Hong Kong Touchdown

It was a pleasure to be flying with Cathay Pacific again; particularly the charming and considerate flight attendants, the steaming pots of noodles served on demand, and the new Boeing 777 with its sculptured seats and touch-screen entertainment system that made the 12-hour flight seem shorter.

It was hot, 30 degrees Celsius, with humidity in the upper 90s as we landed last night in Hong Kong. Massive banks of dark clouds hung over the city, the legacy of a typhoon that had passed overhead, 24 hours earlier.

 

 

As we drove into town the rolling green hills gave way to concrete flyovers, vast container ports and stacks of high-rise buildings. Neon and florescent signs in Chinese characters multiplied in number and we dipped into the cross-harbour tunnel that took us into the heart of the city. Evidence of construction was everywhere - land reclamation and renovation are the name of the game here; the city’s national bird is probably the (building) crane.

You can sense the city’s heartbeat; I’ve only known two cities with such a frantic pulse, New York (Manhattan) and Hong Kong. It was good to be home. Home is where the heart is and a sizable chunk of mine is grafted onto this exciting place.