Let's Go, Jane!

After three weeks of cold weather in Japan and South Korea, the warmth of Hong Kong has been a balm this week. On my first day I signed up for my usual walking tour. I went to my regular sources for free (tip-based) walking tours, GuruWalks and Freetour, but there were no walks listed so I ended up paying for a tour on GetYourGuide. It cost almost twice what I usually tip, but it included lunch. The tour ended up being six hours long, and featured a ride on a double decker trolley, a Star Ferry crossing of Victoria Harbor, and all the usual tourist sights–Man Mo Temple, the Central Elevated Walkway (the world’s longest outdoor covered escalator), the old city jail, and more. Six hours was a lot for someone still coughing her way through Asia, but the dim sum lunch definitely helped.

At this point I was still battling a cold, and it didn’t help that Paul Bunyan was sleeping on the bunk above me. I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep in a shared room at a hostel. In Tokyo I had a capsule room, Osaka I had an airbnb, and Seoul I had a private room, so this came as an unwelcome reminder. I had been concerned that my coughing might keep other people awake, but Paul’s snoring took care of that. He also insisted on keeping the air conditioning at 20 degrees celsius (68F) at all times, and dried his towel where it hung down in front of my bed, which made me irrationally angry. After two nights of very little sleep I asked at the front desk about changing rooms, and was informed that he was checking out that day. Thank goodness. 

One thing I do not understand is why Asian tourists keep asking me to pose in pictures with them. Or more specifically, with their children. It has happened several times that someone has asked if they can place their small child next to me and take a photo. I have to wonder, in the future when they look at their photos from that vacation, what will these photos represent? Oh, look, there you are when you were 5, next to some random white lady from America. It’s so bizarre, but it has happened several times so I guess it’s a thing.

Still running on fumes, on my second day I made the hour and a half trip to Lantau Island to see the Tian Tan Buddha, a 100+ foot bronze sculpture on a mountaintop. It takes two trains and a cable car to reach the temple. When I arrived at the cable car station there was an escalator with a line of people at the bottom that went as far as I could see down the sidewalk. I asked an employee if this was the line to buy tickets and she said yes, or I could scan the QR code and buy one online. I bought a ticket online and showed it to her on my phone and she let me bypass the line. Why didn’t everyone do this?

At the top of the escalator there were more people, queued up in those winding lines like at passport control. At every checkpoint I showed my ticket and was waved through, and barely five minutes after arriving at the station I found myself on a cable car headed up the mountain. I even confirmed with two ladies in my cable car (who had waited over an hour in the line) that I paid the same ticket price as they did. Not sure how I managed to avoid the wait, but I was pretty happy about it. When I arrived at the top, I was standing outside a restaurant when the perfect outdoor table opened up, so I sat and ate lunch. Then I climbed 268 steps to reach the Buddha. What a perfect day.

I got a later start on my third day. I slept until 11:30 am, finally able to catch up on sleep after Paul’s departure. Then Carey and I spent a couple hours on the phone, so it was mid-afternoon by the time I left the hostel. I ate a delicious Schezwan lunch that made my mouth go numb, in the way that only Schezwan peppercorns can, and then headed out to the Peak Tram, one of the world’s oldest and steepest funiculars, up to Victoria Peak. Somehow I timed this perfectly with the sunset and was treated to an incredible view.

All of this–the snoring bunkmate, the random tourist photos, the line-skipping miracle–has left me amused but worn out. It’s my last day in Hong Kong, and I have to say that I’m relieved. When I originally made the plan to travel for four straight months, I underestimated how taxing it would be, both mentally and physically. I hit a wall at the three month mark, and found myself in need of a break from all the logistics and the constant motion. Luckily, the timing couldn’t be better. I’m meeting up with my younger son Charley in Switzerland later this week, and his older brother Adam will join us in Italy for Christmas. Charley has already taken over all the planning–trains, tickets, cathedrals–so for these last couple weeks I get to be a passenger instead of the navigator. After more than 3 months on the road, I’m ready to hand over the reins and enjoy the rest of the ride. This next stretch is about family, not logistics, and honestly, that sounds perfect to me.