A stroll around Peng Chau island and off to Beijing!

PHIL: Mar 8/Day 22

We decide to take the short ferry trip from Lantau to Peng Chau and then across to the trappist Monastery on the remote coast of Lantau opposite Peng Chau on a small ‘kaito’  boat. This is a re-run of the trek Jane and I did quarter of a century ago but time has moved on apace here and, though Peng Chau village seems little changed the boats bobbing in the harbour are no longer traditional wooden sampans and the nuns at the monastery seem to use a mini-van to supply them from the pier below. 

Hongkong harbour

Nearby Discovery Bay residential complex and Hong Kong’s Disneyland mar the otherwise tranquil view and the track, now well paved and fenced, betrays the less unfettered nature of the former colony as the 21^st century progresses.

Now off to Beijing, again courtesy of Cathay Pacific.

The hotel Allie has chosen is in one of the few remaining ‘hutongs’- areas of single story tiled-roof courtyard housing – now considered ‘passe’ by the 21^st century Chinese hierarchy. Though our room is tiny it has traditional features such as lanterns and lacquerware furniture. The hotel’s two courtyards contain elegant shrubs and trees with blossom just breaking out. Outside is a busy side-street but calm prevails within.

Our traditional Hutong guesthouse in Beijing

In search of a pre-bed ‘digestivo’ drink we walk several blocks only to have to settle for a Japanese ‘private dinner club’ whose velvet-curtained booths suggest other kinds of pre-bed activities.

ALLIE: DAY 22: Thursday, 8^th of March

                                                       

A lovely boat tour, a walk to a monastery and flight to mainland China

Ferry to Peng Chau Island 

This is revolutionary! My dear husband shocks me with announcing that he has a great idea as what to do with our last remaining half day in Hong Kong: A walk! 

For him to suggest a proper hike is like me wanting to go flying in a small aircraft! But he isn’t drunk or gone sick, he indeed means what he says and so we board a little boat that takes us to the small island of Peng Chau. 

We change boats and sail on via Discovery bay (the discovery lies in the fact that the place is totally spoilt by high rise concrete housing estates) and disembark at a tiny pier back on Lantau island. 

We walk up a steep hill and finally stand in front of a monastery. The Trappist monastery, a place that Phil had visited 25 years ago with his previous wife Jane.

Trappist monastery

Everything is dead quiet around us. We enter the basilica and learn that the nuns (in the brochure that I find, it only talks about the “little poor sisters”) pray around 8 times a day, starting at 3.30 and that they are not allowed to speak. Wow, that sounds really tough.

Our path climbs up the hills passing through lush green vegetation, some of the beautiful Hong Kong Bauhinias in full blossom. After only 30 min we reach the top. The view is very nice, even though it could be more rewarding on a clear day. 

Today its just grey, cloudy, windy and cold – again! But at least we see the skyscrapers of Central, the peak, Disneyland and a golf course! I kiss my husband and thank him for  his wonderful idea. Of course I realize that I will have to “pay” for this walk with lots of airfields and aeroplane-watching in China!

Phil taking a well-deserved rest during our hike

At check-out from the Silvermine Beach Hotel we realize that we don’t live anymore in “Royal York Crescent, Bristol” but in “Roth Yaw Gisc, Brision, UK” – at least we still live in the UK!

A racing taxi-driver-lady brings us back to Hong Kong airport and at 5 pm we sit onboard the Cathay flight to Beijing.

Hutongs in Beijing

I have never been so quick out of an aeroplane, through immigration and getting my luggage. It took us less then 30min from touch down to be sitting in a taxi. 

The taxi driver has no idea where our hotel is supposed to be. I my best Chinese I try to explain to him where it is. The traffic is amazingly smooth and at 21.00 we are already in our lovely traditional Hutong Hotel the “Hao Yuan Bingguan” in central Beijing.

For a quick nightcap we venture out to the street (its pretty cold!) and end up in the “Sweet smelling village pub”. We are the only guests. The waiter seats us in a separeé and draws the curtain. 

Wow, I guess I have to be cautious of my husband now. We could have indulged in some wonderful exotic sounding Chinese dishes like ‘Dry Pan Intestine’, Recipe Soil Tortoise’, ‘Sweet-smelling turtle’, ‘dry-pan fish ovum’ or ‘home tourn drunk fish’ – but we decide to stay vegetarian and only have some Qingdao Beer, “yes, draft”, but its out of a bottle!

The adventure can begin. Tomorrow we have to leave our computer, mobile phones (not that I would have one), and other valuables, and check with the Koryo office to get our North Korean visas. 

Then we will be out of touch for a week. It will be hard to catch up writing, especially after hopefully so many diverse impressions in a secret and unknown country.

Reunion with long-time friends Teresa and Tim

PHIL: Mar 7/Day 21

Ferry to Central to buy a replacement for our stolen Canon. Of course the store doesn’t have an exact replica as our ‘old’ camera was a year old (!), so we try out a range of its successors and buy a more sophisticated version for significantly less money.

Reunion with Tim and Teresa in Hongkong

Dim sum lunch with one of Allie’s old colleagues from the 80s along with her HK Civil Service husband who keeps fairly quiet during the entire meal.

It’s still cold and windy and Beijing promises to be sub-zero, so we might need to invest in some warmer clothes when we get there.

ALLIE: DAY 21: Wednesday, 7^th of March

A day in and out of Hong Kong

I am pissed… sorry to say that, but it’s true. Well, not in the American way I have to add (since I learnt today that in American “pissed” means actually “pissed off with something or someone”, but in the English sense, meaning “being quite drunk”!).
We have just had a couple of glasses of some very nice Australian red wine at the “China Bear” pub, and talked to the Pilipino bar girl who is obviously married to one of the pub owners. (I was nearly the only female in the pub, the rest being foreign expatriate men).

Ok, what did we do today? I went for a cold swim in the morning, whilst my husband was intensely “inspecting the inside of his eye-lids” as he calls it. Then we went across to Hong Kong Central and Kowloon to buy a new camera. For lunch we met with Teresa and he husband Tim to eat Dim Sum at a very crowded Chinese restaurant in the City Hall.

...and another reunion 10 years later!!

Even before we sat down the industrious waiters started to throw bits and pieces of little food snacks at us. We hardly had the time to greet each other. Efficiency certainly was the name of the game. The minute one customer finishes, the next load is seated.

 Nice to see my friend Teresa again. She still looks the same after 21 years of knowing her form that very first time of coming to Hong Kong! Teresa’s German is very good, but unfortunately she can’t find a new job after quitting her work with the Symphony Orchestra of Hong Kong (for whatever reason I don’t know).
Tim, her husband is working for the government, “for a fat salary, but the job is  boring”. Phil and I look at each other and think the same: we couldn’t and wouldn’t want to spend such a boring live even if it would earn the best money in the world!

Travel back on the ferry I leave my husband to do emails whilst I follow the “heritage trail of Mui Wo” that brings me to a little monastery and some interesting looking graves. The ashes are put into pots and lined up along a circular shaped grave. I have never seen anything like it in Asia. Our new camera works well and I enjoy trying it out on this walk.

delicious Chinese food

We decide to return to the “China Bear” pub for our last glass of decent wine (before North Korea). The pub is packed with foreigners, all male I have to add. The pub runs well and I like it here, our little Pilipino waitress says, and I am married to one of the guys in here, she hastily adds.

Well, and now it’s time to go to bed or wait until my parents ring or my husband has some other ideas….

Exploring Silvermine Bay and a hike over the hills

DAY 20: Tuesday, 6^th of March

A rather dull welcome to Hong Kong

After a long 12 hours flight we finally descend to Chep Lak Kok International Airport, Hong Kong. But the weather doesn’t look like Hong Kong at all. Has the captain by chance got the continents wrong, are we back in the UK? Grey and dull and cold is all we feel as we exit the clean and efficient airport. 

Welcome back to Hongkong

A blue taxi (blue is for Lantau Island, red for Central and green for the New Territories) brings us across the hills of Lantau to the southern side of Silvermine Bay. The road is very windy. We are quite relieved to finally reach our Hotel, the “Silvermine Bay Hotel”. If you ever believe what the internet tells you, then don’t stay here. What had seemed to be a nice attractive looking hotel near the sea, turns out to be a rather derelict two storey building that certainly had seen better days. But nevertheless, our room faces the sea, it’s quiet, the hotel staff is friendly - and we have no other option!

We digest our arrival by sipping a cold bottle of “Qing dao Beer” at a little pub near the ferry pier. The Germans certainly did their share in bringing something good to this part of the world.  

Later in the afternoon, I go out on my own determined a. to get some exercise and b. to discover what there is to discover in the little township of Silvermine Bay. At first glance, you’d think ”what a scruffy, boring, odd place”, but the more I walked, the more I actually enjoyed this place. There are old people sitting in their tiny, little houses (most times you couldn’t see, just hear them) playing Majong, the typical gambling game of China. There are no cars here. Everybody is riding bicycles like in the good old days, and even mummies and dads picking up their kids from school have to come on a bike.

Then there are little temples and shrines all full with whatever God there is to the Chinese pantheon of Taoist, Buddhist and Confucian heroes. I found the most curious offerings: pieces of fat pigs meet mixed with boiled eggs, apples, pears and oranges! Of course all auspicious symbols, as apple in Chinese is a homonym for “peace” and pear has the same pronunciation (of course in a different tone) as “strength and power”.

views over Lantau Island

The smell of burning incense reminds me of my many visits to this country. I think back of the year 1986 when I arrived first to Hong Kong after a terrible 24 hrs flight from Frankfurt, via Rome, Dubai, Colombo and Bangkok. I had just finished High School and wanted to travel to China, the country where my mother was born and my grandparents got married. Travelling for two months around China backpacking and hardly speaking the language was such a challenge that I came to the following conclusion: 

Sometimes I hated China (mainly because at that time buying tickets was such a nightmare and nobody was interested in selling you anything), but I also love it, so I wanted to study Chinese. And second, travelling is the best thing in the world. I still agree with both!

Mar 6/Day 20            

My first visit to Hong Kong since before ‘handover’, itself now nearly 10 years ago – a new regime and a new airport. CLK seems very efficient despite long queues at Immigration. Allie, who has just spent the flight practising her Japanese with a stewardess switches effortlessly to Putonghua/Mandarin Chinese to talk to the Hong Kong taxi driver.

E-mail success short-lived as it now doesn’t want to send my wi-fi messages. Very frustrating and difficult to resolve at this remove. It even looks as if I may have got ‘infected’ by a ‘worm’ because my anti-virus has been offline for so long.

Silvermine Bay Hotel and beach (internet photo)

Anyway, the Silvermine Bay Hotel (along with almost all of Silvermine Bay) has seen better days. I recall trekking here over the hill from the nearby Trappist monastery with first wife Jane in 1982 on a hot March day. She was six months pregnant with our first child, Nicholas, and the oasis of refreshment after our exertions was an Australian-run beach bar with lots of quirky character. 

Orientals in general and the Chinese in particular seem to have no feeling for ambience in their modern domestic architecture or social meeting places, so the littoral is now lined with fading concrete structures offering changing facilities, lifeguard towers, barbecue pits and toilets but the wooden Antipodean surf-shack is long gone. Mui Wo ferry terminal, another architectural eyesore, offers an escape (?) to Hong Kong Island tomorrow.

Moving between the continents: onto Hongkong

PHIL: Mar 5/Day 19

Hassle leaving Chameleon Backpackers because they had forgotten/ignored my notification of our early (0630) departure. Hassle with Avis who insisted I fill up the car at their airport filling station only to discover they had run out of petrol. South African flight late on top of all this.

However, to my delight the long-anticipated link to iPass for wi-fi connections from our laptop actually worked at last and in 10 minutes I have downloaded all the latest plus sent several outbound messages which were too long to work on ‘real-time’ online with webmail.

Wild Madagascar

Cathay a haven of peace for a 12-hour slog to Hong Kong. At least they have laptop power. Madagascar looks a wild place from 35,000ft. It is still a source of amazement to me that it is possible to travel between continents and hemispheres in the same 12-hour hop.

ALLIE: DAY 19: Monday, 5^th of March

                                          

Farewell to Africa – on to Asia

Had suffered from a terrible headache and lots of bad dreams. But where from? The exquisite gin tonics? As the sun rises over the vast plains of Namibia we drive the 48km out to the airport, drop our car and check in for the South African flight to Johannesburg. The flight is a bit delayed but we are only 10min late. Jo’burg even from the air looks a dodgy city with huge slum areas but also with dozens of golf courses, gold mines and airfields. I hear that it is one of the most violent cities in the world. So I am glad that we don’t even have to stay here but continue our journey on to Hong Kong with Cathay Pacific at 13.35 pm.

Phil tries out his long fought for wireless lan internet at the airport and is very chuffed as it seems to work this time. It is indeed amazing to be connected to the world through a tiny computer, internet and mobile phones.

flying over Mozambique

During our flight, we cross over Mozambique. Beautiful sandy beaches and lagoons stretch all along the coast. Then we cross over Madagascar. What a wild and untouched huge island. Only mountains, dried out river beds and jungle. And then it’s getting dark whilst we continue our route across the Indian Ocean towards China.

I enjoy practicing my Japanese with Joyce, the Japanese stewardess, and my Mandarin with Clarence, the Hong Kong Chinese. It feels nice to come back to a familiar country where you somehow feel at home. 

I regret not being able to make more use of my two exotic languages, so I am determined to make the best out of the coming weeks in China.

A hike around the Deen Veljoen Game park and farewell dinner at Heinitzburg

ALLIE: DAY 18: Sunday, 4^th of March

A hike in a game park and a relaxing afternoon at the chameleon

               

Wilderbeast in the game park

How to spend our last day in Namibia? There aren’t many options. So we drive 20 km out of town to the Deen Veljoen game park. A strict looking black lady takes detailed account of our passport numbers, nationality, car number etc. At another office we are asked to pay 90 rand entrance fee. For what we wonder? Instead of finding a lush green paradise we enter a barren landscape where only some herds of wilderbeast, a few kudus and mountain zebras manage to survive. 

But we are supposed to hike 9 km on the roiboos trail. It’s already getting very hot and we still haven’t found the start of the hiking trail. The nature conservation people seem to be enthusiasts in scouting, because we have to search for white sticks or arrows to make sure we are on the right trail.

Kudu (internet photo)

 At the top of the highest peak (1754m) we are rewarded with a nice few to the “skyline” of Windhoek and its surrounding mountains. Following a dried out river bed we eventually arrive back to the “restaurant”. Having made my husband walk for 2 hrs in the scorching heat I promised him a nice cold beer at this place – but the restaurant is closed. Oh dear! We walk on and manage to get hold of a cold cider just a minute before the Kiosk lady also decides to shut and go for lunch. Good grief! The rest of the afternoon is spent at the backpackers lodge with writing, swimming and relaxing. Time for a sun downer. We try the exclusive “Heinitzburg”, now a posh hotel in the style of a German fortress situated on a hill overlooking the city. But the gin tonic doesn’t turn our to be what we, or let’s say – a proper Englishman in form of Phil Dunnington – would expect. So Phil gives the staff a lesson in how to prepare a proper English GnT. We end up in having at least 6 gins and lots of tonic!

Heinitzburg restaurant

As our farewell to Namibia or let’s say to African cuisine we dine at the “Restaurant Africa” set at the old colonial museums building with a splendid view across the city and a beautiful setting sun.

It’s getting time to move on. We certainly haven’t seen all there is to see in Namibia, but I think we have gained a good insight into local lifestyle, various landscapes and the dangers of travelling here!  

Chameleon Lodge Windhoek

PHIL: Mar 4/Day 18

Allie back on form and raring to climb mountains. She sees one in a nearby wildlife park with a 9km trek to a peak marked 1750m.I gasp, but when we get there it is evident that the trail starts at 1500m, so it’s quite acceptable even to me. Quite a bit of wildlife and hardly any humans, so a very satisfactory end to our stay in Namibia.

Back to the Chameleon Backpackers for a packing and e-mail session before our early departure tomorrow.

Windhoek in trance

PHIIL: Day 17/Mar 3

Sombre drive to Windhoek with Allie semi-stupefied by a combination of tranquiliser pills and shock. She is this way for most of the day as I lead her zombie-like around the city centre to try and recover from the trauma. Of course being a Saturday the German Embassy is closed and we can’t find the British High Commission, so our plan to report our experience is thwarted. Allie spends the rest of the day sleeping fitfully. A very Germanic evening at Joe’s Beer House later on with Allie in recovery mode – full of local and expat Germans of all shapes and sizes.

View over Windhoek

ALLIE: DAY 17: 3^rd of March

Windhoek in trance

I had taken a sleeping pill to overcome my worries and bad memories of the incident, but they seem to have a disastrous effect on me: I feel sleepy the whole day. Sleep in the car during the one hour drive back to Windhoek, manage a few dozy steps in the main street of the capital searching for a new phone and a cup of coffee, sleep again in the Backpackers Lodge, drag myself up, jump briefly into the pool, drive out to Eros Airport which again is a disappointment for Phil (only one old aircraft but no sign of activity at all), pay a visit to the history museum (which is filled with memorabilia of the independence struggle), look at the Christus Kirche (which is supposedly neo-gothic, but looks more romance to us), drink another coffee at the Zoo Café, drive back to the lodge to sleep some more, get up to write this and force myself to join Phil for a night out at the famous “Joe’s beerhouse”.

Christus Kirche Windhoek

I am angry about the loss of my phone. It will take ages to get all the data back, and of course all the pictures that we had taken. They are gone forever. What a pity!

My left arm is turning blue, the guy had grabbed me so strong. Wonder what happens to him today. The police told us, that “interrogation” is resumed at 10.00 in the morning. Wanted to report our case to the German embassy, but the office in Windhoek was shut. What else do you expect from a German office on a Saturday?

I think we are both very ready to leave this country and move on. But there is one more day to be filled tomorrow and we are running out of ideas as what to do.

Black day in Africa! Robbery!

ALLIE: DAY 16: Friday, the 2^nd of March

A black Day in Africa!

I am still shaking from today’s horrible experience but writing this down may help me to calm down and digest.

We left Omaruru and drove the 120 km down to the town called Okahandja. My guide book says it’s a “nice, green and pleasant little town situated at the Swakop river”. Well, since we have one more day to spare we decided to stay here for the night and booked us in the “Villa Nina”, a small quiet guesthouse run by a German ex-airline pilot. My book also tells me, that this town is famous for its Herero cemetery. The two leaders of the battle of Waterberg, Maharero and his son Samuel, being laid to rest here. Each year on the 26^th of August hundreds of Herero from all over the country gather at this site to celebrate and commemorate the heroic struggle and death of their great leaders. The women would be dressed in their incongruous looking Victorian dresses with big square turbans and the men in their military uniforms, with the so called “Kaiser” as their leader. A weird thing considering the fact that the Herero were always fighting against the German and British Imperialists!

Herero Ladies in their traditional dresses and hats

So we wander along in search of the cemetery. The path leads us past a disused tennis court and an even more derelict swimming pool. The area looks a bit dodgy but my guide book encourages us to continue “because the cemetery is a bit difficult to find”. Ok, we wander on and finally meet a young girl and an old man in a compound who show us the graveyard. It turns out that the cemetery actually consists of only ONE single grave of the father and son Maharero. The sons gravestone is a rocket with a picture of him, the fathers grave has some German writing on it and is overgrown by grass. Nobody seems to care much for the up keeping of their heroes relics. We take the obligatory picture and start walking back towards the main street when bad fate strikes.

Maharero the 'Kaiser'

Suddenly three young guys stand near the path, one stretching out his hand as to greet me. I am reluctant. I don’t like this “shake-hands-with-foreigners” business. But before I even can think, the guy grabs my arm, draws out a long sharp knife and threatens to stab me with it. Hardly realizing what happens, he rips of my shoulder bag and tears off my waist bag with our money, my mobile phone and our digital camera. Phil tries to prevent the guy from stabbing me but also realizes the imminent threat of the situation. We can only let go, and hope to at least get away unhurt. The boys run off with all our belongings… I am totally shocked. This is 12.30 in the bright sunshine, only 50m from the main street and in the middle of a allegedly safe town.

Eventually we scream after the robbers and some of the boys from the compound start to race after them. In the meantime we are led by a young women with her baby to the next police station. Phil then takes up the chase with two police men, whilst I am condemned to sit and wait. I try to make some conversation with the girl and the baby, but my mind of course is miles away…time drags on and I wished I had come with Phil. Nothing to drink here as well, and the police lady just puts on a grim face and doesn’t say anything to me. After eternity, Phil returns with the police. They have managed to catch the robber with the knife, but the two youngsters are gone, together with all our valuables. Shit!

The police start to beat the guy trying to get from him the names and contacts of his mates, but even half beating him unconscious doesn’t seem to make him talk. I feel so bad. I don’t want this brutality to happen and I already start somehow to feel sorry for the bloke. On the other hand: he could have killed me!

A few hours later we return to the station to fill in a police report. “Are you willing to appear at court” the officer asks us. We say ‘yes’ under the assumption that it never will happen anyway.

A mate of Mr. Doerr the guesthouse owner named Klaus, offers to take us to a restaurant in town. Since we are a bit paranoid now about safety, we agree and he brings us to the Okahanja Lodge, a 3-star hotel just a few km outside of town. Not our choice but we decide to stay here and have a bite to eat.

PHIL: Day 16/2 Mar

Decided to drive the short leg to Okhanja, another small town less than 100k from Windhoek, and booked into a B&B run by a former Hapag-Lloyd  A310 pilot who seems typical of large numbers of neo-German expats here.

Walking round the town at lunchtime seems harmless enough until we walk 200m off the main street following signs to Herero Graves, a tourist spot listed in our guidebook. We were shown the graves by a teenage girl living in a nearby outbuilding who couldn’t explain why one headstone represented a huge military shellcase. We suspect it honours a hero of the SWAPO war of independence.

Returning to the street along a line of ancient bottle-palms a trio of youths approaches as if in greeting. The eldest, about 17, speaks in German and holds out, curiously I note, his left hand. In seconds he has grabbed Allie’s arm and, brandishing a 20cm hunting knife, stripped her of her shoulder bag and body belt with camera and phone.

Herero lady with traditional hat (internet photo)

He and his younger accomplices run off through the bush with me, after a few seconds comforting Allie, in pursuit. It is a hopeless task on a hot day in quite dense undergrowth but we call to the nearby residents some of whom set out to chase the gang. Another young girl, babe in arms, takes us the short distance to the Police station where Allie stays to recover whilst I pile into a prison truck with two officers armed with pistols. Near the scene we jump out and I run with the police up a craggy hill where there is a series of huts in an enclosure. There is Allie’s shoulder bag, stripped of valuable items, of course. More surprisingly the police return moments later with the ring-leader in handcuffs. He is thrown unceremoniously into the van and locked in as we drive back to the Police station.

Tomb of Samual Maharero

Dragged around the back, fortunately out of Allie’s sight but, by invitation, within my full view, the robber is ‘interrogated’. What I see reminds me of the reports of Steve Biko’s demise in apartheid South Africa of the 70s. The youth is first given rabbit punches to the abdomen and neck, then flailed with a thick baton. He collapses senseless on the grass. These are black African policemen administering justice in the same fashion as their hated white predecessors from whom, no doubt, they learned the trade. It is quite pointless to object and probably dangerous to intervene in this sickening process.

A prolonged period of form-filling and statements follows and the next morning we return to see if anything had been found. Of course it hasn’t but we are advised that ‘interrogation’ will resume at 10 o’clock if we wish to wait. We do not. I am also requested to return to Namibia, at Government expense, as a witness when the case comes to trial. I doubt if I shall hear anything or that the suspect will emerge into the notional criminal justice system.