Lunch Break on the Hung Hom Pier

The skies are clear today, by Hong Kong standards anyway. Between the clouds that cling to the bushy green mountain tops, I can glimpse a muted version of the bright blue hue that was so common back home. I miss that blue. I have traded my Midwestern skies for the South China waters that lap at the pier calmly and quietly this afternoon. One couldn't refer to this water as blue, or clear, or even dirty for that matter, but dense and dark and green and smoky, like a fine piece of jade. The pier is lined with fishermen this afternoon. Some have proper poles, but most simply have fishing line baited and dropped into the water. I really have no idea what they're fishing for; I've never seen anyone catch a fish or even seen a fish in the water larger than my thumb. Little sparrows are cautiously gathering around my feet, casting sideways glances at me to see if I have any food to offer them. I do not. They skitter along in search of a more promising friend and scatter abruptly as an old man scuffles by. On the other side of the patch of greenery that I'm sitting next to, there is a little old man sitting on a bench with two small birdcages. Two tiny, frantic birds that resemble goldfinches are frantically jumping from bars to floor to perch and back. I had heard of men gathering together at a designated spot to talk and smoke and let their birds soak in some sunshine and breathe some fresh air, but this is the first time I've even born witness. A constant breeze of the water makes sitting out in the humidity tolerable. And the air is fresh, by Hong Kong standards; I can smell freshly cut grass and the salt from the ocean. I wish I could capture the view of Hong Kong Island with a panoramic camera, for as densely populated, stark and urbanized this city is, the view is still lovely. The residential buildings of North Point stand tall and crowded right on the water's edge.  Bus after bus after car after car drive past my eyes on the busy highway in front of those buildings.  A ferry breaks the mostly quiet atmosphere followed by the grinding brakes of a city bus. One would never know, during the quiet times, that a bus terminus and bustling ferry port encompass this scene. I can see my neighborhood from here, my home of Causeway Bay. The sun would feel nice on my skin, if I could ever get myself to a beach or pool. I wish I could nap for the rest of my break here on this breezy pier on a towel in my swim suit. Quiet, clean, fresh, warm, peaceful.