‘I’m apprehensive about spending time in Hong Kong.’
I’d sent this message to my closest friend a few days before flying to the city. The longer I’d sat under our old mango tree at home and researched this concrete jungle, the more daunting it became.
Hong Kong comprises more than 260 islands;
40 per cent of it has been set aside as parks and reserves and only a quarter of all land has been developed, but hilly Hong Kong cradles some of the most densely populated spaces on the planet. Thirty years ago Kowloon Walled City, a slum area the size of two-anda-half rugby fields, was home to a staggering 50 000 people. It was demolished by the government and a park has been created on top of its foundations, but these days the district of Kowloon on Hong Kong’s mainland has 47 748 people per square kilometre. Johannesburg has just 2 900.
The figures are mind-boggling.
About 12,7-million journeys are made on public transport each day. Hong Kong, which is almost seven times smaller than Gauteng, contains more than 7840 high-rise buildings. In all of South Africa, only 54 buildings stand higher than 100 metres; in Hong Kong there are 1303, and more than a quarter of these are taller than 150 metres.
‘I feel claustrophobic just at the thought of being surrounded by all that concrete,’ I’d messaged Anja, with rising trepidation, as a free-range hen scratched at the soil of my garden. ‘Mild panic grips at the thought of actually being in one of those buildings.’
When Anja replied it was with the wisdom of someone who had long ago lost the freedom to travel. ‘I’m sure you’re going to feel claustrophobic,’ she said gently, ‘but try to flip this on its head and look for the beauty in it all.’
And so I did.