1. The Weather

There are few things as British as discussing the weather. If this is an appropriate topic to start a blog about Hong Kong, primarily spamming colleagues based in the USA, is an open question. But let’s see what happens…

Two weeks since landing here, Hong Kong remains magical, foreign, and hot. Everyone seems to be on holiday. On reflection, everyone actually might be on holiday as it’s August and more people here than I expected are French. For those that haven’t been, there’s a place on the south side of Hong Kong island called Stanley, which is “like a small French village” according to a Belgian lady the WSJ interviewed last year. The head of our China business – Jacques, also French – lives there, give-or-take, so that’s one data-point. He had a bunch us over to dinner last week (and cooked). Along with the rest of the food, the French bread (procured in Stanley) was exceptional. So I guess that’s two data-points. The Hong Kong French population of 20,000 turns out to be the second largest outside of France (after London).

Yesterday was, though, a very special type of day off. A typhoon day. Typhoon Nida, having just clipped the northernmost point of the Philippines, trundled across the (much contested) South China Sea, and hit Hong Kong pretty much directly with winds of up to 140 kph and quite a lot of rain. The most amazing part of it was essentially nothing happened. The Hong Kong Observatory (moto: “innovate with science, serve with heart”) has a system of warning signals, last changed in 1973. The scale goes: 1 (standby), 3 (strong wind), 8 (typhoon), 9 (worse typhoon), 10 (hurricane-force typhoon). While arguably a somewhat odd way to count to 5, the system seems to work.

The verb used to describe what happens when the HKO decides a warning signal is needed is officially ‘to issue’. Delightfully, everyone other than the HKO itself actually uses ‘to hoist’ (as in “signal number 8 has been hoisted”). This is apparently in reference to the practice, used until the 1960s, of signaling with actual flags at a network of 42 signal stations scattered across Hong Kong. Of course, we now have the internet, so the flags are no more, but the virtual hoist is here to stay.

Anyway, on Monday morning signal no. 3 was hoisted. A little later it was announced that the HKO would consider hoisting signal no. 8 at some point between 6pm and 8pm. This was the cue for an extremely orderly process of people going home; the general rule is that schools and work close as soon as we reach level 8. And watching most of the folks heading home, they even put down their Pokémon Go for a while. By the time I got back to our temporary flat, which though small has an amazing view, the most surprising thing was that the bustling Victoria Harbour was completely clear of any boats at all. Totally empty.

Then everyone battened down the hatches and waited. The storm swept through largely overnight, and other than some wind noise and lashing rain, we survived. At 11am on Tuesday, the storm had essentially passed, the sun was peeping out. I had lunch plans, so decided to head to work. There was no-one about outside. On the way out, everyone I passed pointed out that there was still a signal no. 8. I had to essentially bribe a cab driver (30HKD, four bucks!) to take me to the office. Turns out insurance doesn’t cover cars driving under a hoisted 8, even in the sun.

At noon, the signal 8 was lowered to a signal 3. By 2pm, everyone was back at work.

Three things strike me about Hong Kong. First, the stoic matter-of-factness was incredible. There were no 24-hour news weathermen trying to find puddles to stand in. No dire warnings. People just got on with it. Second, it’s incredible how well prepared, observant and disciplined the city is. Everyone moved in a choreographed dance. Third, the infrastructure just works. That the entire city got from standstill at home to business-as-usual in 2 hours is amazing. And the only complaint I heard was that a storm at night meant we didn’t get a whole day off.