Star Ferry

A harbour trip on the Star Ferry is a must for the visitor to Hong Kong. It was a shame that the air quality was so poor – quite reminiscent of Melbourne before unleaded fuel was introduced.

Kowloon Park

One of the great things about a place with such an enormous population density is that everything is a stone’s throw away. So, across from the Haiphong Mansion of our stay (entrance just behind the luggage shop!),  was one of many main entrances to the underground railway MTR, besides which was a mosque (which we didn’t even realise was there), and behind which was Kowloon Park.

Time for a stroll before catching up with some relatives for lunch, the park offered as most parks do respite from the hustle bustle and craziness of urban life. I’m reminded of a Ron Cobb cartoon where, after the forest is cut down, the ground levelled, the wildlife evicted, and the concrete towers erected a man looks out of his highrise window and thinks: Man it’s a jungle out there.

A surprising number of animal enclosures existed in the park – a cross between a modern conservation zoo and a menagerie. A nice respite from the crazy few days of activity to pack in before packing it in.

 

Hong Kong Day 1

My words of advice to sister Sarah was that the Japanese as a culture are uber-polite and this ill prepares you for the hustle & bustle of Hong Kong, where if you fell over, chances are that you’d get trampled.

I thought I’d use the opportunity to practice my ever rusty Cantonese. There were two unforseen disadvantages of this – firstly my Chinese appearance; which ironically prejudices me in Australia, here the assumption is that I’m a local with all the knowledge, wit & wisdom of one. Secondly by using Cantonese, the locals assume I can fluently speak & understand it, which I don’t.

Whilst waiting for a 7-11 attendant to give me verbal acknowledgement to proceed to the next stage of a purchase, it was gruffly pointed out to me that I was standing around like an idiot and why was I waiting to compelte my transaction. And buying my ever useful Octopus card,  I was almost bowled over by an 80 year old because I was holding up the queue (waiting innocently for the sales clerk to becon me).

The Octopus Card is a must have. This stored value card is instant, works at all pocket change stores, can be topped up instantly anywhere, and works instantly on public transport (the future rude shock of return to Melbourne’s Myki awaits).

Osaka to Hong Kong

And so it was with a little sadness that our trip to Japan was over. We’d a little time to kill in Kansai International Airport, so we did some wandering around and checking out the souvenirs to be had. I happened upon an English translation of the manga “Ghost in the Shell” and snapped that up.

Unfortunately we almost missed our flight as we neglected to factor in the number of minutes to catch the intra airport express train to the actual flight terminal. Oops! Got used to the ‘little’ international at Tulla. Or the even littler one at the Gold Coast!

Last day in Kyoto

And so as quickly as it began, our time in Kyoto is now over. We set aside the final day to have another walk around to appreciate the spring blossoms, and what a difference a week makes! The trees are full of blossom, and the locals are out in droves to appreciate them. My one regret for the plethora of tastes and experiences of Kyoto tried was the one untried. The previous night I read in the Lonely Planet Guide that Kyoto was well known for its many and varied tofu meals. Ah well, next time…

Now to board a train back to Osaka for one final gourmet night then homewards via Hong Kong…

Gion night lights

Feeling a bit tired after a day’s frolicking, I decided to wander around the main strip of Gion to see what could be seen whilst the girls went to pickup brother Jon.  I did find some magnificient fresh mochi (mmm), and come across a disturbing semi-human sized rabbit.

I also got stuck on one side of the footpath against a shop front. Ordinarily, the random movement of people allows the easy egress from one point to another, only sometimes requiring conscious thought to avoid the odd embarrassing collision. What pinned me down was what looked like a school group, all in a line of 2 rows following each other double file with a flag at the start and one at the end.

It felt like I was caught playing a human version of centipede. A couple of unavaoidable phone calls on the mobile to rellies in Hong Kong to tee up some visits there suddenly racked up tens of dollars for the few minutes of conversation. Damned international roaming costs!

We wandered around looking for a restaurant but ended up deciding and going back to our favourite Number One Yakitori. Delicious. And unfiltered sake. Yum.

 

Tea Ceremony

You know, I didn’t think that I’d be affected by a tea ceremony what with my Chinese background. A friend of brother Jon’s runs them in Kyoto and we thought we’d give it a go to see what it was all about.

We had read about it but the full experience was powerfully laden with emotion & symbolism, some elements of which even causing a shiver down the spine. Of course, it may also have been the lack of circulation to the lower extremeties from sitting cross legged for a period of time.

Our host was delightful & is about to make the move to Australia (of all things) to join up with her hubby who’d gone on ahead to Cairns as a cook.

Golden Pavilion (Kinkaku-ji)

Upon our arrival, we were greeted suprisingly by 4 brash English voices bearing Aussie accents. Civilised colleagues come to experience a different world culture? No, it was (from our estimations), young probably rich kids probably over here on mummy & daddy’s gold credit card and making ar*es of themselves and the country they represented.

Oh f, that was the best f-ing temple I’ve ever f-ing seen in my f-ing life. F mate! F Etcetera F.

We stopped talking amongst ourselves lest they detect our same accents and (godhelpus) strike a conversation.

What I did miss out on was the lifetime opportunity of giving back a little of what lowbrowed whitetrash had imparted on my growing up experience. I completely failed to speak up fully and loudly, and tell those prats to p*ss off back to their own country.

 

Japanese vending machines (and buses in general)

The Japanese love of the vending machine is legendary. Having endured the start of a very bitter spring there, we came to appreciate the breadth of weird and wonderful beverages of the warm variety, if nothing than to heat one’s hands and temporarily forestall frostbite.

It must come as a shock to Japanese tourists when they visit our shores in Australia. The best we can manage is the 200 varieties of Coke, tooth rotting sports drinks, and calorific crisps and chockies; all mega sized for the voracious sweet toothed Caucasian.

We decided to bus it on our way to visit the Golden Pavilion (Kinkaku-ji). On the map, the route for the particular bus seemed to go from our hotel to the site. What the map didn’t reveal (most likely due to our non-existent Japanese language skills) was the terminus half way between our point-a and point-b!

Moreover, the Japanese system of piling on the bus from the rear entrance and grabbing a ticket/token then paying at the front of the bus when exiting though a good idea generally, falls down in practice when the bus is chockers and one has to plough through many civilised persons to exit the vehicle.

We found buses in Hong Kong (and Australia, to think of it) similiarly perplexing for their mystery value. At lease with trams & trains, you can fairly definitively say where you are going but buses? Who knows? Is the little side street a detour or a destination?