Hong Kong
April 1994
Tonight we sail in to Hong Kong, a city of allure and
conflicting identity. In 1994 it is still under British rule but will return to
China in just a few months. This city of
capitalism and greed and overconsumption is going home again. But it can it go
back to communism? Or is it too
successful, too worldly, too commercial? Those are the questions on everybody’s mind as
we sailed into this magnificent harbor.
But that isn’t on my mind. I have only one thought in mind.
I want to take the trolley up to Victoria Hill. My mother instructed me to go
there. She and my father went there just
after China re-opened its doors to Americans in the late 80’s. My grandparents visited this spot sometime in
the 60s. So now I will be the third generation to explore this site on the
other side of my world.
My grandparents took a long, arduous boat ride to Asia in
the 1960s. I wonder how different this
world is now. When they traveled to Hong Kong, few Americans made this
trip. They talked of their trip to Asia
with such fondness that it seemed to capture my wonder lust. When my parents
went to China in 1986, it was a trip of a lifetime for them. My mother nagged
me for years to go to China. She told me
I would love it. And she was right. I did love China. But Hong Kong was not China to me. Hong Kong was New York City but with more
Chinese restaurants.
A cable car takes me up a mountain to a circular walkway
which leads me to stores and restaurants and souvenir kiosks. But more than that,
it offers a 360° view of this magnificent, bustling metropolis. It’s tall buildings, crowded streets, neon
lights, sounds and smells resemble cities such as New York or London or
Chicago. From time to time, I have to remind myself that I just left China and
all of its poverty.
I go to a camera shop.
I dropped my camera a few days ago and now the shutter isn’t working. I
don’t want an expensive camera so I ask the clerk to show me something on the
low end. He reaches for a box and slams it on the counter for me to inspect.
“Do you have any others.
This one isn’t quite right,” I tell him.
“We’re busy. Tell me what you want and pay for it. But I don’t have time to show you all of
these cameras,” he tells me with a tone of annoyance.
I look around. There
isn’t another customer in the store. Two other clerks are standing, staring in
to space. But this clerk is put-out by my urge to do some comparative shopping.
It is right then and there that I decide to leave his shop, without a new
camera. But I commit to come back in a
few years to see how Hong Kong fairs under Chinese rule.
