Our second full day in Hong Kong and, despite our oversized and most salubrious surroundings (I'm not saying the suite is big, but Tizer and I managed a half decent polo match in there earlier today; I won), neither Mrs V nor I managed more than 4 hours sleep. We can only presume that the jet-lag has mangled our body clocks more than we thought. It's all well and good that in this modern age of ours we're able to whisk ourselves a third of the way around the globe in just 12 hours, but it's rather disconcerting that it takes our brains a good three days to catch up. It's just not natural. Maybe they should bring Concorde back. Or would that only make things worse?
Today was officially marked as a 'Tizer Day' – the poor mite has put up with quite a lot in the last few days and probably doesn't get quite the same buzz out of flying Upper Class or partaking of the Four Seasons' seemingly unlimited levels of service and hospitality, so it only seemed fair to give her a break. And – well, hell – if said break meant that us 'grown-ups' had to suffer a day with her at Hong Kong Disney, then that's just the kind of sacrifice that we – as parents – sometimes have to make.
We set off typically late – why is it when you can't sleep all night, the one time you do fall into the deepest of slumbers is 20 minutes before you're due to get up? After breakfasting like kings in the executive lounge, and with the vague trepidation that can only be felt by a Northerner who manages to limit to once a year his use of the hot, dirty, overpriced and entirely unreliable transist system that is the London Underground, we descended into the bowels of the Hong Kong MTR – the Metropolitan Transit Railway. My god, it's clean. You could eat your dinner of the floor of one of their sparklingly clean and punctual trains (if you were predisposed to do so. I was still full from breakfast).
We were swiftly and efficiently delivered to the gates of the Land of the Mouse and, it had to be said, we were all feeling just a little giddy. I say we. Tizer was, thus far, rather nonplussed by the whole experience. Once through those glittering gates, however, and she really started to pick up. As soon as we set foot upon 'Main Street USA' – a quaint depiction of a homely, stylised, Americana-esque town which, without doubt, never existed outside the minds of Disney Corp executives– she was presented with the man (or should I say rodent?) of the hour; Mr. M. Mouse him very self. Boy was she excited, so much so that we felt compelled to join the over-long queue of parents, all with children in similar states of delirium for the chance of a ‘photo opportunity’ with an underpaid and no doubt over-hot Hong Kong bloke in a sweaty mouse suit.
All went well until we got to the head of the queue; it was our turn, and Tizer went charging toward Mickey’s open arms. Then she hesitated. It seems the closer she got, the greater the realization dawned on her that this was no ordinary mouse. This was one big bugger of a mouse. In fact, for a child who doesn’t quite top three feet, this was a gargantuan mouse. This was no mouse – this was a monster. She slowed; she stopped; she turned heel sharpish and ran like hell back to her mother, screaming, “Mummy! Mouse, no!”. As you can see from the pic above, we still managed to get our photo, but Tizer was far from happy and insisted she be kept a safe distance from mutant the cheese-muncher.
We hit the ‘attractions’ after that, and managed the carousel, the spinning tea-cups (just a little nausea inducing), a ride down the ‘river’ complete with pretend animals that reared out of the water at you, and a visit to Tarzan’s treehouse. He wasn’t home, but we had a good nose round all the same.
The climax of the day was the firework display over the fairytale castle (Cinderella’s? Sleeping Beauty’s? Maybe they ‘castle share’; mind you, I bet Cinderella does all the cleaning and Sleeping Beauty never gets out of bed, lazy cow). Stunning fireworks, although Tizer managed to sleep through the whole display, which was a shame. Oh, and best of all – it snowed! In Hong Kong! In 70 degree heat! OK, so it was just soap-suds blown out of the rooftops along Main Street, but it was still particularly Christmassy, even for a jaded old fool like me. Snow gently falling, Hong Kong kids going bloomin’ cock-a-hoop for the stuff, carols playing and a huge great Christmas tree twinkling away at the bottom of the street. Bloody marvelous.
Even the trip back to Hong Kong was a pleasure. Seeing so many people leave Disney en-masse after the fireworks, we were fearing the worse when we got back to the train station, but one has to keep reminding oneself that this is Hong Kong, not the UK. Folk filed in an orderly fashion towards the station; the transit authorities, wise to the fact that this is a busy time, put on extra staff and trains to cope, and everything went smoother than Micheal Buble gargling with chocolate syrup whilst wearing silk pyjamas.
My good lady wife and I dined in our suite after putting our comatose daughter to bed, whilst enjoying views across Victoria Harbour. It was almost like being on honeymoon…
Kowloon and Mongkok tomorrow (reputedly one of the most densely populated places on earth), so that should be fun.
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