Looking out the window of my room in Hotel Purple this last day morning, I realized I actually would miss Hong Kong.
Which, when one thinks about it, can be a little surprising, especially since I didn't get to do much of the touristy stuff this time.
Perhaps it isn't the tourist-type stuff that one appreciates Hong Kong for, but the culture, the people, the way they live in their homes and come down to the city center as they go about their daily lives.
There is life here on the streets, I tell you.
Whether it be the locals, whether it be the visitors, whether it be the young, or the working adult, or the senior, it is present.
I can't count on one hand just how many senior citizens I saw enroute to Fairwood every morning for breakfast. There were just so many. Some walked unaided, some held walking sticks and and walkers, others were on their wheelchairs with family members or helpers pushing them behind.
Some came specially for fresh produce and groceries at the Causeway Bay (wet) Market. Others came for other errands and other shopping.
It was very charming seeing the elderly armed with all them small little plastic bags or big tote where they put everything they'd bought inside or pull along one of those cloth shopping trolleys.
The spirit of independence was strong, I tell you.
Perhaps that is what Hong Kong is all about.
The independence, the acknowledgement of personal space- even in a city supposedly cramped and tight and brimming with activity and life.
Last breakfast this morning at Fairwood was of macaroni and ham.
I wanted the macaroni.
I wanted to have the texture of macaroni rolling about inside my mouth.
You don't come to the territory without having their signature breakfast of macaroni soup with ham.
Would be a travesty otherwise.
Back to the room we went, packed, and checked out.
Along the way I took one last picture of the Wing Hing Road Junction.
Offhand now I cannot remember just which road it is- it might well be the road leading towards Tin Hau MTR station- but there're the traffic lights- with their distinctive sound- and the people armed with umbrellas on a chilly, rainy February day.
For lunch we went back to the roasted meat place that we liked- the place that had the soup- for one last plate of roast goose rice- so hard it was to say goodbye to the crispy skin and the perfectly roasted fat- then on the way back to collect our bags, bought six bo luo buns from the nearby bakery before taking an Uber (it was a Tesla!) to HKIA where we got our flight home.
