The goodbye Buddha song

At first I thought it was a nice idea. We boarded the shiny new gondola from the massive Buddha statue back toward civilization. Think ski lift gondola, except no snow or fuzzy hats, and at the end there's Buddha in all his giant metal glory. So on we hop, and as we leave a heavy hearted goodbye balad begins, in Cantonese of course. It ends on a graceful melody and I start to think, what a nice idea - a missive song to commemorate your visit to this pretty little spot. However my appreciation melted into annoyance and quiet consternation as it began again, ended again, and continued in some awful It's a Small World of Hong Kong Pop. 20 mimnutes later, I can still hear it.

So a few days have passed and Hong Kong is still fun. It's provided sights, sounds, smells, and tastes to feast on. My impression coming from the states was inaccurate. This place is in general put together better than your city, whatever that may be. 14 Million people live here, and somehow manage to do so with a little grace. No one yells into their cell phone on the subway. People generally don't spit or smack into each other. The seemingly inescapable rudeness of urban life has been quietly side stepped. It's got one up on you, but it pays with a subtle price.

Everyone here has a maid, servant, or otherwise peon that does some job that just wouldn't get done back home. There's a person who catches the extra water coming out of a flower pot, so it doesn't drip below. Someone cleans the elevator every 4 hours. Someone does the dishes and the housework, and doesn't eat at the restaurant with the rest of the family, but cleans up after the baby. It's not slavery, they get paid. Largely hailing from Indonesia and poorer local parts they receive a king's ransom in their local parlance for these minor occupations - and on life goes. But the attitudes decidedly reflect the British upbriging this city owns. There are the citizens and there are the help.

So soon I will depart from the land of skyscrapers scaffolded in bamboo for India. Gone shall we be from the urgences of C's grandmother to drink powdered milk every morning, and the quiet urgences to mind the subway gap in Cantonese, Mandarin, and ultra proper British. Step on the clutch, it's time for a change of gears.