen houses that virtually all belong in the same family, that being the Yung family. Many of the small villages within Hong Kong are all one family. Hoi Ha was started by the Yung family and has remained in their hands roughly for the last 200 and some years. Everyone carries the same last name, Yung, yet they are all separate from one another so you have to remember who you are doing business with. It’s Mr. Yung, who runs the restaurant, and it’s Mr. Yung who runs the kayak shop where we store our kayaks for programs, yet they are two different men.
Hoi Ha. My home for the next three months.
Our kitchen up on the roof.
The view from our open kitchen out on the roof.
The village of Hoi Ha fulfills my need for seclusion. Thirteen homes and only one restaurant that is just open at the lunch hour, serving local Chinese fare. If you don’t have a car you have to catch the bus to Sai Kung, the nearest largest town for any supplies. The bus costs $10.70 Hong Kong dollars which is like $1.30 cents U.S. dollars. It swings thru 20 and 50 minutes past the hour, its last departure from Hoi Ha for the day being at 1850pm. If you miss that final bus your only option is a taxi which will cost $100 Hong Kong dollar.
It’s only twenty minutes to Sai Kung but on occasion it can be a hair raising twenty minutes. The public transit drivers can be a force to reckon with. The driver’s priority is to make money since jobs in this area of Hong Kong are a bit limiting. In order to make money, they need to be efficient with their time. Needless to say, Hong Kongers do not dally. Everything is business to them. You do not hesitate in the grocery line; you do not dither at the taxi door unsure as to your destination. They will shoo you out of their vehicle, castigating you with their rapid flow Cantonese.
Bus drivers will often drive at break neck speeds. When you factor in the obstacles of narrow roads, oncoming traffic, moseying feral cattle in the middle of the road, the need to go to Sai Kung to the wet market no longer feels like a priority. Staying alive, however, does.
The speed that the drivers go at is visible above the rear view mirror for the passengers to see with a large sign saying the following: Maximum speed for this vehicle is 80km. This is posted right next to the digital speedometer, but how often it is enforced is another story. I spent one bus ride to Choi Hung from Sai Kung gripping the “Oh shit” bar for dear life sure that that day was my last. The driver careened through the tight turns, his finger permanently attached to the horn, blasting at anything that considered nearing his front bumper. I sat in the seat, my eyes fixated on the digital speedometer over the driver’s head, watching as the numbers kept a steady 90km when the speed limit outside was 60km. Amazingly enough, I arrived in Choi Hung without a scratch and ten extra minutes to spare. Despite the efficiency, it felt good to set foot on solid ground, I won’t lie.
Street vendors in Central.
Sky Scrapers in Central.
The other side of Hong Kong...the villages.
Tai O...a little fishing village where they live in stilt houses.
86 Degrees
54% Humidity
It’s nearly been a month since I’ve been in Hong Kong. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least. I feel like I keep saying that, but it’s the truth. My feet have barely rested in one spot since the plane settled on the ground. That is not a complaint; mind you, simply an observation. Despite all my fears and apprehensions about this urban jungle, Hong Kong is definitely satisfying my hunger for adventure, much to see and much to do.
Just a few of the locations I have been since arriving on Sept. 4th.
The majority of the month of September has been dedicated to Dragonfly specific staff training with several days off to venture out into the unknown. Six days were spent on Lantau Island in the small village of Mui Wo doing all the policy and procedure side of things. We then moved to the miniscule village of Hoi Ha where we commenced our site specific training. I will be calling Hoi Ha home for the remainder of the season as long as I am not needed elsewhere.
Hoi Ha is a village consisting of about thirteen houses that virtually all belong in the same family, that being the Yung family. Many of the small villages within Hong Kong are all one family. Hoi Ha was started by the Yung family and has remained in their hands roughly for the last 200 and some years. Everyone carries the same last name, Yung, yet they are all separate from one another so you have to remember who you are doing business with. It’s Mr. Yung, who runs the restaurant, and it’s Mr. Yung who runs the kayak shop where we store our kayaks for programs, yet they are two different men.
Hoi Ha. My home for the next three months.
Our kitchen up on the roof.
The view from our open kitchen out on the roof.
In as small of a village as Hoi Ha, good relationships with the few business owners that reside there are extremely important. Burning bridges in Hong Kong don’t get you anywhere. That’s the Chinese way it seems. If you go up to someone with your western ways and pressure them into getting something that you want, you might get it, but you might get it for a hefty price as well. Whereas, if you are introduced to them by someone and you bide your time, you also get what you want and you save your money too. If you consistently do business with one restaurant and then you suddenly go to the neighboring competing restaurant, the next time you go back to the former restaurant, expect the food prices to be higher than they were the last time you were there. That is just how it works. It’s a delicate situation, despite the fact that the competitor might also be their relative.
The village of Hoi Ha fulfills my need for seclusion. Thirteen homes and only one restaurant that is just open at the lunch hour, serving local Chinese fare. If you don’t have a car you have to catch the bus to Sai Kung, the nearest largest town for any supplies. The bus costs $10.70 Hong Kong dollars which is like $1.30 cents U.S. dollars. It swings thru 20 and 50 minutes past the hour, its last departure from Hoi Ha for the day being at 1850pm. If you miss that final bus your only option is a taxi which will cost $100 Hong Kong dollar.
It’s only twenty minutes to Sai Kung but on occasion it can be a hair raising twenty minutes. The public transit drivers can be a force to reckon with. The driver’s priority is to make money since jobs in this area of Hong Kong are a bit limiting. In order to make money, they need to be efficient with their time. Needless to say, Hong Kongers do not dally. Everything is business to them. You do not hesitate in the grocery line; you do not dither at the taxi door unsure as to your destination. They will shoo you out of their vehicle, castigating you with their rapid flow Cantonese.
Bus drivers will often drive at break neck speeds. When you factor in the obstacles of narrow roads, oncoming traffic, moseying feral cattle in the middle of the road, the need to go to Sai Kung to the wet market no longer feels like a priority. Staying alive, however, does.
The speed that the drivers go at is visible above the rear view mirror for the passengers to see with a large sign saying the following: Maximum speed for this vehicle is 80km. This is posted right next to the digital speedometer, but how often it is enforced is another story. I spent one bus ride to Choi Hung from Sai Kung gripping the “Oh shit” bar for dear life sure that that day was my last. The driver careened through the tight turns, his finger permanently attached to the horn, blasting at anything that considered nearing his front bumper. I sat in the seat, my eyes fixated on the digital speedometer over the driver’s head, watching as the numbers kept a steady 90km when the speed limit outside was 60km. Amazingly enough, I arrived in Choi Hung without a scratch and ten extra minutes to spare. Despite the efficiency, it felt good to set foot on solid ground, I won’t lie.
Our days at Hoi Ha have been filled with familiarizing ourselves with site visits to the locations we will be running programs at. We’ve also been prepping ourselves for the experience of working with students that come from an ESL background. ESL meaning: English as a second language. I have worked with ESL individuals before, guiding in Alaska often puts you in contact with many different clients from all over the world.
However, having the opportunity to instruct a day program of 80 Japanese nine year olds who don’t speak English was truly an educational opportunity. Despite the language barrier, you can still get young children to understand the necessities. All you had to do was smile and start cheering and you were surrounded by giggling, cute, little, dimpled Japanese imps eager to chase you in a silent game of tag. If you picked up a slow moving beach snail to show them you quickly had more beach snails presented to you than you knew what to do with. Despite the language barrier, they loved us.
So, what do I think of Hong Kong? Well, to put it simply, I am not sitting here disappointed. I’ll admit, I can recognize the fact that before arriving, I had actually succumbed to the stereotype that many Americans fall to when it comes to the idea of Hong Kong. I had been convinced that I would be living amongst towering sky scrapers and I wouldn’t see a blade of grass. Boy was I ever wrong.
Employed under Dragonfly’s wing, I have had the great opportunity to see the “hidden” side of Hong Kong. It’s rural side.
It’s amazing.
Street vendors in Central.
Sky Scrapers in Central.
The other side of Hong Kong...the villages.
Tai O...a little fishing village where they live in stilt houses.
It’s still vastly different from anything I’ve experienced recreationally, but this journey can still be classified as a step into remoteness, something I need. I feel humbled to be wandering the little concrete trails that bisect the countryside of the New Territories, rambling in and out of the small cramped villages that are barely hanging on by a shoestring. It gives one a glimpse of how tough it is to survive here if you don’t make the commute to the big city to work.
Hong Kong is a mystery, an intriguing one. The name Hong Kong came from the Cantonese word, “heung-gawng,” meaning “fragrant harbor.” The story behind this christening is a specific tree, the Aquilaria sinensis, also known as the “Incense Tree.” The incense was exported as far as Arabia back in the day.
Historians state that Hong Kong was incorporated into the Chinese empire as early as around 200BC, yet it was considered a “remote pocket in a neglected corner of the Chinese empire” for many, many years. China as well as Hong Kong remained separated from the outside world for many centuries until around the 1500’s when Portuguese explorers set up a trade center on a small island called Macau. Today, Macau is the gambling center of China, bringing in more revenue than the glittering strip we call Las Vegas (more to come on Macau in a later post). The Dutch, the French, and then the British soon followed the Portuguese. By the 1700’s mainland China and the south lying islands consisting of Hong Kong were open to European trade.
Once the invasion of the West came, it was all downhill from there for the Eastern culture.
Once the invasion of the West came, it was all downhill from there for the Eastern culture.
Today, Hong Kong can be broken into five different regions: the main island Hong Kong, Lantau Island, Kowloon, the New Territories, and the Outlying Islands. Hong Kong Island is most commonly known as the “central district.” Central and Kowloon is where you can find the impressive towers of sky scrapers and streets packed with bargain shoppers, the Hong Kong that we all hear about back in the states. Despite its metropolitan feel, it’s a sight to see. Little alleyway street vendors selling dried fish right next to glamorous Prada wanna be’s.
The New Territories and Outlying Islands is where Hong Kong’s “wilderness” is at and that is where I am located. The region consists of designated areas called Country Parks which is equivalent to National Parks back in the U.S. The sky scrapers were left behind and the land was reclaimed for recreation and preservation. This is where many of the small villages can also be found. It is a different lifestyle. There is very little “old growth” forest left in Hong Kong. The land was virtually clear cut during the Japanese invasion of World War II and has since been re-established mainly with non-native species unfortunately due to the fact that no native plant species remained.
This region consists of a myriad maze of hiking trails, some on beaten earth and many on a foundation of concrete. It took a bit to get used to the idea that the majority of the trails here in Hong Kong are on wide paths of concrete, but at the same time it is nice. It lets you cruise along at a good clip, left to enjoy the scenery.
A nice blog. Interesting. Nice photos, good writing.
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