Hong Kong, like
all cities, is an accumulation of sounds and odors, many of them unique to that place. Unlike vision, sound and
smell are much more visceral senses, tied into more primitive parts of the
brain than vision. Vision requires
interpretation by the higher centers of the brain to extract meaning, sound and
smell do not.
Within the first
24 hours in Hong Kong, I was able to distinguish three distinct and pervasive
aromas. The most noticeable was a
salty, extremely humid smell. It
appeared to be a mix of sea air and other things, perhaps car exhaust, cooking
oil and pollution. It was always
slightly rank in character and was most definitely not pleasant. This was the smell that I reeked of
every night when I returned to the filtered, air conditioned air of my
hotel. Once extracted from the
stew I had been marinating in all day, the odor was very obvious and permeated
my clothing and clung to my skin.
If you mixed it with sweat, I noticed my skin would become slightly
tacky. If this were a science
fiction movie, I would be worried that I had come in contact with some alien
substance that would slowly poison me through contact with my skin. Let’s hope, for the sake of my friends
who live in Hong Kong, that this is not a toxic airborne substance.
The second, and
decidedly more pleasant aroma I encountered all over the city was the salty
smell of traditional Chinese cooking.
I first noticed it at the jook stand in the food court of the shopping
mall attached to my hotel. Then I
smelled it over and over again in Mongkok and every other place that had traditional Chinese restaurants that opened out onto the street.
The third smell
is very dry, an imitation of fresh air, air you might encounter in other
places, but not Hong Kong. It is
typically encountered in high end shopping malls. Perhaps this is the smell of filtered air, akin to the taste
of distilled water. All of the
harmful pollutants have been removed, but something is most definitely missing.
Hong Kong is
also a city characterized by a surprisingly distinctive soundscape. The first time I really became attuned
to sound in Hong Kong was when I walked by a crosswalk the first time. Each crosswalk is equipped with a sound
device that alerts visually impaired citizens of their approach to a crosswalk
with an auditory signal that indicates whether the “walk” or “don’t walk” cycle is engaged. When the “don’t walk” light is lit, the
series of regular clicks is soft and slow. As soon as the crossing light changes to “walk”, the pitch
of the clicks is higher and the speed and volume increase, as well. This is also an aid to sighted
pedestrians. You don’t have to be
forever looking at the crossing light to know if it is time to walk or not; all
you have to do is listen.
The escalators
in MTR stations and shopping malls are also equipped with similar synthesizers
that alert the visually impaired of the presence and location of escalators and
alert you that you have reached the end of the escalator or the end of a moving
sidewalk. Again, this is pretty
useful for sighted pedestrians, as well.
Another
distinctive sound is made by the MTR trains as they arrive and depart the
station. Every subway station I
have been in around the world has trains with distinctive sounds. It seems to be a combination of the equipment
and the acoustical properties of the space. The Hong Kong MTR platforms seem to be designed to minimize
the ambient noise generated by so many people in such a confined space. What could have escalated to deafening
cacophony during peak usage is kept to a manageable roar.
Equally
distinctive are the announcements on the MTR. Each announcement is given first in Cantonese, then in
Mandarin, and finally in English.
At first it seemed odd that Mandarin was given pride of place before
English in every announcement as the train departed each station and when it
arrived at each successive stop.
One supposes this was done for a variety of reasons. First off, esthetically, it makes sense
to follow an announcement in Cantonese with one in another Chinese
language. Both are tonal and share
certain sounds to give a general sound of Chineseness. English, by its very nature, sounds
totally distinct. Secondly, there
appear to be many, many Mandarin speakers in Hong Kong, whether as tourists or
as residents. You hear a fair
amount of Mandarin in public spaces.
I also heard much less English (or other Western languages being spoken)
outside of tourist areas such as The Peak or the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui.
Those crosswalk cues sound like a heart monitor. I could see how they would stimulate a walking response...more like running.
The one thing I hate about cities, particularly in summer, is the air laden with the smell of fermenting garbage. Yuk. But it is interesting how you isolated the HK smells. Wonder if it would be different in any other city in China? The sea smell aside.
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