A chummy Hong Kong
Why a hotel in Tokwawan, Kowloon City, of all places? I asked myself upon learning where I was to be billeted for a media familiarization tour, sponsored by the Hong Kong Tourism Board, no less. Most Filipino travelers to this perennially favorite shopping haven might not even have heard of the area, much less been to this mostly Hongkies’ (native Hong Kong Chinese) residential enclave. Has the HKTB been so hit by the world economic meltdown it has started to penny-pinch on its promotional junkets? It’s so uncharacteristic of them, since its budget is probably two hundredfold over our own DOT’s.
But don’t get me wrong. I know Tokwawan like the palm of my hand — well, almost, at some point in time. You see, it was the home of my darleng Mary Ann and our son Nico for close to 10 years when she was still working for Cathay Pacific, whose office then was at the old Kai Tak Airport complex, which was a close five-minute taxi ride from their Fook Chi apartment. On good weather days she’d jog to work and back. Yaya Tess would walk Nico to Kowloon Junior initially, then to King George V as he progressed in school.
It was during my several visits to the apartment that I got familiar with Tokwawan area, especially in the last two months just before Mary Ann retired from work, which coincided with the transfer of the airport to Chep Lap Kok back in 1998. In between the packing, I’d do the chores of marketing and cooking, with a Wellcome and Park & Shop conveniently located just around the block, and a wet market a little bit further down the road. On alternate days, I’d walk several blocks away to the bus stop where I’d take bus no. 5 to Star Ferry Terminal and walk to YMCA for my swim routine. Along the way, I’d wander inside the neighborhood stores selling house wares, dried seafood and other comestibles serving the local residents.
My trepidation about staying in Tokwawan comes from my familiarity with the neighborhood. It’s hardly a tourist area so far removed from any subway line and hustle and bustle of malls and chic stores; it’s a working class district where real people live (but then again, who doesn’t work in Hong Kong?). Must have turned into a ghost town, I imagined, after the transfer of the old airport. And a hotel of any category in the area? I don’t recall ever seeing one back then.
Anyway, while packing the last boxes of my darleng’s belongings, I remember vividly seeing this massive campaign being constantly flashed on TV prodding the locals, especially store vendors, to “smile” in dealing with tourists. This was the last impression I had of Hong Kong: the grim rudeness of its people, all business-like, no-nonsense, small-talking, especially the camera shop vendors on the so-called Golden Mile on Tsim Sha Tsui, as if there’s an unwritten sign on shops’ entrances: “Don’t bother entering if you’re not buying.” I guess the HKTB had learned its lesson from the roller coaster dips of tourist arrivals since the outbreak of the bird flu in 1997, and then again with SARS in 2003. And now comes the world economic meltdown, where “staycation” (staying at home or traveling within one’s locality) has become the name of the game, and with the outbreak of H1N1 virus or swine flu early this year, people are generally canceling their travel plans.
Upon my arrival at the Chep Lap Kok airport, I was met by Hongky Sydney Luk, the designated HKTB guide for the duration of my four-day stay. As our car drove down the skyway landing on Kowloon City Road, my heart skipped a beat as I started seeing familiar landmarks — the Fook Chi building on our left, the city park where Mary Ann and Nico used to play basketball on the right, and passing through the wet market before we finally reached a spanking new five-star hotel: Harbour Plaza 8 Degrees.
Having checked in the hotel a little before 11 a.m., I was told to wait as the room was still being made, having been fully booked the previous night. Not bad for a two-week-old hotel, I said to myself. Not wanting to waste any time, I went about on an ocular tour of its facilities since my official activity would start only at 3 p.m. Finding the swimming pool on the third floor (second floor hereabouts, as they start counting with ground floor), a rather large uniquely shaped outdoor pool with crystal clear blue water so inviting, I asked the lifeguard if I could swim even though I had no room assignment yet. “That will be no problem, sir. I’ll give you a towel and a locker key inside the changing room over there,” he replied with a smile. I hurried down back to the ground floor to get my swim gear in my luggage deposited at the concierge. Changing to my rubber sandals, I was in a bind as to where to place my shoes. I asked for a plastic bag, which the concierge instantly produced. “And another one,” I said, to store my swim gear and new set of clothes. This he gave without blinking an eye, and with a smile to boot. Must this be the new “smiling” Hong Kong? I couldn’t help but smile back.
After my swim, I finally got to my room around 1 p.m. on the non-smoking 18th floor, which I had specifically requested. It is a spacious room, sleek, down-to-basics design with well-equipped modern furnishings and amenities, far more luxurious than most of the cramped hotel rooms in the Golden Mile area. (I just wished, though, that the designers had thought of placing an electric outlet just above the table/desk where the electric kettle is placed. I had to heat water placing the kettle on the floor to reach the outlet below the desk.)
Looking out the window, one could see the hotel towering above the relatively low-rise apartment buildings surrounding it, due to height restrictions back then when the old airport was still at Kai Tak. Memories of jumbo jets roaring over one’s head flashed back as the area was directly along the planes’ landing path.
I could see right below me the Tokwawan wet market and to the far left the park. Still having a good two hours before my pickup time, I rushed down to reacquaint myself with my “old haunts” in the neighborhood. Just across the street from the hotel lobby are already the familiar dry goods and comestible shops, the vegetable and fish stalls, and the corner meat store where butchers still cut meats as per order. Tucked in between these shops is a barbeque meat stall, with scores of roast duck, pigeon and char siew hanging by the glass window beckoning this hungry soul. I vowed to buy some tapao (take-out) on my way back.
Just around the block are the Park & Shop and Wellcome supermarkets. Entering both for just a quick “look-see” for anything I might want to bring home, I nevertheless bought some sundries. Upon paying, the cashier said if I wanted the items bagged, it would cost me HK$0.50 (P4!). “Ay sayang,” I found myself saying. It’s a good thing the items weren’t bulky, just enough to fit in my pocket, but making sure I kept the receipt lest I be mistaken for shoplifting. Shoppers are encouraged to bring their own reusable bags, you see: Hong Kong has finally turned green, just like back here.
Backtracking a bit, I headed to Kowloon City Road where Fook Chi apartment is located. Upon reaching the spot where I knew it was supposed to be, I felt a little disoriented (“disorientated,” as the Brits would say) not recognizing its façade. The building’s front has been refurbished completely with a modern granite and glass floor-to-ceiling windows, little realizing the apartment’s tiny signage and original steel gate still there. It is presently sandwiched by a chic jewelry shop to its left and a chocolate confectionary to its right. While there, two busloads of tourists (they looked like they were from mainland China) were being herded into the stores. But peering through the side of the building, it was still the same old one I knew, perhaps a lot more decrepit now, that was once home for my darleng and Nico, and more than a hundred other flight attendants.
Having satisfied my nostalgia, I headed back to the hotel, of course remembering to pass by the barbecue joint for my tapao. Back in my hotel room, while savoring the last morsel of the roast duck, I realized I just had my own “staycation” right in the heart of a once-familiar place, good as any tourist destination.
