We’re hopping on the tram to the (almost, but not quite—more on that later) highest Skyview point in Hong Kong, a vibrant city right next to mainland China. Hong Kong was handed back to China in 1997 after quite the rollercoaster of a history. Things seem to have calmed down now, though, and you’ll spot the Chinese flag flying alongside the Hong Kong one. Oh, and don’t be surprised by all the “75th anniversary” signs—those are for the celebration of the 75 years of the People’s Republic of China.
The Skyview is hyped as the highest 360-degree view of the city, but first, you’ve got to endure the little tram’s crawl up a ridiculously steep hill—only to land in the middle of a shopping mall nightmare. It’s filled with stores you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in, not even on a dare. There’s “Selfie Paradise,” where you can snap selfies with various cringy backdrops (because that’s exactly what you wanted to do at a scenic lookout, right?), and, of course, a Burger King for those all-important Skyview fries. Oh, and let’s not forget the random Gumbo shrimp joint. Nothing says “panoramic view” quite like greasy shrimp!
After surviving several floors of this madness, you finally reach the top, only to realize… surprise! It’s not even a full 360-degree view—just a 270-degree peek. The house on the next peak has the real deal with an even higher vantage point. But, despite the letdown, the view is breathtaking, especially as a massive thunderstorm rolls in. Then, just as you’re soaking in the atmosphere, a man with a camera and a rubber chicken greets you at the platform. He yells into a microphone, “Hello, welcome to Skyview!” Squeak, squeak. “How many people?” Squeak, squeak. “Picture for you?” Squeak, squeak. And on it goes, for the entire duration of your visit. By the end, you’re secretly hoping the gods might send a well-aimed lightning bolt to silence that rubber chicken once and for all.
As we begin the walk down, it’s striking how the cool breeze at the top quickly turns into sweltering heat as the path steepens. One thing that never fails to amaze me is the bamboo scaffolding. These towering high-rises are wrapped in what looks like a delicate web of bamboo, and the fact that workers brave those flimsy-looking platforms—dangling off the 40th floor—blows my mind. “It’s very sustainable,” my travel companion notes. “Yes, until you realize they’re held together by millions of plastic zip ties,” I reply, waving goodbye to that eco-friendly dream. But, on the bright side, during a hurricane—or a “cyclone,” as they call them here—the bamboo barely causes any damage when it’s torn away. A silver lining, I suppose!
At the end of our trip we walk through the botanical gardens with exotic plants and animals, it is the year of the rabbit and everything is transformed in a caleidoscopenof red and white bunnies as if they have done was bunnies do best and that is procreate
Later that evening, two good friends from the Jockey Club University Veterinary School invited me to dinner at the FCC—the Foreign Correspondents’ Club. Now, here’s the thing: you need an invite from two members to get in, which naturally made me feel very special. This place has hosted some of the world’s most famous photographers and journalists, who’ve captured history from every angle. There’s even an amazing photo exhibit, with iconic images signed by the photographers themselves decorating the walls. As the name suggests, it’s mostly foreigners hanging out, so I fit right in.
Fast forward to when I get back to my hotel room—just as I’m about to unwind, I get a call. A friend insists I join them at a karaoke bar to say goodbye to someone who’s heading to America. Now, full disclosure: I sound like Kermit the Frog when I sing, on a good day. Despite both of my parents being quite musical, that gene seems to have taken a detour around me. So, picture a performance that’s a mix of out-of-tune, offbeat, and atonal attempts at songs—you get the idea.
Thankfully, most of the singing was in Chinese and Cantonese, which meant I was spared from butchering the next rendition of “Mamma Mia.” But I’m pretty sure someone recorded me, and I have a sinking feeling that this will resurface at some point in my life as premium blackmail material. I mean, what better way to leave a lasting impression in China than with a karaoke disaster?
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