The Peak in pictures

• The locally-known ‘Flying Wok’ which houses the Peak Galleria and on top is the Sky Terrace which charges you an admission fee to get some good views.



• This one’s a bit of a cheat, it was actually taken by Colin when I dragged him up the Peak for my second trip, so technically nothing to do
with the Peak, but vaguely interesting.



• The island looking east



• Looking south over to Kowloon, our current serviced apartment building is just hidden by the the one still under construction just to the left of centre. When finished, the International Commerce Centre (for that is what it will house) will be the tallest building Hong Kong, taking the title away from Colin’s current office building (the electric razor-like 2 IFC that was in the taster picture on the previous blog entry)



• Densely populated? Hong Kong? Never!



More pictures to come on the day that I actually walked around the Peak on Simon’s last day visiting – so watch this space! (Not literally people, you’re allowed to go to work, the pub, have dinner etc.)

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A Day of Firsts

[written on Thursday 19th June]

Seeing as today is my birthday, I thought I’d take a little ‘me-time’
(and no, that’s not what every day here so far has been, smart arses). For the first time in about a week, the sky wasn’t the colour of gruel, the island across the water from me wasn’t shrouded in mist and, good lord and all the apostles, the sun was shining! Right: time for action. (picture to remind you, as well as me, what the island looks like in the sun!) Though I knew it would be extremely touristy and probably a huge anticlimax once I got there, it seemed like as good a day as any to go to the top of Victoria Peak – the highest mountain on HK island (standing at 552 metres for all you fact-sticklers) – by taking the Peak Tram (which featured in the Clark Gable film Soldier of Fortune – another piece of trivia for you. Ok, I’ll stop.)

The guidebook only tells you how to get to the tram terminal from the ferry piers which is not where I was going to be when I came out of the MTR, so I figured I’d just head to Exchange Square which is closer, and from where, according to the crazy Chinese A-Z Clifford gave us, a shedload of buses depart. One of them will definitely take me where I want to go.

Feeling like the world was my oyster, I carefully inspected the details on each bus stop stand, eagerly awaiting the moment I would be rewarded with the words ‘Lower Peak Tram Terminal’. Though I did get some very odd looks from a number of locals (possibly due to the squint that appeared in my eye while trying to decipher the likes of '香港仔' [which actually means Aberdeen]), the destination I was looking for wasn’t there! The closest I came was the #15 bus which goes to the top of the Peak, eliminating the whole tram ride that I was trying my hardest to take.

Now, the majority of people in Honkers live on the north side of the island (no, no – that’s just an observation – I’m not bombarding you with facts again, honest) presumably because most businesses have their base offices there and also because the MTR doesn’t serve the south side, and who wants a longer-than-five-minutes commute? However, for the purposes of research, the fact that the south side is where the beaches of Honkers are and because every blasted bus at the Exchange Square terminus seems to go there, I thought screw the Peak, my first first of the day can be ‘Packer gets the bus to Stanley’. And yes, it is a supremely lame name for a town, but unfortunately that's what the nineteenth century British Secretary of State for War and the Colonies was called after whom the English named it. (Of course, it did already have a Chinese name, but we Brits don't care about that - we like to name things properly, in words we can pronounce without having to learn any of this foreign nonsense - pfft!)

And I have to tell you, my ride on the #260 (express) was jolly pleasant! Sun was still shining, it was a single decker so I didn’t get travel sick and for a lot of the journey, we travelled along the coastal road which (without wanting to sound like a gushing girlie girl) was very pretty, passing through the d
elightfully-named Deep Water Bay and Ocean Park and the not-so-well-named Repulse Bay. Ironically, a lot of American expats seem to live there in huge high rise apartment buildings of pastel blue, yellow and pink.

Took me about 25 minutes to get there, but then I was out in the heat again where I had a good old browse in the street market stalls, took me a little promenade along the seafront and had a small chuckle to myself that there
was a Pizza Express, a pub called the Smugglers’ Inn (‘The Real Local Pub' apparently), another pub called the Pickled Pelican and a diner-type place called Main Street USA (really pushing the boundaries there considering it was on Stanley Main Street and was a US-style eaterie.)

I
t is quite disconcerting sometimes how separately the expats and Chinese se
em to co-exist and how you can just stumble on a weird little bubble where all you see are white faces - you know who you are bitchy teenage American girls giving me the evils in Starbucks - restaurants/shops blatantly geared towards the paler-skinned amongst us and, which really made me laugh at the role reversal, a coach-load of Chinese tourists.

Still, it was very nice to pass an hour or so there away from the madness of Central and then I thought I’d happened upon the answer: a bus that would take me from Stanley all the way to Victoria Peak (and I could just get the tram back down). Brilliant! I’d been there for at least seven minutes when I saw that all the timetables for said miracle bus referred to Sundays and public holidays. Dammit. The bus only runs on Sundays and public holidays. So I walked all the way back to the terminus where the #260 was not looking very express-like and as time waits for no Packer, I got on the #6X on impulse (clearly buoyed by the fact that I’d survived my bus journey into the unknown the week before).


On the return trip, I hap
pened upon a cunning plan. Using my Chinese A-Z, I was able to suss out the route my 6X was going to take and where on this route I could interchange with one of those magic, disappearing, take-me-to-the-lower-tram-terminal buses. A-ha! Buses 3B, 23 and 40, I’ve got your numbers!

So you’ll be thrilled to hear, without too much drama, I also managed to achieve my second first of the day: riding the Peak Tram (or funicular railway as it is technically). Bloody tourists and their bloody photo-taking. Tsk, tsk – I live here, you plebs, out of my way. The ride doesn’t actually take very long, but is very impressive – especially at the point where it’s practically vertical and you’re lying in your seat (that a few minutes ago you were upright in) praying to God that the cable doesn’t snap.


At the top, the amazing views of the ridiculous amount of high rise apartment blocks and sky scraping office buildings ar
e well worth the effort; the nasty tourist shops full of tat and the overpriced shopping malls are not. But you can escape that nonsense by going for a little walk to the actual top of Victoria Peak. Yes, you’re right. Of course I didn’t do that! I did take some pictures though, as the air was definitely less humid up there, meaning you can stay outside for longer than 2.5 minutes. I’ve devoted a separate blog entry to the pictures as their inclusion on this one would make it ridiculously long, and I wouldn’t want to bore you so soon after starting this thing! Oh ok, here’s just a little taster for you impatient people.

My plan thenceforth was to bus it back to Central and then pick up the MTR to go home and lie down (too much fres
h air, you understand) but the queue for the bus was about 75 people long. Hmmm…not interested in that. My eye caught sight of one of the little light buses that only seat 16 people (another of Hong Kong’s innovative transport solutions - picture below) and are much faster than normal buses (due to them stopping less frequently and their size is more conducive to a lot of the little windy roads). It was enticingly empty and had no queue.

Figuring it probably went close to where I was headed, I decided to indulge in my third first. And no, I hadn't been put off by my plans being diverted earlier by the shortage of buses that would "definitely take me where I want to go" - some people never learn!

We sped down the steep hilly roads and hairpin bends at the speed of knots - I know, because there’s a big LED display in the bus that tell you how many kilometres an hour the driver's doing. Not really sure why… Before I’d barely had time to get my book out, a load of people were getting off and I realised we were already at the MTR!

Sweet. One stop and I was home to get ready to be wined and dined by the lovely Mr Colin.

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Rain and cyclones and storms, oh my...

[Written on Wednesday 25th June]

Well. To use the phrase that Peter Kay pointed out as one of the idiosyncrasies of colloquial English: Packer and Pies sure seem to have brought the good weather with them. (Peter Kay didn’t use the Packer and Pies bit, obviously.)

The day we were actually in the air on our way here, powering through the sky, Hong Kong experienced some of the worst floods it has ever seen, with landslides, requisite sandbags and several areas measuring the highest levels of rainfall ever since records began 125 years ago.

Although it was sunny-ish for our first few days here, by our first weekend, it was coursing down in rivers along any street that is remotely un-flat again, which is most of them. Getting a cab home was a piece of cake that night!

And now, two and a half weeks in, “the No. 8 storm signal was issued last night for the first time this year as Severe Tropical Storm Fengshen blew in from the Philippines, where, as a typhoon, it killed more than 1,000 people.” [South China Morning Post, Weds 25 June 2008] Cue ridiculously strong winds (we’re talking horizontally-bent trees here), perpetually persistent torrential rain and cancelled public transport. And amen to that – the thought of going on that hydrofoil in this weather is making me rather nauseous and I’m on dry land and indoors!

I’ve truly never seen weather like it, except maybe on the news, when they’re talking about other countries; fortunately they seem to have given the apocalypse-esque climate some thought when planning their buildings – life seems to continue as normal apart from Colin being told not to come into the office because it’s closed. I guess having a typhoon season that lasts 3-4 months means there’s a whole semester devoted to it at Hong Kong architecture school. However, it’s not supposed to start until mid-July. My powers must be stronger than I thought…

Everyone seems pretty blasé about it though. The real estate agent said it was fine to go out in typhoon weather though “you might want to stay away from the water’s edge” – er, thanks for the not entirely unobvious advice, dude. They have a sort of gradual warning system which goes along the lines of:

1 = might get a touch blowy soon
3 = make sure you strap on a headscarf ladies, if you want to avoid the poodle look
8 = superglue at the ready, people; choose which one of your children you prefer
9 = batten down the hatches, and get under the dining room table
10 = make your peace with God, the end is nigh!

(For the actual definitions and advice, you can read about them on the HK Observatory’s website www.hko.gov.uk/informtc/tcsignal)

As I’m actually typing this up, two weeks later, I’m quite glad I didn’t check that website until now. Instructions such as “fit bars into positions & insert reinforced shutters & gates if available” and “now is the time to decide which rooms you will use to shelter if the windows on the exposed side of your home become broken” might have put the willies up me somewhat!

I never realised one teeny little country could have such extreme weather conditions throughout the year, and I did GCSE Geography! (Though maybe more attention could have been paid, I did only get a C…)

[A few days later…]

And yet another weather record gets broken within the first month of us being here. My good friend the South China Morning Post [Friday 27 June 2008] tells me “the city [Hong Kong] has just survived its wettest June ever”: apparently “from 1 June we have had 1,136.3mm [of rain].” Now I have to confess, I’m not very good with the old metric system, but that sounds like quite a lot. Yup, conversion tells me that’s 3 feet 9 inches, another 2 feet of water and I would be covered!

Obviously I’m being a bit melodramatic here (for example, that metre and a bit of rain didn’t all fall in one go, so the chances of me heading towards my own version of Atlantis are pretty slim) but I don’t think I’d fully grasped quite what South China Sea weather entails – I guess that’s what being pretty much on the Tropic of Cancer does for you!

Now, if, like me, all this talk has got you wondering about the difference between a cyclone, typhoon, hurrican, tropical storm, etc., then wonder no more. Wikipedia (my new favourite internet site) bursts that bubble by telling us “depending on their location and strength, tropical cyclones are referred to by other names, such as hurricane, typhoon, tropical storm, cyclonic storm, tropical depression and simply cyclone.” [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hurricane] Lame. But hopefully you all learned something. Except for you super-intelligent people who no doubt already knew that.

So, no wonder everywhere you go here, no matter what the weather outside, everyone (and I mean women, children and even men) carries umbrellas. Even when there’s a sunny heatwave going on. And not your mini/micro, so-small-they-fit-in-a-tiny-handbag numbers either. I’m talking full-on, cyclone-resistant, guaranteed-to-not-blow-inside-out, long, hook-handled umbrellas.

But don’t worry. I have taken not and kitted myself out with such a weapon. It has a blue handle (hooked, natch) and little clouds on the material. Well you didn’t think I’d have an ugly black one did you?!

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Never….been….so….hot… Part Two

[Still relating to Friday 13th June…bear with me!]

We look at five apartments that are all very similar to each other, and to the places we saw in Kennedy Town on the island – decent-sized master bedroom and living room; tiny second and third bedrooms (apparently I could use one of these as a ‘reading room’ if it’s too small for anything else… er, don’t know about you Cris, mate, but I’m quite happy ‘reading’ in the comfort of my bed). None of the buildings have facilities onsite, except for the odd outdoor swimming pool (“oh, you poor thing, only a pool”, I hear you say) but it’s actually quite common, especially in the newer high-rise places to get a gym, indoor and outdoor pools, tennis court, possibly a pool room and a basketball court. [left: view from one of the apartments]

Turns out the reason for this (quite frankly deplorable) omission is that one is supposed to frequent the ‘Siena Club’, a ghastly place quite clearly designed for bored housewives or their ‘domestic helpers’ (as they call the nannies here) and the brats they’re paid tuppence an hour to look after. You have to pay a monthly fee to be one of the members, and then to use the gym you have to pay out more dollars on top. Hell, I don’t like looking stupid trying to lift those 4kg weights that much! My (by now) good friend Cris asks me if I want to see the other ‘club house’ site, to which I want to reply “dear God no! Are you trying to make me cry?”, to which I actually replied “oh no, that’s fine, you’ve shown me loads of things to think about already, thank you”. I’m nothing if not sycophantic when needs must!

So off we whizzed again on the golf cart, which means we topped about 15 miles an hour max; any faster than that mind you, and I think I’d have ended up being flung out the side. All that’s there to protect you from the elements is some flimsy bit of plastic which you zip up down the side of the ca
rt (very similar to a tent). In the absolute downpour we were swimming through that day, there was no protection whatsover: I was soaking. [Needless to say, the photo below is not mine, nor was it taken on the same day, as evidenced by the lack of rain.]

Much as I was somewhat apprehensive about the return boat trip, I practically ran across the ‘plaza’ and down the hill towards the ferry (“there’s no place like home; there’s no place like home!” Now if only I had some of those ruby slippers…) God again, however, had other ideas. The weather had turned even worse and the boat was heaving from side to side, while bouncing extremely high on the waves (like you’d expect from a speed boat one 27th the size of this hydrofoil) all the way back.

And just to add to my already extreme displeasure and abject nausea, one of my fellow passengers was a very unhelpful American woman who kept making ‘noises’, leant over to tell me she gets “soooo seasick” and then got up and moved one of the bins from the aisle so that it was between her knees and then continued to make the ‘noises’ with her head practically in the bin. Sweet Lord.

Eventually, by nothing short of a miracle, we docked back at Central and I went to meet Colin for lunch, where he said I looked a little ‘green’. Hmmm…thanks very much!

The afternoon, you’ll be pleased to hear, was much more successful. Agnes showed me a couple of flats in all three of the main developments just outside the station, that I had viewed from the outside the day before. And finally, in the third one (so that was apartment viewing number five of the afternoon), I actually said “Wow!” in reaction to the size of the living room. Things were looking up – I could see us living in this place, and even the bedrooms were of a decent size. Plus, and this is a big plus knowing how much Colin wanted to spend as little as possible, it was the cheapest place I’d seen so far. Exxxxcellent.

Went to meet Colin and work pals that evening and told him I’d found us a new home for HK$5,000 (about £325) a month less than we were thinking we’d have to pay. As you can imagine, he was quite excited but also reminded me that we can live rent-free for another four weeks (in the serviced apartment that Lehman are paying for) so we shouldn’t be too hasty in taking the first good place we see. Especially as we might be able to get an identical apartment in the same development for less money if we use a local estate agent rather than the international property company that Agnes works for. Drat. Damn Colin and his maths brain – why does he have to be so clever?!

Guess that’s my next job then!

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Never….been….so….hot… How can it be this humid and still tipping it down with torrential rain?? Part One

[Relates to Friday 13th June]

Today is my first official day of flat-hunting on my own. And I don’t really count the flats we looked at on the orientation day – they were so far from what we’re looking for, I’m doing everything I can to forget about them. (Deep breath.) So I’ve given in to everyone’s pestering and I have two sets of appointments today: the first is at 10:30am in Discovery Bay, for which the quickest mode of transport is boat, and then at 2pm Agnes is taking me to look at places in Olympic (which, as you know, I’m fairly certain is
going to be my preferred option, but I’m trying to be open-minded and not rule anywhere out. Even if it is some crazy place where you don’t actually mix with any natives).

For some reason, I have quite a bit of trouble finding the tube line that I need (yes, in actual fact,
I got very lost and ended up going down an escalator only to have to go back up the adjacent escalator two seconds later when I realised I was in completely the wrong place…) so I was already having a bit of a faff and I hadn’t even got on the boat – not a great start as it meant I was in danger of missing the 10 past 10 ferry which I’d been instructed to get on by real estate lady. But I managed to go one stop on the train and get into the mall. 15 minutes to spare, we’re doing ok. Bit of running through the mall, just for good measure; bit of slipping on a wet patch too – whose idea was it to wear the ballet pumps? Oh yes: it was these or flip flops – I sent my monsoon-handy wellies on the shipping container – d’oh!

The second I step out of the door to the mall heading for the ferry piers, there’s a blinding flash and a massive ‘BOOM!’ of thun
der and my only lasting thought is “good one Sarah, what a brilliant day to be going on a teeny tiny boat across the sea…” Onto the raised walkway to get to the piers – number 3 for Discovery Bay…good, still got 10 minutes till the boat leaves. I reach a sign that says ‘Piers 2-6 down these stairs’ – ok, bring it on – and logic tells you that 3 is going to be the second one along, right? WRONG! The first pier I come to is number 6. 6???! Who taught these people how to count?

It’s now just after 5 past 10 and I’m already sweating like a whore in church, but there’s no other option: running. (those of you who know even the tiniest bit about me will know that Packers do not ru
n.) Damn stupid piers not being close together …. After what seems like and age and a lot of getting heavily rained on, I make it to 3 with two minutes to spare, through the ticket barrier and then… er.. where’s the gangplank?? There’s some sort of construction going on and I’m wandering through an empty waiting room trying to peer through sheets of plastic to work out if I have any chance of getting this boat.

And then suddenly, there it is! The gangplank! Running again slightly – lest the boat should pull away in the next three seconds with me still halfway up the ramp (you never know), I get on, find a seat and no sooner do I (literally) flop into the chair, the bell rings to signal departure. Ha-hah! Take that you public transport system – beaten at your own game! Or maybe I just managed to complete the simplest of tasks…


Hmm…why did it only occur to me after I’d boarded the hydrofoil that hydrofoils/catamarans are the type of seafaring craft that make me very ill? And in the armageddon-esque storm of today… (I’ve added a picture in case you’re unable to conjure up what a rain-lashed hydrofoil window looks like.) Well, you can imagine how pleased I was to stumble down the gangplank after 25 minutes of lurching and bouncing around to find that my erstwhile guide to Discovery Bay was nowhere to be found! And from somewhere, the good lord above found a further three trillion gallons of water to hurl down at me – this is all my own fault, you know – I was being far too smug that my hair doesn’t get frizzy in humid weather…

Although I’ve only travelled (or survived) just under half an hour from Hong Kong island, surveying the scene in front of me, I may as well have gone half way round the world. There are more white faces than I have seen in my six days here, and all of them look suspiciously American. And children! Bloody hundreds of the blighters – it’s like a weird, non-underground version of the cave in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang where they hide the kids from the child catcher (*shudder*). Every child also seems to be accompanied by a pregnant mother – so that’s what you do in Discovery Bay – you breed…


Contemplating just getting back on the ferry (remembering the near-vomiting situation and ruling it out) and cursing God, estate agents and just men in general, I run on tiptoes across to Pacific Coffee (which our friend Clifford described as “the local version of Starbucks”; I found out yesterday it originated in Seattle…) Trying not to dwell on the fact that Pacific is essentially a crêche, I commandeer a PC (complete with free internet) and email the dozy real estate lady to say “Woman! Your man is not here. I’ll be here till 11:30. Sort it.”


And lo and behold, 20 minutes later, the dude Cris appears and whisks me off to a car park full of golf carts (you’re not allowed to drive a car here) while jabbering enthusiastically (and heavily accent-edly) about how it’s almost 100% expats in Discovery Bay, or ‘D-Bay’ as the locals call it. Er, so what’s the point of emigrating in the first place? The Rough Guide to Hong Kong & Macau seems to make a pretty accurate summation when it says:


The atmosphere is nightmarish, a too-perfect copy of idealized middle-American suburbia, with happy blonde families zipping about in golf carts, and very few Chinese faces.


[Jules Brown & David Leffman, 2006]

...to be continued

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You can take a girl out of her transport geek comfort zone, but you can’t take the transport geek out of the girl

[Written on Thursday 12th June]

So, in the interests of research, today I planned a highly detailed reconnaissance itinerary of various areas of Hong Kong with the ultimate objective of happening upon the ideal place to live. Ideal of course being not polluted, some green space, lots of good shops, restaurants and bars, with fantastic apartment buildings hiding away flats that are huge, but cheap because no-one knows about them. Oh and a stone’s throw from the MTR so Colin can get to work easily. Anybody else thinking I might be r
econn-ing for a very long time?

My first port of call was to be Olympic, one MTR stop up from where we are at present and attractive not least because of the short commute to the Lehman office, and also, being in Kowloon, more reasonably priced. (MTR map below, but you'll probably need to click on it to be able to view it without a lot of squinting.) Disembarking and coming off the escalator, I was faced with a choice I’d not come across before; did I want to go to Olympian City 1 or Olympian City 2? Being the extremely logical person that I am, it seemed wise to tackle them in numerical order so I headed off across the covered walkway to see what delights awaited me.


Hmm…apart from the huge restaurant and seating area which took up most of the open space in the middle of the shopping centre and the cheap and cheerful Park’N’Shop supermarket, every other shop seemed very Chinese, and seemed to mainly consist of estate agencies, domestic helper recruitment agencies, a music shop and an amusement arcade. Not the most exciting mall I’ve ever been to, it must be said. There was a door to the outside though, so I braced myself for the humidity (it was a very hot day) and went to look around.

All the apartment buildings immediately outside the station/mall complex seemed pretty nice; high rise towers probably built in the last five or six years, predominantly with sea views and no more than a 5-7 minute walk to the station – not the completely covered and air-conditioned trip from apartment to train that I’d been getting used to, but really not bad either. I wandered around, I sat in the sun, I made some notes and was fairly certain that I wouldn’t mind bumming around there if the apartments were up to scratch. The only thing niggling at me was whether I could live with Olympian City 1 being my local shops – though I reasoned that I could always nip down one stop on the MTR to the shopping centre I’m currently living above if necessary.

But wait; I’d forgotten about Olympian City 2! It was only as I went back over the walkway to the station and saw firstly, a kid with a McDonald’s drink and secondly, a woman with a Starbucks container, that I thought there must be more to this Olympic place! And yes indeedy, there was. Olympian City 2 is much newer, brighter and more shiny than it’s (I’m presuming) predecessor. It has western shops, some cracking bakeries and a huge Taste supermarket (slightly pricier than Park’N’Shop but good for hard to get western can’t-live-without items; hell, they even sell Waitrose stuff in there!)

So, crisis averted. The facilities meet my requirements and the apartment buildings look good. I carried on with my itinerary as I couldn’t really pretend to Colin that I’d carried out extensive research if I just went to one place, so I went to Mei Foo with the intention of changing MTR lines. While making the rather long walk to from the West Rail to the Tsuen Wan (the MTR is still quite a newly unified system, previously being a number of different separate railways, so they haven’t quite got the hang of these interchange stations yet), I got a glimpse of Mei Foo and it looked very pleasant – there was a lot of lovely greenery right outside the station – my only concern was that it’s not a very straightforward journey to get to Central. Still, worth thinking about.

Once on the Tsuen Wan line, I enjoyed my longest tube journey so far since arriving here, going a whole six stops down to Yau Ma Tei with the intention of looking around, as it would be an easy commute for Pies (no changing of lines or owt complicated) and is close to the Tsim Sha Tsui area of Kowloon which always seems to have a lot going on.

Getting out of the tube however, I realised I’d made something of a mistake. Ya Ma Tei station spits you out right onto Nathan Road, one of the noisiest, hottest and busiest roads I think I’ve ever been on and all the buildings are fairly old (certainly no on-site gyms or swimming pools like I’d seen at Olympic). I had to walk at a snail’s pace just to avoid stepping on the people in front of me, though to be honest, any faster than that and I think I’d have died from heat exhaustion anyway. There was just no air at all, and let’s face it, Hong Kong is pretty hot all year round; the advantage I think Olympic has is that it’s on the waterfront so you get the breeze from the sea. Not so great if a major typhoon hits, but pfft, that’s why you get a high level place.

I saw a guy running for a bus (which actually had a queue of people waiting to get on, so running really wasn’t called for) and on impulse decided that if it’s worth running for, I might as well get on it too. To be honest, I was pretty much just seduced by it’s air-conditioned sweetness, otherwise Colin was in danger of spending the rest of his time here mourning the girlfriend who’d expired on Nathan Road. Now the trouble with getting on a bus on a whim, is that you have absolutely no idea where you’re going to end up. But hey, I couldn’t go too far wrong could I? And mmmm, feel those icy jets of air blowing on your face.

I tried to work out a vague notion of where we were headed from the road signs that we passed by or under, but all I managed to ascertain was that we were still in Kowloon as we hadn’t gone through one of the cross harbour tunnels (or indeed boarded a ferry, though the chance of that happening would be slightly less likely as the ferries are way too small for buses…) About half an hour later however, the bus reached it’s destination and I had to leave its comfort, still none the wiser of my location.


Now a lesser girl than I would have panicked, but let’s not forget – whether it makes me a bit sad or not, I am a transport nerd and I wasn’t going to be outwitted by being a little off course! I wandered off down the road and happened across a map of the area, right in front of what appeared to be a huge cruise-ship type ocean liner, surrounded by shops and apartment buildings. Er, ok!
Apparently it actually houses a shopping centre – cos they
don’t already have enough of those here. The map did help me to work out that I was
in Hung Hom, a place I hadn’t planned to check out on my research trip, but one that actually seemed quite cool – very lively but not as stifling as Nathan Road – though the apartment buildings looked relatively old compared to the swanky new developments I’d seen earlier at Olympic.

Hung Hom helpfully has its own ferry pier from where I hopped on the boat to Central, and was soon on the MTR towards Quarry Bay, the last place I’d decided to check out on my day of exploration.
Once I finally got to the end of the walk between train and station entrance, I emerged on a pretty non-descript street which led onto a very busy main road, complete with lots of traffic and trams running both ways in the middle. It was pretty hot (even when I walked down to the water there was no breeze like there had been over on the Kowloon side) and there didn’t seem to be an awful lot going on. Now I’m not suggesting that at 4:00 on a Thursday afternoon there should be people dancing in the street, but as the main highway towards Central from the east, it just felt like somewhere you would pass through to get to somewhere else. Not really somewhere you want to call home.

Its one redeeming feature was that it had a Wellcome supermarket (yay – cheap!) so I picked up some much-needed dark chocolate Maltesers (why have they never used dark chocolate before now??!) and some other essentials and headed back to the serviced apartment.

Unless Discovery Bay offers something amazing and cheap tomorrow, I think I’d best bring Colin out to Olympic sharp-ish and get real estate lady Agnes sourcing us a fantastic apartment there asap!

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Ugh..a 9am start – aren’t we supposed to be on holiday?

[Relates to Tuesday 10th June]

Ah, no Sarah – that must be the jet lag. Get over it. There’s a new life to start living, so get up! Today, at 8:40am, having overslept of course (always happens when you need to be up early), we leapt up to cram in toast and tea before a chap called Clifford arrived to whisk us off on a tour of the city.

Predictably, Clifford was early, and I barely had time to ensure that my Havaianas flip flops co-ordinated with my tunic top before we were running out of the door (well, we can’t have him thinking us English gals are lacking in the snappy dresser department, can we?) Clifford had brought with him a people carrier plus driver and once we were safely inside, he directed the guy to take us through the tunnel over to HK island to start our day of orientation. First stop was the HSBC building so that Colin could set up his local bank account.

The roads, as you can imagine, are as densely populated with cars as the streets are with high-rise blocks, which is further fuel to Colin’s fire that we don’t need a car while we’re here (added to the fact that they are expensive to run, insure and park). Eventually though, our very own Michael Schumacher of suburban driving dropped us off outside. And not content with just pointing us in the right direction, Clifford accompanied us up the escalator. And into the lift. And into the seating area while we waited to be seen by the relationship manager lady. He then also followed us to the door of her office, at which point, he took himself back to the seating area to wait for our return. It was client service the likes of which I’d not experienced until coming here; though it did kind of remind me of a dad taking his child to school for the first time, and then not really knowing what to do with himself when the child is led away to class…

Account set up complete, and an ATM card (curiously with no name on it) safely in Colin’s possession, we were then off on a whistlestop tour of the island. We started off in gridlocked Central and slightly less busy Mid-Levels and then proceeded west (to the mostly chinese Sheung Wan) and east (to some other expat-populated areas of Wan Chai and Happy Valley) with Clifford pointing out various streets and buildings (helpfully showing us the serviced apartment buildings which were
closer to Colin’s office than the one we’re currently in); explaining why Soho is so-called (it’s because it’s south of Ho
llywood Road, pub quiz fans); showing us the best places to buy furniture and where to buy your own bird’s nests (should you want to make any of the dim sum specialities that include that particular twiggy ingredient). [Click on the link below to open up a map so I’m not just spouting foreign words at you.]

Hong Kong Island

Happy Valley was also where we stopped for lunch, Clifford taking us to a lovely authentic (well, if authentic means 1930s Beijing-style) dim sum restaurant. Food was amazing; and the second I took a sip of tea, my cup was refilled, which was very polite of ole Cliff but the more the tea stewed, the less keen I was – but didn’t want to appear rude! Oh, the intricacies of table manners.

In the afternoon, we got our first taste of house-hunting in Hong Kong. Not the greatest of starts, I must say. We saw about four apartments in Happy Valley and from the first one (bedroom wasn’t even big enough for a double bed) to the last (lovely big dressing room but couldn’t use it as a second bedroom because you have to go through the master bedroom) the kitchens and bathrooms were among the worst I think I’ve ever seen. For a region that has such a great cuisine, you can see why they eat out a lot if this is the standard of kitchens; seriously, they were ‘rooms’ that you couldn’t fit two people into, some of which had nothing in but a sink, others had essentially a camping stove-type get up for cooking on and one smelt somewhat like a men’s public toilet. And the bathrooms looked like they hadn’t been renovated since Britain first colonised the area in 1842. Added to which, the main draw of the area seems to be that a lot of the apartments look over the racecourse (er, not interested in the gee gees) and to get to work Colin would either have to get a bus/tram all the way there (which in the morning rush would take about an hour) or get a bus to Causeway Bay and hop on the MTR (and Colin is not a fan of a faffy commute).


So, onto some more places in Mid-Levels (nicer, but still with poor excuses for kitchens) and Kennedy Town (much more what we’re looking for – with decent kitchens, yippee – but clearly meant for couples with children as the second & third bedrooms were the size of a decent cupboards, plus the MTR won't reach as far as Kennedy Town until 2012). If only we could transport the spectacular views across the water to an apartment of our choice! Inevitably at some point, rental costs will come into it, and the bottom line is that apartments on Hong Kong island are quite a lot more expensive than anywhere else, and surprise surprise, you won't get much square footage for your dollar.

I think it was for this reason that Clifford (and estate agent woman Agnes) suggested that we consider Kowloon (which we already were) and Discovery Bay (which I’d read about but hadn’t really thought about living in). Reasons for that were primarily it’s location, on Lantau Island, meaning you have to get a boat there. But hey, I don’t have a job to go to, so why not? Agnes promised to be in touch with some more properties for us (i.e. me, as this was Colin’s last work-free day) to see and Clifford took us home, where I needed a rest! Too many activities will wear you out, especially when you essentially got up at 1:40am because you haven’t kicked that jet lag yet!

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About Me

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aka Sarah and Colin - the Hong Kong years. Colin transferred in June 2008 with work; Sarah couldn't face life without him...or wanted a free trip to Hong Kong..whatever. Any thoughts on this blog are predominantly written by Packer, but look out for special guest editions from Pies.

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