Another strange night of waking at random times ensued, but this time it was accompanied by a pounding headache: today was the day I'd ensure I drank lots of fluids rather than suffering dehydration to save a few Hong Kong dollars.
I took a very busy Central Line to Hong Kong Island, and remembered it was Saturday so of course it would be busy; I'd given up being polite and was now staring at those who stared at me as my neck began to hurt from bowing it in coyness. I'm sure all Caucasian six-footers get strange looks in Hong Kong, so why be the one who gets a hunched back whilst avoiding the staring eyes.
As advised by the many guidebooks on Hong Kong I went to the HSBC tower, but after failing to see how I got to the top I made my way to the Peak Tram through a poor excuse for a park, passing Murray House on the way. I declined to buy a poppy from an American and then felt awful, as they were clearly fine with people wearing them over here; I'd had clearly misconceived ideas that their presence wouldn't be seen as patriotic over here, but instead as threatening. I later bought one and pinned it proudly to my top.
The tram was so steep that it hurt if you tried to fight your head falling backwards as gravity pulled it down; it was a high $56 for the tram and Sky Tower access, but it's always cool to look out over a city. At least the wind from the top dried my wet hair from this morning's toilet brush-dodging shower, and my reliable National Trust binoculars came in handy at the top. I managed to summon the nerve to ask someone to take my picture, but couldn't avoid the windswept look.
Boarding the tram was an insight, as I quickly learnt the Chinese don't understand queues: if there's a space then they'll step right into it. This was ironic considering when I came down from the peak there was a huge queue of tourists snaking all around the corner from the tram. I bought what I thought was a fresh fruit drink at the top as I waited for the downward journey, but it cost almost as much as the tram package, so I was determined to finish every last icy drop before ending my hilltop view.
I didn't make it to Hong Kong Park, and instead made my way to the Star Ferry, eventually finding it after going round the block a few times; I swiped my Octopus card and got on just as the gate was closing, cue more sweating as I ran for another hasty departure.
After another nap, this time planned, I got the Metro to the light show at eight; I was there for seven-thirty and managed to find a seat amongst the many tourists after evading the so-called monk to wanted to say hi to everyone and the Indian who kept whispering 'watches and handbags' on the high street. The light show was quite impressive as it played out to the music on the many buildings of Hong Kong Island, but all the talking was in Mandarin so I've no idea what they were on about.
I walked back to the broken MRT again, then managed to get over HK$100 back on my Octopus card that I hadn't used, of course making me a chuffed bunny. I found the 'Good Hope Noodle' listed in Lonely Planet, but it was a dive diner with no English signs, and so I refrained, choosng the food stall next to the hostel instead. Nobody except a girl in the back spoke English so I was waiting a rather long time for the dumplings that dripped grease on their brown paper bag, before getting a passion fruit iced tea from the stall beside it to try and counteract it.
I just have to hope the new battery works for the alarm clock so I can make the five a.m. bus to the airport tomorrow.