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Chinese Tour Psychology Hong Kong to Canton The tour from Hong Kong to Canton, for us, began with a taxi ride from our hotel in Hong Kong Island to the hovercraft dock in Kowloon. Tour members have been assured that they will be met there by the tour guide, one Mr. Lee, who will escort them to their craft for the first leg of the journey; a sightseeing ride up the Pearl River to Canton.
Leaving the air conditioned taxi, we overtip the driver, feeling confident and excited about such a good start to the five-day China tour adventure. The time is about 9 a.m., the temperature nearly 100 degrees, and the humidity over 85. More important, Mr. Lee is not to be seen. Actually, among the 20,000 Hong Kong Chinese crowding this commuter ferry dock, there are probably many Mr. Lees, but none wearing a China Tour “Guide Badge.” Eventually, nine or ten non-Asians standing in a tentative group and wearing China Tour badges are spotted. With nothing more hospitable in sight, we shuffle nearer and nearer, finally joining the wad. The individuals slowly congeal into a real group as our China Tour t-shirts drip with perspiration. Suddenly, someone says to the group, “Go there,” and we all go. “There” is an open, low-roofed shed, covering several railed walkways, each leading to a gate with a sign in Chinese. Apparently, these identify the various ferry routes. After about 20 minutes waiting in these cattle car lines, the heat becomes nearly insufferable. Feeling a sense of panic and abandonment, the Western survival instinct finally surfaces with a few attempts at humor from several members of the group. Immediately, following the first sign of group solidarity, an official appears from seemingly nowhere and orders the tour members into a particular gate queue. After another 25 minutes, and just as two tour members complain of dizziness and look as if they are about to faint from heat stroke, the gates open, and the offical leads the group down a ramp and onto the hovercraft.
Now while you may think that the hovercraft across the English Channel is a grand and glorious example of modern engineering applied to aquatic travel, the Hong Kong to Canton craft is another matter. Hover, it doesn’t. Bounce, shake, waiver, and lurch, yes. But hover, never. Passengers descend into the craft’s cabin and are seated ten across. Passengers occupying the window seats look out at eye level into the murky tide waters of the Pearl. Those in the middle eight seats have a choice between staring at the head in front, or into ears to the right or left. Never mind, most are thinking, once the hovering begins, the view will be fine. The craft is shoved away from its mooring and pointed up Pearl River and the official takes his seat. The motors reach a deafening roar, but the vessel doesn’t rise. Instead it sinks perceptibly lower into the river and strains forward at 25 knots. This seems to excite the crew members who begin passing among the 200 passengers, vending chocolates, fire crackers, and warm beer. The spray from the wake covers the windows, making it all seem like an underwater ride in a German U-boat. There are two loos on the craft. One is used for storing chocolate, fire crackers, and warm beer. The second seems to be a social gathering place for the crew. Passengers can’t spell, let along find, relief. An hour out of the Kowloon dock the craft reaches the border between the New Territory of Hong Kong and China. It slides to a stop in order to board a short, skinny, unsmiling Chinese fellow wearing a puke green uniform with a red cap and a tiny side arm. Following a stern single file march up one aisle and back the other, a crew member produced a grey metal folding chair
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