Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Sunday morning I woke up with a throbbing headache - a hangover from the past night's overindulgence in fluorescent vodka jelly shots at Lan Kwai Fong, no doubt (sometimes I stoop so low I scare myself).
After trying unsuccessfully to sleep it off, I decided that if I'm going to feel wobbly and sick I might as well feel wobbly and sick out at sea. Not sure why in the blazes I thought hangover + boats + hiking across an island I've never been to in well over 30 degree heat was a good idea, but at 2pm I found myself cursing on the boat to Lamma Island.
But Lamma turned out to be a huge surprise. Yung Shue Wan (Banyan Bay) where I landed was a lovely little town choked full of seaside bars, cute shops, organic cafes and delis. It was so hot that afternoon that everyone was trying to cover as little skin and consume as much ice cream and beer as possible, which lent the whole place a very casual seaside holiday-ish feel. Also, there are absolutely no cars on the island (what a GREAT idea) so
everyone was either on their feet or on bikes - a far cry from the
suffocatingly congested metropolis of 'typical' Hong Kong.
The island folk are artsy and hippie and entrepreneurial - an eclectic mix. Outside a small shop selling traditional snacks like dried squid and preserved figs and mango strips was a shirtless caucasian old man with an incredibly long beard telling war stories to two good-natured tourists. One of the organic delis had a sun-lit 'living room' looking out to the sea where if you buy and pour yourself a glass of beer or cider from the unmanned bar you can then sit and chat for however long you want. And when I picked out 2 handmade coasters from an art shop overflowing with
knick knacks, the shopkeeper looked at them for a long time before
wrapping them up and smiled, as if simultaneously sad and glad to part
with them.
All about cats. I LOVE the clock.
Bookworm Cafe - secondhand bookstore, bar and vegan cafe.
Half-submerged design shop.
After trying to increase my chance of heatstroke by scoffing down a bowl of insanely spicy tom yum noodles (WHY?!!), I set off on the family trail that leads to Sok Kwu Wan, the pier on the other side of the island.
The trail leads past 2 beaches, one packed with lobster-red sunglassed tourists, drippy kids hurtling around in blow up rings, schmoozy couples lathering sunscreen on each other, overly-meticulous mums with impeccably set up tents and picnics, bright-eyed Filipino maids on their day off posing for photos in bikinis...
It took some effort to cut people out from my pictures.
Had to perch on a rock.
Results are worth it though.
The other beach was a determined exercise in juxtaposition. I was there much later in the day, almost evening, and the path there was so deserted I thought I had taken a wrong turn. On the beach itself, there was a sweet couple strolling from one end to the other, 2 or 3 bored lifeguards...and me.
Movie scene...?
My proudest moment of the day though was not the discovery of a deserted beach, but an organic herb farm hidden in plain sight right. And by hidden in plain sight I mean it is right next to the 'popular beach', but somehow manages to be almost unnoticeable (honestly, I stood in front of the entrance and watched so many people walked right past without even noticing it was there - it was a strange feeling, as if I had discovered something only I can see).
Herboland - spot the entrance.
Entering was like walking into a different world. I could still hear the incessant waves and squealing children from the beach, but the crazily overgrown, lusciously leafy herb garden completely overwhelmed my other senses. My eyes and ears were trying to tell me different things: "hey I'm at an overrun beach... hang on, nope I'm in a deserted forest". It was incredibly disorientating.
There was a dark-skinned, skinny man with a triangular straw hat watering the herbs when I stepped in. He barely lifted a glance as I wandered around the tiny winding path, trying not to step on anything.
Made my way to the tea shop - again so hidden under a wild tangle of plants that you could hardly see the entrance. I was rather alarmed when I first stepped in - there were a few customers there already, but hardly anyone was speaking and everyone looked at me as I entered.
A greenhouse of a tea shop.
Managed to order an interesting sounding concotion ("Hot?" the herb-watering man raised a quizzical eyebrow at me) and quickly seated myself by one of the bamboo tables. My tea arrived, served with strict instructions to let it steep for 3 minutes before drinking. Not daring to disobey orders, I timed it to the exact second. The tea was sweet and fragrant and soothing... and soon I fell into a slight stupor - basically just sat there with an unfocused stare, occasionally lifting my cup to take a sip...
(Just to clarify there is nothing wrong with the tea - it's just that the whole environment is so quiet, soothing and overwhelmingly in contrast to my usual concrete and glass-filled surroundings that I think my brain couldn't process it fast enough.)
Homemade bamboo tables and chairs.
Which explains why it took me a while to realise there was also a parrot and 2 rabbits in the tea shop. The parrot was dusky pink and was apparently accidentally left behind by a customer. How on EARTH anyone could accidentally forget to take their parrot home with them is beyond my comprehension.
I had only intended to stay for a quick drink to refresh myself before continuing on the hike, but ended up lingering for well over an hour - and this is the surprising thing - without a book to distract me and hardly even checking my phone. Just me, a nameless cup of tea and my thoughts, undisturbed except for another customer who walked in to buy a jar of honey... it was wonderful.
I am thoroughly thankful that the 2 owners of Herboland decided to give up their office jobs to build this little corner of the world. It really is a very small piece of land that they own, but it overflows with so much hope and optimism and promise.
I am thoroughly thankful that the 2 owners of Herboland decided to give up their office jobs to build this little corner of the world. It really is a very small piece of land that they own, but it overflows with so much hope and optimism and promise.
I was distracted on the rest of the hike - simultaneously grateful for having this experience and yet frustrated as I could not see how I could make it a permanent part of my life rather than an accidental glimpse.
Sunset at Sok Kwu Wan
And so when I finally arrived at the pier and found that I had missed the ferry by 3 minutes (and so had to wait another hour for the next one), I was actually glad for the extra time to spend alone before heading back to the 'mainland', to reality, to the hustle and bustle and excitement and stress and everything that I now know as my life.