0809241930 Typhoon Day

One of the amazing differences between Australia and the Special Administrative Region of the Peoples Republic of China are the spontaneous public holidays brought on by the weather. These days are locally called T8 days, which roughly translated means “Typhoon 8 day”. The Chinese have such a sincere regard for the safety of their fellow humans that the Hong Kong Observatory will call a holiday so that no one is at risk of injury during a storm. The risk of personal injury increases significantly during a typhoon and this fact is well known and documented so yesterday afternoon the Hong Kong Observatory called a T8 typhoon warning at six o’clock at night and as a result, this morning, everyone had a day off to go fishing.


Hugo and I went to the waterfront, that is, we went to the edge of the pier which is just outside our house to watch the waves come in. The water of the usually peaceful Stanley Bay was churned into an earthy brown colour and we sat and watched the waves roll and were memorized by the rhythm and movement. We noticed that the waves were breaking far out into the bay. The size of the waves was such that anyone who had travelled a fair distance to Surfers Paradise for a leisurely swim and a half-serious body surf would probably frown and hope that the surf would improve later with the incoming tide and now would be a good time to light the barbecue and have a decent lunch and a game of cricket while waiting, however, for a sheltered cove in Hong Kong the size and power of the waves was causing a minor public spectacle and attracting a curious crowd.


Hugo and I watched a few waves come in and noticed one wave in particular that could be described as a hill of water slowly coming towards us. This wave was clearly much bigger than the other waves around it, it was nicely proportioned and rounded with undulating curves. If it really was a hill and not a wave, it would have been a dainty little hill, like the hill on which Charlie Brown and Linus laid down on, flat on their backs, and looked at the clouds. It made such a pleasant sight and moved silently and gracefully towards us when all of a sudden, without changing its character at all, it became menacing. I took a step back from the edge and asked Hugo in a calm voice that was intended not to convey, but, due to the tone of my voice had completely the opposite effect, panic. “ Hugo, do you feel a sense of impending doom?” The innocence of his answer reflected how secure he must have felt standing behind a solid granite wall on a concrete platform elevated a few meters above the water level – “No” he said, indicating that he was unaware of the afore mentioned doom. There was an audible thud as the weight of the wave heaved itself against the barrier wall. We were instantly surrounded by a blast of water as the energy of the wave was dissipated into spray. We saw white, we felt wet. One second later we were soaked, standing in the aftermath, dripping wet and laughing. The wave hit with such force that it dislodged some of the masonry bricks. The wave, the sea, nature herself simply demonstrated her power by disregarding all man-made barriers and the wave barged its way out of its bounds and onto what was previously known as dry land. We, and a nearby family, burst out laughing at the spectacle.