4.16.2003
-First day in Hong Kong-
Looking back on the past 24 hours I realise now that the 15th was destined to be a frenzied one. For a start, FedEx woke me up at 9.02am precisely with my visa sticker. At 9.30am the lady who has been dealing with my relocation called from Hong Kong to check that I had received the sticker. I sent out an email duly informing all and sundry that I was boarding a plane soon. Friends called. Dad called. The relocation lady tells me that I am due to fly out to Korea on a business trip next week. She calls again to tell me that I need to 'urgently' speak to the partner as soon as possible once I land. I call the friend's maid to confirm she will be waiting for me with the keys to my friend's flat. I give the handset to M. who is looking at me with an expression of sympathy and amusement.
"It seems like Hong Kong is like London on speed," he says.
Then the window cleaners arrive to clean the windows. I manage to cook the lunch without breaking any crockery (the hit list so far - a vase, three glasses and a plate) and we sit down to eat while listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I am so keyed up after packing my suitcases that M. decides we have to go for a short walk down to the local bakery to calm me down.
'Liddle sis' arrives and devours pastries as if she hasn't had lunch.
"Apparently they are wearing designer masks from Burberry's in Hong Kong," she says, between munches of fruit tart. I snort.
"You will be wearing those masks," M. says, looking at me ominously.
"Yes, dear," I say, secretly making a pledge to not wear them.
The taxi arrives. It takes one hour to get to Cricklewood. It takes another half hour to get to Hanger Lane. There is a lorry sprawled on the road in front of IKEA in Neasden, slap bang where we want to go. I give up but the taxi driver phones the airline to tell them we are going to be late. Then the car in front of us breaks down.
"Is it just me, or is everything conspiring against my leaving?"
I ask M. and Liddle sis. Both nod.
We get there and I don't even have time to do a weepy thing with either of them - I am hurried off to the departure point and before I know it I have reached the gate, thanks to the American Airlines employee with a snazzy cart. He had no choice but to drive me to my gate - I was about to do the weepy thing to him, and I guess he didn't want to deal with someone hysterical.
On board, I speak to a Filipino stewardess wearing a mask as we cross the golden dunes of the Gobi desert.
"I can't understand it - the other stewardesses in Manila are asking the Philippine government to ban us Filipinos who work in Hong Kong from entering our own country," she complained through her mask. "It's not like we are the dirty ones - the disease started out in Guangdong you know."
I nod, wondering how she manages to get so much as a word out of the mask. I received one, but I didn't wear it. She carried on,
"And what's this campaign about hygiene - it's not like I didn't wash before!"
I laughed. I thought the campaign by the Hong Kong government was rather funny, too.
"I know what you mean - it makes you wonder what people did do before!"
Hong Kong is subdued. The shopping centre still has people in it. Some wear masks, some don't - the women usually wear them, the men don't. I am immediately marked out as a foreigner by not wearing one, and for once, in Hong Kong, this is a good thing - everyone is being super nice to me, as if the entire tourist trade depended on my approval. The taxi driver even lent me his mobile phone to call the maid with the keys.
The government has taken to setting up these little 'hygiene booths' which have ladies handing out disinfectant and masks. I asked them the way to this internet cafe.
I am sure I will not be doing this again, so allow me to indulge in the delusions I have at the moment of being a traveller in Hong Kong as opposed to someone who is going to reside here for a while!