I recently took a short trip to Hong Kong and, beforehand, asked you all for suggestions. Thanks. It was an interesting trip, and I thought I’d share a few impressions. We also produced a short podcast, a bit of a Hong Kong sampler. You can download/subscribe at iTunes, get the RSS feed here, or listen live via the box at right.
- The transportation infrastructure is, as suggested, impressive. The airport, built on an island removed from the city in a massive land-reclamation project, is big, bright, and efficient, getting passengers into and out of the city without tying up traffic elsewhere. If I were the mayor of New York or Los Angeles, I would quiver with envy every time I flew into Hong Kong. There’s also a fast train from Central, the business district, and you can even check in with your airline at the train station. Overall, very low-hassle flying. The subways and buses were also good, and cheap; I was told that the Octopus smart card, used for transit credit as well as a debit card, has a 98% penetration rate in Hong Kong. And yes, the taxis are cheap, the least expensive I’ve ever experienced in a big city. My typical fare was roughly $5 U.S. for a trip that would have cost easily double that in New York (and more in London).
- The density wasn’t surprising but, even for a New Yorker, occasionally breathtaking. The container-ship port was easily the largest I’d ever seen, acres upon acres. The apartment buildings, too, live cheek by jowl:
- It’s not the easiest city to walk in: hilly, to be sure, but also with narrow sidewalks (or sometimes none) and lots of concrete (in Central especially) that cuts off direct routes. On the other hand, there’s great hiking even in the city hills, and some beautiful parkland.
- As with any new place, I found even the mundane fascinating, like shopping in a pharmacy. I was particularly taken with the very large section of medicine devoted to treating grumpy bowels — as well as the Jackie Chan “Anti-Hair Fall Shampoo”:
- Given Hong Kong’s bad recent history with bird flu and SARS, it wasn’t surprising to find an intense concentration on public hygiene. The moment I stepped off the plane, a man in a red uniform handed me a pamphlet: “Health Advice for Prevention of Human Swine Influenza.” There were disinfectant dispensers everywhere I went, with lots and lots of janitors and cleaning ladies on their hands and knees, especially in the hotels and shopping areas. Whether this is hygiene or simply hygiene theater, it is hard to say.
- I spent some time at a large public hospital (voluntarily), interested to see the level of hygiene, as well as an acclaimed government-run health care system in action. (A sizable chunk of our podcast deals with this.) Once again, hygiene measures were evident everywhere: disinfectant dispensers, no-touch door openers, masks for everyone, and visual encouragement like the poster at right.
In the waiting room at the E.R. (known there as “A&E,” for Accidents and Emergencies), there’s a separate area for respiratory patients, which seemed a bit counterproductive as the two areas were barely separated. I had lunch in the hospital’s canteen, where the slogans on a big mirrored wall proclaimed “Time of Your Life” and “Great Taste, Great Place.” I have never seen such encouraging messages in a hospital. All the food workers wore face masks, which seemed like a good idea — but they didn’t wear gloves to handle the food or the clean plates. Made me wonder if the face masks were more for their protection than ours.
One doctor I interviewed at length, Karl Young, gave me a tour of the I.C.U., and made a pretty convincing argument that Hong Kong’s universal health care system, while far from perfect, is right to be admired. (Note that Hong Kong is a world leader in life expectancy; although that metric shouldn’t be leaned on as heavily as it is.) And it’s hard to argue with the price: residents pay about $12 U.S., all-in, for an A&E visit, treatment, and follow-up medication.
- Unprompted, Young described himself to me at one point as “a banana — yellow on the outside and white on the inside.” (He was born in Taiwan but grew up mainly in the States.) One of the revelations of my visit was just how openly race is talked about in Hong Kong. Much of this talk (most of it?) is pejorative — it seems that the Hong Kong Chinese especially, but almost every group, have a regular slur for every other group, and the hierarchy of discrimination is well established. (We’ll be producing a future podcast concerning this topic, having to do with the economics of the Filipina nanny industry.) But rather than being consigned to the fringes, these slurs are part of casual conversation. I had an interesting talk about this with Christopher Hutton of the University of Hong Kong, a linguist and author of A Dictionary of Cantonese Slang: The Language of Hong Kong Movies, Street Gangs and City Life. A number of white expats I talked to routinely referred to themselves as gweilo, Cantonese for “ghost man,” a slur that’s been around long enough to become normative. One of these conversations was with Paul Zimmerman, a Dutch businessman and urban environmentalist — he wants to be the Jane Jacobs of Hong Kong — who recently ran for the Legislative Council, one of the few white men to do so. He lost.
- I also heard a lot of race talk, not surprisingly, at TakeOut Comedy, which claims to be the first full-time comedy club in Asia. lt’s run by an engaging fellow (and good comedian) named Jami Gong, who grew up in New York’s Chinatown but now spends most of his time in Hong Kong, where his parents are from. (One frequent conversational topic during my visit: how everyone thought the 1997 handover from the U.K. to China would turn Hong Kong into a much more Communist, and therefore much less hospitable, place for many residents. This led a lot westerners in particular to leave for places like Canada, Australia, and the U.S. And then, when Hong Kong didn’t change much, the outflow reversed course. I asked one finance worker why this 1997 anxiety had been so pronounced. “You!” he said — i.e., the media.)
In fact, nearly every routine at TakeOut Comedy was about some kind of language/culture/race clash. There was one joke about the state of green power in mainland China — that it consists of windmills that serve only as fans to blow the mainland pollution over to Hong Kong. (The newspapers print a pollution index every day; it was blessedly low when I visited but had recently been the highest in memory, and a lot of people were still coughing from it.) A comic named Smita Venkat, an Indian who grew up in Singapore (none of the comics on this night were Chinese except for Gong), made fun of Singapore’s official matchmaking agency, called (seriously) the Social Development Unit. She also made fun of India’s effort to get yoga into the Olympics — again, seriously.
The biggest name performing that night was Vivek Mahbubani, the son of Indian immigrants, who has won contests as Hong Kong’s funniest person — in both English and Cantonese. (Here’s me with Gong, left, and Mahbubani. We were obviously looking at more than one camera at a time.)
Mahbubani’s Cantonese is flawless because he grew up in Hong Kong; his English is unaccented because he watched a lot of American TV as a kid. (He’s also a successful web designer and a drummer in a thrash band.) One of Mahbubani’s best bits was about how Hong Kong Chinese don’t believe he can really speak Cantonese, and when he stops, they try to shut him up.
But the most surprising comedian that night, at least from a Freakonomics perspective, was an American named Michael Dorsher. By day, he works for Bloomberg. At graduate school, he studied economics, and his thesis was called … “Humornomics.” From the introduction:
Humor as a field is no stranger to scientific scrutiny: sociology, psychology, philosophy, physiology, anthropology, neurology, immunology, and language studies all have held humor under the microscope. Despite the wide swath of academic interest in the topic, there has not been a single published study, to this author’s knowledge, which has sought to quantify the elusive nature of humor. It is in this respect that the field of economics becomes appropriate for humor research. This paper will show that it is possible to quantify humor by measuring output laughter, and through the use of econometric tools quantification enables a clearer picture of the determinants of humor.
You’ll hear from Dorsher, including some of his Humornomics conclusions, in the podcast as well.
Thanks again to everyone for all the tips.