For more information about travel in Hong Kong or China, contact Patsy Taylor at Jetstream Travel. More Information

Hong Kong: Special Administrative Region of China By Bruce W. Taylor It had been one month since the British lowered the Union Jack for the last time over Hong Kong. One month since the "Hard-liners from Beijing" took over. As I sat on the plane headed for Hong Kong, I wondered what changes I would encounter. This was not my first trip to Hong Kong, but it was the my first trip since the "Hand-over." I was anxious to learn whether the officials in Beijing had ushered in swift and decisive change upon the departure of Governor Chris Patten and Company. Or, whether the terms "Special Administrative Region" and "One Country; Two Systems" held any real meaning? As usual, landing at Kai Tak International Airport brought back memories of my youth. Not that I ever went to Hong Kong, as a youth, but I did go to Disneyland. And landing at Kai Tak is the closest that someone in their 30's can come to the Disneyland experience. As the plane approached the airport, I saw buildings to the left, buildings to the right, buildings in the distance, and buildings in the foreground. All of sudden the plane dropped in the middle of them all, making a perfect landing. I didn't dare cheer out-loud, but I was certainly cheering inside. After the trill of landing, I collected my belongs, and disembarked. As I entered the airport, I noticed a lack of soldiers armed with machine guns. (So far so good) I was guided into the proper immigration line, and as I waited, I try to remember whether the immigration officers always wore white uniforms. The immigration officer whose lane I chose, Wally Lau, quickly punched my information into a computer, stamped my passport, and returned it to me. After collecting my luggage, it was time to clear customs. I headed to the "Nothing to Declare" line. As usual, I walked through without even warranting a glance from the customs official. After customs, I stopped to exchange my US Dollars for Chinese Money. I received Hong Kong Dollars which were printed by The Hong Kong & Shanghai Banking Corporation Ltd., The Bank of China, and Standard Chartered Bank: no change here. I took a taxi to the Sheraton hotel in Kowloon, and at last some evidence of change. What could possibly be the explanation for this? A sign: "Please bear with us while we make improvements to our lobby." OK, this was in no way related to last month's historic "Hand-over," but at least it was a sign of change. After getting settled in my room, I was anxious to see what other signs of change could be found. I rushed to the waterfront, expecting to see armed soldiers patrolling the streets, keeping Hong Kong safe for communism, or students in Mao jackets, but again: disappointment. Neon signs covered the horizon: "Fosters", "Sony", "San Miguel", "Philips", "Samsung", and one sign celebrating Hong Kong's Reunification with China. The light of the signs reflected on the water of Victoria Harbor, as they long have, reflecting little change. There were still hawkers trying to sell fake Rolex watches on the street, and shops filled with every kind of electronic gadget from video tape editors to night vision goggles. The real purpose of my trip was not to evaluate the results of the reunification, but, rather to continue to Guang Dong Province to visit a factory that contract manufactures for the company that employs me. This trip was strictly business, but a visit to the mainland would give me a better vantage point from which to understand the effects of the "Hand-over." The next morning I rose early, and my host, Mr. Adolph Li was waiting in the lobby. We headed for the ferry terminal to catch a boat to Zhong San, a small town in Guang Dong Province. At the ferry terminal, I was immediately instructed to complete a departure form. My passport information was again entered into a computer by white uniformed immigration official, Simian Lee. Again, my passport was efficiently stamped and returned to me. Adolph and I entered the queue for the Zhong San ferry, and minutes later we were on board. The trip to the mainland, the motherland, was smooth and uneventful. A "Kung Fu" movie playing on the television, and Adolph's story of his British English teacher choosing his name, helped to pass the hour and a half trip. As the ferry neared the mouth of the river leading to Zhong San, the water turned brown with sediment. We were nearing the mailand. Upon arrival at the port of Zhong San, I was now in China. Not Hong Kong China, but the real China. Upon entering the immigration station, I filled out my entry card, and stood in line. The immigration officials were wearing green uniforms, with stars on the epaulets. I choose the line of immigration official, #283775, whose uniform epaulets sported a lone star. As I waited for him to punch my passport information into a computer, I understood what the stars stood for- computer proficiency rating; one star being the lowest. Immigration officer #283775 entered my passport information into a computer, and after 10 minutes, he tossed my passport across the counter to me. I exited the station, and Adolph was waiting for me (His immigration officer, #134776, had four stars on her epaulets) We hailed a taxi, and Adoplh gave instructions to the driver. The 15 minute drive to the factory was enjoyable. There was very little traffic on the road. In fact, there was far more traffic on the bicycle lanes that run parallel to the main highway. Green rice paddies stretched to the horizon, and a few buildings could be seen far from the road. The factory visit was pretty much like every other factory visit I ever made. The different stages of production were explained, and all of the different areas were visited. All of the workers were on their best behavior, and Adolph and his partners were smiling while ensuring me that ours is a relationship that could not fail. After a lunch of steamed rice, roast eel, stir fried rooster's comb, duck's feet, and sea cucumber soup, and more talk, it was time to take the ferry back to Hong Kong. (For some reason, that was the most delicious steamed rice I've ever eaten) The trip back was relaxing. The "Kung Fu" selection was a comedy. Again, I went through immigration to re-enter Hong Kong. Except for the sight of mainland Chinese being grilled by the Hong Kong immigration officials, it was uneventful, On my last night in Hong Kong, I managed to convince Adolph that I would be fine on my own, and that he should eat dinner with his family. After Adoph left, I headed directly for "Mad Dogs British Pub" in Kowloon. The meal, chicken cordon bleu, was most delicious, as was my pint of Guinness. My waitress, a young lass from Glasgow Scotland, was the perfect complement to a Hong Kong "British Pub experience." That's the Hong Kong I know and love. After a few days in Hong Kong, it appeared that all is well in the former territory. I found very little evidence of change in the modern miracle called Hong Kong. Perhaps the "Beijing Bureaucrats" care more for profits than for protocol. This sentiment was echoed by my host Adolph, it was echoed by the taxi drivers and hotel bell hops, and was even echoed on the nightly business report of the Hang Seng Index's performance since the "Hand-over." As I checked in at the airport it was with a sense of peace. Life in Hong Kong would continue "business-as-usual." As I entered the departure immigration area, I handed my airport tax receipt to a stern looking Chinese woman. She pulled me aside, stepped back and eyed me from head to toe. She was not an immigration officer, she was not a soldier, she was not a police officer; she was the lady who collects the airport tax receipt. After a few moments pause, she informed me that I had too many carry-on items. "But, but..." I said, "A laptop doesn't count as carry-on, and neither does my camera bag." Her reply: "Nonsense, now go back and check one of your bags." Perhaps, there is change in the air, afterall.