Finding Hong Kong, Losing Wallets, Etc

Photos & Editorial by Lucas Marquardt 

When traveling, I’ve found there are a few things that help me get a good feel of a city. Taking public transportation. Going for a jog around town. Eating lunch where the locals do. Getting a haircut. 
I’m not sure how the last one made the list. It was probably a result of running out of time before departing Lexington. But really–a barber’s a barber the world over, and it’s a good way to hang with some locals, even if it’s just for 20 minutes.

On this trip, I got the haircut crossed off my list in Macau. I’d left Taipa Racecourse, couldn’t find a taxi, found myself in front of a shop that had both a barber’s pole and some large, outdated Vidal Sasoon posters on the walls, and ducked in. 
It was the first haircut I’ve had where no attempt at communication was made. I don’t mean that this young Chinese fellow and I couldn’t communicate; we didn’t even try–no holding the fingers so far apart to indicate hair length or anything. I came in, we just sorted of nodded at each other, he pointed to a chair and I sat down. Then he went to work. The weird thing was that he cut it exactly right; or exactly as I would have asked for. Frankly, it turned out way better than the haircuts I get from the young lady at Sports Clips in Lexington, and we, ostensibly, speak the same language. 
Ever since I made it back to the Sheung Wan neighborhood of Hong Kong, I’ve been working on some of those other points. First up: public transportation. Really, it’s a dream here. Nine color-coded lines make up the MTR’s subway system, which take you from Hong Kong Island to Kowloon, to Lantau Island and the New Territories. Achieving a 99.9% on-time rate–the government agency that runs it actually gets fined if trains are too late–the system is clean and efficient. A full 3G network in stations and tunnels means you can, in theory, but only in theory, place bets on California racing during your commute. 

Single-trip tickets are available, but it’s easier to pre-load an “Octopus” card, a fare payment system that is accepted at the MTR, as well as at ferries, buses, the Airport Express, etc. Know where else it’s accepted? Sha Tin Racecourse. Just touch your card to the sensor and you’re in. 

At the risk of sounding unappreciative for the media bus the HKJC has provided, it’s faster to take public transportation out to Sha Tin, and it gives you a better feel for Hong Kongers. From the first hotel I stayed at, I hopped on the MTR at Shueng Wan station, changed trains at Central, again at Mong Kok, and again at Kowloon Tong, where I caught the East Rail line to Fo Tan. Sounds like a hassle, I know, but I never waited more than four or five minutes for a train, everything was marked in English, and I made it there in less than 45 minutes. Now, on racedays, there’s a train extension that runs right to the track (sort of like on the A Train that runs to Aqueduct), but not on regular days, so it was a two-mile walk from the station. But it’s a quick, safe walk and you get a chance to see a part of Hong Kong missed by a lot of tourists. 

I’ve never been much of a foodie, which is obvious when I try to write about it. I just don’t have the vocabulary or knowledge base. But I have been getting familiar with the cheap eats of Sheung Wan–which is a crowded maze of narrow, winding streets and is famous for its huge number of spice shops–and there’s nothing but positive things to report. 

Near my hotel, just off Des Voeux Road West, I found the Queen Street Cooked Food Market. It was a food court of sorts, but not anything like you’d find at a mall. With a drop ceiling, florescent lighting and a wide array of furniture and seating, the place didn’t have much to offer in decor. But it isn’t ambiance that people go there for. It’s the 10 or 15 different restaurants that serve outstanding versions of everything from steamed dumplings to chicken vindaloo to roasted suckling pig. There is communal seating, mostly plastic chairs, but you order from a waiter. The clientele seemed to be primarily locals on their lunch breaks, though the place is open almost all the time–it closes only between 2 and 6 a.m. 

The first day I went there, I hit up Chautari, an Indian and Nepalese restaurant that offers a set lunch for HK$55 (about US$7). Included is a thin soup, a choice of several curries, Nepali Fried Rice, etc., and naan or rice. It was pretty standard fare, but delicious. 

On day two I tried out ABC Kitchen, which, of all things, specializes in Italian. The chef and manager, according to Fodor’s, both worked at “Hong Kong’s once-iconic M at the Fringe restaurant.” Now, I don’t know what happened to M at the Fringe, now closed, but its loss is the Queen Street Cooked Food Market’s gain. I got a linguini and chicken that was terrific. The sauce was rich, the chicken tender and delicious, but really, just a bowl of the pasta plain would have sufficed. 

I was sat at a table with a young couple and their baby. It was slightly awkward at first, but they were fun ex-pats (she from the UK; he from Dundalk) and easy to talk to, and we got on fine. I encouraged them to head to Sha Tin on Sunday for the races; maybe I’ll see them there. 

On the last night at that hotel, I worked out a bit in the gym, then felt the need to completely undo any gains I’d made. I’d made note of a place I’d passed called Sister Wah, and set out just before 11 p.m. I got there 10 minutes before closing, and they were nice enough to seat me and order up a big serving of beef brisket in soup. The large chunks of beef were incredibly tender, and the fat on them melted like butter in your mouth. I’m sure the chef cringed when I ladled in some red pepper chili oil, but boy, was it good. 

And a Special Thanks to Mr. Shao… 
On Wednesday morning, I changed hotels, moving from a place I’d gotten in Sheung Wan to the media hotel over in Central. That meant an early morning taxi ride in order to catch the 7 a.m. bus to Sha Tin Racecourse leaving from the media hotel. Sans coffee and the clarity it brings, I promptly left my wallet on the taxi’s backseat, which I didn’t realize until I tried to check in. The bus was about to leave and the taxi driver, now long gone, had an honest face, so I decided to hold off on canceling my cards. Well, good on you Mr. Shao. When I got back from covering the morning works, I found the driver had returned my wallet to the front desk. “You found the one taxi driver in 1000 in Hong Kong that would do that,” one local told me. Anyway, he left his name and phone number, so with the help of Julia Tsang from the HKJC, we called and said thanks, got his mailing address, and one of the snazzy dark-blue jackets the HKJC gifts to us will soon be on Mr. Shao’s doorstep. So, if you’re in Hong Kong and need a good cabbie, his number is: 852 5328-1721.