A Wonderful Encounter

It's been a long time since I last went to a beach. The last time I went was in mid-summer. I went to Shek-O and Big Wave Bay with my daughter and the parents of my wife´s God-daughter. I had wanted so much to go. But there are always so many things to do, even on weekends: house work, grocery, laundry, various talks, meeting with friends either here or from abroad, study group meetings, mass, religious group meetings, concerts etc. After having gone to church and done my weekly shopping, I decided I really mustn't let this opportunity slip through my fingers this time. I'm most grateful to the friend who reminded me of the beautiful blue sky we had today.

The weather was nice last Sunday too but I hesitated and struck for a half-way house solution: just a short stroll around the Central harborfront. But one can't compromise all the time! I'm so glad I didn't this week. Hong Kong's public transport is simply superb. In less than an hour, I was already in Shek-O.

On the way, I deliberately closed my eyes and did ...nothing. I could feel the motion of the minibus from the Shaukiwan MTR station as it went up hill and down or as it turned numerous corners: the dull whir of its engine, the occasional bumps as its right wheels ran over those phosphorescent stones for night driving in the midline dividing the narrow road to my destination, the occasional laughter and giggles of the pair of love-birds sitting behind me, the sound of the cold air gushing out from the air vents above me and the constant inter-change of light and shadows rapidly appearing and disappearing on the "screen" of those translucent canopies in pinkish red which formed the lids of my closed eyes as the sunlight filtered through the crevices of the leaves and branches of the passing trees while the minibus hurtled towards Shek-O.

When I reached the stretch of road before the U turn into the beach, I opened my eyes. Before me was a sea of gold. There, to my right, between the leaves and branches of the roadside trees, was a wide band of light on the surface of the sea, right in its middle, like a huge flattened gold leaf  with frayed edges done by meticulous Indian craftsmen poring over their tiny work tables now shimmering in silence in the tranquil sea. It was blazing so brightly that I could barely watch it for a few seconds although I tried to gaze at it for as long I could. I like to gaze at the sea. 

When I was there, I took off my shoes. I like the feel of the sand as its grains squish through my toes and to feel its creamy softness beneath my sole. How I long for such softness would rise to caress my soul too? There was a fair number of people there already. There were plastic bags in red, green, white, blue, white, striped, non-striped, big, small, medium everywhere on the benches in the barbecue area. Some young people in swimming trunks were trying to fly three modern glider type kites. But there was little wind. Some were sunbathing. Young lovers everywhere, trying to be intimate but reluctantly stopping whatever it was they were doing upon the sight any passing strangers. Poor things! Unlike the beaches in Europe and America, it was so difficult to have any privacy here. There were also some Indians, sitting around in a circle, the women in their flimsy but colorful saris, throwing around a beach ball under the shade of a tree whilst further down, four or five European kids were playing a beach ball game with a net which they erected, with some girls sitting a little distance from the makeshift court, engaged in their favourite pastime, chatting and probably gossiping, with the borders of the court marked out on the soft sand with some yellow plastic tapes. Some people covered their head with a rolled up tower to stop being turned into toasts or to stop their eyes being blinded by the blazing sun whilst others simply enjoyed the winter sun with the sheen of suntan lotion or oils on their faces, their limbs and bodies.

I went to my favourite spot, the rocks to the far side to the east of the beach. It was completely deserted. I sat watching the waves as they came in, dashing against the rugged edges of the rocks, rising, causing little splashes, receding in a shower of tiny sprays sparkling in the sun and quickly turning into foam, sliding back down along the contours of the smoother surface of the boulders, being hit by another wave before they were completely down, rising again in another dash, further sprays ...I always marvel at the power of the sea. The sea is never quiet for a single moment. There is always motion, more motion, even more motion. Its waves may be big, small, not big not small. They surged in, maybe originally from somewhere in the Pacific, perhaps even from the North Pole. Who knows? But whatever their size, they never cease to climb, to dash, to strike, to wash the rocks and to tame them. Maybe they have been doing that for millions of years already, at a time when they only had tiny insects and barnacles for company. They persist with their rumbling crashes until  the hardest rocks lose their edges and become smoother and smoother and even smoother and lost all their corners. I like to see the water especially when it's high tide. It's much cleaner. Under a blue sky, it takes on some of the color of the sky and becomes emerald green, the most beautiful color in the universe. I like it that it is always moving, like life.

I looked across the bay. I could see the house at the outermost edge of the shore on the opposite side. I had been there many times. It was the house of one of my classmates. He was a chartered accountant at a time when I had absolutely no idea what that meant. He became the head of one of the biggest stock brokers and private investment banks in Hong Kong. He married the daughter of a patriotic capitalist but died of cancer a number of years ago. He was the first of our classmates to go. I went on my first camping trip with him. There were five of us then when we were still in Form 4. One is now the head of the TDC, another retired as one of the Secretaries of the HKSAR Government two years ago and the third has just retired as the managing partner of a large local legal firm earlier this year. I saw one of them at the HKPO concert last night.

I lay down to look at the sky from the contours of the rocks and the outline of the plants nearby. I don't know why. The irregular shapes of the plants against the rocks somehow gave the sky a kind of clarity it wouldn't otherwise have. Against the backdrop of the sky, they looked like so many little praying hands of the plants giving silent thanks to the sky god for its daily feast of life- giving light. The sky was  a beautiful blue. I could look at it forever. I like to hear the sound of the waves. They are so soothing. I like especially the sound of the waves as they recede back into the sea. It's a continuous slosh. It is so soft. I don't know how long our ancestors have heard such sounds and what they thought. To me, they spell one five letter word: peace. I slept a little, lullabied by the sound of the soothing waves until my face suddenly got wet from droplets of salty sprays upon me from a particularly big wave from the rising tide crashing upon those rocks below me. The tide had risen imperceptibly higher and higher whilst I was enjoying the serenity and those comforting sounds of the sea that I love. I love the smell of the sea. But it was time to go. All good things must come to an end, sooner or later. I know the rules. I had no intention of thinking that I was above them.

It was good that I went. I could leave everything behind me. I did not have to think any thoughts except those I permitted to enter into my mind, for two hours, not even the court case the following morning. I was free to look at the sky and to listen to the sound of the waves. I missed the sea breeze though. I like the feeling of the slightly salty and slightly sticky sea wind brushing against my face and the sound it makes as it rushes past your ears, now louder and now softer. But even without the breezes, it was good enough.