Hong Kong

April 25–30, 2010

The one thing you definitely don’t need to do in Hong Kong is see the laser show. The biggest in the world, the one that’s in The Guinness Book of World Records, astounding and unforgettable. It’s hard to imagine anything more boring and dumb. This is what it looks like: you stand in a crowd and look across the water, where one and a half lasers go blink-blink for a couple of seconds on some of the skyscrapers, crookedly and unevenly moving out of sync with the music. At first it seems like it’s just the city’s usual lights blinking. But no, this is the show.

Skyscrapers are great for air-drying laundry on the top floors.

It’s not considered embarrassing to take everything outside here. For instance, sewage pipes are all laid along the outside of the buildings.

The skyscrapers are pretty, there are lots of them, billboards everywhere. You’ve seen it all on TV. But the most interesting part, real Chinese life, takes place in between the skyscrapers. This is where the common people’s barbershops are, where cow stomach is being boiled, tubs filled with mysterious white worms sit on the ground and unpleasant muck trickles at your feet.

The escalator in the subway shows you how to stand on it—in case you weren’t sure.

A green light on the well-designed map in the train (I always recall the horror you see in the Moscow metro) indicates the side on which the doors will open at the next stop.

All the taxis are Toyotas of indeterminate age with signs that say “4 seats” or “5 seats.” The latter have a bench seat in the front instead of two separate seats.

There’s very little room for cars on the streets. That’s why some places have signs for taxi drivers that say “drop off only.” In places where vehicles can stand and wait, both drop off and pick up are permitted.

Hong Kong license plates are just as hideous as the ones in Guyana.

This traffic sign has been temporarily suspended.

All the scaffolding is made from bamboo. It looks a little odd juxtaposed with the buildings which it covers.

Signs showing the distance to the nearest manholes.

Road construction workers set up special sandboxes instead of just dumping all the sand straight onto the ground.

An interesting sign: “Warning, trucks backing up.”

Pedestrian traffic lights.

The pavement is studded with flat metal pyramids along the edges of zebra crossings. They reflect light well at night.

Bus schedules.

Fire hydrant.

All the sidewalks without exception are fenced off from the roads with one single type of railing. This type:

A typical Hong Kong trash can being emptied by a female street cleaner with a trash bag cart.

Separate bins for different types of trash and recycling. They’re not abused here.

Post boxes.

Phone booths.

Manhole covers.

There’s such a lack of free space in Hong Kong that even Ikea is located in a three-story basement. And the entrance is via an escalator down. In every other country where I’ve seen Ikea stores, they’ve always been the size of an airport and located outside the city.

The inhabitants of top floors are entitled to a special enclosure, which prevents their drying laundry from being blown away by the wind.

A walking advertisement.

All the street sellers hawk their wares under red plastic lampshades of the same kind. They’re always red and always exactly the same.

Hanging over all the street stalls. Everywhere.

There are two features that make Hong Kong look specifically like Hong Kong, and not like Japan or Taiwan.

The first feature is the type of advertising constructions used and the way they are mounted. While in Japan all the signage on the outside of buildings is vertical and strictly one meter wide, here people install horizontal banners stretching as far out as they can manage. The whole construction is additionally reinforced with an enormous number of cables.

The second feature is the double-decker trams. They immediately make the city look like another planet.

As far as the rest goes, it’s typical Asia—where the duckling hangs out with the squid.