[Sounds like an ice cream. ;-)]

Tonight we fly out of Hong Kong bound for Melbourne. Or, at least, we’re supposed to fly out of Hong Kong. Now, here’s the thing: we’ve known that this Sunday has been forecast to be wet (very wet?) for some time. What we’ve now learned is that the reason it has been expected to be wet is that a tropical storm is spiralling its way towards us. This tropical storm, named Khanun, is expected to be upgraded to tropical typhoon status as it continues its approach. Terrific! I swear to Darwin, if we travelled to the Atacama Desert, it would rain.

We awoke to the sight of heavy grey skies scudding swiftly across our hotel room view. Normally one sees fluffy clouds scudding but this was definitely the whole looming sky that was in on the act.

A plasticized information sheet had been left in our room by the hotel staff. This card contains a description of the typhoon warning signals issued by Hong Kong Observatory. Numbers, somewhat like our Beaufort Scale for wind, are associated with descriptions together with safety advice. The numbers are not sequential, though. They are also accompanied by a graphical geometric symbol which, at some levels, provides additional information, such as wind direction. In the vernacular, these warning signals are said to be “hoisted”.

As we headed down to repeat our hotel breakfast experience, we were faced with a notice saying that typhoon warning 3 had been hoisted: “Strong wind expected or blowing, with a sustained speed of 41-62 km/h and gusts up to 110 km/h.”

Wondering what lay in store for us, watching a forecast on the TV in the dining room, we enjoyed another breakfast of mixed fare, this time including the Pork Cartilage dish which seemed to be decent belly pork with not a bone or cartilage in sight. Odd. Brave Franco.

Quizzing the reception staff, we learned that the weather was expected to deteriorate through the day to be at its worst in the late afternoon. Our flight was supposed to leave Hong Kong at 10 minutes past midnight. Wondering whether [weather?] our plane would be able to take off was one immediate concern but further information from our helpful staff raised another concern, ground transportation gets disrupted, too. Hong Kong’s bridges become subject to traffic restrictions and roads seize up: cars were taking 2-3 hours to make the normally 30-minute journey too the airport. Taxis probably wouldn’t even take us to the airport. Great! The best way, we were told, was to go by train, the Airport Express from central station.

We were largely compelled to sit in our room thumb twiddling to see how conditions developed. Conditions were clearly worsening as predicted; the grey was darker, the cloud movement even brisker and the rain sporadically lashing against our 26th floor window, heavier.

Typhoon warning 8 was hoisted: “Gale or storm expected or blowing, with a sustained wind speed of 63-117 km/h from the quarter indicated and gusts which may exceed 180 km/h.” The quarter indicated by our graphic was northwest.

While I’m twiddling my thumbs, I have time to point out another fascinating feature of Hong Kong. Wandering the streets we spotted the inevitable sight of scaffolding, ubiquitous in most cities where construction or maintenance is constant, both large installations and small. Our much-loved Derby Bar was fronted by a small installation. “What’s so intriguing about scaffolding”, I hear you ask. Well, in Hong Kong the scaffolding is all bamboo poles lashed together; not a scrap of steel in sight. This is not so surprising on the small installations, such as that outside the Derby Bar, but seeing a tall skyscraper completely covered in bamboo scaffolding is another matter.

Watching for Cathay Pacific updates on their departures page and seeing that our flight was still expected to leave as timetabled, we decided to make our way to the airport on the Airporte Express train. It had the appealing benefit of being able to check-in our bags at the train station, rather than having to manhandle them ourselves to the airport check-in desks. Great idea. The hotel staff summoned a taxi for us at 16:30. Once we’d boarded, the driver insisted on charging us an extra HK$50 for the privilege of our moderately short ride to Central Station. Adverse conditions + desperate tourists = time to capitalize. Go figure. OK, an extra £5 …

The train was excellent and not surprisingly quite busy. Each train is very long and one departs every 15 minutes or so. Good service. We ended up safely in the absolutely enormous Hong Airport on Lantau Island sometime after 17:00. We drank our way through another HK$500 as we waited for 5 hours in the only bar we could find amongst all the fast food outlets. As we drank, the typhoon warning was downgraded to 3 again. No problem! We made our lengthy journey, which involved another train, to the departure gate.

Having boarded, we were delayed almost 30 minutes waiting for a connecting flight from China but, hey, having wondered if we, ourselves, would actually get away, we appreciated others needing to make the flight too. Good luck to ‘em.

Our overnight 9-hour flight to Melbourne finally rose into the night sky.

Arriving yesterday [Friday] afternoon and leaving tomorrow [Sunday] evening, today was to be our one full day in Hong Kong and we were keen to make the most of it playing tourist. Rather than waste time searching for breakfast on the streets, we opted for the HK$136 buffet breakfast in the hotel. This was an expansive spread with a bit of everything: omelettes could be ordered from the breakfast chef; there were western options including sausages,  beans and less usual chicken nuggets and mozzarella sticks; even more unusual for us was the oriental section including a modest dim sum selection, noodles with veggies, Thai fish cakes and, most intriguingly, “Pork Cartilage”. Hmm, I think I’ll pass on that. The melon and yogurt looked safer, though.

Overnight we’d lost much of the sun and a dull overcast was prevalent. The morning was warm and humid, though, and occasional breaks in the cloud began forming. There’s a couple of touristy things that might be considered as essential. One of these is to ascend Victoria’s Peak which “reaches an altitude of 552m and is one of the most visited tourist attractions in Hong Kong”, preferably via the funicular Peak Tram. Francine fancied that. She also fancied the other main “must do” which is a trip on the Star Ferry across to Kowloon on the mainland.

The Peak Tram departs from Hong Kong Park. I was keen to snag the dragonflies in the park again, this time with my proper wildlife lens. So, plan A was to take Shanks’s Pony back to HK Park for our morning diversion.

Walk around Hong Kong for very long and one particular sound becomes evocative. At each traffic light controlled pedestrian crossing, and there are many, a mechanical sound is heard. When traffic has the priority, the sound is a continuous rhythmic, slow, “clack, clack, clack”. Once the traffic’s light turns red and pedestrians have the right of way, the slow clack clack turns into a rapid clatter. It’s great and will become one of my overriding signature memories of HK. After 30 minutes of progress listening to clack, clack, clatter, clatter, clatter, clack, clack, clack, we arrived back at Hong Kong Park.

After an hour or so playing with the dragonflies at the ornamental lake, a few of which were additional to our first visit, it was 11:00 and we made our way to the Peak Tram station. So, it seemed, had half the population of Hong Kong; the queue looked interminable. It is “…one of the most visited tourist attractions in HK”. Yes, so we see. With an overcast sky threatening to make any scenic photography dull, leaving us simply to mutter “oo, ah” at the view that could be seen, and with the prospect of a subsequent interminable queue just to get back down again, we swiftly resorted to plan B, which Francine developed on the fly.

Plan B was to continue our walking tour of Hong Kong making for Pier 7 and the Star Ferry where we could head for Kowloon on the mainland, intending to look back at the skyline of Hong Kong Island and go “oo, ah” there, instead, complete with Francine’s camera. Our route took us past St. John’s Cathedral where it looked as if some sort of ceremony was about to kick off, so we couldn’t go inside. We continued to Pier 7 where we swiftly flashed our Octopus cards at the automated entry barrier for the ferry. Octopus magic happened and we were soon boarding one of the ferries, which appeared to depart every 10 minutes or so and were capacious, so, wonder of wonders, there was no queue. We were soon on our way over to Kowloon.

On our ferry ride, the view across Victoria Harbour had been decidedly hazy with a pants grey sky. The original concept of looking back at Hong Kong Island’s skyline and muttering appreciative “oo, ah” noises felt less than appropriate. When we disembarked, the water front of Kowloon and the main shopping streets were heaving so we tried Kowloon Park and its water features as an escape. After Hong Kong Park on the other side, Kowloon Park felt rather run down and very slightly seedy. It was certainly quieter than the surrounding streets, though, so it achieved that objective. Clearly the dragonflies were less impressed with it, too; we found just three species and one of those was being lunch for something else. Mind you, most of the handful of water bodies looked pretty sterile and more ornamental.

In the HK parks we’d been seeing frequently displayed signs of which I heartily approved. One sign banned smoking with a maximum fine of HK$5000 [~ £500]. Another sign banned dogs. Wonderful stuff! I wonder if they knew I was coming?

We’d tried a bus and a ferry, now it was time to head back to the relatively more civilized Hong Kong Island, a journey for which we elected to take the train that runs beneath Victoria Harbour. We flexed our Octopus cards again and were soon back at Admiralty station courtesy of the wonderfully efficient underground rail system.

We had one more form of Hong Kong public transport to experience, a “Ding Ding”. Ding Dings are vintage trams that come in a dazzling variety of colours. They’ve been running in Hong Kong since 1904 and looked like a charming way to travel, though there is a very limited choice of routes. Fortunately, the main route took us back towards our hotel. Having embarked at the rear of the tram, one has to alight from the front door – it’s a sort of one-way system – and forcing ones way forwards through the narrow lower deck can best be described as interesting. Chatting with a helpful young man back from university in England, after a few stops we spotted our opportunity, flashed our Octopus flexible friends again and alighted. Escaped!

We were now within striding distance of our hotel and began wending our way through Wan Chai’s market streets. These were much as we expected a Chinese market might be with a dazzling array of vegetable stalls, meat stalls and fish stalls. Most of the fruit and vegetables have become quite familiar to us in UK supermarkets in more recent years. Some items suspended in the butchers’ stalls defied recognition, though – I was particularly intrigued by a suspended long, brown, hairy tail. The fish stalls were a mix of eye-popping and distressing. Firstly, there wasn’t so much ice in evidence as water – many fish are sold alive, just, in too little water for comfort but alive nonetheless. I presume this is to keep them as fresh as possible in the prevailing heat and humidity. Particularly distressing was watching a live eel squirming around – alive but all but cut in half through the spine such that it could move its front half but only drag the still-attached rear half. I suspect that it could have escaped if left “intact”. No sense of feelings for animals that are a commodity, then. Quelle surprise!

As predicted, for dinner we thought for only a millisecond before returning to the delightful Derby Bar. We walked in and were instantly greeted like old friends by the barman, who ushered us back to our stools at the bar. Maybe he also enjoyed our interaction. Almost immediately, having remembered our drinks choices, he glanced for confirmation before pouring them and handing us a menu. Tonight we side-stepped the Fish and Chips. We thought we’d avoid the Deep Fried Chicken Cartilage [HK$68] and Fish Entrails with Cheese [HK$68], too. So, we asked the barman for his help with recommendations, which were a plate of Spicy Cuttlefish [HK$78], lightly battered with a chilli dipping sauce (salty, not sweet), together with a plate of Fried Mix Mushrooms with Garlic [HK$78], which unexpectedly came served on a bed of cabbage. Real vegetables, no less! OK, we’d better have some chips, too. We could have rounded off our feast with a Quick Fuck [HK$68] or two, or maybe some Sexual Chocolate [HK$68] but, no, we stuck with our trusty Chardonnay.

We’d timed our arrival to perfection as the small establishment began filling with folks intent on watching a football match between Manchester United and Liverpool. Happily, the screen was out of our eye line and we could continue our conversation with the jovial barman. He supports Man U, by the way.

I can’t recommend The Derby Bar highly enough; I’d be reticent to eat anywhere else in HK, now. 😀

After a 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Hong Kong, we’d landed somewhat heavily shortly after midday. We began our route march towards HK immigration where the single line looked depressingly long with 6 snaking coils, though maybe in this neck of the woods, dragoning coils might be more appropriate. Each coil must’ve been 50 folks long and the painful memories of how long time American immigration would take to process 300 people made me shudder. Surprisingly, the line kept moving pretty much continuously, though. Lessons from Disney line management, perhaps? Here, passport check was fast and efficient with no hint of any dumb questions, unlike American immigration which really doesn’t seem to want to let you in. Handing  over the landing card, passports were swiftly scanned and through we went.

It was time for Francine to deal with her mum’s ashes again. No problem; no raised eyebrows. Excellent.

After a slightly worrying delay with Francine’s, both bags turned up. Our next job was to collect our pre-ordered Octopus cards at somewhere referred to as A13. The new-ish HK airport on Lantau Island is massive (Kai Tak was the old one in my boyhood memories). On our long walk dragging our freshly retrieved bag. we saw shops but nothing resembling a booth or kiosk, which we expected. Duh! Public transport in HK requires exact change. Octopus cards are preloaded cards used on all public transport which avoid the need for small change. They were ordered in the UK and come preloaded with HK$50 [about £5]. Eventually we saw large letter-A’s implying that we were now close to our goal. A small collection of booths to the right – one with A13 above it. At last. Francine collected our cards; the pre-ordering had worked.

Then we went in search of a taxi. The new HK airport is on Lantau Island. Our hotel is on Hong Kong Island so a helpful taxi guide – there were three different types of taxi – told us we needed an Urban Taxi, the red ones. Our driver seemed to understand our hotel name and off we went. The ride took us passed many very high-rise buildings that seemed to be clustered within touching distance of each other. Human termite mounds, was the thought that sprang to my mind. Traffic flowed smoothly and after a toll tunnel and a toll bridge we were on Hong Kong Island, where traffic snarled up and progress became stop-start. A turn or two more, though and we’d arrived. The ride cost HK$400 [~ £40], cash only. In HK you pay for bags in the boot as well as passengers.

Chirpy reception staff were expecting us and checked us in. Prepaid stuff is a bit of a novelty for us but so far, so good – things seemed to be working. We were shepherded up to the 26th floor There are 27) and, though the room was bijou, it was perfectly adequate and we had a room on the good side overlooking our part of the city. That’ll give Francine something to play with. 😉

‘T was now about 15:00 and having had no sleep on a 12-hour flight, some air and exercise was in order; a leg stretch in Hong Kong Park seemed like a good idea. Besides, it appeared to have some water features which might give a weary Franco something to play with. Our friendly reception staff pointed us to a bus stop immediately outside reception. After a few minutes, we boarded a bus and proved that our octopus cards worked a dream.  The ride was about a mile and, guessing the correct stop at which to alight, we wandered through a plush shopping mall complete with attractive decorative lights, up several escalators, as directed, to get to the entrance to HK Park.

The park was sunny and warm. It was terraced up the sides of a slope. We found a plant house, with running water just outside and, below that, a couple of so-called ornamental ponds.

Being a bit spacey and lazy, I had decided just to take my lighter-weight travel lens which goes to a nominal 300mm, though at close distances it really is only as effective as a 150mm lens. My mistake soon became obvious when we found seven species of odonata flitting about in the sunshine at the ornamental lakes. Some looked like species I was familiar with from Singapore but a few were clearly new to me. Furthermore, they were keeping their distance so I really could have done with the longer lens. Bother! Will I never learn? Nonetheless I managed a few shots that I think will be OK. [I think this is Tramea virginia but don’t quote me yet.]

A refreshing Tsingtao beer at a thoughtfully provided bar set us up for a walk back to the hotel. It took about 30 minutes and helped keep us awake.

After a reviving douche it was time to make a dinner decision. Having wasted considerable time on several occasions searching for ourselves in Spain, we asked for guidance at reception. They suggested their sister hotel a few doors down the street “if we liked Chinese food”, or a slightly longer walk down to Times Square. Yes, HK has a Times Square. The restaurant in the sister hotel would be OK but we thought we’d use that as a banker and wandered off to Times Square. Here was the Hong Kong bustle. ‘T was Friday night and ‘t was heaving. As with our Spanish experiences, restaurants were not immediately obvious. In the mall, a map showed a couple of eateries downstairs. They were distinctly Chinese, full of locals so no doubt fine but they looked noisy and felt cafeteria-like – OK for lunch but now they just didn’t appeal. Somewhat despondent, we headed back towards the banker hotel.

On the way back, in the centre of a complex series of pedestrian crossings, we passed a golden dragon statue that served as a useful orientation landmark, being quite close to home base. Shortly after snagging this, Francine spotted a bar called The Derby which looked quiet enough to be closed but a glance through the window showed it to be open. There was a board suggesting food on the street outside. We followed another couple in and were shown to two stools at the bar itself. The lady owner was friendly, the barman was friendly and we studied the menu over drink #1, a large Tsingtao for me (the barman didn’t ask, just poured) and a Chardonnay for Francine.  The menu contained various items of interest. It looked and felt something like a London pub but it felt comfortable and calm, just what we needed. We shared a plate of fish ‘n’ chips and a plate of BBQ’d pork as we continued drinking and making friends with the barman.

Bloody marvellous, 12-hours from London to Hong Kong and we’re eating fish and chips. Still, most chippies in the UK are Chinese-run, aren’t they? It was bloody great. I could see us eating here again tomorrow. 🙂

Seven years ago, we had been planning a long trip to the Antipodes, mainly to do a campervan trip around New Zealand. Medical issues for Franco caused it to be delayed. We thought about it again a few years later but this time frail mothers made us think lengthy absences were, perhaps, not a sensible idea. Finally, in 2017, we are healthy enough (as far as we know) and free enough to try again. Third time lucky, we hope.

Having estimated the basic costs doing arranging it ourselves, Francine asked Trailfinders to put together an itinerary. It matched our cost estimate so, taking the easy option, we went for it. The basics were to visit friends and family in Australia for three weeks, then spend four weeks in New Zealand in a campervan. We wanted to push the boat out and travel premium economy class which made our agents favour flying Cathay Pacific. We’d wondered about Singapore Airlines, liking that as a stopover destination, but apparently not all their fleet has premium economy. Still, that choice routed us through Hong Kong, which would be new where we’d stay for three nights. Scary – a new city with hoards of people.

Yesterday, 12th October, our favourite local taxi firm pitched up at 12:45 to take us to Heathrow Terminal 3. The nice chatty driver let me sit in the front for leg room. Our conversation caused his eyebrows to raise slightly when he realized we’d be a good three hours ahead of our 17:05 flight but, like me, he understood the benefit of removing any potential time pressure from the equation.

Francine is carrying some of her mother’s ashes to Australia, where her brother lives. She mentioned it at check-in to make sure it wouldn’t cause a problem at the Hong Kong end; it wouldn’t – all went smoothly.

Things stopped going completely smoothly after we’d boarded when we were eventually told that a family of four was not allowed to board the plane due to “passport irregularities”. Their passport irregularities delayed our departure by 30 minutes as their baggage was unloaded. Finally, we were off.

Relative comfort; we had both leg room and elbow room. Maybe it’s worth paying for a bit of moderate posh class.

Despite the comfort, I failed to get any sleep. Studiously ignoring the dubious delights of Captain Underpants and Despicable Me, I began by watching Churchill, which taught me a thing or two about the erstwhile great man, assuming that it was historically accurate. For round two, I switched to Tom Cruise looking rather unlikely as Jack Reacher and being appropriately violent in a super-hero kind of way. Now hungry for sleep, I finally resorted to My Cousin Rachel, a Daphne Du Maurier costume drama which I thought might have made me nod off but which failed to do so, simply making me discard the headphones. relatively spacious though my seat was, it was still a seat and not a bed. Sleep eluded me. What I really needed was Lincoln, which must be almost the dullest film I’ve ever not seen because it successfully made me nod off on my 13-hour flight to Singapore five years ago, so stultifying was it. Just FYI, the accolade of the dullest film I’ve ever not seen remains Death in Venice, which I walked out of, not whilst on an aeroplane, I hasten to add. Where are the really dull films when you desperately need them?

After 12 hours of sleeplessness, we smacked – and I do mean smacked – onto the Hong Kong tarmac. Nice smooth flight, even if boringly long, but a rather less than smooth landing. We’ve arrived.