Ho Lin 
Greetings from Hong Kong, which despite government switch-ups, economic crises, SARS and avian flu, and other sundry challenges, remains what it is: a candy-coated, neon-lighted, steamy hive of humanity and energy. Got in yesterday around 7 a.m. local time, and am currently taking a brief respite at my friend Jolie’s place. Temps are warm (around 85) and humid, although the typhoon that passed through the day before I got here has offered respite from the pollution. For pop culture geeks, I should note that the DaVinci Code movie and M:I:3 are already out in theaters, with X-Men 3 on their heels. Also, I should note that advertising is prolific in the former crown colony, with posters, billboards, and all manner of marketing crammed into every nook and cranny in sight. The latest trend in ads seems to be presenting pop stars in various forms of undress — quite a change for what is still essentially a traditional society.
When you travel to a place more than once (and I’ve been in HK over a dozen times within the last decade), you find that it isn’t the destination that changes so much as yourself — and your relationship to it — does. It’s been 5 years since I was here last, and even though that’s not much more than an eyeblink, relatively speaking, all the little accoutrements of your life change. Once upon a time Hong Kong was the place for me to soak up the latest HK movie extravaganza, or find that rare concert CD of a favorite artist, or pick up my latest replacement walkman at the AV Leading Centre in Causeway Bay. I’ve visited a few of the familar haunts already, and with these visits, I feel like a ghost, intruding on a life that no longer exists. Walkmans have given way to publicly available mp3s; Hong Kong movies have given way to the DaVinci codes. The stores here are the same, etched in granite, but the Ho Lin circa 1998 or 2001 has moved on.
Yet, some things have as powerful an effect on me now as they always have. The smells (and the smells here are indescribable–running from the fragrant tropial plants that line some of the roads at the mid-levels on HK Island, to the sweet pineapple of the outdoor markets, to the mothballed, almost herbal odors of some of the old stores and air-conditioned outlet malls, to the more fetid stuff emanating from the sewers). The explosions of lights and movement at night, taxis lined up in unrelenting queues. The towers that thrust up like phallic parodies. How sound and activity seems to die to stillness after midnight, unlike many U.S. urban centers where the noises and pounding music and shouting voices continue on and on.
I’m off to dive back into that Hong Kong, and attend my friends Bo and Janette’s wedding … my next report will be from Kunming China, the heart of Yunnan Province.
Cheers,
Ho
