So, on Saturday, we decided to go to Cheung Chau. Now, who can remember what Cheung Chau is? Anyone? Bueller? Okay, I don't blame you, these Chinese names all tend to run together and I can't remember my subway stop half the time, much less the outlying islands. Cheung Chau, along with Hong Kong island (where we live), Lantau Island (home of the Po Lin Monastery), and Lamma island (home of lamas, j/k, I don't know what is over there) are the main islands which together with the mainland portion make up Hong Kong. There will be a quiz later.
Stick with me, kids, you'll learn geography, as well as where to buy blue wigs (hint: next to the escalator):
Can we say RANDOM?
Anypoodles, so off we go to Cheung Chau. The 50 minute slow ferry costs a whopping $2.18 (US) in deluxe class. We're big pimping. On the way back, we splurge for the 30 minute fast ferry which costs $2.56 (US), also deluxe class.
The slow ferry is quite nice, slowly swaying us like we are in the womb and Marc promptly falls asleep so I'm left to entertain myself for the next 48 minutes. After watching the in-boat entertainment advertising the splendors of Cheung Chau and an amusing infomercial about how smoking is bad for you (no, smoking will not make you look cool or give you more energy to brainstorm), I flip through my trusty Frommers. I learn that Cheung Chau (or CC) is only 1 square mile, there are 25,000 people crammed onto this tiny little fishing village, and there are no cars on the island. How quaint!
We arrive and it becomes clear to me that CC is the Chinese Venice but without the canals and those annoying Italian guys pinching your butt and shouting "Ciao Bella!" Since there are no cars on the island, everyone rides bikes to get around. The small alleyways are crammed with souvenir shops selling t-shirts, flip flops, shells, board shorts and various beach town paraphernalia. What surprises me even more is the McDonalds right next to the pier. How do they find the most remote places to peddle Big Macs?
We wander through the alleys until we reach the other side of the island where the beach is:
There is a cheap wind-surfing rental place but there isn't any wind to make it worth our while and after the Hobie cat debacle of Bahamas 2007, we decide not to risk it. On the way down to the beach, however, we are accosted by 2 friendly Aussies who invite us to an Ibiza party on the beach. Their exact words were "You guys look like you're looking for a party! You gotta come to the f'ing party!" (except they didn't say f'ing). Nice. We didn't exactly make it to the party but we were close enough to listen to the techno music while we lounged the afternoon away.
As the sun was setting, we wandered back to the pier and walked along the main waterfront promenade. On the water, we could see the house boats where many families live and work. We also found the freshest seafood restaurant ever. You literally pick your food (still living and swimming in open air tanks) and they will fish it out and cook it for you. Here is Marc pretending to pick his food:
We didn't really eat there because we couldn't be sure that the fish were not caught in Victoria Harbor which is very polluted but the whole concept is very different and neat. We hopped on the next ferry and sailed back home.
The next day, Marc went to the gym and I decided to figure out where the Man Mo Temple was. I had heard about it from Nancy*, the wife of one of Marc's colleagues, and I knew it was really close to our apartment. Unfortunately, it is under renovation, so there was bamboo scaffolding everywhere but that didn't stop everyone, their mothers, grandmothers, children and 2 tour buses full of Westerners from being in there. Apparently Sunday is the day to bring sacrificial items to the Buddha, although why he needs oranges and grape Fanta is beyond me. What I really enjoyed is a ritual that Nancy had told me about and if she hadn't told me anything, I would never have understood. For $100 Honkeys (about $12(US)), you can get a bundle of about 50 popsicle sticks with Chinese writing on them in a wooden can. You shake the can with all the sticks in it until one of the sticks falls out. I have no idea how only 1 stick makes its way out of the bunch, but it happens every single time! Then, you can take the "chosen stick" to a man who will interpret the writing on the stick and tell you your fortune. The Locals take this VERY seriously. The woman in the pink shirt with a blurry image in front of her is doing the stick can shaky thing but she is shaking it so fast, you can't see the sticks:
I didn't get my fortune read but I'm going back and taking Marc so we can do the stick shaky thing, it just looks cool. Plus, who knows, the fortune-teller might be right and he'll pick my winning lottery numbers!
Later that afternoon, we set out to the public squash courts. Marc has been threatening to play squash and even went out and bought a racket, so off we went to try our luck. Let's just say I don't exactly have a knack for that whole hand-eye coordination thing but we had a great time chasing after the ball and Marc looked really cute.
I can't wait to go back again so that I can really unleash my squash playing skillz and really kick Marc's butt. Don't let him know I'm a squash shark! ;-)
Stay tuned because on Wednesday we are going to Shanghai (returning on Sunday), then next Tuesday, we are going to Thailand. I'll be sure to have lots of adventure stories and pictures to share!
*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
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