SWIMMING IN THE STREETS OF HONG KONG
We arrived in Hong Kong on a Thursday and spent the remainder of the day exploring the centre of the island, enjoying delicious Michelin star dumplings, catching up with the friends we’d come to visit, and complaining about the humidity. Said friends had to work the next day and since we had a bit of a gap in our schedule before the weekend’s itinerary kicked off, we decided to visit Ocean Park, an aquarium and theme park extraordinaire.
As we woke, the clouds looked pretty ominous but we decided to chance it. Coming from a country where meteorologists couldn’t predict rainfall correctly if they were standing beneath it, we paid minor attention to the showers scheduled to arrive at 12.15pm.
Major attention might have been more appropriate. At around 11.55am a low, sweeping wind picked us up as we exited The Abyss (a terrifying ride that will instil a lifelong fear of elevators into anyone), although at this point, I couldn’t tell if I was blowing in the wind or shaking at the knees, having just dropped 20 storeys out of the sky.
As one might have guessed, we spent the day in and out of downpours and puddles.
One could say we got the truest aquarium experience available, although I wish I could have traded my shrivelled-up grandma feet — which were trapped in high tops — for fins or a tail.
After sticking it out for as long as we could, and admiring all the fish whilst well and truly looking like one, we decided we’d got our (rather large amount of) money’s worth and it was time to head home.
The journey was a treat. It was Friday after all, and it was raining. And (what seemed like) millions of people had to squeeze into the train that would get us to our destination.
From the station closest to our abode, we had only a short walk to the bus stop, then a bus ride and another short walk before we’d be home. And dry.
Of course, this was the longest bus queue I saw in all Hong Kong. With no other choice, we joined it and watched all the full buses drive past. We jumped for joy when a bus stopped to relieve our queue of a single traveller.
Just when the end of our journey was in sight, the heavens opened once more. At this stage, I had zero qualms about just standing there and embracing it.
It felt as though my body had become 95% water and my actual bones were getting wet.
Suddenly, a young gentleman appeared next to me in the queue, which was filled with sombre faces.
He whipped out an umbrella to shelter himself and me and indicated to my sister that she could go and seek refuge under the overhang of a nearby shop.
I thanked him for his offer but said he should rather keep himself dry.
His face said, “Don’t be silly,” and he moved the umbrella more to my side so that the water dripping off the edge of the brollie wouldn’t add insult to saturated injury. ● S.
L © Jessica Lawrence Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photo of yourself for publication with the column.