Home Away from Home

“Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.” 

~~Tad Williams

I had a thought to myself today. I was sitting on the local green mini bus that runs between the village of Hoi Ha and Sai Kung. It’s Sunday, the one day we get off to explore and relax from the work week. I had to stand in line to wait for the bus for a good fifteen minutes due to the bottle neck of people ahead of me waiting to do the same. Why should a little village such as Hoi Ha, which only boasts about 30 homes total, have such a long waiting time for the bus? 

I stood there impatiently watching all the Hong Kongers chatting away in Cantonese to one another, dressed in their Sunday best: brand new hiking gear straight off the shelf from some store in downtown Central. Gear that many of them would use once and then retire because it was “dirty” and purchase new for their next outdoor adventure. That’s how it’s done here. These people weren’t from the village of Hoi Ha. They had migrated down from Central or mainland China to the New Territories area to recreate since it was the weekend. That was the “in” thing to do in Hong Kong. Escape to the country parks when there is a public holiday or a weekend. 

I, however, did live in Hoi Ha. I was not there to recreate for once. I just wanted to go to town to get a good lunch and pick up a few groceries since I had been on program all week. I was looking to walk around town for a few minutes and loose myself to the peace and quiet of a good book over a steaming plate of good Indian food at one of the restaurants in Sai Kung. But…I was forced to wait because of the huge line of people ahead of me.

Granted, fifteen minutes was not very long for a weekend day. There has been days in the past where it’s well over a thirty minute wait to get on a bus because of the crowds. If you had hopes of getting anywhere on a schedule, don’t expect to on the weekend. 

During the week, there is rarely a soul in line to get on the bus and they only run one bus at 25 and 55 after the hour. But on public holidays and the weekend, they run two buses and if you’re standing there in line when the bus shows up, you just might get on. The last bus to pick up is at 1855pm so everyone scrambles to be in line in time to get a ride out of there. 

Hong Kong is known for its surplus of a population. Just over 7 million. The only place where you can escape the crowds is usually in the little villages. I am thankful to have the opportunity to live in such a tiny village as Hoi Ha, but on the weekends, it’s frustrating. It’s annoying because the crowds I strive to avoid, instead find me in this hidden little paradise. 

These crowds on the weekend make it hard for those that live in this village, especially if you have to rely on the public transport. Taxis rarely drive down to Hoi Ha since it is about thirty minutes out of their way from Sai Kung and they’d rather stay in the vicinity of the city to make more money. If a taxi does make it down to Hoi Ha, it costs nearly $12 U.S. dollar when the bus is a mere $1.30 U.S. Not really that big of a deal, but when you’re income is based on the Hong Kong dollar and not the U.S. dollar, it starts to matter. 

So, once I finally was on the bus, I found myself staring out the window thinking, “I live here. This is my home. I shouldn’t have to wait in line behind a bunch of tourists who don’t live here. I should have priority.” Granted, it was a bit of a selfish thought, but what surprised me more, was that I called Hoi Ha home. And I guess it is. For now.

The view from the roof top of our flat in Hoi Ha. Photo from last fall.

I’ve been back in Hong Kong since September 30th. I didn’t quite expect to return to Asia after last fall. That is another story that has lost its opportunity to be shared. Needless to say, as I have said before, sometime our lives just take us where we are supposed to go. You can’t really fight it. I am back teaching outdoor education and living in the same little village I lived in last fall. It was easy to return. 

I flew in, knew which bus to get on to take me to the New Territories. Caught a taxi to Hoi Ha and walked into the flat as if I had never left. I even have the same bed I slept in last fall. Since arriving, I’ve been out and about, navigating my way around Hong Kong as if I’ve been doing it forever. The fear I once felt about venturing out on my own is gone. I have no qualms about exploring. I simply grab my guide book and go. The few Cantonese phrases I had learned last fall roll off my tongue as if I had been saying them all these months since I left in December. Chopsticks feel more comfortable in my fingers than a fork or spoon does. The aroma of traditional Chinese food is like the beckoning of an old friend. 

So, I guess this is home. As close as it’s going to get for a while anyways. I’m here until the beginning of June. If you’d like to send some snail mail my address is: 

Fran Haynes

#36 Hoi Ha Village

Sai Kung, N.T. Hong Kong

Until next time :). The aventura escrita continues…

The First Month

“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”—John Steinbeck

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.
 

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.