It's typhoon season in Hong Kong and we got a doozy last week. Typhoon Vicente was rated as a T10, the highest grading and the biggest typhoon to hit Hong Kong since 1999.
Vicente was a bit of wake up call for me. To a newcomer, Hong Kong seems pretty paranoid about the weather. Everyone carries sun umbrellas for a start, to ensure they do not risk getting a suntan (Hong Kong shares an inexplicable affection for skin-whitening creams with many other Asian countries).
There is a spectrum of rainstorm and typhoon warnings - the lower-grade warnings seem to go up every time there is a bit of drizzle. When a typhoon warning gets to T8, all office work ends and most shops close. If we are fortunate enough for the storm to arrive in the early morning, work is called off for the whole day. Everyone is supposed to stay indoors and shiver under the table or something.
So when the T8 was called last year I looked out the window and expected to see fire and brimstone but was greeted only by a little rain and a slight breeze. I work in an international law firm which is populated by workaholics who I assumed would feel a duty to turn up even if the office was underwater. So I went into work confidently assuming that my boss would expect to see me there. No-one else came in. Not my boss, not the tea lady, not the cleaners. It turns out everyone goes shopping or to the cinema on T8 days and not even workaholics try to get to work.
Therefore you can understand my scepticism when a T8 was declared last Tuesday afternoon. I was watching the weather map all afternoon, and was cheering Vicente on as he suddenly lurched north off his eastward path, like a driver who almost missed his exit, and headed straight for us. Having no plans to go out, I figured the rain would at least be good for the garden. Little did I realise that, weather-wise, shit was about to get real.
Vicente ripped huge trees out of the ground and left shredded branches and leaves everywhere. Random pieces of metal and glass were strewn across the streets. Buses were rocked from side to side. Remarkably, not a single person in Hong Kong was killed - the same cannot be said for mainland China. It seemed that abundance of caution did have a purpose after all.
As for my garden, when I got home, I found that my pot plants had been blown off my garden wall and into next door, a barracks for the People's Liberation Army. I assumed that this meant that any rainfall they were receiving was moot. The recent face-off in the South China Sea has shown that the PLA are not too keen on giving back any patch of dirt, however small, so I did not hold out much hope for seeing my pot plants again. Imagine my amazement when, the following night, my pot plants had been placed back on the adjoining wall by army personnel unknown.
So I have learnt two lessons from Typhoon Vicente: 1) the typhoon warnings are a good idea; and 2) say what you like about Tiananmen Square - when it comes to looking after pot plants, the PLA are very nice people.
Vicente was a bit of wake up call for me. To a newcomer, Hong Kong seems pretty paranoid about the weather. Everyone carries sun umbrellas for a start, to ensure they do not risk getting a suntan (Hong Kong shares an inexplicable affection for skin-whitening creams with many other Asian countries).
There is a spectrum of rainstorm and typhoon warnings - the lower-grade warnings seem to go up every time there is a bit of drizzle. When a typhoon warning gets to T8, all office work ends and most shops close. If we are fortunate enough for the storm to arrive in the early morning, work is called off for the whole day. Everyone is supposed to stay indoors and shiver under the table or something.
So when the T8 was called last year I looked out the window and expected to see fire and brimstone but was greeted only by a little rain and a slight breeze. I work in an international law firm which is populated by workaholics who I assumed would feel a duty to turn up even if the office was underwater. So I went into work confidently assuming that my boss would expect to see me there. No-one else came in. Not my boss, not the tea lady, not the cleaners. It turns out everyone goes shopping or to the cinema on T8 days and not even workaholics try to get to work.
Therefore you can understand my scepticism when a T8 was declared last Tuesday afternoon. I was watching the weather map all afternoon, and was cheering Vicente on as he suddenly lurched north off his eastward path, like a driver who almost missed his exit, and headed straight for us. Having no plans to go out, I figured the rain would at least be good for the garden. Little did I realise that, weather-wise, shit was about to get real.
Vicente ripped huge trees out of the ground and left shredded branches and leaves everywhere. Random pieces of metal and glass were strewn across the streets. Buses were rocked from side to side. Remarkably, not a single person in Hong Kong was killed - the same cannot be said for mainland China. It seemed that abundance of caution did have a purpose after all.
As for my garden, when I got home, I found that my pot plants had been blown off my garden wall and into next door, a barracks for the People's Liberation Army. I assumed that this meant that any rainfall they were receiving was moot. The recent face-off in the South China Sea has shown that the PLA are not too keen on giving back any patch of dirt, however small, so I did not hold out much hope for seeing my pot plants again. Imagine my amazement when, the following night, my pot plants had been placed back on the adjoining wall by army personnel unknown.
So I have learnt two lessons from Typhoon Vicente: 1) the typhoon warnings are a good idea; and 2) say what you like about Tiananmen Square - when it comes to looking after pot plants, the PLA are very nice people.
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