Sep 8 • Miscellaneous Posting
Another day in Hongkong
On my second day in Hong Kong, the hostel receptionist yesterday was a middle-aged woman—the only staff member on duty. She was a mainland Chinese woman with a strong Northeastern accent who spoke very quickly, and she was likely the first person in Hong Kong who could converse with me in fluent Mandarin. She had a bold and straightforward personality.
It was nearly impossible to reach the hostel's management directly. I had added their WeChat account from an advertisement posted at the Leedon Building, and only after quite some time did I manage to get in touch with the person in charge. I booked a room and transferred 380 HKD directly to him. What puzzled me a bit was that his WeChat account was not real-name verified, so I couldn't transfer money directly to him; instead, I had to scan another person's QR code. I speculated this might have been to avoid transaction fees when converting mainland WeChat funds to Hong Kong dollars, or perhaps he wasn't the actual owner. I only sent the money after inspecting the room. It was tiny, fitting only a single bed and a small bathroom, but it met my needs for a shower and a place to sleep—good enough! After taking a shower and sleeping, I felt very comfortable. Coupled with being exhausted from walking all day, I slept quite well. The rooms are often fully booked, and prices go up on weekends. According to another auntie working there, couples often rent the rooms for just two hours without staying overnight.
I woke up early, charged my phone and power bank, and used the free Wi-Fi to download several apps that are unavailable on the mainland. After having breakfast at McDonald's, I returned to the room planning to check out around 9:00 AM. However, no staff members were in sight. Coming from mainland China, I was used to finding a front desk clerk to check out, but I later learned that people in Hong Kong generally don't start work until after 10:00 AM. I called the auntie from the previous night, and she told me to just pull the door shut when leaving, adding that their guests rarely engage in bad behavior. After a brief chat, I left, intending to explore the financial district, which also opened at 10:00 AM. I looked into local banks and securities firms; Hong Kong is indeed highly developed in finance, with banks everywhere and queues packed early in the morning.
Next, I went to a bookstore called The Commercial Press and stayed until noon. I bought three books for a friend by authors Eileen Chang and Chan Ho-kei. Hong Kong editions are hard to come by, so my friend thought I was lucky to find them. They cost around 100 HKD each. Browsing the aisles, I found a rich variety of genres: Korean and Japanese literature, Eastern and Western philosophy, politics, economics, management, classics, art, music, photography, medicine, comics, and various magazines. What excited me most was discovering that half of the bookstore was filled entirely with English books—literally not a single Chinese character on that side. Since I am learning English, seeing a purely English selection made me very happy. It would be amazing if I could read these great English books fluently! I wanted to buy a few, but they were too large and heavy to carry around, so I decided to get them on my next visit.
Around 1:00 PM, I left the bookstore and headed to an older part of Hong Kong: Sham Shui Po. Despite Hong Kong's overall prosperity, the real struggles of the working class were fully visible here, with people setting up street stalls early every day just to make a living. As I walked and observed, I noticed the wholesale convenience stores were quite similar to those in my hometown, though on a larger scale—or perhaps my hometown had modeled its approach after Hong Kong. When my feet got tired, I went into a McDonald's to grab food and rest.
I struck up a casual conversation with a stall owner who had moved to Hong Kong thirty or forty years ago from Guangdong. He migrated here to do business and currently sells TV receivers and related products. He mentioned he had visited Sanya, Hainan a few times for vacation and business, and wished me a pleasant trip in Hong Kong. As I kept walking, I saw many stalls selling secondhand items like cameras, CDs, antique coins, electric motors, audio equipment, mobile phones, and leather bags. One entire street was dedicated to used electronics, while another was a wet market where many elderly residents were buying vegetables and meat. There were also fruit stalls and a small bakery that had been operating for about 30 years in an old, weathered shopfront. Yet another street was filled with clothing stalls, lively and mostly patronized by older people. Occasionally, I saw grandfathers and grandmothers pulling stacks of cardboard boxes, seemingly collecting waste paper for recycling. Young people were rarely seen in this market. I also met a technician repairing audio equipment; after chatting briefly, he mentioned he could fix systems from decades ago. Our mainland currently lacks such veteran skilled craftsmen, which touched me deeply.
I explored until after 4:00 PM and stopped in front of a Hong Kong-style roast meat shop. Having barely eaten any rice over the past two days, I went in to try it. I ordered the signature roast pork and roast goose combo for 57 HKD. I originally wanted to add another dish, but the clerk advised me I wouldn't finish it, so I opted not to. The food tasted quite good. Halfway through my meal, an elderly woman who looked to be in her 60s asked if she could sit across from me. She placed her order in a few quick words of Cantonese. I tried to converse with her, but she said she only understood a tiny bit of Mandarin. I was surprised to realize that many elderly Hong Kong residents speak almost no Mandarin, only Cantonese. To communicate with them, one needs to know Cantonese—just as one needs foreign languages to communicate with other countries—even though we share the same Chinese cultural origin. Very few elderly locals in Hong Kong can speak fluent Mandarin, unlike the younger generation. So, we ate our meals in awkward silence. After finishing and resting for a bit, I paid and left, telling the grandmother to enjoy her meal. I wasn't sure if she understood, but she responded briefly. I also asked if they had portable power banks for rent, but the staff member told me power bank rentals are rare in Hong Kong and people usually carry their own.
After walking through a few more blocks, I took a double-decker bus to the bustling area of Mong Kok. On the way, I passed a school named Pui Ching Middle School, which shared the same name as a friend of mine. Seeing a table and chair set outside a shop, I wanted to sit down and rest. But within a few minutes, a clerk came out and politely said they needed to pack up the furniture. My friend later told me that in Hong Kong, you can't just sit anywhere—that space was private property, and people won't let you use it freely unless you find a public park. However, resting spots are extremely rare in Hong Kong, making McDonald's the only real option. At that moment, my friend initiated a video call. I found a quiet, empty corner to sit on the floor and chat with him. I felt quite self-conscious, but there was no McDonald's nearby. We talked for a long time until after dark.
Nearby, a local church was holding an evening service. I thought I could go inside, but I was mistaken again. An elderly gentleman in charge stopped me and asked if I was a member of the congregation. I immediately understood and said no, to which he politely apologized and explained that only church members were allowed in during that time. I walked away awkwardly. When my friend heard about this, he mentioned that I could visit churches as long as I avoided their active service hours. So, I settled for just walking around the neighborhood.
As night fell, I booked a room in Mong Kok with the same manager from the previous night, located on the 15th floor of the Sincere House. I assumed I would get a view of the Hong Kong night skyline, but the room turned out to have no windows at all. I still booked it because the rate was similar to the previous night: 420 HKD, with a 100 HKD surcharge for the weekend. Checking in, I met another receptionist—an auntie from Hunan who was extremely pleasant, offering me a chair and a bottle of mineral water. She explained that all rooms were currently occupied and mine wouldn't be ready until after 10:00 PM. While sitting and browsing my phone, a man and a woman entered the room one after the other—the very room I had reserved, which the auntie mentioned was the largest unit.
Since I had time to kill, I went outside to explore. I spotted a high-rise skyscraper and wanted to go up to catch a view of the city at night. The place was packed, and the escalators were incredibly steep and long. However, I couldn't go past the 13th floor, only to learn later that the rooftop was restricted to company employees, so getting a night view wasn't that simple.
While riding the escalator up, a young woman thought I was secretly taking photos of her. I happened to be standing right behind her holding my phone. Mistakenly believing I had photographed her, she insisted in Cantonese on checking my phone's photo album. I showed her my photos and even checked the "Recently Deleted" folder. Finding nothing, she apologized profusely three times in a row. I readily forgave her; after all, as a visitor from out of town, misunderstandings like that are understandable.
After walking around a bit more, it was almost time, so I returned to Sincere House to settle in. After a shower and another video call with my friend, I went to sleep.
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Another day in Hongkong
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