My brother and I have a little tradition when we part ways and won’t see each other for a long time. Actually, it’s my tradition – I cry. The morning Larry and I were to leave Shenzhen and go back to Hong Kong, I prepared by tearing up as soon as I got out of bed. Some traditions are too good to break.
Wyatt accompanied us to the border, which isn’t far from his apartment in Shenzhen. It took one bus ride, and two subways to get there. One curious thing about the bus -- instead of a meter into which the riders insert their fare, there’s a real, live person inside the door of the bus who takes the riders’ money. After we paid her our fare, she gave us a small ticket, I suppose, to show that we paid to ride. During our stay in China we noticed that humans do the kinds of jobs that in the U.S. are automated, such as the workmen in Beijing digging up the street instead of using a backhoe. Some of it is back-breaking, but it does provide jobs.
We arrived at the border. Crossing the border between the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and Hong Kong is done inside a large building that spans the Shenzhen River. The river runs between the PRC and Hong Kong territory with immigration desks to pass through on each side of the river. We started our ‘thank yous’ and ‘good-byes’ and right on cue, I cried. I’ve never failed at this. My record is perfect.
We managed the immigration desks, and the drug-sniffing dogs as we entered Hong Kong customs. I left the PRC with silk scarves, Sichuan pepper, tea, teacups, a silk duvet, chopsticks and a week’s worth of time with my brother. A half hour train ride brought us back to the bustle of Hong Kong for our last day and a half on the other side of the world.
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