Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Hong Kong: Day Two
Soundtrack: 'Ocean Rain' by Echo and the Bunnymen
Apparently, the sun hadn't come out in HK for the past few years. I think that there must have been a storm in the night or something, though, because by morning all the haze had cleared away and the sun had burned away all the humidity. Now, there was just plain heat.
I descended the Mid-Levels Escalator again, this time to catch the ferry to Kowloon. The locals joke that you chose between first class and second class on the ferry. First class is HK$2.20 and you get to sit on the top deck, second class is HK$2 and you have to sit on the bottom deck. I opted for "first class."
Kowloon is completely different to HK Island - it's really properly Asia. Instead of the streets being lined with Gucci, Versace, D & G etc etc, there are Chinese signs everywhere, and there are only English translations on the road signs. I took the mass transit railway (MTR - the HK underground) up to two-thirds up Nathan Street, which runs through the whole of Kowloon, from north to south. I used Nathan Street as my guide and I decided to walk its entire length to take in the main sights of Kowloon. However, after a visit to the Ladies' Market, I headed in the wrong direction up Nathan Street, and after walking north for around a kilometer, I hit the New Territories. Wank.
But no worries, eh? I walked back south again, and I noticed that right at the top of Kowloon, everybody is Chinese and there are no foreign faces. The south you get, you see more Indian faces, then more blacks and whites gradually appear, until you're close to the harbour and everybody seems to be South African or Australian. Or from Essex. On the way, I also took in the Night Market on Temple Street and the Fish Market. But more importantly, I made an excursion to Kowloon Cricket Club.
I'd seen it on the map, and I knew that I had to go there. When I finally found the entrance after tramping around its entire perimeter, there was a sign beside the gates saying "Members Only. No Unauthorised Admittance." For a moment, part of me told the rest of me to walk away. Yeah, right. I just walked straight in and nobody gave a shit that some scruffy, sweaty girl had just entered their revered pavilion. And some pavilion it is too - very very very swanky, at least county standard, probably international standard. The pitch itself was a bit rubbish, and it appears that it's only used for outfield football. Two Indian boys walked in with bats for a net, but just as one was waiting to be bowled a ball, another of their mates came along and chucked a football at him and that was that and they ended up having a kickaround.
Just as I was walking back to the ferry, I saw a bunch of people walking into the Cultural Centre in evening wear and/or carrying instrument cases. I went to ask, and it turned out that the HK Philharmonic were doing a concert - symphonic jazz. I went and bought myself a ticket in the cheap seats on the balcony and sat with the plebs, who even clapped between movements and shit. The horror.
The hall was about a third full, which I thought was disappointing considering the apparent talent of the performers as praised in the programme. Yeah, right. My mother used to ask me what I'd do if I decided to go and do music and I couldn't get into one of the big orchestras, like the LSO or the Halle or one of the BBC orchestras or whatever, and I didn't know so I decided to become a doctor, which is all-round much the better and more fulfilling career suited to me anyway. Anyway, now I know the answer. If you're not good enough for the LSo or the Halle or one of the BBC orcestras or whatever, you join a second-rate orchestra in the Far East, where nobody can tell the difference anyway.
I sat and watched them play, and they had zero charisma, let alone no sense of cohesiveness. There was no passion in their playing - when you play music, you have to surrender your Self to the audience. Performing a piece of music should be opening a window to you soul, laying yourself bare for everybody to see. And that's what makes the greatest musicians. Yes, you can have technical skill and finesse in buckets, but if you play like a robot then you can't be truly great. But the soloists were pretty good: that Canadian-Japanese guy, Jon Kimura Something, and a clarinettist called Andrew Simon (or something similar), who's apprently rated very highly in the international clarinet scene. I can sit and be horrible about it all I want (and I really can - I felt that the WSYO we had at Easter could have outclassed them on the same programme), but actually, I always enjoy seeing live music, no matter how bad, and I was glad I did catch the concert because a) the venue was wonderful and b) I love that feeling where you come out of a concert at night, no matter what the genre, and you have music swimming around in your head as you walk through the darkness.
It would've been quicker to catch the MTR back, but I wanted to see the lights reflected in the harbour, and it was totally totally worth the HK$2.20. And then some. This was when I got the song 'Ocean Rain' stuck in my head, and when I got back to my room, I listened to the whole album. I have the anniversary re-issue of 'Ocean Rain,' so it's got loads of extra tracks on it. I much prefer the live version of the title track - the band just sound so great, playing live in front of a Liverpool home crowd of thousands.
Apparently, the sun hadn't come out in HK for the past few years. I think that there must have been a storm in the night or something, though, because by morning all the haze had cleared away and the sun had burned away all the humidity. Now, there was just plain heat.
I descended the Mid-Levels Escalator again, this time to catch the ferry to Kowloon. The locals joke that you chose between first class and second class on the ferry. First class is HK$2.20 and you get to sit on the top deck, second class is HK$2 and you have to sit on the bottom deck. I opted for "first class."
Kowloon is completely different to HK Island - it's really properly Asia. Instead of the streets being lined with Gucci, Versace, D & G etc etc, there are Chinese signs everywhere, and there are only English translations on the road signs. I took the mass transit railway (MTR - the HK underground) up to two-thirds up Nathan Street, which runs through the whole of Kowloon, from north to south. I used Nathan Street as my guide and I decided to walk its entire length to take in the main sights of Kowloon. However, after a visit to the Ladies' Market, I headed in the wrong direction up Nathan Street, and after walking north for around a kilometer, I hit the New Territories. Wank.
But no worries, eh? I walked back south again, and I noticed that right at the top of Kowloon, everybody is Chinese and there are no foreign faces. The south you get, you see more Indian faces, then more blacks and whites gradually appear, until you're close to the harbour and everybody seems to be South African or Australian. Or from Essex. On the way, I also took in the Night Market on Temple Street and the Fish Market. But more importantly, I made an excursion to Kowloon Cricket Club.
I'd seen it on the map, and I knew that I had to go there. When I finally found the entrance after tramping around its entire perimeter, there was a sign beside the gates saying "Members Only. No Unauthorised Admittance." For a moment, part of me told the rest of me to walk away. Yeah, right. I just walked straight in and nobody gave a shit that some scruffy, sweaty girl had just entered their revered pavilion. And some pavilion it is too - very very very swanky, at least county standard, probably international standard. The pitch itself was a bit rubbish, and it appears that it's only used for outfield football. Two Indian boys walked in with bats for a net, but just as one was waiting to be bowled a ball, another of their mates came along and chucked a football at him and that was that and they ended up having a kickaround.
Walking along, I noticed the name of a product in a pharmacy called Pimpless. I can only assume that it's some sort of mean of moving towards self-employment for prostitutes. Heaven knows what its effect is on people who aren't on the game.
Along the harbour is the Avenue of Stars, like that place in LA where people imprint their hands in the pavement. Except with HK movie stars. I was most cheered by the small fact that I have bigger hands than Michelle Yeoh and Maggie Cheung, and the same sized hands as Sammo Hung and John Woo. Jackie Chan has freakishly long fingers in comparison with his palms.Just as I was walking back to the ferry, I saw a bunch of people walking into the Cultural Centre in evening wear and/or carrying instrument cases. I went to ask, and it turned out that the HK Philharmonic were doing a concert - symphonic jazz. I went and bought myself a ticket in the cheap seats on the balcony and sat with the plebs, who even clapped between movements and shit. The horror.
The hall was about a third full, which I thought was disappointing considering the apparent talent of the performers as praised in the programme. Yeah, right. My mother used to ask me what I'd do if I decided to go and do music and I couldn't get into one of the big orchestras, like the LSO or the Halle or one of the BBC orchestras or whatever, and I didn't know so I decided to become a doctor, which is all-round much the better and more fulfilling career suited to me anyway. Anyway, now I know the answer. If you're not good enough for the LSo or the Halle or one of the BBC orcestras or whatever, you join a second-rate orchestra in the Far East, where nobody can tell the difference anyway.
I sat and watched them play, and they had zero charisma, let alone no sense of cohesiveness. There was no passion in their playing - when you play music, you have to surrender your Self to the audience. Performing a piece of music should be opening a window to you soul, laying yourself bare for everybody to see. And that's what makes the greatest musicians. Yes, you can have technical skill and finesse in buckets, but if you play like a robot then you can't be truly great. But the soloists were pretty good: that Canadian-Japanese guy, Jon Kimura Something, and a clarinettist called Andrew Simon (or something similar), who's apprently rated very highly in the international clarinet scene. I can sit and be horrible about it all I want (and I really can - I felt that the WSYO we had at Easter could have outclassed them on the same programme), but actually, I always enjoy seeing live music, no matter how bad, and I was glad I did catch the concert because a) the venue was wonderful and b) I love that feeling where you come out of a concert at night, no matter what the genre, and you have music swimming around in your head as you walk through the darkness.
It would've been quicker to catch the MTR back, but I wanted to see the lights reflected in the harbour, and it was totally totally worth the HK$2.20. And then some. This was when I got the song 'Ocean Rain' stuck in my head, and when I got back to my room, I listened to the whole album. I have the anniversary re-issue of 'Ocean Rain,' so it's got loads of extra tracks on it. I much prefer the live version of the title track - the band just sound so great, playing live in front of a Liverpool home crowd of thousands.
