Nostalgia

It’s been nine years since I last visited the Fragrant Harbor – which is what Hong Kong means – and that visit was three days spent in the conference hotel. Before that my last visit was another decade and a year prior, right after the handover to China, the 20th anniversary of which the territory is marking tomorrow amid growing unrest, especially among the youth, and uncertainty about its future.

Two decades of one country-two systems have not tempered Hong Kong’s vibrancy and energy; it is as noisy and as frenzied as I remember it to be. Maybe even more so now, with all the visitors from the mainland coming over like a deluge. Many stores in the touristy Tsim Sha Tsui area have signs that announce they accept RMB (renminbi, the Chinese currency).  

Construction likewise does not seem have slowed down. New train lines, flyovers and tunnels proceed without TROs stopping work. New structures of glass and steel tower over what used to be “tall” buildings. On Nathan Road, for example, places like Chung King Mansion still hold their own against gleaming new mixed use skyscrapers like iSquare. And on “Hong Kong side,” Connaught Center with its façade of round windows is now dwarfed by Two IFC tower. Even the iconic IM Pei-designed Bank of China building – inspired by chopsticks – is now tucked in among a host of other buildings, and I would have missed the HSBC building if not for its gaudy red and gold light display (Sir Norman Foster must be turning in his grave!).

I took the MTR to North Point, armed with a map I picked up at the airport. But, like riding a bike, you don’t really forget and there was no need for the map, for once in the bowels of that amazingly efficient transport system, changing trains and looking for the right exit all came back to me.

And of course I had to take the Star Ferry, a childhood memory I hold near and dear. The turnstile where you pay to get in is no more, replaced by token machines (it now costs $2.70 from Kowloon and $3.70 from Hong Kong). But everything else is the same – the iron gates; the  wooden benches where you wait for the ferry; the inclined walk that is part cement, part wood with ridges to keep you from slipping. The steel seats with backrests that you move front and back so you face the direction the ferry is going; as kids we would sometimes not make the switch so we could ride backwards. The engine rumbling as the ferry neared the pier, and the old men still in their blue with white trim sailor uniforms reaching out with a pole to catch the ropes of manila hemp that secure the ferry.

It is an enchanting ride, the Star Ferry, as much now that I am much older as it was when I was a scrawny little kid holding on to my mother or my favorite uncle so I wouldn’t fall as the ferry swayed when we crossed the gangplank. Of the many charms of Hong Kong – and there are indeed many – the Star Ferry must be the best of them all.