Two Different Worlds

It's 4:30 AM, Thursday morning here in Hong Kong, which means for those of you on the East Coast, you're finishing up your Wednesday work day. My body has lived in the Eastern time zone for so long that it's having a hard time adjusting. That's not a bad thing, though. It just means I'm sleeping about three to four hours a night. But who wants to sleep when you have two weeks to spend on the other side of the globe. I want to see as much as I can. Of course, that means a lot of late night/early morning Chinese TV. Thanks to satellite and cable, the hotel, here in Hong Kong, offers about twenty-five channels. And, if you think American TV is bad, just come to Hong Kong. Last night, there were about 5 late-night hours of televised bowling. It's broadcast in Chinese, but, hey, it doesn't take a lot of comprehension to catch on to a bowling tournament. It was interesting watching the way the cameras panned in on the crowd reaction. You'd have thought it was the World Series. And, as a brief aside, speaking of the World Series, I'm just glad I was out of the country and didn't have to watch the way the Braves bull-pen stunk up the joint in that last game with Houston. By the time I get back to the states, baseball, 2005, will be history.
But, back to Chinese TV - Bowling is the second most boring sport on the planet, second only to the other sporting event which dominates Chinese television. And that's soccer. Watching soccer is like watching kids play with a ball in the park. It's interesting for about 35 seconds.
In China, soccer is, apparently, of great importance. They even have an entire soccer channel. Plus, during the course of the overnight, one can watch soccer on five or six other channels simultaneously. There's also great Chinese drama. Thankfully, they use English sub-titles, so I'm able to better understand just how boring the shows are. The actors are all pretty bad. They're so amateurish, they do everything but turn to the camera and wave.
One thing I think is interesting is when one of the local channels will occasionally show an HBO movie, they'll edit out the profanity. I got to thinking how paradoxical it is, that America, which claims (at least many do) to be a Christian nation, can so freely accept filthy language, and yet a supposedly atheistic nation (at least for many) finds the same language unacceptable. Kind of makes one wonder.
I haven't spent the entire time watching television. Once the sun comes up, we're out and in the streets. I've walked so much that my thighs are raw. I know, thats TMI. But, it makes each step I take rather unpleasant. And yet, there's so much to see. On Wednesday we took the subway over to Hong Kong island. We're staying on the Peninsula, in the part of Hong Kong called Kowloon. To get to the subway, which by the way, is ultra-modern, we have to walk about five blocks through the street markets. The streets are crowded with old Chinese men and women hawking their merchandise. The people are apparently poor, but hard-working. They're not looking for handouts. They're not beggars. They're are just simple merchants, who get up early each morning and who sit all day in the hot sun, hoping to sell enough of whatever they may have to sell, to support their families. And, while population control is government mandated in most of China, that doesn't appear true in Kowloon. Children stream out of doorways, all dressed in clean school uniforms. The children laugh easily, as do their parents. The people seem to be happy...poor, but content.
There are little food shops along the way displaying a variety of roasted carcasses. Dead ducks, browned and ready to eat, hang from racks. All have their long necks and cute little Donald-Duck-like heads attached. I don't think I could eat anything with the head attached, although the ducks do look tasty.
When we get off the subway on Hong Kong Island, we're in the heart of what may be the most modern city I have ever seen. The cars are big and black and shiny. The businessmen and women (although it appears to be very male-dominated), are small, but all dressed in shiny, black suits. The men wear well-starched, immaculately-white, dress shirts with a smart, stylish tie. One of the guys in our group commented that when everyone wears the same "power suit," it ceases to be a power suit. It becomes more of a uniform, much like the ones the schoolgirls we passed earlier in the morning were wearing. The only difference is that, unlike the schoolgirls, the businessmen (and women) aren't smiling. They have tired, haggard expressions on their faces. Many, those that don't own those big, shiny cars, pack themselves into the subway with us for the evening ride home. Somehow, despite the fact that the humidity is high and there are twice as many passengers in each car than comfort would allow, their shirts and suits are still wrinkle free. Their ties are still pulled tightly around their necks.
We rode the subway one day. It was an adventure. These business people do it every day. They don't look as if it's an adventure.
I wonder if at one time, years ago, these men and women were little boys and girls, who kissed their parents good-bye each day and headed through the street markets, past the fish stands, and the duck heads, and headed off to school, determined to get a good education and, one day, maybe, one day, make it to the top. And, they made it. They work in the sleekest, tallest, most modern buildings anywhere on the planet. In the evening, they return home to one of the hundreds of high-rise condominiums and apartment buildings. They climb in the most modern elevators, which whisk them up. The more successful they are, the higher the elevator takes them.
They were determined to make it to the top. As an outsider, I look at the poor, simple, hardworking fathers and mothers who peddle their wares each day. And, I look at the successful business people who live and work (and, probably seldom play) in the city's high-rises. And, I wonder, which way really is the top.