Hong Kong's gentler side

By LIZ LIGHT

I love Hong Kong's audacious verticality, its full-on frenetic fuss, the double-decker buses, trams, taxis, pedestrian overpasses and crowded shopping malls. It's a big, noisy, vibrant 21st-century city. But, after a few days, I'm buzzed-out and wish for something slower and quieter.

Cheung Chau, one of Hong Kong's not-so-far outlying islands is just the place for a laid-back day. The fast ferry from Hong Kong Central arrives at a different world in 30 minutes. This dumb-bell shaped island is formed by two large hilly jungle-covered outcrops linked by a long, slim sandy isthmus that creates two perfect horseshoe bays.

The sheltered one, that facing Hong Kong, is the home of Cheung Chau's fishing fleet where fishing families live and work in big wooden boats that look like traditional junks, with wide bellies and turned-up sterns and bows. But these vessels, about 50 in all, have sturdy diesel motors and radar.

These water people often sail away for weeks at a time to fish the South China Sea, returning to sell their catches to Hong Kong restaurants.

I notice the softness of sounds as I stroll along the road hemming fishing boat bay. There are no cars or motorbikes on Cheung Chau - the law forbids them - and the lack of engine noises and city-hum allows other sounds to hang in the air.

There is the chatter of people munching brunch in the many restaurants along the road, the clatter of mah-jong keys as retired folk pass the morning in four winds battle and the singing of birds in cane cages on first-floor balconies.

Bicycles are the most popular form of transport, along with walking. Metal baskets with wheels are in vogue for carrying goods and, when a plastic stool is placed inside, they double as pushchairs for toddlers.

Big things, such as sacks of rice and blocks of ice, are delivered on trolleys pushed by wiry men with well-defined shoulders.

Pak Tai Temple has been at the end of the bay since 1783 and is dedicated to Pak Tai, the Taoist god of the sea.

"The Supreme Emperor of the Dark Heavens", the watery heavens below, is the protector of the water people as well as providing the faint-hearted with power and courage.

Pak Tai's gold Buddha-like image shimmers mysteriously in a dark temple recess. Images of snakes, dragons and tigers coiled in mortal combat are carved into the supporting granite poles, sun-worshipping dragons wriggle along the roof ridge, snarling stone lions guard the forecourt and incense fills the temple with perfumed smoke.

Pak Tai is a powerful being. The temple custodian tells of a time, in 1777, when the island was devastated by plague and infiltrated by pirates so the fisher folk bought Pak Tai to the village to save them. The island has been healthy, prosperous and peaceful since.

The town is only three streets wide so I walk back along the middle one with its traditional Chinese shop-house style buildings; narrow and three storeys tall with the shop on the ground floor and balconied living spaces in the two floors above. Modern stores selling trendy gear squeeze next to shops that have changed little in centuries.

The physician at number 32 treats ailments with a combination of herbal medicine, dietary advice, acupuncture and exercises. Diagnosis is primarily from feeling one's pulse and temperature and there are different herbs for each ailment.

A bundle of the prescribed herbs can be taken home and boiled for five hours or, for an extra charge, the physician will do the boil-up and provide the patient with the resulting elixir. He explains that herbs act in unison, "not like a tennis game where one fights to win but like a football team where all work together".

A bakery across the lane is selling egg tarts (yummy) and a moon cake. The moon cake, it turns out later, has a salted duck egg in the middle giving it a strange salty and sweet taste (not yummy).

A pungent odour creeps out of Cheung Chau's shrimp paste shop but this is soon overpowered by the sweet smoky perfume emanating from the incense shop two doors down; thin sticks, thick sticks and big fat coils of incense are for sale.

Incense is an important part of Cheung Chau's daily life as its wispy smoke conveys messages to the gods, Pak Tai being the local favourite.

I overcome my temptation at the straw and bamboo hat and basket shop. I have to persuade myself that I don't need either a Tanka or a Hoklo hat, both distinctly different in style, and skilfully woven from fine strips of bamboo.

Soft rain begins so I walk 20m back to restaurant row on fishing boat bay and settle in for a fishy lunch. The fish couldn't be fresher - from the aquariums next to the tables.

While I wait for lunch to be killed and cooked I enjoy watching the locals pass. Old ladies, with hair coiled into buns, bandy knees, dark Chinese jackets and baggy black pants walk slowly to the temple.

Children ride bicycles, with bright pink plastic rain covers billowing behind them. Old men, shirtless and wearing checked cotton shorts with elasticised waists pulled up above their round tummies, stroll along in silent companionable twosomes.

Boys, mouths open like pelicans, drink in rain drops, as they trail behind mothers.

An hour later, uncomfortably full, I waddle 200m across the island to the east-facing beach and find golden sand, perky waves and brisk breezes.

A shower of rain has put people off swimming, but the south of the beach is covered with windsurfing equipment. The wind picks up and wetsuit-clad figures emerge from a row of beachside buildings. Before long there are dozens of bright sails zipping across the bay. Lee Lai-shan, Hong Kong's first Olympic gold medallist, learned to windsurf on this beach as a schoolgirl. Now she has a windsurfing school here.

I follow a foliage-shrouded path up the hill to Kwun Yam Temple which, nesting in trees and painted red, is prettier than a picture. It's hot and steamy in these still valleys but at a hilltop pavilion I enjoy the view and the cool breeze.

There are a couple of old codgers doing the same and they nod at me in a smiley, toothless way, and, by mid-afternoon, I'm back where I started, at fishing boat bay.

All that's between me and the ferry ride back to wild Hong Kong is a pot of green tea and snacks made of steamed sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaves. There's just enough time to devour them before I step aboard.

* Liz Light was hosted by the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, but travelled independently.

Case notes

When to go

Best time is October to March when Hong Kong is coolest.

Getting there

Flight Centre has return airfares to Hong Kong with Cathay Pacific starting from $1749 return from Auckland.

Hotel packages to Hong Kong start from $1655 a person share twin. The price includes return airfares from Auckland, Wellington or Christchurch to Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific, and four nights' accommodation.

Airport taxes of about $31.50 are additional to all flights.

Cheung Chau

Take the ferry to Cheung Chau from Outlying Islands Ferry Pier No 5 at Central. The ferries run every half-hour and take between 30 and 50 minutes, depending on scheduled stops.

Where to stay

I stayed at the Mandarin Oriental at Central. It's in the heart of Central and five minutes' walk from the ferry terminals and the metro that links with the airport. It's one of the few hotels in Hong Kong with balconies for each room and it's fun to watch Hong Kong's busy antics from the balcony.

The Warwick Hotel is the only hotel on Cheung Chau. It's perfectly situated, above the south end of Tung Wan, the swimming beach.

Take a walk

Walking is the speed of Cheung Chau. Hong Kong Tourism has a free booklet, Walks of Hong Kong, which details the most interesting aspects of Cheung Chau.

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