365 Ways With Words

The End of the World

So, it's here – what are you going to do about it?

The towns fields of Ukraine burn, and bodies lie about in the street. Is Russia interfering, sending in its forces to continue the policy of consolidation in Russian speaking areas, or is it a justified response to EU/American interference in their ancient ethnic hinterland?

The Islamofascist forces of ISIS are busy turning Iraq and Syria into thei terrifying playground, making Bashar al-Assad's murderers look almost benign by comparison. Are their actions a direct result of the West's bungling interferences in the region over the past 20 years or so, or is it something new and terrifying?

There is slightly better news from Gaza, where the survivors of the heavy pounding by Israeli forces (that dropped possibly as much as 20,000 tons of explosives) can now mourn their dead and try to rebuild their lives. Was the overwhelming use of firepower justified to silence the men of violence, or are Israelis now prepared to defend mass slaughter in the name of self-defence?

Ibola continues to seize the citizens of several poor nations in Western Africa and beyond. Naturally hosted in fruit bats, the disease has a mortality rate of 55%. Will the new drug ZMapp work successfully against the virus in humans?

This is the end of the world, at least for many in the stories mentioned. For them there is no tomorrow, no resolution and no end. But for us, there is always the option to act, to ask questions and to react. And this is true whether the story happens one thousand miles away or next door.

So, the end of the world is here – what are you going to do about it?

The Towers of Olomouc

Hands up if you’ve been to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Keep ‘em up if you’ve done the Burj Khalifah, the Shanghai Tower, Taipei 101, the Petronas Towers. And try to touch the ceiling if you’ve ascended to the lofty heights of the Hotel Flora and the Silo Tower. “Hotel What? Silo What?” I hear you ask…

Ah, had you but been in Olomouc yesterday, the 9^th of June, you would not have asked this. For yesterday was the first Olomouc s nadhledem. And just in case you are still none the wiser, perhaps this should also be explained.

Olomouc s nadhledem, Olomouc Easy, was the opportunity for the citizenry to get to know a little more about the city from some of the highest vantage points available. Brainchild of the non-profit local Hanácká hratva organization, the association of architects’ spokesperson Michal Giacintov said that the idea arose not only in order to reach out to people, but also so that they can awaken a deeper love for their own city, both adults and children.

The good weather certainly helped. Registration cards were available in the central square from where the aspiring towerers could walk to the six locations taking part in the event; the Silo Tower on Litovelská, the Church of Ss Cyril and Methodius in Hejčín, the BEA Centrum tower on třída Kosmonautů, and the three hotels – NH on Legionářská, Dům on Velkomoravská and Flora by the park on the unfortunately named Krapkova.

Initial estimations for the numbers of people wanting to ascend these local landmarks were in the hundreds. The Facebook page alone listed 613 as attending. By Saturday afternoon, thousands had taken part, each ascender taking with them their little white cards ready for the stamps that would prove their visit.

Late to the event, I only took in two: Hotel Flora and the Silo Tower. Hotel Flora is a fairly standard modern hotel catering for about 322. The view from the top floor, across the verdant treetops of the park, towards the historic town centre, is magnificent. Being the Czech Republic, this roomy asset has its own bar and enough window space to become the best club in town. Being Olomouc, this unique space is sadly underused. I know I’d jump to it for an opportunity to visit again.

At this point, the stamper of the passport/piece of card appeared. Dressed in colourful Hanačka costume, the traditional regional dress, the girl plopped the little stamp on my card. She gave such a polite smile and I was so taken with this pleasantry, that I am afraid I forgot to photograph the occasion. Someone else, however, was kind enough to (shakily) video the whole thing, and placed it on the Youtube below.

 

Olomouc is an ancient city that has been an administrative and religious centre in the region for one thousand years. The rooftops tell a good story, of inspired gothic Cathedrals, impressive domed Baroque churches, of grand seminaries, historic palaces and lucrative business blocks. Further out are the red and white striped chimneys that at first glance indicate pollution from industry, but also represent jobs and the necessity of paid work that keep the wheels of this town turning.

It all has a picture book quality; an almost surreally pleasant charm that is seeped in pretty houses, historic buildings and cobbled streets. But without good business and the rewards from labour, this place would be nothing more than a dainty prison.

One of the most interesting things about looking down your nose at people from a great height is the change of perspective. Glaring rooftops and sunny balconies overlook bright green June gardens, some of which contain azure pools. There is a tendency in all of us to snoop, and to snoop with Godlike abandon from beyond the object’s ken is the best snooping of all. It is unlikely that the dear lady with the big balcony will ever know exactly how many eyes fell upon her bikini’d form whilst she blithely read and caught up on her summer rays, but if she’d looked up she would have seen a veritable host of rooftop paparazzi checking her out!

The other perspective is to take in the social housing of this city by glimpsing the rows of ugly apartment blocks that grace the outer districts of this and practically every town between Prague and Moscow and beyond. Constructed during the communist era, theirs is not a world of nice gardens and private pools, but of popular Socialism where everyone gets something, even if it’s not very much.

Whether the popular event will be repeated in future years relies very much on the building’s owners. There was a certain amount of good will and voluntary cooperation, not only by the landlords but also on the part of those who acted as stewards to keep the hoi polloi in check.

There was a long queue at the Silo Tower, partly because of the genuine interest in this stylish refurbishment of an old grain store, and partly because the capacity for the lift was only 5 plus one operator. This meant a good long wait, too long for some, but with the natural thinning of those without patience it probably only took half an hour.

Once up, the view of this side of the city took in winged terraces of the Stadium Andrův, home of the lacklustre football team Sigma, and the decrepit and rusty slanted roof of the hockey stadium, home of the decidedly upbeat and top league squad HC Olomouc. At this vantage point it is clear that this city of 100,000 people nestles within the beautiful and fertile Moravian plain. The surrounding countryside is rich with crops and the hillsides covered in excellent woodland. It is a benign and healthy place to live.

Despite it being an unknown quantity, Olomouc s nadhledem was an unmitigated success. It did what was expected of it, and if the city authorities want to ride a wave of populism then they could do no better than to invest in this scheme in future years. And I could get out there and climb the rest…

Song of the Night

Can you hear it? Across the towns, over the fields – beyond the confines of your ears, past the strictures of your very senses. There is a profound deafness, but without any of the benefits.

Beginning with the heart, that most fickly-wickly of your organs, pumping all that garbage about the body; you are what you eat. Feeding the brains, keeping you upright in a state of readiness for tigers and things that live under the bed, the blood keeps pumping it all up and down until you are saturated – even to the extremities. Yes, those extremities...

From this state you imagine all sorts of things, none of them true. You have given these fears words, screaming tantrum words, that fill your emptiness, give you a meaning, inflate a power, give lifeless ideas meagre succour. But to what end?

Perhaps you have not thought about where it all take us. Destruction is the hallmark of pre-childhood, for to build better in cooperation would be your undoing. Negativity may move the holder onwards – but only into the night. The vision is occluded, petulent, angry. As long as you have your toys, and your arrowslits, you will continue unaware of what you do and of what is coming. This is a shameless pride, a hubris without an eye on history.

Unity appears to be a dirty word, because it is bred from consensus. Much better, then, to swagger and swear, to drink pints of a rejection projection, even if none of it has any substance. Much better to appeal to those fears, to prop the lies and stoke miscontent. Much better to blame: blame is a bitter blast, easily soundbitten, fed with self-righteous indignation, sated by never letting go.

So, can you hear it – the condemnation of the future? No, you cannot. For you have stuck your fingers in your ears. You cannot hear it, because you will not – not ever.

What about UKIp and Europe?

So, the European elections are upon us. Except, of course, no one really cares, do they? After all, no one really knows what it’s all about. We, the apathetic Jo Public Europeans, are not really that bothered about what goes on in Brussels, are we? They can elect whomever they like…

Well, as a political opinions go, that's really, really STUPID!! But I suppose the European Union has a bit of an identity problem. Why should anyone be bothered about it?

This is a little difficult to answer, at least simply. Perhaps it is better to understand what the EU is. Under the pretext of removing trade and creating closer political union, the first six countries that formed the EU set about removing the blockages that caused friction (and wars) in the European continent. They simply pooled their steel and coal resources. By trade these historical adversaries were linked with a customs union. Over time such laudable aims as 'free trade' were freely adopted by neighbouring states that quite rightly recognised the thick soupy whistle of an approaching gravy train.

Just like any large institution, this union has required governance in order that its membership (last count over 500 million) is truly represented at leadership, intergovernmental, supranational and the on-the-ground pragmatic levels. Over the years these instruments have served it well just as it has served others ill – for example, the dreaded and notorious Common Agricultural Policy. For many, however, these necessary layers of governance have appeared opaque at best, at worst underhanded. Isolationist tendencies within each country have seen in ‘Europe’ an insidious coiled dragon with busybody talons digging ever-deeper into every aspect of their cherished lives, whether that be through ensuring the straightness of bananas, or the forbidding of lollipop ladies’ lollipops with Stop Children written on them, or the banning of church bells or the outlawing of mushy peas (each of which, it turns out, are complete lies made up by the British press). Such isolationists are typified by the likes of Britain’s UKIp party that states, on its website, that 75% of all laws are now made in Brussels.

That such rubbish is readily swallowed by some EU citizens says more about the wish fulfilment of Little Englanders, or their national equivalent elsewhere: they want to believe the devil is hiding under the bed and will use any evidence, even the made up storybook tabloid kind, to affirm a bunch of prejudicial beliefs. So, many in the UK will vote UKIp in the upcoming elections, childishly choosing to believe that everything about Europe is bad, bad, bad. The irony of an anti-EU vote in a free EU vote will, no doubt, elude them, just as conversely the irony in Russian voters in Ukraine eastern cities choosing to join with mother Russia where they will no longer have the opportunity to freely vote may also elude them. For it seems UKIp’s sole appeal appears to be in popular discontentment, and is therefore a negative message. One need only examine any of the 'philosophy' beneath surface level to come to that easy realisation.

But the EU unquestionably does have an image problem for some. It is a complex organisation because it represents a lot of things. Take the accession of countries as one example. The EU expanded from the six founding and independent nations (Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Italy, Germany and France) to 28 member states, including 8 former Soviet-bloc and former-communist countries in 1994 (Czech Republic, Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Hungary, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia), Bulgaria and Romania in 2007, and the newest member, Croatia, in 2013. It therefore has to represent all of those countries, including their relationships with other countries in and out of Europe. It doesn’t take a genius to see that for simplicity's sake the unification of Europe is one of its unstated aims. But there’s a long way to go from idea to fulfilment, particularly when one considers its history of power.

Over the years the European Union has been a hapless beast. It frothed and floundered when in the 90s the ex-Yugoslavian states flared into bloody internecine feuding, promptly calling on its ‘elder brother’ the United States and its henchman NATO to crush the far-right nationalist ambitions of the Serbian leadership. In 2011, and under the auspices of UN Security Council Resolution 1973, a coalition of EU national forces and NATO flew sorties against targets in Gaddafi's Libya. That was considered a success, but it is a long way from the idea of planes with EU flags on them controlling the skies in the name of all things Brussels. Maybe those days are coming, but for now the primary work of the EU is in ensuring that everything economic, political and cultural is hunky-dory. It has had mixed success. Whilst the first is in trouble, the second has fared better and third thrives. The blue flag with yellow stars that flies from the Reichstag in Berlin, the Berlaymont in Brussels and the UNESCO building in Paris all the way to the distant four corners of this new empire reminds onlookers of an idealised beast. It is a strange chimerical creature, full of strange political concepts and strange forms of government: and we are not very clear about what it all means. Perhaps the following test will highlight our rueful knowledge of this new empire of which we are a part. So, in ten words or less, describe what is meant by the:

• European Parliament                    ________________________________________________
• European Council                         ________________________________________________
• Council of the European Union      ________________________________________________
• European Commission                  ________________________________________________

And I was being kind: the list above does not include bodies such as the European Central Bank, the Courts of Justice of the European Union, the Court of Auditors, UNESCO, and more than 40 other agencies. Clearly there is still a little work to be done if we are to become more familiar with the orchestrations of European governance. It appears so labyrinthine, and its processes so complex, that few understands it, fewer still feel proximity, and who knows how many have a sense of ownership.

As with any centralised power, we must, of course, remain watchful. Citizens of empires should always exercise caution, even when they give power to central authorities through the ballot box. The European Union, like the United States, China, and the proposed ex-Soviet Eurasia, is a collection of small states that together have made up a bigger economic and political union. It is in the nature of united powerful bodies to seek two things: to maintain their power, and to gain even more power. Thus, all of the political unions previously mentioned have impacted on their surrounding regions of the world with their turbulent power.

The long reach of American power has long been felt in Central and Southern American revolts, assassinations and wars, the end result of which has been the present day unchallengeable imperial America that dominates the Western hemisphere. It now seeks political hegemony beyond.

Post-Mao Chinese power took longer to consolidate, where it chose to focus on seeking political affiliations on a wider field (Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean, South-East Asia) in order that any up-coming moves to unify Taiwan would be legitimized and supported. Theirs is a slightly longer agenda that also involves being ‘elder brother’. China has sought to implement the old imperial dominance model by which it brings into line all of the ‘little brother’ regional states bordering the mother country under the banner of harmony.

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Russian power has yet to be properly realised. To beat up the Georgians in 2008 is one thing, but beyond the scope of turning off the European's gas tap their power has yet to be properly tested. One wonders if the present situation in Ukraine is something Putin is doing, or is having done to him.

By comparison, the EU is an unknown force. It is good at pouring money into arts and entertainment, and bailing out its members when they can't pay their bills, but will the instruments of politics and organisation ever become the sharpened point of projected power in the same way the other powers mentioned have seen fit? Will columns of tanks roll under a European flag? Or will Europeans forever spend their way out of trouble?

With all of this in mind, and with regard to the elections, perhaps Europeans should elect whomever they like, yet with a caution. Europe has always needed direction, but only of the kind given by its citizenry through the ballot box. Therefore, the real thing to do, on 22nd May 2014, the European Parliamentary Election Day, is to get out there and vote. And here are two good points in favour: firstly, that all Europeans are properly able to freely vote (even against themselves), and secondly, that democracy in the European superstate is still alive and well. The accuracy of both of those statements could, of course, be challenged, but it would be stretching credulity to breaking point to believe political freedoms are absent from the EU. You, Mr & Mrs European, can elect representatives whose job it is to make better laws for everyone. Could someone please tell that to Nigel Farage...

I am an unabashed Europhile. I believe that more involvement, not less, is the way ahead. That Europe is now a place of tolerance, of freedom, of choice and the rule of law is the realisation of beautiful ideas voted into reality: that these ideas still need a little more fine-tuning is another reason to vote. So, instead of tu-tutting behind a piece of sensational anti-European hack journalism that seeks attention like a hyperactive child, we should calmly exercise a right to put people in power that can make a difference to us all and improve our lot in Europe. You can't do that by sitting at home, or by shouting from the outside. Vote for your future!

Happy Equinox!

Yesterday, Thursday 20th March, was the vernal equinox. This is the day when night and day are exactly 12 hours each. Of course, that means 12 hours from sun-up to sundown, not actual light in the sky. For several days round these here parts it has been getting light at around 5:30-ish and, as the year rolls on, this lightness is set to break earlier and earlier until mid-summer's day when it barely gets dark between extended bits of twilight.

Without getting into the ins and outs of tilted planet Earth, the term vernal refers to the points on the celestial sphere within which the sun is rising, i.e. on the cusp of Aries, and is therefore more appropriate within an astrological discussion. This term is surely better than a 'spring' or 'March' equinox because of its flowery connotations.

Equinoxes have always been important and various religious festivals have been associated with it. Lady Day roughly coincided with the equinox, as does the Thai Songkran and the Parsi Nowruz, each being the beginning of the year for the respected traditions. The day and night in equal measure, have a auspicious significance that affects the religious sensitivities of many. It was also celebrated in the Abrahamic religions, with the Jewish Passover falling on the first full moon after the equinox, and the Christian Easter, that moveable feast, more or less falling at a similar time. In pagan Scandinaia a dísablót, a sacrificial feast, was –and is still– held in honour of the valkyries!

Well, whatever you did, and however you did it, I hope you had a pleasant equinox – only another 6 months until the next one.

Welcome to Mother Russia

So, Russians (and others) in Crimea are voting for their self-determination. Well, kind-of. The legality of a vote, mainly by ethnic Russians, in another country, Ukraine, to break away from that country and 'unite' with mother Russia could be likened to ethnic Germans in the Czechoslovakia of October 1938 voting to join the Nazi Fatherland. That didn't last, and it's not difficult to discern Czech appreciation of current Russian foreign policy either (or German, for that matter).

It may not be immediately obvious exactly what will happen next in Ukraine itself. To say that since the break-up of the Soviet Union this country has enjoyed a difficult, if not chequered, history would have its corollary in saying Putin has long taken a shine to a bit of power. On the plus side, Ukrainians have been able to wave their own flag and maintain a strong political tradition, on the negative, well – pretty much everything else, really. Corruption is endemic.

Corruption is everywhere in the post-communist world, but is worse in some countries, such as Ukraine. The country has the dubious honour of ranking 144th out of 176 countries on the Transparency International Corruptions Perception Index. And it has got worse every year since independence. The fat fingers of corruption have reached into every sphere of life – political, judicial, educational, business, social services, and anything else from which a hryvnya can be squeezed (that's the local currency, by the way). The grass roots political turmoil that has occasionally reared its head since Ukraine declared independence on August 24th 1991 has often been arraigned against the extraordinary kleptocracy that is the ruling elite: they have literally stolen from the people they lead. And when they've not been busy stealing from their own people, they've merrily arranged to do the same to everyone else they come across.

This is nothing new. The established criminal system has had a long and inglorious history within the Soviet Union. After the dissolution of the country, criminals took over their respective countries, particularly Russia, Belarus and Ukraine, although they emerged from within separate ethnic identities within – Ukrainians, Uzbeks, Kurds, Jews, etc. These colourful criminals frequently feature in gangland films and TV that over-use fierce tattooed Russian-types. In reality, any glamour that a director may wish to conjure in a movie plot unhappily comes apart in the reality of sheer heartlessness associated with human trafficking. And all their ill-gotten gains get regularly wash in money laundering and business deals across the globe, including Hong Kong.

So, with all this in mind, what is really going on with an 'election' in Crimea? If the Western press is to be believed, the Russian people are being hoodwinked by the Moscow political elite into separating an integral part of another country where they are under threat from rioting mobs who follow nothing other than a Nazi agenda. For them Putin's strength, therefore, is as a stabilizing influence against the onslaught of long term Russian foes. He currently has a huge approval rating of 70% or more. But that's not really very surprising: Putin controls the media, so nearly all comment about him will be positive.

Crimea will secede from Ukraine. No one will be able to do anything about it – not the rest of Ukraine, nor the Europeans, nor the U.S., nor... well, that's about it really, unless you think the UN will be able to turn the hearts of these criminals who are literally nicking a large chunk of valuable real estate on the Black Sea coast. This is a moment when the right of might and the perception of self-determination will happily co-exist under the umbrella of Russian 'national interest'. Quite how long this will last rather depends on how things go once unity is formalised. If the Western powers impose sanctions in response to this outright theft of Ukrainian soil, life in mother Russia may get a little rougher and questions be asked that require tougher response than mere flag waving popularism. If jobs go and inflation begins to bite, Russians may be looking for a revolution of their own. And that particular piece crystal ball reading isn't really that difficult to perceive, nor all that palatable.

The Citadel

Without sleep, the citadel churns and heaves, all sleep having eluded those without the satiety of whiskey, or the blanket of heroin, or the surfeit of food that dulls the senses. From above are the lights – great beaming golden lights that fill every corner, cast a shadow on every conversation and fill the void between foes. ‘How long can this last?’ is the question posed on all lips.

The citadel’s unsightly answer is awash with unhappiness, anger and spoil. Tensions come and go on the scooter-strewn streets. Neighbours with very different agendas peer at each other and play a waiting game. This, in effect, is the only game in town, unless games are no longer played. Then, ah then, a terrible path is cut through the underbrush. The knife is long and sharp and the risk of permanent injury increases with each whooshing swing.

Elephant dung drops where grass grows. The happy greenery enjoys a fertilized surfeit, even when it is being consumed. Elsewhere, observers cry finality to this cycle, but their eyes are keenly held by traditional mix of attentions. Like items on a city restaurant menu, their ideas are each a dish of food made with the known and tested ingredients, some loved, some despised, but well understood.

When the citadel falls, as a massive and aged bull elephant, it will cut off its tired old skin, trumpet a cry heard far and wide, and pick itself up again. Elephants may come and go, may work or stand around, posture and devour, but they seem to remain supreme.

Citadels are strong, and any battering they receive makes them stronger, wiser and bigger. Dancing girls decorate the battlements whilst roaches scuttle under their feet. Magnetically drawn to it, the newcomers lie awake in the empty patches of ground between sparkling new condos and tired old office blocks. So enchanting is it that even its filth seems magnificent. It is the dung beetle’s prize – pushed around, fought over – within which eggs are laid. Everyone wants a piece and there seems plenty of it to go around.

Come Back in Ten Years When It's Finished

Berlin is enjoyable. I'm sure it wasn't always like that, but the overall impression is of a dynamic brand new city where certain freedoms are cherished and a way of life promoted. This is abundantly clear to the visitor, even if the visit is a short one.

The main reason for the city-wide building site is two-fold: wartime damage and post-unification development. I have no idea what pre-war Berlin looked like, but can imagine it was a proud city of tree-lined boulevards, open parkland and grand and wide streets upon which the merry Berliners would go about their lawful business, that is if that had one that survived the depression years. The Nazi takeover of the country and the war that followed, however, heralded a complete destruction of the city (courtesy of RAF and USAAF night and day bombings). Examples of this can still be seen in the keyed masonry repairs to grand historic buildings, the Bunderstag being a perfect example. Its shell is all that remained from the magnificent Reichstag building of 1894, but upon the outside are scars from bombing and conflict. Post-unification, the somewhat neglected communist eastern part of the city required wholescale upgrading. Thus, finally, the unified dream of nearly two generations has become a reality. What is of more importance, perhaps, is that Germans everywhere no longer need the complicit approval of watchful 'allied' powers to set their course.

Freedom, German-style, comprises the personal and public. Sure, within reason Berliners are free to think, worship, dress, eat and drink and have sex with nearly anyone/thing they want, but there is also a social vibe – a responsibility that has emerged from a very clouded history. Germans, and Berliners in particular, simply cannot let things get out of hand again. Thus, common energies are focused on health and welfare, on the public good in terms of arts and culture, on green energy and recycling, on quality of life and a general functional positivity in all things. Sometimes this works, as in (largely) free university education, and I'm sure the columns of Die Zeit, Die Welt and Frankfurter Allemagne Zeitung gleefully report on those areas wherein it fails, perhaps in terms of immigration policies, Turkish integration, etc.

The Berlin way of life, as far as any city has a 'life', is highly animated. Although undoubtedly an important factor, for daily enjoyment the zeitgeist does not appear to be quite as reliant on money as London or Hong Kong, for example. A large proportion of the population also appears to be young – there is something of a party feel to the place. Much like London, food and drink are everywhere and a quick jaunt around the market at Winterfeldtplatz was enough to certify that quality in this regard is everything.

Without doubt, a city like Berlin will continue to grow and develop in it's own way. It looked like there were more construction cranes at work here than in any other European city visited in the past few years. This development is not on a par with anywhere you may care to mention in East Asia, but it demonstrates that things here are still moving. And where there's movement, there's change – in this case, it feels overwhelmingly positive.

Destruction and Demolition

We have just lost something precious. It is gone forever. It has been destroyed and what will replace it will be a poor, insubstantial substitute. As a result, my heart is heavy and I have to tell it as it is.

The loss is of a mere house –one house alone– but this building represents so much more than the stones, wood and tiles of its construction. For by knocking down this house the character and very soul of old Hong Kong has also been killed. This is not hyperbole, romantic association or fanciful imaginings – the living heritage of Hong Kong is dying. Few are prepared to stop it.

Until yesterday there stood a beautiful house in the village of Pak Tam Chung, just beyond the traffic barrier to the Sai Kung country park. It is likely that millions of walkers, getting away from the smoke and congestion of the busier districts of Hong Kong, have filed past this pretty house. Many were so taken with it that they stopped to take photographs. Now, apart from a heap of unfortunate spoil, that is all that is left.

On weekday mornings those parents that took their young children to the delightful Leapfrog Kindergarten next door could also glimpse at the old tiled roof under the mature trees. Hikers after discovering the beauty of the park could also take a refreshing tea or beer at the Fat Kee Stores opposite and be reminded of the village houses from which many of their parents and grandparents moved years ago. Beside the stores a little footbridge crosses the pebbly Pak Tam Chung stream, used by Bruce Lee in one of his last movies, and daily in use as a picturesque location for wedding photographs. This house, therefore, was more than an incidental building; it was a landmark.

The building dates from 1847 and was no doubt built on the site of an older structure. Constructed of local materials, it nevertheless boasted rooms larger than that 700 square metres building footprint stipulated in the 1972 New Territories Small House Policy. As such, it formed the usual building story that consisted of thick stone walls patched up with brick and many of the floor joists made from whole tree trunk beams. The original packed earth ground floor was level and tiled, but the upper floorboards were uneven and creaky. A ladder was used to access upstairs and the later additions of the large kitchen and bathroom lean-tos further added character to what was a charming, imperfect and soulful place. And now it's all gone. You cannot build an old house.

It must be concluded that in the owner's mind the very charming, imperfect and soulful state of the old building were the very justifications necessary to knock it down. Old buildings leak, require maintenance and look worn. But perhaps the real clincher is that they do not command as high a rent as new ones. Even in the last year property prices in Hong Kong have risen 16.1%. This is, therefore, the reason why few outside the area have raised their collective fingers to halt the destruction – there is just so much money to be made from property development. When so many see this as an inalienable right then who can halt it? The house will most likely be replaced by three separate dwellings containing 3 flats that can each be rented out for around HK$20K (a little over US$2500) each month. The previous occupants would have paid that for the entire property. Who would want to get in the way of someone making so much money?

The old house, therefore, has duly been minced up for hard cash: so perhaps Hong Kong people are supposed to save their soft heritage sentiments for museums, holidays and dusty library books on ancient architecture. For as far as this piece of history is concerned it will appear as if it never existed, that it was once a truly beautiful place to live or that our good friends once lived there. It is doubtful that the sound of children playing in the vast garden will ever be heard again.

I have previously written about other threatened villages in rural Hong Kong, such as Pak Sha O. The owners of the land on which these old village houses are found care for only one thing, and it's not heritage or old, beautiful, aesthetically-pleasing buildings. Hong Kong people have long valued entrepreneurship as the right to prosper, build and make money. Unfortunately, the sad situation is that once this is done with the old country park properties, then there is nothing left for the rest of the population to enjoy but the knowledge that the businesmen are enjoying enlarged bank accounts, fresh foie gras, expensive limousines and approving stares from their peers. These developers are taking away the little that is left. Future generations will despise our inability to arrest the destruction.

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"Insanity:

doing the same thing

over and over again

and expecting different results."

Albert Einstein.