If you use a site like TripAdvisor to find the most popular Hong Kong tourist destinations, the list will generally include the cable car ride and Giant Buddha on Lantau Island. Now, it is true that in traditional Zen-like settings one rarely finds the words “Buddha” juxtaposed with “cable car ride”, but we figured, what the hell, we’ve got the day free and it’s on all those lists, so…
The attraction is fairly new, built about 25 years ago, and Lantau Island itself is immediately adjacent to the airport on the tip of the mainland. The best way to get there is by Metro, which we had early on decided not to use since it has become the locus for many of the protests and police actions. But then we figured that since we had missed out on the Molotov cocktails two evenings ago, we should at least enjoy the prospect of a robust tear-gassing, and off to the Metro we went.
The Hong Kong Metro is impressive. The stations and trains are large, spotless, efficient, and ultramodern, although many of the fare machines have been damaged by the protests and taken out of commission. The cars are wide with molded stainless steel seats — rather unfortunately reminiscent of oddly clean bus station urinals — and the doors between cars stay open so that looking down the length of each train gives the impression of some kind of pedestrian interstellar portal.
Alice had downloaded a Hong Kong Metro app that served quite well to help us navigate the system. Fares were reasonable; it cost about US$3.50 per person to get out to the island, about a half hour ride.
Problem was, the further out of the city we went, the worse the weather got. We started with hazy sun, then moved into gloomy overcast, traveling past huge apartment blocks that, for their ominous appearance, may be housing either alien larvae or blocks of residents in suspended animation.
By the time we got to the cable car station at the base of the mountain on Lantau we were pretty fully socked in, and the ride up the mountain — and thus into the clouds — offered a somewhat apocalyptic cast, at least when the visibility was greater than 50 meters.
The cool part, though, was that the cars had glass bottoms (we had actually paid extra for this, since not all of them do), which adds a note of surrealism and acrophobia to the experience.
We were greeted at the top by more clouds and rain, the Giant Buddha itself, sitting serenely and wetly atop an adjacent hill and overlooking the pseudo-village of Ngong Ping. Here was the sort-of serene part of the scene, heavily Photoshopped so that you can at least make out the statue through the drizzly gloom:
What the photo doesn’t show was the “village”, which was a shopping enclave that included such traditional Chinese restaurants as — and I assure you this was actually there — “Ebeneezer’s [sic] Kebab and Pizzeria.” There were some interesting souvenir stores as well (Alice bought a nice fan), but my favorite by far was the centerpiece of the complex, a garish-looking multimedia virtual reality extravaganza called — and again, I swear this is true — “VR 360 Walk With The Buddha.” And now I suddenly realize that I should have Photoshopped a VR headset onto the statue in the previous photo. For it is said that the way of the Buddha is through the Playstation, one of which surely would have been owned by Siddhartha Gautama himself.
There are 268 steps from the base of the hill to the statue, and we did exactly none of them because it started to pour. So back down the Stygian cable car we went, closing the book on this particular adventure. It was the Afternoon of the Anti-Zen.
We leave early tomorrow morning for Hanoi and the main part of our trip. Stay serene, grasshopper.