Dim sum, Peking duck

I love Hong Kong. To be honest, there's not much to do, but I love what it is. I love the multiculturalism of the food - dim sum for breakfast (yum), and restaurants/ cafes with every possible Asian option plus French, Spanish, Italian, and of course the ubiquitous Irish pub. I love the busy-ness, with people hustling and bustling about - 7 million in a small space (I am a city girl at heart); yet it's immaculately well-kept (no litter, spirit-level-straight vegetation). I love the lights: delicate fairy lights, flashing fluorescent shop signs and enormous aggressive neon hoardings assault your eyes. People are very child-friendly, warmly responding to Jemima's random chatting; strangers have stopped to help us continuously, whether finding places, carrying the buggy on stairs, or helping us order food; and everyone, from the toilet cleaners to the shop assistants speak beautiful English, but are completely thrilled with our incorrectly pronounced "thank you". It is extraordinarily commercial, with the highest-end shopping everywhere, but it combines that glitz with the rust and rope of a gritty working harbour, and the peace of morning Tai Chi groups with their own designated public spaces. I couldn't live here, I couldn't even stay that long, but it's a lot of fun for a few, jet-lagged days.

And another such day it has been. Today, our distraction of choice was the hop-on, hop-off bus tour, always a family favourite. While Jemima listened to the Frozen soundtrack, Kevin and I spaced out, watching the scenery flash past while listening to an appallingly uninformative commentary. But the view was interesting: downtown Hong Kong island where banking skyscrapers bulllied run down residential blocks; followed by the peaceful, picturesque and expensive southern part of the island, where you could sense the landscape before it was overrun with concrete (and was previously, romantically overrun with the pirates of the South China Sea...). Lunch at Stanley Waterfront, a nice promenade overlooking the bay; a wander through the world famous (aka tourist tat-filled) Stanley Market; and then another playground, a giant ship this time, and playtime with a half English, half Australian family returning home from a month with family in Kew (the next door borough to my parents' house in London - it turned out he went to school in Hammersmith, same as me, and was friends with school fellows, a few years older. Small world etc...). 

Back on the bus, chillier now, and Jemima succumbing to sleep. Then the Star Ferry - like old hands - and back to the hotel for Jemima and I, while Kevin went to collect his jeans. And I'm afraid it was too much for me too - I took advantage of some Peppa videos to have an almost irresistible snooze (I've forgotten what it's like to feel normal, how on earth people manage doing 13 hours time change in one go). And then the final chapter of the day, and one I always love: dinner.

Jemima has been asking for her favourite Chinese food, crispy duck. Kevin did some googling and as a result led us to the Spring Deer, a first floor restaurant with the same slightly functional look as in London's Chinatown. But it was packed, not a spare table (we'd booked), and buzzing with happy, predominantly Chinese diners. Crispy duck was a hot ticket - chefs kept wheeling glossy brown birds past us, returning with naked carcasses. And when it was our turn, it was great theatre. Rather than shredding, like in England, they carve slices with an enormous cleaver, so each slice has shiny, crispy skin and soft meat. Jemima, the carnivore, forewent the pancakes and just scoffed down the duck very happily, while Kevin and I enjoyed the wrapping experience  (inferior dried up cucumber and spring onion; thicker, floury pancakes more like chapattis, which I preferred but Kevin didn't; and fabulous, fabulous duck with wonderful thick tangy sauce). Then back to glorious bed.

On the bus:

 

 

 

Contrasts:

 

 

Repulse Bay:

 

 

Stanley:

 

 

 

 

The ferry home:

 

 

Peking duck: