Hong Kong is rightly known to be a shopper’s paradise. Even to one indifferent to the lure of possessions like yours truly, it is hard not to admire the vibrant energy and hard work that lie behind the glittering facades of designer storefronts, name brand stores and all the shiny temples of consumerism on display. Walking down a Kowloon street at 10 o’clock one night in the first week of our stay, we were astounded to see well-dressed shoppers toting designer bags queueing up to get into the flagship Gucci store; a store that easily surpasses Vienna, London or New York in both size and glitz. 

Here is a short extract from the blurb for the Ocean Centre shopping mall:

The mall is divided into four zones, Ocean Terminal parallel alongside a cruise ship berth, Ocean City, Gateway Arcade and Marco Polo Hongkong Hotel Arcade. Shops are mainly high-end and mid-range and range of goods includes mens and ladies fashion and accessories, beauty and personal care, childrens and maternity wear, sportswear and shoes, leather goods, shoes and bags, gifts, jewellery and watches, audio visual and electrical appliances and home furnishings.

After listing several dozen of the most famous among the 700 shops and 50 restaurants in the complex, it then goes on to say:

Shoppers venturing into Harbour City are advised to obtain a shop directory/floor plan on arrival as whilst the layout of this mall appears simple the numbering of floor levels can be particularly confusing when moving between different zones. A warning I would advise you to take seriously if you don’t want to wander for hours!

The feng-shuied elegance of the city’s skyscrapers and smooth-flowing traffic on multi-layered roadways are both marvels of engineering and organisation. And then, on a crowded street near Central, the sight that epitomised the depth of this city’s mercantile impulse; a ten-storied building in this tropical city apparently dedicated entirely to Siberian Fur.

Driving north from Birmingham on the highway that is variously called the M1, the M18 and the A1, one comes across traces the Romans left of their long stays in Britain two thousand years ago. Around 120 AD Mr. Hadrian, properly known as Publius Aelius Traianus Hadrianus Augustus, who was an avid tourist and visited almost every province of his vast empire during his reign, came to the far north. He decided to prevent the savage Scots (who are now trying to peacefully disengage from, and stay out of, Britain) from entering his realm by building a high wall to keep them out. How times change!

Successful or not, today the remnants of Hadrian’s wall run through a beautiful piece of gently undulating countryside that is well worth a few days exploration. From Corbridge, one drives along enchanting winding lanes to Vindolanda, where there is an exceptionally fine Roman Army Museum. There are several archaeological excavation sites in the surrounding countryside that regularly unearth details of everyday life in these Roman towns and garrisons.

Here is a link to the Vindolanda museum run by the Vindolanda Charitable Trust. The trust also funds the continuing excavations.

http://www.vindolanda.com

The Vindolanda Tablets are palm-sized wooden blocks that were used to send messages written in ink. The wooden tablets were folded in two like a sheet of paper for despatch. A number of these were found recently, buried in the mud, their messages perfectly preserved between the folds. The tablets provide touching personal insights into the lives of the legionaries who lived in this outpost of their empire, far away from their own home. In one, a legionary thanks a distant colleague for sending socks and warm underclothing; in another, a general’s wife invites the wife of a fellow officer to dinner.

It has a big wheel, but it isn’t Vienna.

Here’s a clue (below). This Roman Fortress Gate is now a Gents toilet. The first three correct answers will get a free copy of my forthcoming anthology: THE IRONWOOD POACHER AND OTHER STORIES, when it appears in October this year. I look forward to your answers and inspired guesses.

Here is Bounty having a last sit in the kitchen sink at Kanalstrasse in Vienna before moving to temporary accommodation and subsequent air cargo flight to Lamma Island, Hong Kong. Simba flies with her too, of course.

Oh, and they took some jools, too. The loss of past association is much more deeply felt than the loss of the twinkling stones. However, our souls soldier on (pardon the pun!) undiminished. In the words of the Bhagavad Gita: Fire burns it not; Weapons cleave it not.