CX 716 to Hong Kong

And so it begins.

Going through the actual process of departure is far less glamorous than contemplating it as a hypothetical situation. What one envisions is a scripted leave-taking, picture-perfect and therefore enviable; what one leaves out are the moments of drudgery and tedium, the pre-check-in scramble to repack the luggage so that it fits in with the baggage guidelines, the struggle with bulging packs and bags, the sweat that flows freely, belying the fluster that nags one's mind. And underlying all this is the constant nagging doubt that one has forgotten something crucial, something simple and indispensible, and one will think oneself the consummate idiot once that oversight is discovered.

But once the bags were checked in, and the boarding passes were obtained, everything started to go more smoothly, in the way that I had envisaged, in my idle fantasising moments. After the bags are tagged and have disappeared down the chute, one knows that one is committed to the trip; there can be no turning back now. And, for better or worse, the only real way to counter that nagging doubt is to embark anyway, and find out the hard way whether the doubt is paranoia or prescience. So, once my boarding passes were in hand, I felt a lot more settled, and could turn to the task of taking my leave of my people.

I will not belabour this point: it would be unseemly, crass, too much like bragging. It is enough to say that more people turned up than I had expected, and the send-off that they gave could not have been better. I could not have rightly asked for more - heck, they even threw in a few bars from that Sinatra song! It was exceedingly odd to be escorted to the glass gates, pushing this trolley, and realising that it is actually laden with my stuff, and that this time round I was not sending someone off, but was in fact being sent off. I do feel somewhat bad, really, like making a mountain out of a molehill. But if there ever was a way to say a good goodbye, and if there ever were people who I wanted really to say a good goodbye to at the glass gates, then this would be it. To have friends such as these - this is enough to complete any life.

*

And a part of me misses them already - my family and friends. There were no tears this time, thankfully, for they were quite frankly uncalled for. And yet, the departure definitely affected me deeply. Thinking of what I left behind, the enormity of it all sends pangs through my chest, a sort of clenching that is produced by a mix of fear and yearning. The yearning is for more of the same in the coming days; the fear is my aversion to losing what I share already with my people. I cannot let go; more importantly, I will not let go of these days, these people. This is not a question of moving on. Definitely I will have to move on sooner or later. The crux of the issue lies in whether I can find a way to reconcile what is to come with what is already here, to make the old, familiar friendships complement the new ones, to avoid the situation in which they become mutually exclusive.

Am I trying to have my cake and eat it? Yep, definitely. But then again, how can you choose between an unimaginable potential future and an indispensible past? Making that kind of decision will tear me apart, I think. So, it is not greed but self-preservation that motivates this stand.

*

And after finishing the long goodbye, I got on the plane and things got on to a good start. The flight was scheduled for a 6.30pm departure, but up till takeoff, I did not make the connection between the departure time and the sunset time. And so, as the plane hurtled down southward along the runway and then leapt into the air, the whole scene was suffused with a soft golden light. And as the plane banked left to head north towards Hong Kong, I was treated to a breathtaking view of the city bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun. I managed to trace out the twin runways of the airport, the Singapore Expo complex and Changi Business Park. I am pretty sure I managed to spot Simei as well, but that may just be wishful thinking, as the plane pulled quickly away, and soon, we were past Ubin and into Malaysia. Nonetheless, it is a nice thought to me to think that my last view of Singapore, and of my home, this year was when it was resplendent in the raiment of a sunset. The view seemed like one last parting gift from the city.

The flight as a whole was charmed by its fortuitous timing. The cabin provided ample legroom, the entertainment system left one spoilt for choice, the food was admirable (especially dessert - Cathay Pacific puts in just that little bit more effort to get everyone ice cream, which I think is a little bit that goes a long way), and the service was excellent. But as far as I was concerned, the biggest show was happening outside, and I would have been just as satisfied flying by JetStar. The view through the porthole was spectacular, and I spent two hours simply watching the sun set from eighty thousand feet in the air.

That vantage point really gives a whole new take to sunsets. Below the plane was a sea of billowing clouds, whereas more ethereal wisps hovered at our altitude. The air above was crystal-clear. All this combined with the low sun produced incredible colours and contrasts, as the sun threw the low cloudtops into stark relief by silhouetting them, and turned the higher clouds incandescent by backlighting them, while the higher altitudes were a deep and royal blue. As the plane soared in and out of clouds, and the colours changed constantly from gold to orange to red to dusky brown, one cannot but be transfixed by the shifting patterns of light. I found myself quite simply in awe. And one gets the distinct feeling that this is God's country.

And afterwards, as the last dull glimmer of the sun faded away and night fell, the plane began its descent to Hong Kong, and the lightshow continued. We approached from Kowloon, bypassing Hong Kong Island to go directly to Lantau. There was low and patchy cloud cover, and for some reason, the clouds were gathered in the valleys that lined the Hong Kong landscape. And Hong Kong, being a city that blazes almost vehemently with light, backlit all these clouds dramatically, turning them yellow or red. At one point, the brilliant neons that line Victoria Harbour lent their colours to the clouds, so that they obtained diffuse tinges of unnatural colours. And at another point, the Turf Club's massive floodlights turned the clouds above it to pure white. And at yet another point, a line of lights outlined the great Tsing Ma Bridge and the expressway it carries from Lantau to Kowlooon. And over all of this, the full moon cast its silver shadow, gently highlighting the cloudtops and reflecting on the water's surface, making an evocative contrast with the incredible lights of the city.

*

All this nearly made me decide to go down to the harbour myself tonight, despite my having to catch an early flight out in a little over seven hours' time. I daresay that, after Singapore, Hong Kong is the city that I am most familiar with. This is a place, too, that has blessed me with special moments, and my impression of it is enriched (some may say biased) by these memories. But it would have been an unspeakable folly to leave the airport. And anyway, if I had left, I would not be able to blog now.

So here I am, in the middle of a deserted food court in Hong Kong International Airport, its usually bustling thoroughfares rendered quiet in the lull of the early morning. I have the whole place to myself; I could sleep on these benches if I wanted to, and I could blast music from this computer with no ill effects. My closest neighbours are construction workers drilling away at some unseen upgrading project. But the objective for tonight is to stay awake, so that I can rewire my system for New York time.

Some people say HKIA is the world's best airport. They do have a point; it certainly is swanky and impressively designed. But I do think that the people who agree with this judgment are by and large first- or business-class travellers, who can cocoon themselves in the premier airline lounges, and who may very well never realise the lack of the basic amenities that make the normal transit passenger's life better, things like free water dispensers and even convenience stores. Changi Airport has all this; whereas HKIA seems to me to be designed to suck money, for the most part. Nevertheless, it is pretty nice here, in my personal zone in this deserted food court. The surroundings are clean, I have free power and the wifi is dependable. Definitely not outfield, this.

Predictably, too, the place is festooned with Olympic promotional materials. HKIA is the gateway to the equestrian events, and anyway, HKIA is in China, so they use Olympic posters somewhat like wallpaper here, plastering them on construction hoardings, billboards, walls and trolleys. So this is my tiny, tangential exposure to the Olympics. I guess even being in the vicinity of the Olympics at this time is something to remark upon; and I am reminded of G, Y's junior, who may have very well watched the very match that had guaranteed Singapore at least a silver in table-tennis. I should buy some Olympic merchandise while I'm here; event-themed shot glasses seem to be the best bet at the moment.