Wah! Suddenly it’s been ages since my last confession. Father forgive me for I have sinned: I’ve been writing in other forums. Fora?
And struggling to reinvent my house to be one of more perfect live-ability. I spend so long going to and from the bloody thing each day, that it might as well be the way I want it. Tiled roof terrace, here we come!
Talking of live-ability: Yesterday it rained again, and I had to get the bus again. These two frequently occurring factors of my life made me think about the nature of bus-stops in Hong Kong, primarily, of course, sleepy backwater Pui O.
You can see a typical Lantau bus stop in the photo above. Ironically, or ridiculously, it looks, when seen from the side, exactly like the handle of an umbrella. Yes, that is ironic. I think the roof- like structure is supposed to protect people from falling water. Water falling sedately and with little venom, in a straight line from above to below.
However, anyone who has spent longer than five minutes in Hong Kong would know that the rain we get here seldom behaves like the ideal rain designers imagine when they sit looking at a piece of paper in some office.
I reflected on this yesterday as I stood at the bus stop in the photo on top of the bench to at least keep the top of my head dry, turning my umbrella this way and that to keep it from being torn to shreds by the gusts of wind.
Hong Kong rain doesn’t fall straight down from above. It comes hurtling at you from one side, then abruptly screeches round the corner to attack you from the other side, and then, with little time to pause, from the back. Then some SUV comes tearing down the road, taking care to drive closer to the pavement, aiming for the biggest pool of rainwater as it passes the bus stop, so you can be drenched from below as well.
Bus stops in other countries, at least the countries I have been to, have roofs, back walls and, more often than not, side walls. It appears to be that they are designed to protect people from the vagaries of weather.
Interestingly, those are countries where rain and snow generally just come down in a more or less straight line and with not too much force. Why can’t we have bus stops which actually protect people from precipitation?
I mean, now that the government has shown its willingness to spend taxpayers’ money to keep construction companies in clover on stuff everybody needs, nay, keeps begging for repeatedly, namely more railings and concreting of country paths (with loudspeakers going “please hold the handrail”) - why can’t it go a tiny little hog (not the whole hog! That would be asking too much) and give us some useful bus stops that actually give some shelter?
But I shouldn’t complain. For here is the glorious result of a construction frenzy that’s been going on in, yes, same sleepy backwater Pui O, for the last two months:
Well? What do you think? Knowing where you are at any given moment; in fact, knowing where you live at all times, so easily forgotten in the hustle and bustle of modern life, must take precedent over keeping yourself dry and your umbrella un-ripped. Even I understand that.
And the shape of the thing: A boat on waves but safely elevated above the real water? Two government officials staring into the past while sitting on a pedestal? Who knows. It’s open to interpretation.
Here’s one such interpretation: The government will keep spending your money on totally useless crap and will stop at nothing in its incessant quest to do so.
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