Routine - the Assassin of Fascination

"Finally, the bus is here!" I think to myself. Even at six in the evening, standing outside in Hong Kong can seem unbearably hot. Not to mention the car exhaust blowing on you as the endless chain of vehicles ease by in the rush hour traffic jam. The extra heat and fumes only add to the discomfort and misery of the situation.

I dig into my pocket and scrounge up seven dollars for the fare. As I step onto the 16 passenger mini bus the Beijing Opera singer on the radio sends chills down my spine. If PETA had a "Recognizing Suffering Animal Sounds" CD I swear you would think we were listening to "Track 17: A severely beaten seal." I take a seat and pull out my MP3 player to drown out the wretched sound. After all, “Mask irritable sounds and voices” is iPod use #33, isn't it? If it's not officially stated, it's certainly universally understood.

Thoughts from work run through my mind. "What do I need to pull together before my trip to Australia? What will I need to discuss with the contractor in the Philippines? What am I going to report about my trip to Indonesia?" The tasks seem endless; though, the recent daily routine seems redundant.

The routine begins each day around 6 p.m. when I leave my 20th floor office at Pacific Place in Admiralty. I descend to the underground where I fight my way into a spot on the subway only slightly smaller than my own stature. Two stops and a few close encounters with accidental moral degradation later I alight in Causeway Bay.

Resurfacing behind SOGO, one of the largest department stores in Hong Kong, I am met by the same sights as the day before. The "Chocoolate" clothing store with a huge Burger King logo is directly in front of me. And if you're asking…yes, that's how "chocoolate" is spelled; yes, it has the Burger King logo but is, in fact, a clothing store; and yes, I am still confused about the whole thing. Yet, they do have nice clothes.

As I turn left down the street, the short walk to the bus stop graces me with more familiar scenes that remind me I am in Hong Kong. I give a nod to the street vendors selling DVDs of movies that are still in the theatres. I wave my hand at the massage parlor customer recruiters on the right and the porno magazine stand workers on the left to let them know I am not interested in their services. Then, after playing a quick game of hesitate-and-go with the taxis crossing my path, I arrive at the #5 mini bus station.

Safe on the bus now I sink into oblivion, completely unaware of my surroundings. The various languages spoken by other passengers, the advertisements and store signs covered with Chinese characters, the driver nearly side-swiping pedestrians in his mad dash for a break in traffic he can barely manage – all are nothing short of customary to me. At this point I would be more startled to see a baby in a diaper rather than a kid in crotch-less pants relieving their self on the sidewalk.

As we begin to traverse up the North side of Hong Kong Island’s mountain range I hear a loud beep. “Oh no!” I think. I forgot to re-charge the battery on my MP3 player and it is about to abandon me to abhorrent singing and obnoxious passengers yelling, “有落,” at the bus driver indicating they need to get off. I guess I’ll have to suffer the consequences of my own negligence.

Without music to distract my thoughts I begin paying attention to my surroundings. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed the thought of being immersed in Asian culture. Everything is so different, yet the monotony of my daily routine has desensitized me to the fascination. To my left the skyscrapers line both sides of the harbor. The unique structure of the buildings adds to the wonder of the city. In Central District is the IFC tower, the tallest building in Hong Kong where Batman kidnapped Mr. Lau in his most recent movie. Nearby there is the HSBC building, a more than life-size Lego structure. If needs be, the building can be pulled apart piece-by-piece and reassembled in a different location. Across the harbor in Tsim Sha Tsui I can see the Peninsula Hotel, which has been cited numerous times as the world’s best hotel. Many other buildings are just as spectacular and interesting.

At the crest of the mountain, the beautiful metropolis below fades into the background as we meet the luscious landscape of Hong Kong Island’s Southern region. The vast contrast leaves me feeling as if we have teleported to a different place and time. Two seconds ago I was looking at the largest cityscape I have ever seen and now I see a nearly uninhabited forest with the exception of a few buildings reaching to the sky from the green base below. Beyond the trees sits the ocean dotted with outlying islands and fishing boats heading back to the docks. The reflection of the setting sun on the water’s surface enhances the splendor of the view.

“有落,” I yell to the bus driver. As I step off the bus the questions running through my head are significantly different than at the beginning of today’s journey. I ask myself, “How have I not noticed the beauty of the South side of Hong Kong Island before? When did I become so disinterested in the unique characteristics of the Asian culture? What else have I missed out on during my distraction with work?”

What caused the change? There is only one answer: routine. Routine is the assassin of fascination – an unobtrusive creature eradicating beings from their enjoyment of daily life. One can only hope to be reminded of the excitement in little things. Kids can do it, why can’t I?