Tryst with a 'FOREIGN' land

     My first 45 minutes in a new country did not evoke any excitement whatsoever of having landed on a foreign soil.  In fact, after having stared outside the window of my ride like an owl for about 10 minutes, I was fast asleep, in the absence of being able to see anything “foreign.”

     Having been woken up from my clumsy car-nap by an abruptly sharp turn, what I saw was a seemingly infinite stretch of blue water on either side covered with a blanket of thick grey mist. But what left me gaping in awe was how the city enclosed the magnificence of this massive body of water making it look like a mere swimming pool, dotted with sparkling white ferries and the giant Ferris Wheel visible in the distance. The city looked vaguely foreign.

Victoria Harbour through the mist, with the Giant Ferris Wheel in the distance.

     With an entire day at my disposal, I was looking forward to venturing out and exploring the city, but the heavy downpour marred my plans and I resolved to stay back in my room and get over the journey’s fatigue by staring out of my window that overlooked nothing but a chic Prada store.

     After spending a few lazy hours capturing pictures of the monotonous urban sight, just when my enthusiasm was drawing to a close with the setting sun, the city suddenly lit up with shimmering lights adorning the highest of the buildings, and the double-decker trams and buses appeared to be bustling with spirit, as more people walked down the pavements with long umbrellas clinging on to their wrists. For the first time, the city looked distinctly foreign.  

The view from my window, while it rained in Hong Kong. 

     At the fancy dinner that followed later that evening with the directors and curators of one of the biggest international art fairs, the three-course meal served was undoubtedly the best in town, with multiple varieties of meat and what sounded like impressive innovations in vegetarian recipes. A slew of starters revolved on our tables as we made our picks with a pair of chopsticks. Failing miserably after several attempts, I resorted to a pair of fork and knife instead for the rest of the evening. Being a vegetarian, I was surprised at not being put off by an uncanny aroma of the food that looked tempting enough to dig in right away.

     But, what followed was an unpleasant treatment meted out to my Indian palette that has been cherishing the rich spices, with a customary overdose of salt and pepper since the last 23 years. Instead, it was offered Chinese delicacies that were, to everybody’s taste, devoid of any condiment. Being the only Indian at the bourgeois gathering, and also perhaps the youngest one, I had little courage to ask for an alternative and gulped down small portions of food with larger sips of red wine. The three days that followed were spent binging on chocolate bars and packets of chips. The land now exposed itself to be gastronomically foreign.

Steamed wintermelon with mushrooms. Picture courtesy: hongkongairlines.com

     What came as a sigh of relief was surprisingly the language; to tackle which I had come prepared with a trove of possibly useful words and sentences translated into Chinese. This precaution was taken based on an earlier experience when China was participating in the International Book Fair in Delhi and delegates from the Chinese publishing industry were visiting the capital city. With almost all of them unable to converse in English, I assumed it unlikely for English to be among the commonly spoken languages in Hong Kong.

Connaught Place in Hong Kong. 

     However, to my surprise all sign boards and advertisements written in Cantonese and Mandarin were followed by an English translation. It was not difficult running into friendly Hong Kong citizens walking down the streets and striking up a conversation about their country and mine. I had come a full circle, feeling at home, but this time the excitement was at its peak.