The benches they have here at the waiting area are neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. The seat backs are reclined far enough to lean back on, but not far back enough to feel restful in. Armrests between seats are a good measure to provide an illusion of personal space, but you’d have to fight a stranger for the right to put your arm on them. Soft, grey carpets provide an amiable ambience, but the snazzy patterns mean that you can’t tell if they’ve been just installed yesterday or left unwashed for a decade. After an hour in the terminal, the smooth jazz was just a thinly veiled attempt to make you forget the stresses of customs and immigration. A ‘world class airport’ – at least that’s what the Airport Authority would tell you.
I’ve taken everything Hong Kong would give to me, just last night I was sitting by the harbor looking across a body of water shimmering with the reflection of the glittery skyline. By some measures this was the world’s best skyline; the natural elements complemented careful planning by the Town Planning Board. The night sky was never really dark, lights from the buildings would illuminate low lying clouds and the mountain range was perforated by sparking dots, each representing a family.
Before I had time to take in the full glory of the city with it’s blue neon lights, red and white incandescent bulbs, green LED lamps, and yellow advertising screens, lasers shot up into the sky. Suddenly, the passive and seemingly unrelated buildings danced to the music from the blaring speakers by the waterfront. The ‘Symphony of Lights’ is a man-made marvel; dozens of buildings choreographed their lights, lasers, and searchlights to put on the largest show in the world every single night. Thus, every night at eight, rain or shine, the ‘can do’ spirit of the city would shine through for the entire world to see. An allegory of how the city unites its diverse demography to make it a stronger place.
It’s true that a picture is worth a thousand words, but no photographer can capture what one experiences in a decade with a single shot. I’ve been here for over ten years and I thought I’d move on. Looking back, I never paid taxes, never done anything of mention, and hadn’t really given anything much to anyone. Do I owe this place a little something? I’m sure I do, but there’s nothing I can do about it now, can’t turn back.
Funny how feelings get to you when you know for a fact that you won’t be back. I’ve been away for years at a time before, but I’ve always known that I’d come back at the end of my absence. This time’s different; I’ve already resolved to move on for good. I may be back for friends, I may be back for family, I may be back for fun, but I’ll never be back to stay. It’s not so much that I miss the things here, but the memories, relationships, and people I’ve met.
I remember last night as I looked across from east to west I saw my grandparents home, the place where I first rode a scooter, my old school, the office building where I had my first desk job, the hilltop pagoda where I had my first kiss, the pier where I used to share a coffee with friends, and the hiking trail I used to climb with my father every other weekend. I guess it’s a little like selling your first house, or selling your first car, or graduating from high school. And it’s a lot like all these things happening all at once.
The trouble with Hong Kong is that though it has character it lacks personality; you can describe what Hong Kong is like but you can’t describe how you feel about it. If you do feel something, it’s about the people and the atmosphere and not the city. To a certain extent the people are the city, but in Hong Kong regular people play so little a role in shaping it that you hardly feel significant. Perfect for a career, terrible for life.
Will I miss Hong Kong? Sure, there’s a lot to remember. Do I love Hong Kong? Probably not as much as much as I love adventure – and that’s why I’m leaving. There’s so much in Hong Kong, you can have most anything you want and probably be able to experience it within hours of demanding it. It leaves little room for the development of personal attributes like patience, love, appreciation for art, and creativity. Everything is done for you; if you’re doing okay you can feel like a god among men. Trains, buses, ferries come every ten minute to get you anywhere in an hour, people picking up after you in fast food chains, excellent service at stores just a minute’s walk from home, and fine dining from around the world whenever you crave it.
Hong Kong is amazing for the village person who has never been to a city; it’s an urban miracle. Once I realized that refugees built this place, refugees like my grandparents were, I had a sense of pride to call this my home and respect for those who created it. But as a city boy who’s been used to this miracle I felt that I didn’t have the space or environment to really understand who I am and rely on myself. Here, everything’s given to you and I take things for granted.
Ah, the ferry. Last night, I saw a father pick up his toddler and run towards the gangplank. Also one of my favorite things to do! To catch a ferry just as the last call buzzer goes off; the sense of satisfaction when I’d leap across the moving gangplank onto the wooden deck of the vessel.
‘All aboard! All aboard!’ The sailor would cry as the buzzer went off.
‘Hold the gangplank, I’m coming!’ I’d yell from the pier.
‘Hurry up son, can’t hold on forever.’ He’d wave me in just before he locked the gate and pulled the gangplank up.
The sense of community and care that people have towards one another in the smallest of situations is so often lost and overlooked in a big city. I guess it’s time to get away from it all to look for real relationships with genuine people like the kind sailor on the Solar Star.
‘Last call for Mr. Got at gate 43. Please report to your gate agent immediately.’ The speakers rang.
Back to reality, time to stop writing and board that plane out of this town. I have to admit that I’m still hesitant to leave, leaving all this behind, but I know that if I don’t go I’ll never get anywhere. Hold the bridge, I’m coming for Canada!
