"I bit my tongue and said nothing..."
With three blasts of our ship's whistle, we backed out into Manila’s harbour under the steely gaze of a setting sun. The colours in the sky were highlighted by a pall of pollution hanging in the upper atmosphere around the island, but at least it made for a scenic sunset. Invisible during the day, the fouling in the heavens did not detract for a minute the excitement that we had experienced in the Philippines.
We set off through the narrow harbour entrance and followed the coast up and into the South China Sea towards our next port of call, Hong Kong – a day’s sail away.
Much has changed in Hong Kong since the hand-over back to the Chinese, or so the British on board would tell you.
The days of picturesque junks plying the harbour and the Chinese lanterns strung across streets full of markets and opium dens, have now given way to commercial buildings and a generic shopping experience that is devoid of any of the old culture that Hong Kong was known for.
The entrance into Hong Kong Harbour, however, is one thing that you can’t change – breathtaking for passengers and a challenge for the bridge team – it is one of the busiest and most dramatic shipping channels in the world. With each turn through the narrow gaps between the islands on the approach, the city is slowly unwrapped and revealed until finally you come around the edge of Kowloon Island where the metropolis is laid bare before you.
It’s a confronting and monumental bank of towering steel, concrete and marble. Colossal scrapers reach for the stars (it is only 5am) and now you realise why, for the Chinese, the return of Hong Kong to them was so important.
Today is another walking day, so once I hit the island, I headed straight for the ‘Peak'.
The Peak is a mountain that towers over the city. At 552m it is not something that I would have considered climbing without aid, although plenty do. In the old days the British would be taken up in sedan chairs by puffing and sweating locals. However, I thought that I might take the less controversial tram which seemed to be a more responsible and less colonial way to get to the top. Here, docked right in the heart of the city next door to the star ferries that ply the harbour from Kowloon to Hong Kong, I was rather taken aback when the young lady at the ticket counter automatically gave me the senior discount. As I was protesting, I thought with my other brain and realised that the discount would cut the cost in half, I bit my tongue and said nothing.
After admiring the view from the top level overlooking the multitude of apartment blocks, skyscrapers and distant mountain peaks and strategically avoiding the hordes of tourists fighting for the room to take a selfie, I began the long walk down through the bush, the chatter of excited Chinese tourists replaced by bird call and the sound of running water. Great vistas over the city are exposed as you descend this narrow path. It's pretty steep and I was surprised to find a group of octogenarians climbing up, a walking group who do the climb every morning, avoiding the many escalators dotted along the path that go in the direction of the rush hour walkers. Their average age would be an inspiration to any Ryman Villager.
Away from the frenetic pace of Hong Kong – the shopping, the people, the cars, the bikes and life in general, the way down is an island of calm amongst the chaos and includes amongst the charms a sculpture park, an aviary and a zoo and who doesn't enjoy a flamboyance of flamingos.
As the sun began setting behind the towering monoliths and for a last view of the cityscape, it seemed only right to ride the giant ferris wheel situated on the waterfront.
When buying my ticket, the young lady at the ticket counter automatically gave me the senior discount and as I was protesting I thought with my other brain and realised that it cut the cost in half, ”Well, thank you,” I said, “I don’t mind if I do.” (ROSS THORBY)