On our last day in Hong Kong, we hailed a taxi yesterday morning to get to the airport at 7.30 am.
The driver was in the middle of making his own instant noodles (hot water, packets of seasoning all in the basket) when he stopped his vehicle. He drove to the airport while eating his noodles, stopping before he entered the expressway to Lantau island to finish his breakfast, then flung everything – the bowl, chopsticks and remaining noodles – out of the window.
Free of his breakfast burden, he expansively swerved the tiny taxi into various lanes while pushing 120 km/hr, wobbling to pick his nose hard then rubbing them between his fingers. Lather, rinse, repeat. He cleared his throat loudly and then coughed hard into his windscreen. Grimacing was all TC and I could do, thinking that was exactly why SARS had spread so easily.
The appalling but fast taxi ride aside (we reached the airport really early), the trip back as once again fraught with noisy unmentionables. So many talk of Hong Kong as a vibrant city, its stellar shopping and its superb food. Yet I can’t help but think of cramped spaces, rude people and overrated food :all the hallmarks of an unfriendly urban centre.
Not missing you at all, really.