I am a travel buff. It is my goal to visit every state in the United States (I’ve done 33, so far) and many countries throughout the world. There are a lot of countries out there. Some, like Australia and South Africa, are at the top of my list. Some, like Myanmar and Sierra Leone, don’t sound all that appealing. Some, like Iran and Yemen, might be interesting but are off the table for obvious reasons. Antarctica would be amazing, but it’s not actually a country.
So, when it was time pick a place for my annual vacation with my good friends and favorite traveling companions, the Wyszynskis, there were many potential choices. When we started traveling together many years ago, our trips were easy drives from the Wyszynski home in Los Angeles. We slowly got more adventurous and made our way to the farther reaches of California and nearby states. Last year, we got even more adventurous and went on a spectacular trip to Hawaii. Where do we go next? Should we dial it back a little? We all look forward to this trip each year, but maybe the expectations are too high – or maybe not. Diego, the leader of our fearless group came up with another great idea: Hong Kong! But that was not on my list! It sounded crazy, but maybe it was not so crazy.
Diego told me that Hong Kong met the basic criteria for our trips: Kosher food was readily available, there was a minyan, at least for Shabbos, and many people there speak English. Okay then, I am on board! It was time to learn a bit about Hong Kong so we could plan our trip.
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Hong Kong is a small island off the coast of mainland China. The island was Chinese territory throughout many Chinese dynasties until 1841, when the British occupied the island during the First Opium War. The British formally acquired the island from the Chinese in 1842 when Chinese were defeated in the war. In 1860, at the end of the Second Opium War, the United Kingdom acquired a perpetual lease of Kowloon, which is a peninsula attached to mainland China directly across the strait from Hong Kong. In 1898, the British obtained a 99-year lease for the islands surrounding Hong Kong, called the New Territories. These three areas became the British colony know as Hong Kong. In 1984, the British agreed that at the end of the 99-year lease, all the territory in the colony would be transferred to China in exchange for a promise that Hong Kong citizens could continue to practice capitalism and enjoy political freedoms. On July 1, 1997, the colony was officially turned over to China and became a Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China.
What this history meant for our trip is that many residents of Hong Kong, both Chinese and others, speak English (as well as their native Cantonese). Most roads maintain their English names, and cars drive on the left side of the road. Americans do not need a visa to visit Hong Kong, and the Hong Kong dollar is the local currency (not the Chinese renminbi, or yuan, as it is commonly called).
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Jews started setting up shop in Hong Kong as soon as the British took over the territory. They were there to do business in what was becoming a major port city. The first Jews in Hong Kong were Sefardim, mostly from Persia. These Jews established a formal Hong Kong Jewish community in 1857 and the first shul in 1870 in a house leased by the Sassoon family. Congregation Ohel Leah was constructed in 1901 and remains open today as a modern Orthodox congregation. There was even a Jewish governor of Hong Kong from 1903 until 1907, Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Matthew Nathan, for whom the main road in Kowloon was named. The Jewish Community Center of Hong Kong opened in 1995 and remains a focal point of the Jewish community, providing educational, cultural, and recreational services. The JCC houses both a meat and a dairy restaurant as well as a small kosher market. Of course, Chabad also has a significant presence in Hong Kong, with shluchim on Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, and Lantau Island (part of the New Territories).
The Jewish population in Hong Kong remained very low, never more than a few hundred, until the 1960s, when the colony developed as a trade and finance center. This attracted many Jews from the United States, Israel, the United Kingdom, Australia, and Canada, many of them Ashkenazim. Today, even after the transfer of the colony to China, there are an estimated 5,000 to 6,000 Jews in Hong Kong.
There are some people who are happy eating tuna for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when kosher food is not available. For me, that would get old really quickly. And while I have spent a few Shabbosim over the years in places where a minyan doesn’t exist, for me, Shabbos without a minyan is not a great Shabbos, so I was happy to know that there would be a minyan.
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I began my journey on a lovely Tuesday morning with a short flight to Chicago. Of course, even a flight to Israel is relatively short compared to a flight to the Far East. My flight from Chicago to Hong Kong was a mind-numbing 16 hours. How can one be expected to sit in a seat for 16 hours straight? To make matters worse, the airline did not have my kosher food. I packed a few snacks, but I was in no mood to fast again so soon after Tisha B’Av. A nice flight attendant scoured the airplane for anything kosher and provided me with fresh fruit from the first-class cabin. I had so many apples and bananas that I was determined to not even look at another one during my entire stay in Hong Kong.
To help pass the time during my sleepless flight, I sporadically followed our flight path on the entertainment system’s flight tracker, which provides such helpful information as altitude and outside temperature. Of course, if I found myself outside the plane at 38,000 feet, I don’t think the temperature would be the worst of my problems. Interestingly, due to the flight path and the time of the day, I would arrive in Hong Kong the following day, without it ever having gotten dark. Consequently, I was unable to daven Maariv. That was a bit weird. Could I make it up by davening Maariv twice on the way back? Just kidding.
The flight tracker did provide a surprise as it showed our flight heading almost due north from Chicago. Wouldn’t you think the flight would go west over the Pacific Ocean? Our flight continued north straight through Canada and over the Arctic Ocean. Luckily, the earth is round, so we didn’t fly off into space. Our journey continued south over Siberia and eastern China until it mercifully landed on Lantau Island.
The Hong Kong airport is a bustling, modern facility. I gathered my luggage, breezed through border control, and was on my way to Hong Kong Island in a red Toyota Comfort taxi. I knew not to get into a green taxi because they only go to the New Territories or a blue taxi which stays on Lantau Island. That was pretty much all I knew about getting around town. After crossing over bridges and through tunnels, I made it to Hong Kong Island and my hotel on Robinson Road in the Mid-Levels part of town. Yes, it is actually called Mid-Levels. Since this is halfway up the mostly mountainous island, I suppose the name makes sense. The busy business district in the low-lying area is called Central, and the upper area is called the Peak. I paid my $400 HK fare (a little over 50 U.S. dollars) and checked into my hotel. I learned my first and only word of Chinese – xie xie (pronounced shay shay), which means thank you. A tour guide would later tell us that the first xie must be said in a singsong manner, or else the term means a horse. I don’t know if she was pulling my leg.
Two more cab rides later (the first one dropped me off in the wrong place) I met the Wyzynskis at the JCC for a much-needed dinner. After all those apples and bananas, a hamburger never tasted so good.
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As with our previous trips, there was no extra rest for us weary, jetlagged travelers. There were places to see and things to do. First was a jaunt over the strait on the iconic Star Ferry to Kowloon. Kowloon is famous for its shopping and for one of the most crowded neighborhoods in the world, Mongkok. We hopped off at the bustling Tsim Sha Tsui (say that five times real fast) harbor and made our way up to Kowloon Park, which contains a lake, an aviary, a public swimming pool, and miles of walking paths. After a quick lunch in the park we walked up the aforementioned Nathan Road, which is known as the Golden Mile, from its origin near the harbor up to the Mongkok. This is Hong Kong’s famous shopping district where one can browse in everything from famous international companies to small local stores. You won’t find many American fast-food restaurants here, but there is a 7-Eleven on every other block.
We continued uptown to the jade market. This historic market houses dozens of vendors that sell all things jade. As an “official” tourist, it was mandatory that I be makpid (conscientious) about making a purchase. Unfortunately, my choices were limited since I was not interested in jewelry or mini-Buddha statues. I finally settled on a nice little green turtle. Now a quick word about shopping in the local markets of Hong Kong. Just as in the shuks (markets) of Israel, it is customary to bargain before making a purchase. Haggling is not one of my better talents. When a vendor offered me a turtle for $85 HK, I sheepishly counter-offered $75 HK, which was immediately accepted. I clearly was not very good at this. My new pseudo-nephew-in-law, Jeff, was much more successful. I think he offered $5 HK for a $150 HK piece of jewelry and got it for $25 HK.
Next on the agenda was the equally famous Ladies Market in Mongkok. It is is called the Ladies Market because many years ago only ladies’ products could be purchased there. Today, the market offers products for everyone, but there were still lots of cheap handbags to be had. The Ladies Market is kind of like the alleys in Machane Yehuda, without the shouting and the fish smells. I purchased a refrigerator magnet and a $4 (US) double extra-large T-shirt that incidentally was too small for a 10-year-old me after one trip through the dryer. As the sun was setting, we hustled over to the somewhat disappointing goldfish market with its walls lined with water-filled plastic bags containing goldfish as well as exotic fish species.
By this time, we were all starving but too tired to hoof it all the way back to the harbor. It was time to call an Uber. Since I live in Baltimore and own a car, I have never used Uber. Kowloon would be my first try. We finally got the Uber app up and going on my rented iPhone and waited for the Uber to arrive. We received a message to meet it at some nearby corner. Meet it? Is that really a thing? Why can’t it pick you up where you are? Now, it is important to note that this part of Kowloon is extremely busy, with lots of traffic, one-way streets, and streets with barriers in the medians to prevent pedestrians from crossing. We couldn’t see the Uber, and we couldn’t get to the corner without taking a circuitous route to get around the blocked-off streets. The Uber was gone before we could get there. I was charged for a missed ride. Welcome to Uber.
We were finally able to hail a taxi and made our way to Mul Hayam, the glatt kosher restaurant in the harbor area of Kowloon. The restaurant is owned by the Sefardi Kehilat Zion Hechal Ezra Synagogue, which is next door to the restaurant. Finding the restaurant was another mini-challenge since it is located in one of several indoor malls in a block of buildings whose address numbers didn’t appear to be posted on any of the buildings. We tracked it down and gratefully plopped down to enjoy our meal. I had meat soup (presumably not xie xie) and a schnitzel the size of a frisbee. We had bread for dessert. Don’t ask.
After dinner we slowly made our way back to the Tsim Sha Tsui harbor to catch a ferry. While we were waiting for the ferry, we enjoyed the spectacular, iconic views of central Hong Kong and Victoria Harbor across the strait. We took lots of postcard-worthy pictures, hopped on the ferry, and returned to our hotel for some much-needed sleep.
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The next morning, Friday, we were up early to take a half-day tour of Hong Kong Island. The tour began with a visit to Victoria Peak, the highest point of the island. The best way to reach the Peak is by the Peak Tram, which is like a trolley car that climbs the mountain at what seemed to me sometimes precarious upward angles. Technically, this mode of transportation is called a funicular railway. I considered reciting Tefillas Haderech (the traveler’s prayer), but it didn’t seem appropriate for such a brief journey. The click-clacking of the tram reminded me of a roller coaster, which I earnestly hoped the tram would not become. We made it safely to the top and disembarked at the visitor’s center.
We didn’t have much time at the Peak, so we were led directly to the path along the top of the mountain that offers incredible views of Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. Luckily, the predicted rain did not materialize, so we could enjoy the majestic vistas. We took our pictures, strolled around for a few minutes, and headed to our bus for the ride back down the mountain.
Our next stop was a jewelry workshop. I wondered what makes tour companies think that this would be of significant interest to tourists. Such a tour stop is not unique to Hong Kong. I have been on numerous tours that made similar stops, including in Tel Aviv, where our tour stopped at a diamond workshop. The real reason for this stop, of course, is to try to induce tourists to make purchases. Undoubtedly, the tour operators get a kickback for any purchases. We would have preferred more time at the Peak and less time awkwardly strolling around a showroom feigning interest in unaffordable jewelry.
Finally, it was time to move on to our next stop, the fishing village of Aberdeen. We took a brief tour of the harbor on a traditional Chinese junk (boat) and then set off to the nearby coastal town of Stanley. The drive to Stanley was the Hong Kong version of Mulholland Drive near Beverly Hills, California. We passed by Repulse Bay with its houses of the rich and famous and were informed that the real estate here is more expensive than in midtown Manhattan. There is an odd-looking building in Repulse Bay that has a large hole built in the middle. Our guide explained that his hole was for feng shui purposes, to allow the dragon on the mountain to pass through to the sea. Okay, if you say so, but I have a question about that pshat (interpretation). Why can’t the dragon just go around the building? I thought it was better not to ask.
Our final stop of the tour was at Stanley Market, which is another famous local market that specializes in clothing. This market was not as crowded as the Ladies Market in Kowloon, so we were able to stroll through at a leisurely pace. Again, I felt as if it were incumbent upon me to make a purchase, so I bought a small replica Hong Kong double-decker bus. It will go nicely with my small replica London double-decker bus, wherever that is.
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Shabbos was coming and I was excited to meet members of the local Jewish community. I was not particularly excited about having to walk up and down 12 flights of stairs to and from my hotel room, but at least it wasn’t 30 floors, and at least the front doors were not equipped with electronic sensors. Even better was that Chabad was only a few buildings away. A long walk in 90-degree heat and 99 percent humidity would not have been fun. I can now answer the rhetorical question of what can be worse than the humidity of South Florida in the summer.
We weren’t exactly sure where the Chabad shul was, so we just followed the other Jews walking to shul. It’s a good thing we did because getting to the shul required a trip through a lobby, up some stairs, through an unmarked door, down some stairs to a covered patio, then up some stairs to the apartment that housed the shul. Friday night services were well-attended. The locals and guests were of many different stripes. There were Ashkenazi, Sefardi, and Lubavitch; black hats and kippot sruga; suits and jeans; young and old. We davened Nusach Ari of course, with a little Sefardi thrown in – for the benefit of the locals, I was told by the rabbi. I get it, I told the rabbi. My Lubavitch Shabbos minyan in Baltimore starts at 9:00 a.m. (not the traditional 10:00 a.m. of most Chabad shuls) for the benefit of the local Ashkenazim.
We ate Shabbos dinner at the lovely home of Rabbi and Mrs. Mordechai Avtzon. Rabbi Avtzon has been the shaliach in Hong Kong for many years. Prior to Hong Kong, the rabbi spent time in Argentina, Diego’s native homeland. The rabbi got to practice his Spanish, and the inevitable game of Jewish geography ensued. Our game was quite successful. Mrs. Avtzon is a sister of Rabbi Shemtov, the Chabad rabbi in Washington, D.C. One of the Avtzon’s daughters is good friends with one of The Shul at Lubavitch Center’s Rabbi Kaplan’s granddaughters. Even more coincidentally, one of the Avtzon’s sons just started law school at the University of Maryland. How about that for Jewish geography?
In addition to our group, there were many other guests at the Avtzon’s Shabbos table. Many of these guests were young men and women from France who were doing internships in Hong Kong. I was humbled by the passion for Judaism many of the young French Jews clearly exhibited. No matter their level of their observance, they were proud Jews. This is especially praiseworthy for Jews without a strong and lengthy Jewish education, who live in the midst of significant anti-Semitism. It was another reminder of how lucky we are to live in a place like Baltimore with so many Jewish educational opportunities and relatively little anti-Semitism. We ate, sang, heard a dvar Torah and went merrily on our way, one block to our hotel.
On Shabbos morning we managed to find the Chabad shul without assistance. There were fewer people than the night before but still a good crowd. We were introduced to the shul’s gabbai, who appeared to be a former member of the IDF. Good thing, since he was not only the gabbai but also the shul’s security man. One doesn’t often get called up for an aliyah by a guy with an earbud attached to one of those curly wires that snake down to a radio of some sort, kind of like a secret service agent would wear. Would you like a misheberach? Did you pack your own tallis bag? Would you open the aron? Did anyone give you anything to put in your tallis bag? Yikes.
We had lunch in shul, along with other guests and members of the community. Everyone politely lined up for the buffet, just like a kiddush in Baltimore, right? The cholent was delicious, by the way. After lunch we went back to the hotel for a little oneg and then, at least for me, a nap. Back to shul for Mincha, seudah shlishit, Maariv, and Havdala.
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What is there to do on a Motzei Shabbos in Hong Kong? I had no idea. We went to a local grocery store to see what we could find. There were a few kosher foods available, mostly from major U.S. companies like Kellogg’s. I was looking to add to my collection of Coke bottles from across the world. We all have a can or bottle from Israel with Coke written in Hebrew. I was looking forward to buying a bottle with Coke written in Chinese, but was disappointed to find that all the Coke products had labels in English. That’s a bummer. I drowned my sorrow in a Haagen Dazs ice cream bar.
On Sunday morning we were up early again for a day tour of Macau. Macau is a former Portuguese colony that was also turned over to China and is now a Special Administrative Region like Hong Kong. It is an island just off the coast of Guangzhou (formerly Canton) in mainland China. Our speedy catamaran made the 60-kilometer journey through the Pearl River delta in around an hour. Just like Hong Kong, a visa is not needed to enter Macau, but a passport is required since it is effectively an international border crossing – unless you are an Argentine citizen, apparently. Then, it turns out, you do need a visa if you are a citizen of certain countries, as Diego’s Argentine-born daughter Sarita found out. Poor Sarita was detained and led away by a stern-looking border guard. Bye Sarita; I hear Chinese prisons are not so bad. Or just pay the $100 HK visa fee and meet us in the terminal.
Macau is famous as the gambling capital of the world. It makes Las Vegas look like a bingo parlor in a retirement home. The billions of dollars raked in by Las Vegas casinos is dwarfed by the sums wagered in Macau. Why is this? one might wonder. Because, as our Asian tour guide pointed out, Asians have a gambling problem, and there are a lot of Asians. It was funnier hearing him say it. We made a brief stop at the Venetian casino. The reason why it looks like Sheldon Adelson’s Venetian in Las Vegas is because it is an exact duplicate. There was no time for gambling or for a gondola ride through the resort. Just a quick peek and we were on our way to the Macau Tower.
The Macau Tower is an 1,108-foot convention and entertainment complex. Before we went inside, we stopped nearby so we could take pictures and so the guide could give us some information. He pointed out how close we were to mainland China and advised us against swimming on over lest we be shot. I was doubtful that anyone was so dying to get into the People’s Republic that they would swim for it, but what do I know?
The Tower includes an observation deck and, for the insane, a bungee jump. As our guide was explaining the procedure for anyone interested in the bungee jump, we could see someone high up on the tower about to make the plunge. Halfway down, the jumper appeared to go limp. My thoughts of “uh-oh” were immediately vocalized by our guide, who nonchalantly pointed out that “sumtin not right.” Thank you, Mister Obvious. After a few minutes it appeared that the jumper was okay. Needless to say, after witnessing that jump, there were no jumpers in our group. Most of our group continued up to the observation deck, but my acrophobia (fear of heights) kept me on ground level. I was content to watch the crazy jumpers get their adrenaline rush.
Our next stop was the ruins of the St. Paul Church, which is a World Heritage Site. It was built in the early 1600s and burned in 1835 leaving nothing but a granite façade. Its significance seems to be that it was the largest church in Asia. The 68-steps in front of the façade were more crowded with tourists than the famous Spanish steps in Rome.
Time to move on. We were led down New Road, the most crowded shopping street I have ever seen. It made Machane Yehuda on a Friday afternoon seem empty. No joke. We were warned to wear backpacks and purses in front of our bodies and to keep our hands on them at all times. We only lost one member of our group in this sea of people – better than most groups, claimed our tour guide. Goodness, how many people do they normally lose on a tour through this market?
Next on the cultural agenda was the A-Ma Temple. This Taoist temple was built in 1488 and was the first such temple in Macau. The only problem was that none of us knew anything about Taoism, and we did not know whether it involved avoda zara (idol worship). I tried a google search but, not surprisingly, did not get any hits. I suppose the question of whether a frum Jew can visit a Taoist temple does not come up very often. I imagined that the Vaad Hakashrus would say it was “not recommended,” so we decided to stay outside and ate a late lunch.
Our last stop of the day was in downtown Macau and Grand Emperor Hotel and Casino, known as the Jackie Chan casino since this actor owns a minority share. The entrance to this casino is “guarded” by two very British-looking Beefeaters, like the guards seen at Buckingham Palace in London. Don’t worry, their faux machine guns are only for show. The lobby floor is embedded with 78 one-kilogram (that is 2.2 pounds!) gold bars that can be seen through thick glass plates. These gold bars are for show, but they are quite real. What a colossal waste of money. With that kind of money, we could build the Jackie Chan Yeshiva. We could put a few slot machines in the bais medrash – and, voila, no more tuition crisis. Pull the lever, get three magen Davids in a row – jackpot! Relax, I’m just kidding. The slot machines would obviously be in a different room.
We wandered around the casino for a little while. The most popular games appeared to be baccarat, fan tan, pai gow, pachinko and sic bo. I have no idea what these games are. I couldn’t find a single blackjack table, but maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. I noticed that the casino players took their gambling quite seriously. In my limited experience in U.S. casinos, I have seen good-natured banter, cheering, and high-fiving. Not in the Grand Emperor Casino. It seems our tour guide was correct. I’m not judging, just making an observation.
Back to the bus, to the jet boat, to the cabs, and on to the JCC for dinner. It turns out that Sunday nights are all-you-can eat at the JCC, and the place was packed. We ate steak, grilled chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, and many other tasty treats. There was also a neglected salad bar. Just like the Beefeaters at the casino, the salad bar was pretty much just for show – or for those whose guilt at eating three pounds of beef compelled them to snag a slice of cucumber. Again, I’m not judging. Fully sated, we were off to bed.
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Monday morning was sunny, hot, and humid, ideal conditions for our activity of the day – if one were a camel. We were off to Lamma Island for a seven-mile hike through the tropical hills, valleys, and shorelines of this small island in the New Territories. The hike was promoted as family friendly. By the time we finished the hike, I was sure they meant a family of Sherpa (Himalayan people who are famous for carrying luggage up and down Mt. Everest), not a nice Jewish family like ours.
But before we got onto our ferry, we took a quick but frightening trip through a local fishery, where we saw all manner of living sea creatures awaiting their execution and trip to the dinner table. Then we quickly boarded our ferry. This time we encountered rush hour in the busy Hong Kong shipping lanes. Our ferry had to stop to let an enormous container ship, one in a long line of such ships, to pass. The traffic report did not mention a backup in the Pearl River. According to Waze, there was no faster alternate route. Well, we were not in a hurry anyway.
Lamma is a sparsely populated island about 25 minutes from Hong Kong Island. The population is of international origin and has a reputation for being laid back. No cars are allowed on the island except for emergency vehicles. One either walks or bikes, except for the lucky few who have golf cart-type vehicles. We trudged up and down the hills in the steamy tropical air. After half an hour I looked like I just went through the rinse cycle of a washing machine. Our guide looked like she was on a casual stroll through an air-conditioned mall. Time for me to get back on the treadmill.
At this point, we belatedly inquired as to whether the mosquitos carried malaria. Our guide said there was no malaria but enthusiastically pointed out that the mosquitos could carry dengue fever. Dengue fever! That didn’t sound any better than malaria, so we liberally doused ourselves in mosquito repellant. We continued our journey, passing through small villages and smaller villages along the way. One village, called Tung O, appeared to have a population of one. According to the guide, the population used to be two, but then the dog died. Now the resident is able to run for mayor unopposed.
Along the arduous trail we had many spectacular views. We didn’t see much in the way of wildlife other than mosquitos and spiders the size of a fist. We met some very friendly locals who seemed genuinely happy to see visitors. We stopped for lunch in old fishing village. Along the Sok Kwu Won coast, we explored a cave known as the Kamikaze Grottos. I think there was a sign warning visitors not to enter the cave, so naturally we did, but only for a short distance. These caves were used by the Japanese in World War II to hide explosive-laden speedboats to be used against Allied warships. The war ended before these boats could be utilized. Finally, baruch Hashem, we made it back to ferry pier.
After passing through border control back in Hong Kong, we were greeted by officials wearing masks and holding what looked like radar guns. Was there a speed limit in the terminal? Honestly officer, I am sure I was not going more than three mph. Well, the radar guns were not actually radar guns but body temperature gauges. Hong Kong has a history of severe outbreaks of diseases. The third pandemic of bubonic plague attacked Hong Kong in 1894. A SARS (severe acute respiratory disease) outbreak occurred in 2003, and a major flu outbreak occurred in 2009. During these periods, it was common for people to wear surgical masks in public places. Today, the government is attempting to eradicate dengue fever, hence the temperature gauge-wielding officials. One such official took one look, made a beeline for me, pointed the gauge at my forehead, and pulled the trigger. No fever, just a seven-mile hike in 90-degree heat and 99 percent humidity.
After a quick stop at the hotel, we were off to the JCC again for dinner. By now, the restaurant staff knew us and showed us to a charming table right by the window. I decided that it was time to try one of the token Asian items on the menu and ordered chicken chow mein. It was quite different than the chicken chow mein at David Chu’s. Instead of what we think of as chow mein noodles, the dish was served on a bed of crispy spaghetti. Now I wonder which one is more authentic. No matter; they both taste good. “See you tomorrow,” says the waiter as we head out.
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We were at the crack of dawn again on Tuesday for our next big adventure. This time we headed for mainland China for the day. No, we did not go to Shanghai or Beijing. As you know, China is a gigantic country, and these major cities are hours away by plane. Our ferry brought us to the nearby city of Shenzhen. According to our guide, Shenzhen was the site of a tiny village 40 years ago. Now it is a city of over 12 million people, more people than most cities in the U.S. but a city that no one outside Southeast Asia has ever heard of. The reason for the massive population growth is because Shenzhen was designated by the government as the first of four special economic zones in China. This special status allows and even encourages a certain amount of capitalism. Huge amounts of foreign investment have helped Shenzhen become a leading global technology hub.
I was excited to have a look, albeit brief, into communist China. To be honest, I also looked forward to being able to brag that I was there. The tour company had arranged for our visas, and we were each given a yellow sticker with a number on it for identification purposes. I was now known as Seven. Getting through border control went fairly quickly and smoothly. When the nice Chinese border guard called for Seven, I handed over my passport. He promptly returned it but without stamping it. Panic set in. How would I be able to brag that I was in China without having my passport stamped? I considered asking for a stamp, but I didn’t want to join Sarita in one of those lovely Chinese prisons, so I swallowed my disappointment and moved on.
Our Chinese guide had no warnings for us about taking pictures, making disparaging remarks about Chairman Mao, or anything of the sort, but he did mention that we would not be able to use Facebook while in China. Oy vey! We could live without political or economic freedom, but no Facebook! For a whole day! Oh the horror. Luckily, I don’t have Facebook so I was unscathed.
Our first stop in Shenzhen was to a cultural center in the industrial zone. The museum was tiny and not very interesting except for an exhibit containing one of the famous terra cotta warriors that were buried with the first emperor of China, Emperor Qin Shi Huang, in approximately 210 BC. Then they left us to cool our heels in the gift shop for quite a while. You will be surprised to hear I didn’t buy anything.
Next, we made a quick stop at the Shenzhen Zoo. As honored guests of the People’s Republic, we were driven straight through the gates and directly to the panda exhibit. I waved to the poor souls who had to walk for 20 minutes to get there. The pandas were awake and enjoying their bamboo meal. They were very cute and cuddly, but if you just want to see panda bears, I would recommend a visit to the National Zoo in Washington D.C. That’s a lot easier than a trip to Shenzhen. After taking lots of pictures, we honored guests re-boarded the bus and headed off to lunch in Guangzhou.
We were promised an authentic Chinese lunch. Does David Chu’s deliver here? I forgot to mention that the only members of this particular group other than our clan was a frum couple from Australia. What were the chances of that? I tried to explain to our tour guide that our entire group would not be able to partake of the genuine Chinese lunch because we only ate kosher food. I am not sure she completely understood, but she said we could just order drinks. So, we had Coke or Sprite with our bag lunches. The Coke cans had Chinese labels. Yay!
After lunch we were led through a local Chinese market. We saw lots of creepy, slimy creatures that are staples in Chinese diets but are thankfully not available at Seven Mile Market. Our tour continued to the Buddhist temple of the Six Banyan Trees (or Liurong Temple). That is quite a specific name. What happens if one of the trees falls down or becomes pasul? I heard there was a breakaway temple called the Temple of the Seven Weeping Willows. The breakaway crowd thought the meditating took too long at Six Banyan Trees and that sitting cross-legged on the floor was outdated and offensive to germa-phobes. This is unconfirmed.
Our final stop of the day was the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall. This impressive octagonal building was built in 1929 in honor of Sun Yat-sen, who was a Nationalist leader and considered the father of modern China. Finally we were back on the bus to a train, through the border crossing, to another bus to our hotel. I have been to China!
Wednesday was our last full day in Hong Kong. After so much touring and running around, it was time to unwind. Some of us took a walk through the botanical gardens across the street from the hotel, then had a leisurely lunch at the JCC, of course. The Wyzynskis headed back to Kowloon for some shopping, but I already had all the knickknacks I wanted. We ate leftovers for dinner, so the JCC sent out a search party to find us.
The fun was over for now. On Thursday morning, I headed back to the airport for what would turn out to be a 24-hour journey home. During my agonizing delay in Newark Airport waiting for my connecting flight to Baltimore, I plopped down at a table near my gate. In my sleep-deprived state, I could not understand why so many frum people started crowding around me asking about a minyan for Mincha. At long last I figured out that I had parked myself right next to the gate for the United flight to Israel. You think 10 hours to Israel is long? Try flying to Hong Kong.
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So the big question is, where to next year? We hadn’t even left Hong Kong before this question was posed to Diego and me. We had such a good time in Hong Kong and on our previous vacations that we were already looking forward to next year. Will Diego come up with something to top even this wild adventure? Will it be the Amazon rainforest? Or the international space station? I am excited but also afraid. Batten down the hatches and fasten your seatbelt. It may be a wild ride.
