"Who sold you this ticket?!" the Air China representative asked in a scary tone.
"A travel agent. Why?" I responded.
"This ticket should not be. This violates the rules. You cannot use this ticket. It has only a one hour transit time and we require at least two hours."
"I realize, but this is the ticket we have. What can be done?"
"They should not have issued this ticket. They should know better! It violates their agreement."
"Yes, I understand. So, what can we do?"
"You must call the travel agent and make them change it, or they should give you your money back."
This is not the conversation one wants when calling to reconfirm an airline ticket. It lead to several more calls, and exchange of emails with our travel agent and an eventual free change that should secure our connection between Hong Kong and New York via Beijing.
The whole issue was compounded by factors that included getting different information from each of four Air China representatives we spoke to, a lack of seats on subsequent days, Air China's refusal to put us on a partner code share flight and our lack of a visa to enter China - which means we can only be in the airport, and only for up to 24 hours.
Oh, and Beijing flooded when the typhoon made it's way up there and flights were cancelled for two days.
In the end, we have to leave Sunday night instead of early Monday morning. Despite some remarkable communication difficulties, we believe we'll be able to stay in the airport transit hotel during our 13 hour layover - which will take the edge off being stuck in the terminal for so long.
Unfortunately, this cuts into our weekend and makes today not only our last full day in Hong Kong, but of the entire trip. There will be three more entries to this blog - Sunday, Monday and one after arriving in Boston and finding the time and energy to write - which probably means sometime Tuesday.
The loss of a complete Sunday feels profound. When you're savoring every last moment, a few hours make a difference. At first, I insisted we take our bags into the city, drop them with the baggage locker service at Hong Kong Station where the airport express train departs and spend our last day in the city until our evening flight.
Eventually, some reasonable part of me prevailed and we now plan to spend our Sunday day on Lantau and perhaps go see the world's largest sitting Buddha. Maybe he'll have some good advice on sitting before we sit in Air China coach class across the Pacific.
We had only one choice for what to do with our Saturday, Maxim-ize it. If I was going to lose a precious day in Hong Kong, I needed a consolation. I chose Maxim's Palace in City Hall - the finest dim sum restaurant in all of Hong Kong and very likely the world.
Sure, it cost more than four times as much as our usual Mui Wo Cooked Food Market dim sum - which really is incredibly cheap at an average of $10 for the both of us. Nonetheless, it was literally the full-meal deal. Gorgeous gigantic dining hall with endless rows of round tables, crystal chandeliers, women with dim sum carts making their rounds, fine tea, real bone china and floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the harbor. Maxim's is everything dim sum should be. Emily fell in love with the sesame bao. I loved it all.
After the quintessential Hong Kong meal, we took to the trams and the streets to explore several parts of the city, spanning the length of Hong Kong island from North Point all the way to Sheung Wan.
After some bargain hunting in Wan Chai, Emily and I took the tram down to Sheung Wan - a neighborhood of narrow, windy streets that climbs its way up a steep hill - San Francisco style. The lower part of the hill is a Chinese neighborhood filled with outdoor markets, lanterns, antique shops, religious supply shops, Chinese medicine dealers, restaurants, outdoor noodle and food stands and barbers....
Yes, barbers. In a narrow alley Sheung Wan a single barber pole stood out from the other signs. Despite my reticence after yesterday's rejections, I made my way up a narrow staircase to the third floor shop - which turned out to be a real barber shop well accustomed to buzz cuts and shaves.
The team of elderly barbers all dressed in white smocks were happy to see me as all were idle and I got the feeling they don't get many white guys - which made me fun too. There was only one problem - not one of them spoke more than a few words of English.
Nonetheless, we worked our way through the situation, with a little pointing and gesturing. My barber had a special set of electric clippers I had never seen before that did a fantastic job.
More impressively, this man who wore a collared, button down shirt and tie under his smart looking white smock that looked like a lab coat, clearly considered himself a barbering professional. He shaved my face with the electric clippers using the same skillful technique he would with a straight razor. In fact, at times I wondered if he forgot that it wasn't a straight razor.
His work was detailed, meticulous and when done with the initial shave, he went back over every hair and line to make touch-ups. He took perhaps 30 minutes to do what others have done - not as skillfully or with as much pride - in half the time.
When the job was done, we wiped off my head and neck with a hot steaming towel he took from a special warmer - and then charged a mere $8.50. This man was worth far more and earned my admiration. There's nothing like someone who takes pride in their craft.
Emily and I then boarded the extensive series of travellators and escalators that carry pedestrians up the hills through the "Mid-Levels" to the hip, happening international SoHo neighborhood.
All of a sudden, we were surrounded by expats enjoying the innumerable bars, gourmet restaurants of every kid of cuisine and shopping at fine boutiques, art galleries and Western-style grocery stores. It felt like we climbed the hill into a non-Chinese neighborhood of San Francisco.
Emily loved it all - the cute streets of the very expat-oriented SoHo down to the very authentic Chinese Sheung Wan below. As we made our way down the hill, through the narrow and fascinating streets, she gained a new appreciation for Hong Kong.
With several hours left of daylight and not a moment to waste, we decided to take the tram along the length of the island to North Point. From the upper deck, we enjoyed an incredible tour of the island for a mere 25 cents. The breeze of the moving tram helped combat the heavy humidity that made Hong Kong a sweatbox today.
North Point is nothing more than an average, but very authentic Hong Kong neighborhood. Although there's no part of Hong Kong Island that feels like a suburb, North Point had none of the interesting attractions or grandiose malls of the central areas of the city. Instead, it had the most dense market street either of us have ever seen here. It was a piece of tradition and chaos in the middle of a modern city. We loved it.
We're back in SoHo about to walk down to Sheung Wan for dinner. We love this area - it has incredible texture and more than the eye can catch in a single, or perhaps several visits. Who knows what the evening holds. Since it's our last night before the long journey home, we plan to make it special.
Sent from my iPad
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