Chungking Mansion: A Week at Hong Kong’s “Ghetto”

Chungking Mansion: A Week at Hong Kong’s “Ghetto”

‘Ghetto’, in the dictionary, is defined as a slum area where a group or groups of minority live. If you ask Asians, it is where they forbid their children to come near let alone stay the night. On the other hand, to ‘white’ people, ‘ghetto’ provokes a sense of anticipation and promises an exhilarating adventure as in the New York Times’ Top-10-things-to-do-in-Hong-Kong.

I didn’t know about the NYT’s checklist, nor I wanted to rebel against the Asian stereotype, I came because of the cheap accommodation and a conversation I had two months before with a Hong-Kong Canadian who took me camping in Siberia, Russia. “You know, this building in Hong Kong is very famous to foreign tourists and backpackers, but the local Chinese wouldn’t dare enter because they are afraid of the minority who live there. This book author, a professor at a local university, came to the mansion, slept there once a week and interviewed the people.” I got intrigued, but at that time I didn’t plan to visit Hong Kong, thus didn’t ask her any further.

My budget accommodation came in the form of a 2×4 square meter toy-box. The room was so small two people couldn’t exercise their legs at the same time, meaning if one walked, the other one had to sit. The shared shower/sink/toilet was apparently designed to accommodate skinny Asians. A typical tall, big male backpacker would find his behind touch the door, his leg the toilet and perhaps his head the ceiling. There was no common lounge, only a corner stand in the hallway for hot water, coffee, and tea. The many tiny rooms were connected through a narrow hallway and secured inside a thick, security-enabled steel door. I felt like a hamster spinning around in a can which was my room; locked in a cage, the set of rooms; stacked over 16 floors and chained inside an uninspected container that was Chungking mansion. At least the guesthouse was clean as the attendant cleaned it every morning and gave me new sheet and towel.

The compact space was typical for Hong Kong especially on Kowloon peninsula where 2.1 million people crammed into a mere 47 square kilometers. Compared to spacious Mongolia, Kowloon was large enough for only 100 persons. (Mongolia’ population density is 2 per 1 square kilometer.)

Accommodation in Chungking mansion was cheap because Chungking itself was cheap. But if you think the building situated in a cockroach infested area, garbage and sewage, you couldn’t be more wrong. Hong Kong’s cheapest accommodation sits at a prime real-estate location at prosperous Tsim Sha Sui tourist area, thus earned the nickname “Ghetto at the Center of the World,” a term coined by Gordon Matthew, an American professor teaching anthropology at the local Chinese University.

Chungking mansion was cheap because the majority Hong Kong Chinese wanted nothing to do with it. Hong Kong Chinese wanted nothing to do with it because, to put it diplomatically, it resembled a ‘UN headquarter’ where hundreds of nationalities lived, worked and passed by over the course of one day. Chungking is no Brussels. The over populated building was a haven, a hideout for many escapees from Third-World countries.

If you haven’t noticed the subtle hint of the presence of South Asian and black men standing outside the mansion, luring tourists to the guesthouses or simply doing nothing, then you should enter and walk around. You either immediately walk out or automatically pull your bags and wallets closer to your body and tune in all your senses to detect any signs of discomfort. On the surface, there was nothing Hong Kong about Chungking mansion. First of all, where were the Chinese? Except for a few security guards and a handful of Chinese shop owners, the remaining inhabitants were South Asians and Africans. There was no food stall selling stinky tofu, dim sum, foot-on-sticks, noodle soups, chicken feet and duck heads. Instead, I was greeted by Indians scooping chicken curry, chicken vindaloo, curry rice. On the walls, instead of seeing photos and posters of the famous Jackie Chan and Jet Li, you see Indian Bollywood movie stars. Located on the first and second floors were food shacks and shops run by Indian or Pakistani selling mobile phones, electronic devices, computers, snacks, clothing, and luggage. Offices and guest houses occupied from the 3rd to 17th floor.

Just by looking at these people, I couldn’t tell who were legal and who were not. Many of them, mostly South Asians, came to Hong Kong legally when it was a British colony. They legally settled in, set up their business and stayed. From Professor Mathew’s book, I learned about the other group, the illegitimate ones including drug addicts, drug dealers, sex workers, political asylum seekers from all over the world.

From different backgrounds and through various means, these denizens of Chungking mansion shared the one thing in common: to try their luck and get their hands on the wealth and opportunity that the world’s freest market and economy, Hong Kong, offers.

Here I was in the center of Hong Kong, a place with more than 90% ethnic Chinese, hoping I could blend it, yet I was most visible. Not only that I looked Chinese, but I was also a lone female in a predominantly male environment. Somehow I felt safe, not only because of the Chinese guards who looked out for me but because once upon a time I was an immigrant.

Looking for my guesthouse

I stayed the first three nights at Paris guesthouse, owned by an Indian family. For 16 USD/120 HKD. When the owner increased the room to 32 USD per night due to the trade fair going on that weekend, I moved out to a different guesthouse in another block.

How tiny the room is.

Look at my tin-can.

The hallway is really narrow. I used a fisheye to take this photo.

But first I needed to find which one. Couldn’t wait for the elevator which took ages to arrive and the long queue.If it’s full, it will go only down to the ground floor, no stopping in between.

So I took the stairs instead. I walked up and down the staircases and checked for a guesthouse on every floor.

Still there are so many doors here.

Finding my way through many doors.

I tried my luck at one guesthouse, but nobody answered the phone.

Everything was tight shut like this

But most of them were locked with nobody inside. Signs posted outside asking you to call them. People without the phone. Tough.

Chungking Mansion photos

[slickr-flickr type=”galleria” tag=”chungking” descriptions=”on”]