The Lost Blog Post!

It's funny to remember this right now, but for a brief spell in the summer of 2014, I (somewhat) seriously attempted to become a professional blogger! At the time, you may recall, I was coming to the end of eleven glorious months of funemployement, though, of course, I had no idea my next job was right around the corner. For all I knew, it might have been another year before I found steady work. All I did know was that money was scarce, I loved writing and, since I was blogging anyway, why shouldn't I make some extra cash doing it if I could?

Someone—I can't quite remember who anymore—mentioned that a popular Hong Kong website, Localiiz, was searching for freelance bloggers to write about various aspects of city life. So I duly sent across a cover letter and some samples of my work from this blog. 

I got an almost immediate reply from their digital content editor, but the catch was that anything they would published had to be new, meaning everything I sent over as a sample was great as an indication of my style but not something they were able to post on their site. 

She asked me for some original material, and I obliged. I spent an afternoon exploring an old Chinese mansion, ancestral halls and local villages in the New Territories, and instead of documenting my findings on my own blog like I normally would, I instead sent the finished product to Localiiz. 

Well, you all know what happened. I e-mailed that across to the editor on 21 July. She wrote back asking for a few revisions. On the 30th, I interviewed with my current firm and was offered a job the next day. And I never followed up with Localiiz. My grand ambitions as a professional blogger fell by the wayside, having lasted a sum total of ten days. 

Anyway, I stumbled across the e-mail chain while searching for something in my inbox the other day and thought it would be fun to post the results at long last. So after three years (and marking my one-hundred-and-fiftieth post!), here's the account of my day exploring the wilds of Sheung Shui. 

...................................................................................................................................................................

The New Territories is probably the most ignored, most unloved stretch of Hong Kong, at least for the average expat. Sure, as a new transplant to the city, you’ll probably visit Sha Tin to see the 10,000 Buddhas Monastery. You’ll also be invited on a random hike up there every now and then. And Sai Kung is on many people’s radar as a fun-in-the-sun destination for junks, beaches and seafood. But on the whole, the vast expanse of mountains, satellite towns, rocky bays, walled villages and precious bits of old Hong Kong that have miraculously weathered the decades is overlooked by the masses in favor of closer parts of the territory.

I get it. This city is built on convenience. Hong Kong just might be the most convenient metropolis on earth. Anything more than a twenty minute taxi ride is “too long” for many people here, and with plenty of great things to see and do on Hong Kong Island, Kowloon and the nearby outlying islands, you don’t necessarily feel any motivation to go further afield to discover something new.

But believe me, the treasures hiding in the New Territories are well worth the effort it takes to find them. And the other day, I decided it was time once again to put in that little bit of effort and see what happened.

To start, I took the train to Sheung Shui, which is just one stop shy of the border crossings at Lo Wu and Lok Ma Chau. From Causeway Bay, I had to change trains not once, not twice, but three times, first at Admiralty, then at Mongkok and finally at Kowloon Tong, where I boarded the KCR towards the Mainland.

As a satellite town, Sheung Shui is a cool little area to explore. In and of itself, I guess it’s not necessarily worth an hour’s MTR ride, but it’s a gateway to a fascinating area, and warrants at least a bit of time to wander its colorful streets and markets, with an intriguing mix of high-rises and old fashioned three-story shophouses. However, my main goal that day was not Sheung Shui but the Man clan mansion of Tai Fu Tai, in the hills of San Tin, a short bus ride to the west.

After an excruciatingly frustrating search for the proper bus, I was finally en route. And from the upper deck of the 76K, I was treated to some pretty stellar views of the lush surrounding mountains piercing blue skies. Every imaginable shade of green seemed to find its place here, augmented, no doubt, by the shadows cast by the billowy clouds.

Tai Fu Tai is located in a neighborhood of San Tin called Wing Ping Tsuen. The mansion is believed to have been built in 1865, and it’s a rare survivor of its era, now immaculately restored and open to visitors. As you approach, you’ll see the simple iron gate left swung open, inviting you to enter and explore.

To my eyes, the building appears much older than it actually is. The reason is probably how startlingly different it looks compared to the opulent mansions built in Hong Kong by the colonial bigwigs around the same time. (Government House, for example, was actually constructed ten years earlier.) There are no windows in the building’s outer walls, so interior light is provided from central courtyards. And instead of sweeping grand staircases, the second level is accessed by narrow, ladder-like steps.

But the wealth and good taste of its owners is confirmed by the details visible in every corner. Embellishing the walls of the mansion are a mixture of Chinese and Western touches: blue and white tiles illustrating scenes of rural life, brightly colored bas-reliefs of flowers, fish and other animals, elegant European painted glass and intricate plaster moldings that would seem right at home in Versailles.

Portraits of some of the original inhabitants hang in the main hall, namely the first master of the house, Man Chung Luen, his two wives, and his eldest and third son. A guide informed me that Man Chung Luen actually had eight sons as well as numerous daughters, but he couldn’t tell me why these particular ones were the only children on display. All the while apologizing for his “poor” English—which was, in reality, quite impressive—he continued to fill me in on the personal and architectural history of the house.

Man Chung Luen was a member of the 21st generation of the Man clan, and he was renowned for his philanthropy as well as for his successful business endeavors. On the second level of his home, he built two big bedrooms, “one for each wife,” the friendly guide explained with an impish smirk. A kitchen and a lavatory are also preserved, and the Leisure and Cultural Services Department feels compelled to post a sign stating that the lavatory is open to the public for historical, not practical, purposes.

The guide asked me to accompany him outside to explain some features of the main façade, and he also offered to take a photo of me in front of the mansion. As the only visitor, I was given true VIP treatment, and it was nice to learn so much about the building from such an enthusiastic, passionate source.

Tai Fu Tai is by no means enormous. In thirty minutes or so, I had thoroughly explored the entirety of the place, and next set out for the Man Lung Fun Ancestral Hall, only a few minutes away.

Wandering the tiny alleys of the neighborhood between the two attractions was fascinating for me. There is an abundance of old residential buildings—running the gamut from decrepit to immaculate—that retain characteristic Chinese touches like red or black roof tiles, barred windows and balconies. It also appears to be pretty common to adorn your outer walls with colorful tiles depicting impressive landscapes, a quirk I haven’t encountered anywhere else in the SAR. The tallest buildings were only three or four stories high, but Shenzen, with its mighty towers, seemed close enough to touch, just sitting there across some weedy, overgrown fields: old China and new, side by side.

Riding back towards Causeway Bay later that afternoon, I kicked myself for having waited almost five years to visit the area. I also made a promise that I’d be back soon to explore some more. Yet at the same time, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that no matter how long I wind up living here, it will still take at least a lifetime before I uncover all there is to find in this crazy place called Hong Kong.

...................................................................................................................................................................

Well there you have it. I suppose it's not as exciting as discovering a lost Van Gogh or finding a copy of the Declaration of Independence in your attic, but I'm always endeavoring to keep this blog as thorough as possible, so I'm glad this forgotten moment is now officially a chapter in my adventure of a lifetime!