| Optimistic City |
|
|
|
 Bamboo scaffolding at Aberdeen
 Presence of the sacred - street shrine at Tai O The jazz in Ned Kelly's Last Stand is traditional, but the music gives few clues as to whether this is New York, New Orleans, or Sydney. Even the choice of beer leaves the customer to decide where "local" will be for the night. Perusing the names in Ken Bennett's Kowloon Honkers does nothing to fix a point in the world. Berry Yaneza on trumpet, Peping Modesto on reeds, Rolando Bernal on trombone, Joe Topacio on bass and Anthony Fernandes on drums. Each name tells a story. And the combination of those stories tells yet another story about cities bringing people together to interact with each other in new and exciting ways. The results can be as unexpected as finding Ned Kelly's in Hong Kong. Jazz lovers not wanting to go to Ned Kelly's could of course go to the Jazz Club in D'Aguilar Street. The romantic French street name contrasts with the pedantic Anglo Saxon club name, Gigg Limited. However, the music and the mood are as surprising as those to be found in Birdlands in Tokyo. Culture is no longer territorial, and the non-territorial 747 culture makes Hong Kong, ,like Tokyo, as international as any city could be. The food in the Tandoor Restaurant in Wyndham Street seems better than you can find in India, and there isevery reason why this should be so. The city is a powerful lure to be used by those who scour
 Monastic wall at Ngong Ping, Lantau Island dramas "belong" in the adjoining Studio Theatre. As Cathay Pacific's flight CX108 lifts off from Auckland on its way to Hong Kong the captain's welcoming voice could well sound strangely familiar. It is the accent. The pilot and the co-pilot may well be both New Zealanders. Hong Kong's planes are as cosmopolitan as Hong Kong itself. Cathay Pacific hostesses are drawn from 10 nations, and they speak a myriad of languages. Cities are about the tension between feeling at home and being constantly challenged by the unfamiliar. The colonial past of Hong Kong remains as a benign colonial present. The laser disc video system in the Peninsula Hotel remains discreetly hidden behind rosewood. The walls of the Overseas Correspondents Club are still decorated with memorabilia such as photographs of the last journalists escaping from Saigon. A visitor will remember having met the figures leaning on the bar in a Graeme Greene novel. Straining to catch a hint of the conversation, it is possible to savour the time when correspondents risked their lives to get a story. Cities are living novels waiting for those who care to read.  Door sign at Tai O The answers are as diverse as expert opinions about the future of any city in the world. Opinions often throw only a little light on the questions, while revealing a great deal about the person giving the answers. The optimists are optimistic. The pessimists are pessimistic. The pragmatists suggest a wait and see attitude. The paid gurus fly to conferences to present papers explaining why other people should change their lifestyle, and give up their cars. Of course at any conference on urban futures there are always people who make a living out of being miserable. They talk about the "plague of people" and the "collapse of infrastructures", producing endlessly tedious statistics to back up their endlessly tedious observations. In contrast Hong Kong has always been concerned with surmounting the insurmountable. The reality is that a great number of people, in spite of the problems, enjoy living in cities. They enjoy diverse company and ethnic food. They listen to the lectures given by overseas visitors, and enjoy film festivals and live theatre. They find stimulation in universities and libraries. They find it astonishing to be able to swim lengths in the Hilton's roof-top pool, one towards Foster's Hong Kong Bank, the next towards Pei's China Bank, and then back again towards Foster's celebration of technology. Since 1953 the Hong Kong Government has built housing for more than two and a half million people, and it continues to build as the refugees pour in. Hong Kong has a history of optimism, but its solutions are also realistic. The densities on the Kowloon Peninsula are the highest in recorded history. Visitors from New Zealand accustomed to neighbours fighting endlessly with neighbours watch in astonishment as Hong Kong kindergarten children finish their drawings, return their crayons to the box in the centre of the table, and wait patiently until they are invited to begin the next task. This is not dulling regimentation. These Chinese children tackle each new task with energy and enthusiasm. In spite of its international flavour Hong Kong remains very Chinese, from the bird market or the Beijing duck restaurants right through to JJs, which must be one of the most elegant, sophisticated nightclubs in the world.
The principles of Feng Shui, as much as a commitment to good design, have made the Regent Hotel one of the best places from which to see Hong Kong. The Chinese understand that standing in the middle of a view, as the Princes Wharf hotel does, only destroys the view. Even the Chinese reserve of the international dragon boat festival makes Auckland's festival look like a display of crass commercialism.
Hong Kong also has that special Chinese sense of timelessness. Tourists still go to look at the endless lines of trucks crossing a Chinese border which is no longer a barrier. The myth of China is much stronger than the reality. Confidence has been destroyed by Tiananmen Square, but in Chinese history a 1000 years is not a long time.
it is always cheerful when you discover that everyone else has problems too. Travelling in that sense is much more than an escape from boredom. Hong Kong is also much more than just another exotic destination. It is a straw in the winds of destiny. It is an education programme in the power of optimistic thinking which is only a comfortable 10 hours away.
Published in "Home and Building" February/March 1992 p120
|
| < Prev |
|---|
