Meyricke Serjeantson |
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Dec 18 to 22
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The flight was slightly bumpy and by the time we reached Auckland it was dull, dark and damp. It had obviously been raining as there were lots of puddles on the ground.
We disembarked via a set of steps and entered the terminal through a side door which led into a completely un-signed corridor. Having faced this situation before, I waited for a while until others had decided which direction to take and then followed along until we emerged into another largely deserted terminal.
The walk to the International Terminal was pleasant enough although it was very humid. The terminal was livelier than the others I had visited this evening but was still far from fully open. The pub was open but was no longer serving food. Other than that there was just a Macdonalds and a coffee bar.
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There, I had a sandwich, which was fresh enough. Much of the remainder of the food on display looked more than a little tired. If the New Zealand airports can do no better than this, then there will be major problems when the Rugby World Cup comes to town.
Immigration took about 15 minutes, only 2 counters were open, and I nearly squashed the security mans fingers between my laptop and the sides of its tray. This gave his colleagues lots of entertainment and it was all very friendly.
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On the airside, most of the cafes were closed there arent many at the best of times and the cricket was on TV. England were going hell for leather into the teeth of a humiliating defeat. |
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I had a beer at the only open bar, tried my new (old but seldom used before) lens with close-up capabilities, and rested my back. It was twinging slightly after carrying my bags around, which didnt bode well for the remainder of the trip. |
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I made my way a little closer to the gate and watched the mobile carpet cleaners performing balletic style moves around the floor. I also found a free internet site and sent a couple of progress reports.
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Just before the advertised boarding time, I descended into the gate lounge and joined the massed hordes. Nothing happened for 20 minutes, then they announced that the engineers were testing a generator on the plane and that we would commence boarding in about another 20 minutes. I abandoned the tree against which I had been leaning and found myself a small secluded corner in which to collapse on the floor. After an interminable period probably another half hour boarding commenced and we were on board about 35 minutes after the scheduled take off time. The driver announced that they had been replacing a broken bit, which wasnt actually essential for anything but they had decided to replace it anyway. Im happy that they would rather be safe than sorry. I accepted a fizzy wine and the nice lady stole my jacket, supposedly to hang it in the cupboard.
Right: Hiding behind a tree |
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The flight was smooth, the food was good and we made up all but 15 minutes of the time we lost in Auckland. I even managed some sleep.
At Hong Kong the little train rushed me from one end of the terminal to the other & I took a few arty shots through the front window en route.
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Immigration was the usual organised chaos, with the staff organising the queue by constantly moving the tapes which split people up and guided them to particular positions. I passed through in about 20 minutes, collected my bags in another two and was aboard the shining and, at this early hour, almost empty Airport Express within 45 minutes of touching down.
The start of the journey was misty, even by Hong Kong standards, so I didnt bother trying to take photos through the train windows. Ive taken loads of them over the years and very few have been worth keeping.
At Hong Kong Station, I waited 10 minutes for the shuttle to my hotel. This left on time with just me on board.The route has changed since my last visit and now we went via several posh hotels no interest at any of them before reaching mine. There, I disembarked and a couple of people climbed aboard.Right: On board the Shuttle |
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The hotel was expecting me but couldn’t give me a room until 11 am so I dumped my bags, used the facilities and went to my usual branch of the Pacific Coffee Co for a jasmine tea, a play on their free internet and a chance to plan the day’s activities. Everything was quiet and I then remembered that it was Sunday and that the offices would all be closed.The shops, however, trade every day of the year not sure about Chinese New Year so there would be plenty to do. |
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It was quite cool outside, possibly around 20 degrees, and I could almost have worn a sweater. I saw a bus heading to Stanley, jumped aboard and grabbed the upstairs front seat from where I took a few poor photos.
The journey was reasonably slow, not least because there were lots of cyclists about. I have never noticed too many of them in Hong Kong before but Sunday morning must be the time they come out to play. Given that the roads are both narrow and windy, they do nothing to assist the traffic flow.
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We eventually arrived at Stanley Plaza, not a work of great architectural merit and in the midst of a major redevelopment. The HSBC ATM was still there but the good Chinese restaurant I visited a few months ago had vanished behind some hoardings. Outside was the Tin Hau Temple, into which I wandered. There were displays of statues and fruit laid out in bowls, presumably as offerings. The air was thick with incense.Right: Tin Hau Temple |
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It was beginning to warm up and I entered the maze of streets which comprise Stanley Market. Most of the shops had opened and I concentrated on the matters in hand, a pair of black pearl earrings and a light cotton jacket. The quest for the former was almost successful I bought a pair which were almost what I had been ordered to buy but the jacket was not to be found. I think that everyone in Hong Kong is wearing padded winter jackets and not light summer ones.
Stanley Market |
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I bumped into Lucy, the aged spaniel and the front person of the clothing range which bears her name. She was sporting yet another new hairdo but wrecked my attempts at photos by scratching herself vigorously whenever I pressed the shutter. |
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Back in the open air, people were starting to congregate and Stanley was looking more like its normal, busy, self. With breakfast having been five hours before, I was starting to feel hungry.
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Rather than lunching, however, I dived into the Smugglers Inn (see previous years books for the images) and had the first beer of the trip at the ridiculously early hour of 10.55. The yard arm hadnt even been erected, let alone crossed by the sun.
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Refreshed by the beer, I examined the cafes along the front, all of which sell international food and then entered a place I had been meaning to visit for years. It is a semi-underground dim sum restaurant in an old house. Im sure it will be far more expensive than the normal places but at least it will be interesting food.
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The lunch was interesting but it was also HUGE. I expected each portion to be small so I ordered about five of them. Each turned out to be quite substantial probably enough for three people to have a taste. In combination, that resulted in a very considerable quantity of food. Everything was beautifully presented and, naturally enough, I would not choose some of the dishes next time. I managed to eat most of it. The place filled up while I was there all Europeans. The locals were all ensconced outside the International cafes on the water front. |
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I was beginning to feel tired so found a bus and dozed on it all the way back to Wan Chai. The hotel gave me my room quite a lot of refurbishment since my last visit and I collapsed on my bed in front of the TV, watching news of the growing chaos in the UK. It rapidly began to dawn on me that the chances of me arriving there on time were pretty slim and that I had better start making contingency plans. Without any solid information, however, this would be difficult.
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After a shower and a change of clothes, the situation didnt look any better so I sent some emails and then set out on the train to Causeway Bay.
The crowds were out in force and there were some signs of Christmas very odd given the nature of the place.
My mind wasnt really on the business of shopping so I made a few half-hearted forays into clothes shops but failed to find a jacket. Even a computer mall didnt enthuse me so I walked back to the café near the hotel and had a cold drink and wrote up my diary.
More watching of the news on TV took me back onto the hotels appalling wi fi. I tried and mainly failed to make phone calls both from my room and from the very noisy lobby. All in all, it served only to make me unhappy and very frustrated.
Finding dinner was just as fraught. The Sabah, the excellent Malaysian restaurant just round the corner from the hotel was packed. The Cinta J, mixed South East Asian cuisines, was busy and the disco was far too noisy for me so I beat a hasty retreat.
The American Restaurant, a reasonably posh Chinese on the main street was full but had a very small table just inside the door. After gaining my seat I watched lots of people arriving and being turned away. I ate well enough but my heart wasnt in it, with my mind constantly turning to the transport problems which faced me. I returned to the hotel and wasted lots more money wrestling with the wi fi and trying to obtain useful information about flights into London, before heading to bed. |
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