First Impressions

The flight from Newark into Beijing crossed almost directly over the North Pole. I was amazed by how short the flight was—only 12 hours, substantially less than the 16 or 18 I was anticipating. Years of seeing a certain layout of the globe had me thinking that I would at least be passing over the known world on my way to a land I’ve never seen. The arctic countryside we flew over instead helped to lend to the journey an extra sense of disorientation.

My connection to Hong Kong left from the brand-new Terminal 3 at Beijing International Airport, which was a substantial bus ride away from Terminals 1 and 2. Stepping outside the automatic doors in search of the shuttle, I looked up to see for the first time the characteristically gray Beijing sky. It was a nice day, around 90 degrees and sunny, but the dense layer of particulates above hid a blue sky that is not frequently seen within the city limits.

The terminal transfer led to me missing my connection, and the down time left me with an opportunity to get better acquainted with some of the structures installed in preparation for China’s hosting of the Olympics. The terminals massive ceiling was held up by a mess of red metal latticework, and through the holes in that grid streamed triangular beams of hazy white light. All over the airport, posters signed with the Beijing Games’ motto—“One World, One Dream”—abounded in loud colors, and Olympic helpers dressed in blue and white uniforms ran around or stood waiting by information stands, smiling. By the baggage claim, I had encountered Olympic mascots with massive inflated heads wandering around as new arrivals began snapping their first pictures. The small groups of helpers standing posted in groups are what struck me while I waiting for a handful of yuan by the forex counter, some of which I needed to buy a phone card to inform my friend that I would be late arriving.

The jet lag from the flight into Beijing began to catch up with me on the way to Hong Kong, and for three hours I passed in and out of sleep on the plane. The Airport Express carried me from the terminal straight into the heart of the city, into Hong Kong Central Station, where I met Paul. The drive back to his home in Stanley Beach took us through a tunnel that passes under the mountain that rises out of the South China Sea to form Hong Kong Island. Driving along the southern coast, we passed by hotels and condominium complexes clinging to the mountainside, enshrouded in tropical foliage.

My first night out in Asia took us to Wan Chai, a neighborhood on the more urban, northern side of the island, next to the central business district. The extravagance of the business district’s skyscrapers and neon lights carries over into the bar district to its east, which doubles as Hong Kong’s red light district. Young people wandered from bar to bar with beers in hand, taking advantage of the city’s lax open container policy. Several drinks replenished my diminishing energy supply, and the night turned into a long one.

It will be interesting to compare Hong Kong’s overwhelming urban decadence to the impressions I receive of city life in Beijing. I’ll be arriving there in several days, I hope; as I write, the windowpane is being beaten by vegetation whipped about by the biggest typhoon the territory has seen in years. A surfer in Big Wave Bay on the eastern side of the island has just been reported missing on the news, and some trees are reported to have been blown down the mountainside and onto the roads around Stanley. Thankfully, the weather is supposed to be much better tomorrow, because it doesn’t seem like it could get much worse outside than it is now.