Now we seem to jump from Tuesday morning to:

Wednesday, October 4th
It is afternoon, and I'm sitting in the shade on the terrace of Ma Wui Youth Hostel near the top of Mount Davis on the Western end of Hong Kong Island. I look down on the tower blocks, the sea, the boats spread out at my feet. And I am back in an English-speaking world.
So I have left out most of two days.
My arrival at Kowloon station at 1 pm yesterday, marked the end of the continuous rail journey from Carmarthen. Is this the first time? Quite possibly. It could have only been done within the last 18 months, since the Channel Tunnel was opened.
As you may have gathered, there had been so much to see and do that I have only read half of one book. Marion would have consumed half a dozen by now. Kowloon station is rather underground and not good for photographs, unlike the airy conditions of the platforms at Carmarthen. There was another passport check before being allowed to leave.
My first object was to get my Hong Kong to Perth flight confirmed for Saturday morning. So I thought to get an airport bus which might be easier than trying to telephone; anyway I had no number, and there were frequent buses, I had been led to believe. But no, there were not. First difficulty: no one even knew where to find an airport bus. And most official looking people spoke no, or remarkably little English. But at least all notices were now in English as well as Chinese. My literacy returns!
There were massive queues beneath signs pointing to buses, (100 yards or so), even queues for taxis. After about half an hour of erroneous directions I gave up and determined to find a telephone number somehow. How about the Paradise Hotel? A general crossroads of information, as I believed. So I walked there; a longish trek along the promenade in the strong wind and still wet mist alongside the harbour.
On the way I found a bank to queue at to change travellers' cheques, having first tried to use my Visa card at a machine outside, and failed. No explanation, just 'Transaction Invalid' or something. Perhaps Australian machines would understand; perhaps I would understand them.
In the huge Paradise Hotel I actually found a telephone complete with directories, a facility that has long lapsed at home. So I found a number for Garuda Indonesia Airways at the airport and my flight was confirmed without too much trouble.
Then across the road to the Star Ferry, the shortest and cheapest way across to Hong Kong Island. One dollar (about 9 pence) and no queue, and the ferry was there waiting to set off. Just a few minutes for the crossing. The island was reached at the area called 'Central' and the centre of the crowds of crowded Hong Kong. My wanderings took me to the main street, where the trams run. An interesting sight. Every tram a different colour, depending on what it was advertising, the advertisement covering the whole tram. I decided to take one going west as far as I could, and then try and find a bus. So I did and climbed up to the top deck and was pleased to find the windows all open. Either an enlightened idea, or merely just that no one had thought of sealing them up, as seems to be a requirement of modernisation in transport. I got as far as Western Market and took considerable time in finding the right bus. I could not find a 5B bus stop and buses that did come did not allow me in as the doors slammed shut too quickly after people got out, until I realised that the way in was at the front of the bus and the middle doors were exit only. Then as I walked along a 5B did materialise, and I just happened to be at its stop.
So I soon arrived at the terminus, following the instructions in the Youth Hostel book: through Kennedy Town to the bottom of the Mount Davis path, which is the way up to this Hostel. 700 feet up and a long winding path, actually a narrow winding road, climbing gradually through thick undergrowth, including bamboo and ferns, up the very steep hill side.
I was soaked through by the time I reached the Hostel, more sweat I think than the continuing wet mist. By this time it was 5:30, so slow had been my wanderings from the station. Then there was a refreshing shower, cold (no option), and the relegation of my long trousers to the bottom of my rucksack; and then supper: some of my emergency packs I had brought all the way from home. Then the quiet comfort of a seat on the terrace to absorb this view of all the things down below, with all the twinkling lights coming on as darkness attempted to fall. A 'stunning view' as the Lonely Planet guidebook puts it, and Europeans of many countries to talk to.

So now it is today (Wednesday). The mist had departed and a hot sunny day followed. Is this any better? Almost too hot to walk anywhere. Nevertheless, I did walk down to sea-level again taking two short cuts which involved steps for almost the whole of the 700 foot descent. Someone must have done a great deal of work making these paths.
Then along the road until I came to tram lines, and caught a tram back to Central. A sudden refreshing coolness greeted me as I entered the Post Office, as indeed happens in most of the buildings. Here I bought stamps without queueing and sent off postcards, some written in Beijing.
I then set off on a major tram ride: East to the Happy Valley where the tram encircles the race course and sports stadium and a taste of open space; but closely packed houses on the steep hill-sides also enclosed the valley, doing little to relieve the feeling of being rather hemmed in.
Then all the way back along the main street, to Kennedy Town again, a total journey of 5 miles which cost me 60 cents (about 5 pence), as I discovered today that my great age entitles me to half fare. One pays on leaving the tram regardless of where the journey started; so I enjoyed that, especially the constant slight breeze from the open windows.
I had one great achievement. One does not normally think of the centre of Hong Kong as a great place for trees, so I was rather pleased to be able actually to pick a leaf off a tree while travelling on top of a Hong Kong tram as we turned into the Happy Valley. By now I did really want to go home again into the upper atmosphere and write letters and relax. At the end of the line I found a small supermarket, bought a few variations in diet such as eggs and digestive biscuits, real genuine McVities, and bananas from the roadside and set off up the 700 feet of steps.
Half an hour later, completely wet again (it was so hot and sunny), I reached the Hostel and another welcome shower. I was also welcomed by an assistant warden, Fiona Thorpe, who had noticed my address - Llandysul. She informed me that she lived near Llandovery, and was even a frequent visitor to Penwyllt, the HQ of the South Wales caving club. So that was a good conversation spinner and resulted in my borrowing a pile of caving magazines containing news of recent particularly startling developments in South Wales. You never know what subject will come up next.
After an omelette meal I walked up the last 100 feet to the top of Mount Davis, but it was rather over-infested with aeriels, masts and forbidden enclosures of unknown use to be of much attraction, but I could look over into the Pok Fu Lam Valley between this hill and Victoria Peak. Also on top were old fortifications and semi-underground buildings like those on Guernsey that the occupying Germans had left after the war. Could these have been built by the Japanese during their occupation of Hong Kong? Almost certainly; I can quite see them having the energy to build all those steps and concrete paths up and down the mountain.
Later that evening a Duncan appeared, to occupy the bed next to mine. He has been duplicating my route almost exactly in the last month, having come by train from London. He started two weeks before me but has arrived one day later, so has had longer stops, and the last leg from Guangzhou was by hovercraft. He was planning to fly on to Taiwan after a week here. So that was more to talk about and compare. He lives in Rye.

Thursday, October 5th
I had hoped for a day for the Peak tram, the one 'essential' activity for any visitor to Hong Kong, to see the great view. Another cloudy start with wet mist again. There was a bit of clearness later and I persisted with my plan, and it was in fact clear when I arrived at the top of the rope-hauled tram ride (1200 feet up). So I did see the view; but I had been spoiled by the view from the Youth Hostel, so was not as impressed as first-time visitors were meant to be.
I walked up the road towards Victoria Peak itself and round Governor's Walk, a circular, totally tarmac footpath. But the mist had come down again and I found that the very top of the peak was inaccessible anyway - a road leading to a secret telecommunications site or something, was firmly closed to the public. A pity that the highest point of Hong Kong was not made accessible somehow. Then a short visit to the large Peak restaurant and shopping centre which did not inspire me, so down on the tram again. No more than one in three gradient, I would say. There is a curious 'hanging' feeling when stopping at a station halfway up; the car stops and then rolls backwards a foot or two as the rope tightens.
I then found myself passing St John's Cathedral. I hardly noticed it, so completely is it dwarfed by the surrounding towering buildings, but once inside, it seems quite a large church. It has been a Cathedral since 1844 and was used as a club for Japanese officers during the wartime occupation, and all the pre-war stained glass windows were destroyed. Now there are many colourful modern windows, to cheer it up again.
Next, out North to Mongkok by Underground. No queues! Here I wanted to find a dormitory hostel that I had been recommended for Friday night, so as to be near the airport. I did in the end, after walking a longish way through crowded streets under the confusing mass of banners and advertisements strung across the road all in Chinese, until I came across the largest of all which said: 'STB Hostel' (STB meaning Student Travel Bureau). So I went in and was able to book a bed and find out that a taxi could easily be arranged for 6 o'clock on Saturday morning.
Then back home by Underground and tram and all those steps, this time arriving even wetter than ever as rain was falling quite hard all the way up. Later that evening, the sky cleared and spectacular lightning flashed over the lights of Hong Kong and Kowloon and the mountains to the north. Everyone sat out on the terrace to watch the display. No thunder until even later when it started to rain again, and there was more heavy rain during the night.

Friday, October 6th
A late breakfast included cereals supplied by Duncan which he had found in the supermarket. Then preparations for departure, and I spent some time scavenging the area outside the Hostel for rubbish. The Youth Hostel ethic of working for your bed was encouraged here but without being organised.
A lunch of omelette and boiled chestnuts from my present on the train, and just about the end of my emergency food supplies. Then I finally left my pleasant abode and had the final trek by steps and tram to Central. On approaching the Star Ferry Pier to cross back to the mainland, I noticed the signs to the Jordan Road ferry. Jordan Road would be within reasonable walking distance of my new hostel, so I decided to take that, a pleasant little cruise taking me more than twice the distance of the Star.
I reached the STB Hostel in Reclamation Road at about 5. After booking in, I met again, quite by chance, the two people who had recommended the place to me, who were just off back to London. They then told me about a reasonable Chinese Restaurant close by, so I tried it. Definitely Chinese. Only one person spoke any English, but an English menu was produced from under the counter. Pork and pineapple with rice was very good, but lemon tea was too bitter to finish, not because of the lemon but because of the tea. I flavoured the last of my rice with the lemon.
I then wandered around and found King's Park: little paths and steps (again!) leading up a steep wooded hill-side, surprisingly unnoticeable from the streets down below, with a 'Garden of Rest' at the top (closed for repairs). Hong Kong is a strange mixture of teeming life and quiet corners. I came down a daunting flight of steps, longer even than any single section of the flights up to the Youth Hostel, and dead straight. Perhaps the 'Garden of Rest' was designed for those who succeeded in this climb. I then sat in one of the main streets, Nathan Street (on a fire hydrant), and contemplated for the last time the rushing traffic and brilliant lights of this crazy place. Just for once it was quite nice to be able to go in from this sort of unusual scenery, and more or less straight to bed.
Coffee and tea were the only sustenance provided by the establishment, so I had a cup of coffee and sat next to an African humming an African-sounding tune to himself. I asked him where he was from: Zaire; so we discussed our joint knowledge of Goma and Rwanda and Zairean roads - no better now apparently than 20 years ago. Then the TV news came on in English: 'extensive flooding in the New Territories after heavy rain', and presumably that thunderstorm we had been admiring last night.
I went to bed at about 8, 'bed' being a top bunk in a 16-bed dormitory, with air conditioning (luckily), and surprisingly not too noisy.

Saturday, October 7th
Australia day!
Little sleep due to having to make sure of waking up at 5. I had been assured that a taxi would be easily found by waiting outside the hostel even at that time of day, and in fact I did find one quite soon after starting to walk towards a more main road.
So I was at the airport at 5:40, rather early for my 6:30 check-in time; very few people around, and a spacious atmosphere. Boarding time was 7:50 for the 8:30 flight, and we were airborne by 9. The plane was a Douglas DC-10 with 250 seats, belonging to Garuda Indonesia.
The first meal is perhaps worth recording: Chicken cutlet with mushrooms, tomato and chips; roll and butter; croissant and jam; cheese (not eaten by me); a sort of strawberry mousse with artificial cream and cherry alongside; slices of pineapple, melon and mango; iced apple juice and a wide choice of cold drinks; coffee. A satisfactory breakfast. All served with the natural charm of S.E. Asian smiles, rather than the sometimes false cheerfulness learnt in some school.
Two chinese ladies sitting beside me to start with later disappeared, so I had a window seat for cloud-watching, always a fascination for one not used to being above the clouds. Maybe the two had moved to an upper cooler class, as one had been continuously fanning herself, producing a stroboscopic light effect making it difficult to read; but it was certainly not too hot for me.
We passed over a series of coral islands as we progressed South across the equator; each island a blot of dark trees surrounded by a thin ring of golden sand, surrounded by a pale green underwater reef, surrounded by the deep blue sea.
As we approached Jakarta, I gave up my window seat for the descent when a young Hong Kong Chinese girl came to sit beside me and was obviously very interested in looking out. As it was her first flight, I knew she deserved a good view more than I did. The Chinese can be delightful individually but there are too often too many of them.
Jakarta 12:45.Temperature 31 C, and felt it when we were briefly out of the influence of airport air conditioning; but cloudy. I was surprised to find myself the only passenger for Perth from that plane-load, having previously been surprised that there seemed to be almost no English speakers on board.
I now had two and a half hours to wait, almost alone, in the spacious emptiness of the shining marble-floored, glass-walled, garden-surrounded Jakarta waiting emporium.
I actually read quite a lot more of my book. Still 'Jenny', by Paul Gallico (an insight into the life and thoughts of cats). My companion on the flight from Jakarta to Perth was a Thai, a tour leader, leading a party of 82(!) Thais to Australia for 2 nights in Perth (in Chinatown), and then back to Bali. They had flown from Bangkok to Jakarta that morning. He had learnt his excellent English in Singapore but not until after leaving school; he was going to England for the first time in December; he had even read Paul Gallico. We had a stop at Bali for one hour at sunset, and were allowed off the plane (to buy duty free goods, I suppose). No jet-lag on this flight, being virtually due South.
We were handed a sheet of official flight information: Bali (Denpasar airport) - Perth: Aircraft: Airbus with 244 seats; height: 33,000 feet; time: 3 hours 20 minutes; distance: 1436 nautical miles; speed: 521 mph; temperature, cabin: 77 F. outside: -40 F.
We were given the third delicious meal of the day, having had the second between Jakarta and Bali; my Thai friend refused his.

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