Island Hopping
Woke up last night to the overwhelming scent of urine. I think it's in the bed... There are little cockroaches in my little bathroom. One was on my arm this morning. I flung myself out of the shower and did a little panic dance, brushing at myself furiously with my hands. Found the roach and killed it with my sneaker before having the quickest shower of my life.
It rained on and off all day. The clear plastic windows were up on the ferry from Tsimshatsui to Central on the Star Ferry. Hong Kong Island was enveloped in a white haze of rain and fog. From Central it was a short walk across to the larger First Ferry terminal where I caught the double-storey jetfoil to the port of Mui Wo.
The jetfoil left Victoria Harbour in a drizzle of rain and cruised across the water for half an hour before docking. I ignored the taxi stand outside the terminal and the sign that said 'Catch taxi here to the Big Buddha.' Instead I climbed aboard bus no. 2 and headed to Ngong Ping to see the 'Big Buddha' and the Po-Lin Monastery.
The great bronze Buddha and the magnificently decorated monastery were crawling with tourists, despite the rain. The climb up hundreds of steps to the Buddha was littered with the panting bodies of overweight and unfit travellers trying to look like they were pausing to take in the view. In the monastery a local woman knelt before a gold buddha, making an offering. I decided to forgo the vegetarian meal inside the Big Buddha and climbed aboard a bus heading for the village of Tai-O.
The bus wound its way around the hills, climbing higher and higher before descending. Older than me the bus threatened to give out numerous times but always managed to pull itself onwards.
Lantau Island is a world away from Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. Massives explosions of green vegetation, dotted with monasteries perched on hillsides. The roads mostly vacant and the only sign of humans the houses that rose among the trees.
At first glance Tai-O seemed unimpressive. But away from the waterfront, behind shabby buildings, wound a few streets lined with shops. Old, collapsing buildings, some double-storied, selling everything from dried fish to Pokemon cards. Most seemed held together by some unseen force of sheer willpower. Tricycles with baskets. Fresh seafood twitching in aerated water, held in colourful plastic containers. Vegetables laid out for sale in shady spots, away from the sun that had managed to break through.
Houses on the water stood tall and somehow firm on stilts; cobbled together into a long line of oddly striking dwellings.
The long ride back to Mui-Wo on the bus was relaxing. I rode with the window open. The windows slide right back. It's like riding in a window-less bus with only bars on the side to fence you in. The mist was so thick I could almost feel it washing over my face.
I dozed on the jetfoil, heading back to Central, glad to have had a day away from the maddening crowd, with the scent of incense from the monastery in my hair.
More from billthepainter here