The conductor lifts his wand and queues select members of the orchestra to rise. In their hands are cages each with a bird in side. Another member of the orchestra blows into a special instrument that imitates the chirping songs of the birds. Soon the birds in each of the cages begin to join in with their own songs.
Queue the drums. The percussionists begin lightly gliding their fingers over the tightly stretched membranes of their instruments. Wind is created.
And so on with the chinese flutes, the erhus, etc. The orchestra is now improvising to try and harmonize with the ever chirping birds an attempt to communicate with music, a universal language, with those creatures who probably spurred the invention of human music itself.
Such was one part of the experience sitting in the audience and watching the performance of the Hong Kong Chinese Orchestra under the direction of Tan Dun.
And if you don't know the name, if you have seen Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero or watched the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games, you've heard his work.
After the concert, I stuck around for autographs and while most speedily passed in front of him without him having time to lift his head from signing, I learned that a few simple sentences in Mandarin earned me not only eye contact but warranted a handshake as well.
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Birds and Water at Hong Kong Wetland Park
I admit I've never been a bird watcher or cared much for birds, but I'm learning recently that bird song holds certain venerable properties and in some ways can even be good for the soul.
(for one take on this, see the video here: The 4 Ways Sound Affects Us)
However, it was not my desire for bird song or birds that drove me to the wetland park but the continuation of my exploration of natural motifs and the accompanying moments of reflective solitude.
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I found myself surrounded by water, plants, bird lovers, strollers [the park is stroller-friendly and thus attracts a lot of families] and avid photographers with huge telescopic lenses.
Water and Man at Cheung Sha Beach
Having had my fill of birds and photographers, the next stop was remote beach I had once passed by. Even in the extreme heat of summer, the beach was absent the dense throngs that swarmed to the more accessible beaches. Besides the remote location and clean water, the long sandy beach was highlighted by picturesque rocks jutting from the sand against the backdrop of a tall green mountain. Needless to say, the brief impression it made when passing by lasted long enough to evolve into scenes of a refreshing, long walk along the shore during the milder temperatures of winter, when the regular beach goers would be wearing their down coats and choosing alternative options for their diversion.
It didn't disappoint.
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Man and Mountain on Hong Kong Island
The following weekend I continued my exploration by simply stepping out of the front door. After a few minutes and few blocks, the bustling sounds of the main streets have all but faded. I am surrounded by the soft noises of a residential neighborhood.
Continuing upward. Another few minutes, I leave pavement and residential polyphony and am surrounded by green, stillness, the far-off murmur of running water.
Hong Kong is not particularly large but is crisscrossed by kilometers upon kilometers of hiking trails, passage ways that quickly transport you from the artificial structures of the megalopolis to the primitive superstructure that supports it.
What I learned is that the touristy Victoria Peak, while easily accessible is limited in the views it has to offer. A top the peaks and ridges I scaled offered 360 degree views of the Kowloon, Hong Kong Island and the vast ocean beyond.
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A man may conquer a mountain, yet mountains conquer the works of man.
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