Hong Kong Travels: Stanley

Arriving at Stanley feels like arriving at a suburb of Repulse Bay, and everything about it suggests it is an escape from, not exposure to, Hong Kong culture. Victoria and I could see this on the bus during the approach where as soon as we had crossed the middle of Hong Kong Island, the estates disappeared, and the mansions began. No more trams, just pink Ferraris. It was a smooth ride past privilege as we wound our way along the coast, passing country clubs and golf courses. It was completely different from the other areas I had been to, and perhaps that was the point. What interests me is how, conceptually, the aesthetic of wealth (as we passed by gated communities and glistening yachts) appeared to be very western. The mansions had neoclassical pillars of the sorts you would find in Hampstead or Golders Green and London. The cars were Teslas or European super cars. For the most part, there were decorated friezes at the base of the roofs.

The nearness of British colonialism muddies the waters. Who were these places built for? An imperial elite hoping for the comforts of home? Hong Kongers hoping to assimilate by surrounding themselves with the trappings of another culture? Or did Hong Kongers never have a chance to bild their own mansions, and this is all that was left. Other projects were more modern, more universal, with wide windows and blocky asymmetrical designs. Could this be a decolonization of colonial architecture? It's more likely that I'm looking into it too much. 

My first impression of Stanley was a continuation of this musing. All the shops catered to non-Cantonese speakers. For example, Mercato Gourmet is full of artisanal offerings from Europe especially. The price of goods is far too dear for an impulse purchase, but it set the tone for what comes next. A grand purpose-made escalator handily transports you down to the Plaza through a shopping mall. It feels like arriving at an airport and moving through the duty-free shops; an odd association for a spot on the sea front. It does not give the impression of an organically growing community, but instead a way to encourage specific clientele to spend their money. Evidence of this also included the food on offer, Pizza Hut, KFC, McDonald's, Doughbros. Chung's Liberty appeared to be the only Chinese offering and the only restaurant with Chinese characters I could see. The only other places I saw in the shopping centre were the open and closed signs, pull sign and a ‘back soon’ sign on a closing down shop. Victoria said that many of the shops have been replaced in the decades since she had last visit to the area. I wondered why the turnover was so high. 

The only permanent feature I could see that felt authentic to Hong Kong was a small shrine next to a locked stall. Old plastic chairs were stacked under the eaves. Old posters for Bluegirl beer and Coca-Cola hung from the roof. Paper signs advertising the sale of the shop were entirely in Chinese, unlike the advertisements elsewhere for ocean view developments that were entirely in English. The compulsory small group of middle-aged individuals sat next to each other talking about something I could not understand. From all of my explorations, that seemed to fit the soul of Hong Kong the most, and yet in a few seconds we had passed it. 

Murray House and Blake Pier, as you can infer from the names, are colonial era buildings. The pier's roof reminds me of the pavilions at a Victorian seaside town, or an old shopping arcade. Although Murray House had been closed by the time we arrived at the outside by itself was impressive. One might even call it out of place, in multiple ways. Brick by brick, it was transferred from Central, as had the pier via a detour to Kowloon. The building still displayed signs of the dissection, new mortar filling the gaps like scar tissue on an old wound. The transplantation of these two structures together invokes mixed emotions in me. On the one hand, the conscious preservation of Hong Kong history is appreciated in a city that lusts after redevelopment. At the same time, it only adds to the feeling of Stanley as a non-place: character needed to be imported from elsewhere.  

Another curious feature are the several pillars just by the house. Ionic capitals on top of unfluted columns suggested they were left over from Murray House's move. The neoclassical movement has come full circle. Now instead of Greek columns on display, watered down British replicas are put in their place. Perhaps in another 2,500 years the same will occur again. Neo colonial architecture put in place outside space stations. 

There is some local character to Stanley, even if it is not the main draw. The Smugglers Inn has every scrap of free space covered in notes from around the world. Beesy Bay has some pretty wall art, but the prices are immediately off putting. Stanley Market, reduced in size, feels more in line with the market stalls in parts of the Causeway Bay back streets. The cobbled together pieces of plastic forming the roof give a slight green and white undertone to the street. In the alley surrounding it, one shop, Henrys has, in a downward progression, displayed an article discussing the generational transfer of the business; an advertisement for staff in all areas; and a notice of closure. The only bilingual poster was the notice of closure. 

Victoria and I had limited time left, so after a brief look at her former school, St. Stephen’s, we left Stanley after sunset. For me, the small piece of Hong Kong is an alternative choice for dinner if you prefer to be the coast enjoying lasagne or Impossible Burgers. As an example of Hong Kong culture, it perhaps is best viewed through an internationalist lens instead. Stanely is a symptom of Hong Kong’s position on the global stage with a good range of supermarkets.

A safe space for Western visitors, which after three years of residency applies to me less and less.