We left in the morning at what we thought was a ludicrously early hour to go for a dim sum breakfast. It was later than we thought, in fact – tho’ fortunately not too late – our alarm clock had let us down. The meal wasn’t, in fact, as successful as our previous dim sum, in Sydney for Mike’s birthday, but then we didn’t pay as much either, there was the usual problem of communication, + as we were rather tucked away in the middle, the trolleys couldn’t get to us, so we had to go off foraging in search of food. No complaints tho’, not really. Tasty + cheap – who could ask for anything more?
After, we went to visit an ice-cream parlour that Val had discovered last night – she said it had been wonderful then; this morning it was pretty dreadful. Then it was a quick gallop round the shops to spend the last of our RMBs. We’d done pretty well, we weren’t left with too many, but they proved a right pain to dispose of, + in the end we still had a few too many. But we’d run out of time. We galloped back to the hotel to pick up our bags, + then out + onto the bus up to the stn. We took it in turns looking after the bags, while the other searched for goodies to use up the cash on. In the end it went easily enough… on cold drinks. We also changed back our remaining FECs at the bank in the hotel across from the station. It was only when we were actually walking in the station to get on the train that we realised that we had forgotten our one remaining chore – we had a stack of letters ready stamped (tho’ not all sealed, such being the glue-less quality of Chinese envelopes) which we hadn’t taken to the Post Office. Annoying, but there wasn’t all that much we could do, for there was no time.
The train journey to the border was quite long, but to me it went by very fast, as I was stuck into a couple of books, first a Chinese play, “The Teahouse”, then a faintly dreadful apocalypse thriller by Frank Herbert, the “Dune” man, called “The White Plague.” At the other end, there was a bit of confusion, as we weren’t able to find the border – one would think it would be better sign-posted, + there was no great crowd to follow. But once we did find it, it was a breeze, especially since all the whites were pulled out of the crush to go thro’ a special section. Not that this could really be regarded as privileged treatment, as we were dealt with more thoroughly.
No such discrimination entering HK (for the 4th time) + no problems either. Definite culture-shock when we were faced with the bright + shiny plastic modernism of the tube train waiting to whisk us into the heart of Kowloon however. Not that we’d really forgotten how to use it. Our problems began at the other end, at Kowloon Stn. It would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been us, + especially me, stretched to near the end of my limits. It was difficult finding out which bus to catch, but eventually one soul who seemed both intelligent+ knowledgeable gave us a list of the buses which would take us to Nathan Rd, + directed us to the opposite side of the road, across the overpass. One of those buses on the list arrived immediately, so we climbed aboard + fell into conversation with a couple of Hong Kongers. When they discovered our destination, they expressed some concern – the bus we were on was not heading the right way, they told us. One of them volunteered to get off with us + guide us to the right bus stop, however, so things were not as bleak as all that. Our friend walked us down a couple of streets to Nathan Rd – tho’ the wrong end – pointed out the bus stop, + told us any bus would take us along to the Ferry end. We thanked him cordially, said farewell, + boarded the first bus that arrived.
Things still weren’t right, however, especially when it swung off the main thoroughfare, + onto an overpass system we’d never seen before. To make things worse, it was an express, + didn’t stop anywhere, so we were entirely helpless. When it did finally halt, the doors opening with a swish, + we speedily dismounted, we recognised where we were immediately: back where we had started, at Kowloon Stn. As I said, very funny… but I could have screamed with anger + frustration, + wasn’t far from sinking to the pavement + giving in. I didn’t however, not quite – over the flyover we went again, + asked once again. This time we were advised to walk – it was no more than 20 mins away. So this we did, tho’ by now we were both (but me especially) in a foul mood, we were soon enough in reasonably familiar territory, + only a little beyond that, in Chungking Mansions.
It hadn’t, of course, changed a bit, tho’ was noticeably less full. Our box of possessions was still there, to our delight, + was intact. So we went out to eat. A bit difficult to find somewhere that suited – we had our hearts set on fish + chips, but ended up, after a fruitless search, in McDonalds. I was, as usual, struck with HK insomnia, + stayed up till very late watching TV, + then having a smoke with Steve, the spacey Canadian who’d been there before. As tho’ nothing had changed… except he’d shaved off his beard.
Even though we had left China, it seems we were still to be plagued by transport problems. Of a different order to the ones we had encountered on the other side of the border, being high tech, bright and shiny… but no less frustrating.
Teahouse, by the way, was put on by Thame Youth Theatre, in a very successful production. It was reviewed by the Times Educational Supplement, though the reviewer was sceptical about my having found this in a Chinese bookshop!
