May 2016. Tsim Sha Tsui terminal in Kowloon receded behind the mist. The green and white Star Ferry made its way across Victoria Harbor toward Hong Kong Island. The wind on my face was a welcome respite from the muggy air that enveloped this Special Administrative Region (SAR) of China. The skyline of Central District loomed closer. Soon, a crew member would throw a rope with a loop at the end to his comrade waiting with a bill hook on the pier, the gangway would be lowered, and passengers on the upper and lower decks would alight.
Disembarking from the Star Ferry used to be a spectacle with scores of commuters jockeying for position beside the gangway. It wasn’t so that afternoon. In fact, the boat was virtually empty. Most of us on board appeared to be visitors who weren’t in a hurry to get off for work or appointments. I thought back to the numerous trips I’ve made to Hong Kong, and each time, the ferry seemed to be less crowded.
One could cross the harbor faster with the Mass Transit Railway (MTR). Its stops were more conveniently located and involved fewer transfers. Its climate-controlled cars were more comfortable than the sun- and wind-drenched decks of the ferry. And one didn’t expect to get seasick on the subway during bad weather. If I had to commute daily, I’d choose to be on the MTR.
But as an occasional visitor to the region, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about the gradual decline of classic experiences in Hong Kong. The absence of Union Jacks and other symbols of the old British crown colony weren’t lamentable. The economy of the Chinese SAR was more vibrant and the infrastructure, more developed.
But a few losses were regrettable. How could I forget my shock at seeing our plane closely swing by skyscrapers when landing at the old Kai Tak airport along Victoria Harbor during my first visit in 1980? The evening take-off was especially thrilling with the plane seemingly headed straight for the brightly-lit buildings and signs.
Back then, my family and I enjoyed a sampan ride through the house boats at Aberdeen Harbor. The same ride could still be had, I heard, but the proliferation of high-rise apartments in the background would make the floating village seem anachronistic rather than a common way of life.
Before Hong Kong Disneyland and Ocean Park, there was the Tiger Balm Garden. The landscaped theme park with its tall pagoda and weird sculptures firmly established Hong Kong as Chinese.
There’s hope. The Central-Mid-level escalator system wasn’t a threat to the funicular to Victoria Peak. On a sunny May afternoon in 2014, I looked up at Victoria Peak across the harbor from Kowloon, and prayed, “Please don’t let the high-rises scale further up the mountain and obliterate the view from there. That could make the Peak Tram irrelevant. Let this relic of classic Hong Kong remain.”
Unlock the door. 