MY FIRST T8

Yesterday, for the first time since I moved to Hong Kong in November 2009, I experienced a Typhoon 8. I’ve been through loads of T1 and T3 warnings in the past. And back in September 2011, there was even an actual T8 in Hong Kong… except I was in the States for vacation at the time.

So yesterday, when Typhoon Doksuri roared into town, I was almost embarrassed at how excited I was. Typhoons are an integral part of Hong Kong summer life, with the normal season stretching from May to October. Because of the very real threat they pose to safety, a warning system has been put in place to keep the public abreast of a storm's movement and proximity to Hong Kong. However, most typhoons simply inject an added dose of rain and wind into the city, and give Hongkongers an excuse to celebrate. 

A typhoon, by the way, is just what we call a hurricane out here. There’s this urban myth that a typhoon spins clockwise while a hurricane spins counter-clockwise, and there are several other apocryphal distinctions drawn between the storms. In reality, there is no scientific difference. It’s just a case of nomenclature in various parts of the globe.

In Hong Kong, the T1 warning is also called the “stand by” signal. It is hoisted when a typhoon is centered within eight hundred kilometers of the territory, and it doesn’t do much except warn the public to pay attention in case of future developments. Since the typhoon in question is still relatively far from us when this signal goes up, the weather can actually be bright and sunny during a T1. Indeed, many people never even realize the signal has been hoisted.

Then there comes the T3 warning, which indicates that the coming typhoon has edged closer to Hong Kong, and the chance of its directly affecting us is increasing. Strong winds usually accompany the hoisting of this signal, which can sometimes reach up to sixty-nine miles-per-hour!

When the T3 is up, Hong Kong waits on the edge of its seat. Meteorologists try to predict the storm's trajectory, but this is rarely—if ever—one hundred percent accurate. So we just wait to see what happens.

If the storm continues to move towards Hong Kong, the T8 signal is hoisted, and Hong Kong’s expat community celebrates. We look forward to a T8 like a fifth grader anticipates a snow storm—compulsively checking the Hong Kong Observatory website every few minutes to see if there's been any change in status. During a T8, everybody gets the day off from work, and the city slows to a standstill. Public transport stops, the streets empty and loose objects fly about. Only a handful of bars stay open, and people flock to them to weather the storm.

I’d heard tales of the phenomenon from friends, of course, but yesterday, it happened to me for the first time.

We all knew a T8 was probable and had been watching the situation all week. Of course, the timing wasn’t perfect. At the earliest, Tropical Storm Doksuri was expected to strongly affect Hong Kong around Friday evening. Even if it took its time and lingered through the weekend, there was very little chance it would get anybody a day off work, because Monday is a public holiday. But a typhoon is a typhoon, and as it was my first T8, I planned on duly enjoying it. 

On Friday night, after catching a movie with Courtney in Kowloon, it was glaringly clear to everybody in town that Doksuri was definitely going to bring a T8 warning to Hong Kong that evening. We made our way from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island, and headed up to Iso Bar, on the roof of IFC mall, to catch the dramatic arrival of the storm. 

The Hong Kong Observatory posted an item on its website informing the public that the T8 warning would be hoisted by 11:20pm. You see, once the T8 signal is up, all public transportation ceases. Even taxis are no longer insured to carry passengers, so cabbies can charge exorbitant rates to ferry Hongkongers from one point to another. The meters are turned off, and it’s just one grand bargaining game. So the Observatory always lets us know significantly early if it plans on updating the status of a storm. That way, people can make appropriate plans.

There are four bars on the rooftop of the mall, and each is basically a glass cube overlooking the harbor and city. Watching the trees sway in the wind, as the raindrops danced on the window panes, it was an exciting wait at Iso Bar. We drank some wine, ate a pizza, and gazed out of the glass windows. In the end, it was probably the highlight of my first typhoon. 

At the final possible minute, we caught one of the last trains to Wan Chai. Typhoon, one of the area’s most popular bars, is very proud of the fact that it offers free shots once the T8 signal has been hoisted. Anticipating the upgrade, we wanted to be there for the free booze!

The young crowd was out in full force, with the normal Friday night revelers merging with the typhoon-expectant crew. And according to schedule, Doksuri went from T3 to T8.

And the rains stopped…

And the wind calmed down…

It didn’t make sense. The free shots were flowing thanks to the official notice, but we all were a bit confused. The final moments of the T3 were filled with dramatic winds and rain, but once the next level was reached, it all seemed to end.

A few hours later, I was in Central and was celebrating what seemed like a slightly-rainier-than-usual Friday night with some friends. We hopped from one place to the next, having a few drinks here and a few drinks there. And then we got caught in the downpour. About five of us were huddled under a pitiful awning covering the outdoor patio of a Wellington Street bar, getting unquestionably soaked. It was nearing 4am, and most places were closed. We were doing our best to finish the plethora of drinks we'd just been served, but we realized we had to head home.

My friends Bernadett and Doug disappeared down to Queen's Road, where they hoped to find a taxi. Me and another girl named Louise made our way into Sheung Wan, where we climbed the Ladder Street steps up to Hollywood Road. She lived up the street, and I figured my best bet was to get to my nearby office.

It probably took about seven minutes from bar to desk, and I loved every second of it. Luckily, there’s a shower in my office, and I also have a stash of clothes available, just in case I ever need them. I cleaned myself up, put on some new clothes and hung my wet ones up to dry. Knowing it would cost an absurd amount of money to get home to Happy Valley, and also acknowledging that finding a taxi at that hour would be like finding a needle in a haystack, I just crashed at my desk.

And so it was... my first real typhoon! It might not have been the most incredible thing ever, but it was pretty exciting. I feel like a real Hongkonger now, having made it through this right of passage. Hopefully the next typhoon comes mid-week and warrants an expat snow day. But all in all, it was a memorable night to be sure!