HK – Last Day – The Cathedral and the Cuckoo

Hong Kong’s cathedral is located in the expensive Mid-Level area, close to the Zoo and Botanical Gardens.

 

 

 

 It is a little Gothic jewel of a place, simple but elegant, dwarfed by surrounding skyscrapers and other multi-storey buildings.

 

 

The cathedral was originally located in the town centre but burned down in 1859. The present one opened in 1888, was consecrated in 1938, then was partially damaged during the Japanese invasion of Hong Kong in 1941, and finally was extensively refurbished about 10 years ago.

 

There are four masses each Sunday, three in Cantonese and an English one at 9.30am, which we attended. Due to the narrow entrance road, there were several men in florescent bibs directing the long queue of cars waiting to disgorge their passengers…rather nice cars too; the best-selling car model for 2012 in Hong Kong was the Mercedes E Class (the UK’s best-selling model was the Ford Fiesta!).

I was delighted to see a Saint Vincent de Paul (SVP) volunteer outside the cathedral collecting donations, and another person trying to get people to sign up for blood donations.  

Inside, the feeling was of space and light. The cathedral felt compact, narrow and tall, with light pouring in from the large windows, softened by the coloured glass.

 

 

It has a capacity of about 1,000 worshippers and is deceptively larger than it appears (the Tardis of cathedrals). The congregation was mainly local Chinese of all ages with a large minority of Filipino guest workers and Western expatriates. The choir, about 30 to 40 strong, occupied four pews in the nave, in front of an electronic organ and with its own choirmaster who conducted the music. I estimated there were about five or six hundred present for Mass.

The celebrant, an elderly Caucasian priest, processed in followed by six altar servers and ten Eucharistic Ministers (EMs). At first, I thought the EMs were in uniform as they were all tastefully dressed, wearing dark suits or skirts, and each had a medal on a yellow ribbon around the neck. Then I realised they each wore ordinary personal clothes, tastefully and subtly matched to an overall design, each slightly different to the next but all beautifully cut, sombre but sophisticated. This was clearly a well-off part of Hong Kong!     

The Mass followed the usual hallowed pattern. The choir was tuneful and the congregation’s responses were perhaps a little more muted than those of St. Margaret’s – and a lot less robust than the youthful exuberance of St. Joseph’s congregation of Filipinas.

Going up to the main altar for communion I experienced the only slight disconnect of the Mass. Rather than receive separate bread and wine, body and blood, the practise was intinction, where the consecrated bread is dipped in a chalice of consecrated wine and then consumed.

Afterwards, we walked round the cathedral, admiring the stained glass windows. The altar servers were working hard preparing the sacred vessels for the next mass.

We found some small chapels at the end of the church. One of these, formerly the Chapel of Our Lord’s Passion was rededicated to the Chinese Martyrs shortly after the canonisation of 120 Chinese Martyrs in October 2000. Relics of 16 of these martyrs were placed in a relic box at the foot of the altar.

 

There is also a relic of Pope (and, hopefully, soon to be Saint) John Paul II – a lock of his hair – in the cathedral. Hong Kong is the first city in Asia to house a relic of JP2; it was requested because the Pope had often expressed a wish to visit China, a wish that never materialised due to political tensions, and this is a way that faithful Mainland Chinese Catholics who visit Hong Kong can express their devotion to the late Pope.

 

 

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After Mass we decided on an early lunch at a noodle shop. However, when we got there, there was a queue and people had to share tables (a Hong Kong custom that I haven’t quite come to terms with!). So, we diverted to a dim sum restaurant. We ordered har gau, siu mei (of course) and several other dishes. Then an elderly man with a stick and a large plastic bag from a nearby traditional medicine store shuffled up to our four-seater table.

“Do you mind if I sit at your table, just for a moment, to rest?” he asked in Cantonese.

“Of course not” the missus replied.

He had not been seated for more than a minute or two when his strength miraculously returned and he ordered a dish of fried rice…followed by plain rice, tea and vegetables…and roast duck arrived next.

Then he dived into his large plastic bag and took out a variety of Chinese medicines and medicated plasters which he heaped on the table in front of him. Apparently he was well known to the staff of the restaurant and soon a queue of them – floor captains, both male and female, waiters, bus boys, cleaning staff – were at the table inspecting his purchases. It seems he was quite a character, at one stage complaining he had no money to pay the bill and volunteering to wash dishes in the kitchen (“No, but you can clean out the toilets” was the waiter’s response).

I seem to remember a story about the cuckoo, which invades another bird’s nest and takes over…

…Only in Hong Kong.  

Barcelona

Spent the last couple of days in Barcelona doing all the usual tourist sights: Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia and Casa Mila; Barcelona Cathedral; the City and Maritime Museums; the Boquerio Market; Las Ramblas and the Harbour; cable car to Montjuic...and a couple of hours killing time in the Picasso Museum before the Tapeo Restaurant (just down the street) opened for dinner at 7.00pm.

It’s been many years since I was in Barcelona last and there was much that I’d forgotten.

Here’s some highlights.

The Metro is great, clean and comfortable with frequent service and a vast network. We took it to the Boquerio and, after the obligatory breakfast of hot chocolate and pastry, wandered around the market.

It was the variety that impressed most; sure, there were meats a-plenty, acres of fish, lots of veg and fruit, mushrooms, even chocolates...but tree fungus and several varieties of snails?

Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia Basilica is still as dazzling as ever, its multiple towers soaring above the nearby metro station, the interior awash with light, space and bathed in colour from the many stained glass windows. It’s difficult to remember that this is a sacred space when the eye is constantly roving, now registering the detail of a giant clam holy water container, now drawn upwards where the pillars sprout ‘branches’ like concrete trees. It’s been under construction for 130 years and parts of the exterior are still a building site.

By contrast, the mime artists on the Ramblas were at times disturbingly inventive – fallen angels? - and worth a few coins.

Another delight was the acres of Roman ruins from 1^st century BC to 7^th century AD in the basement of the City Museum. The nearest similar item I’d seen before was in the Archaelogical Crypt at Notre Dane Square, Paris, but this was simply staggering...even a vat for dying clothes marked with remnants of the original bluey-green colour - if the guide is to be believed!

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This is becoming a bit of a travelogue so let me conclude with a couple of final favourites. First, in the Maritime Museum, the magnificent 60-meter long replica of the royal galley that took part in the Battle of Lepanto in 1571.

 

And, finally, the medieval Barcelona Cathedral in the old city with its Gothic cloister with 13 geese (recalling the age of the virgin martyr Saint Eulalia who was murdered in the time of the emperor Diocletan). Remembering more recent martyrs, I lit a candle and paused for a moment at the altar of the Martyrs of the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s.

And what of the Picasso Museum, described as ‘probably the most popular museum in the city if you work on official visitor numbers’? Well, it certainly passed a couple of hours before dinner, and Picasso’s teenage development as an artist is fascinating and well illustrated (and some of the Blue and Rose period works are great) but I believe Picasso regressed after 1917 – but then, don’t mind me, I’m just a happy philistine.