Most of the time I find the noise of Hong Kong exciting. The clatter of passing trams, the dull whoosh of looming buses, the rhythmic tock-tock of the crossings, all blend into a strange music, a symphony that celebrates the city’s chaotic energy. Even high up in my flat I enjoy hearing the city asserting its presence with a dull rumble bellow, and the rattling Cantonese of my neighbors. It makes me feel connected. But just occasionally this noise gets too much and I long for a moment of silence.
The other day, I wandered over to North Point Park, hoping to find some quite there to reshape thoughts scattered by long city days. But while the park can assert a space that is distinct from the bustle around, it cannot separate itself from the noise in the same way. Roadwork’s on one side hammered into my head, while the grinding growth of a new skyscraper swept its sound in from the other side. I felt trapped – squeezed in between these harsh walls of noise.
After abandoning the park, I decided that the next day I’d head for Sai Kung. Surely Hong Kong’s beautiful back garden, far away from the gleaming metal, could offer me some stillness. It was beautiful cool morning and I set off full of expectation. I’d been to the beach before and knew how dazzling it was, knew how soothing the long tree lined walk afterwards could be, staring out over soft valley flooded with clumpy green. The whole day stretched before me with a promise of peace.
What I hadn’t expected was all the other hikers! And these weren’t just any hikers – These were hikers Hong Kong style. For me, walking can be a brilliant way to experience a very personal, very individual, relationship with nature. You walk along, gazing up in silence at the long branches that are over the path, clustering their different shaped leaves. You can reacquaint yourself with the nature from which you came, but from which modern life has detached you massively. It is like visiting an old relative who can tell you much about your own identity.
But these Hong Kong hikers instead flocked through it in huge groups. The city mindset has sunk so far into their minds that they need to feel close to other people and would feel uncomfortable otherwise. Nature becomes just another background to their socializing, like a restaurant, or a shopping mall. As they chatter away noisily to each other, they hardly look up at the stunning green around them, and there is little chance they will be privately moved by the experience.
The chatter of different groups floats up all around me. The connection of these groups isn’t enough however and often the walkers will slice the forest apart with their shouts, positioning themselves in locations to other groups on different parts of the trail. To aid in this, some have radio’s which crackle and buzz restlessly as they stride along, constantly notifying them of where others are. Instead of feeling sunk in an overwhelming force of nature, perhaps a little disorientated, they are all connected to each other.
Most of these hikers are so kitted out with brand new bags, shoes, water bottles, and sunhats that they could be climbing Everest. It seems sad to me that walking, which only really requires a pair of shoes, has become as comodified as other sports. Adverts create an image in people’s minds of what it means to be a walker, and the public follows.
No comments:
Post a Comment