Back down south. Back up next to the salt. Back up next to waves. Love imagined and lust for real, for all
things Oceanic. It hasn’t nor will it
snow here in Shenzhen this winter but its wet and the trees speak to it and I
miss all this lusty moisture. Listen to bird calls. Those are semi-tropical
birds that you never hear amidst the big, violent clack claks of Beijing
magpies. I’m not a desert creature. Embraced by the semi-tropical Pearl River
Delta, it is lovely to see these oddball trees and hear these moist birds.
Digging fragrance now, hours later in Hong Kong. Flying about Hong Kong in the back of a
cab. We won’t be flying in a minute,
coming up ton the Harbor Tunnel. It’s a
lovely, sunny day, I'm overdressed in my insulated blazer. I think if my eyes were closed and the
Cantonese voice on the radio was turned off along with the intercom announcing
rides to the driver, that I, simply considering the rhythm of the driving could
probably ascertain that this was Hong Kong.
We rev up, whip around turns, abrupt stops, now speed off again. You can’t achieve speeds this fast at least
in the mainland because there is too great a chance that someone is going to
break the rules and cut out of know where.
Assuming asshole behavior, you necessarily drive slower, more
cautiously. People can push things
harder, faster, fly around corners because they’ve submitted to the rules.
The quality of advertisements here in Hong Kong is always
different. Faces look unabashedly
Cantonese. There is a sense of
exaggerated humor characteristic of Hong Kong.
Absurd smiles and silly guffaws.
Even the faces depicting beauty register beauty in a Cantonese way. Nose, different. Smile, chin, different. The traditional Chinese characters always
look so remarkably beautiful, complete, and alive. I want to spend time with them again.
We’re at the bottom of the tunnel now, under the
harbor. Our lane is going slowly. The adjoining lane has little to no
traffic. But there is a double line and
this driver nor anyone else will cross over and take advantage. Perhaps there is a camera that would catch
him, or perhaps it is just custom, but this would never hold in Beijing. Ahh, but then we’d have to have some water
we’d actually tunnel under wouldn’t we, with the water table so low they can’t
find much of anything beneath the loess
In the time it took to write that paragraph we’ve exited one
tunnel, drove quickly up over Causeway Bay and have dove into the next
tunnel. We’re making real good time here
driving through the Aberdeen tunnel.
Pangs of nostalgia for the three years or so I lived here when my kids
were young and we hiked in these hills and want to silly birthday parties at
this club or that club. We used to live over here on the west side, beyond Aberdeen
which we’re passing through now and over in Pok Fu Lam.
Coming down this morning after a meeting in Shenzhen, I was dreading
the crossing. The last two times I’ve
gone through it was a mad crowd of everyone with at least an hour to get
through the China side and worse on the Hong Kong side. You get through like someone emerging from a battle
and are in no mood to do anything else for the day. I was gearing myself up for it. I asked the lady as I checked out of the
hotel. She told me. “ohh, New Year’s is coming. It may be bad.” Damn.
It’s bad every time. My meeting
was near Lou Wu, the traditional crossing.
Everyone suggested it would be worse.
But how much worse could it be?
I seemed to remember a queue for foreign passports at Lou Wu
that hadn’t been the last two times at Hang Tian and Fu Tian crossings,
respectively. My friends all have HK IDs
that get them through quickly. Mine has
long since expired. I girded myself and
told the cab to head to Lou Wu. Tense as
we pulled up. Preparing for the
worst. There, was a line for foreign
passport holders. And there were three
people in it! Huray. Amazing.
No line at all. I waltzed through
pressed the happy face on the review button there and walked over to the Hong
Kong side. Here was a line, but it was
only 10 minutes worth. And I was out and
on the MTR. A surprisingly reasonable l
crossing, as I pull up now, to my hotel. Expecting the worst, it was rather 雷厉风行[1]
Riding down on the MTR, I tried, absurd though it was to do
the daily meditation, or at least a part of it.
I had a seat, what else do I need?
Pulled out the timer to pick up where I’d left off. Place the bag between my legs so it will be
pretty obvious if anyone messing with it if I close my eyes. Sitting up
straight, trying to feel my heart beat, concentrating on exhaling. But of course, you can’t tune the car and its
occupants out. Behind me a family in
from the mainland were discussing the buying of things in bulk, in Mandarin. Across from me a young mother with a stroller
beside her sat and began to chat in Mandarin with a heavy southern accent,
about rental prices with someone. At times my mind could float and expand. Then a statement or a phrase repeated would
call for attention. Something was too
expensive and she needed insist upon this, over and over, now her child was
feeling my leg. Yes, dear, I’m alive and
awake.
Mercifully, she rose and left with most of the car around
Kowloon Tong. One is, or at least I am,
acutely sensitive to mainlander / honky divide.
Local Hong Kong people tend to be quite on the train. I didn’t hear any Cantonese. Mainlanders can be louder. The swift flowing traffic of the road can
work magic on escalators as well, when everyone knows to keep right and let the
left side free for people who want to walk.
But mainlanders or anyone who keeps to the right instead, (as you would
in the mainland) or ignores the rules all together, (as you would in the
mainland) and clog the flow to a crawl.
Can this unique world, really resist thorough absorption?
Hotel room this morning.
I hate TVs. Hate em.’ Always, (or at least since I’ve been about
16) have. Intrusive, loud, flashy,
insipid cathode ray. BBC’s which is just
a bit more tolerable than CNN loudly announced that Japanese Prime Minister Abe
had struck a strong anti China pose at Davos.
Stay tuned! Well, OK. You have my attention. What’s this? I stay tuned.
His speech suggested that military build up was a waste of money. I didn’t find it particularly disruptive. It was of course directed at China but it was
hardly front-page news. I wondered if I
missed something. Hmm. I looked on the front page of the Washington
Post, as the Times is blocked and I don’t have a VPN with me, traveling. No mention.
Let’s watch. Suckered. It was just a puff piece and you bit into it,
hook, line and sinker. There are times, rarely,
when you want to look in and watch TV news.
I confess I turned on the TV the morning of 9/11. But for most things, I’d so much rather read
about them.
Sun setting over the west of Hong Kong Island now. Killer view out this hotel window. A real harbor with tankers and speedboats,
water taxis crossing north, cargo vessels trudging south. Slipped on Junior
Cook’s “Senior Cookin” at the end of the day.
The man from Pensacola, Florida whom I know from Horace Silver. Junior also played with just about everyone
from that pivotal time, including, say: Freddie
Hubbard, Elvin Jones, George Coleman, Louis Hayes, Bill Hardman , McCoy Tyner,
oh, and uh Dizzy Gillespie
I’mma head out now for the obligatory in Soho. More on it all, tomorrow.
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