Lamma's Bohemian Rhapsody

View Photos (1) Image © 2004 Jui-Liang Sim

"Are you from America?" quizzed the lanky waiter in the middle of an appetizing seafood dinner by the sea.

"Singapore", came my mildly bewildered response. I guess his curiosity has nothing to do with the way I speak my English but everything with me not uttering a word in Cantonese (which I really can't).

The people at Man Fung Seafood Restaurant are an interesting bunch and their service is refreshingly disarming, so unlike the sleek customer-is-king treatment one encounters in other restaurants or a Bossini or U2 outlet in Tsim Sha Tsui. Long before getting momentarily stumped by the waiter's question, his bespectacled lady owner actually borrowed my guidebook to admire the short write-up about her restaurant and eternity later, came back and told us the photograph in the book was taken a year ago.

In the photograph, a quiet afternoon passes languidly at the restaurant. Its tables are neatly covered with blue checked cloth, with vases each holding a stalk of plastic yellow rose and bowls overturned on saucers reposed on them. All but one table are unoccupied. If not for the waist-level metal railings, one can walk a few footsteps and dip one's feet into the glistening shallow sea. Gentle waves tap anchored rocks and nudge sampans while small villas, rural houses and hills complete that picture-perfect postcard look.

So here we are at Lamma - the third largest outlying island of Hong Kong and an enjoyable half-hour ferry ride away from Central - lounging at one of those tables with the same set-up of checked blue tablecloth and plastic flowers, trying to soak up the laidback, bohemian atmosphere that the guidebook waxes lyrical about.

Then came the Kodak moment. A faint rainbow arches above the row of houses in the far distance and stays there for not an ephemeral moment. It took quite a while after we had taken a snapshot of this pleasant surprise for the restaurant's staff to notice the rainbow and get all excited over it. I wonder if there is anyone who would simply stop in the middle of some busy thoroughfare in Central to enjoy such a wonderful phenomenon.

Their carefree rapture can hardly be duplicated anywhere except on a place like Lamma, where time and nature, in relation to work, are in profusion. Our earlier ramble around Yung Shue Wan - a modern-day village that has abandoned its farmlands and permanently moored its fishing boats for a burgeoning service industry - found its residents not doing anything much on a late afternoon.

In a well-stocked provision shop, a man sat behind his table throughout the time we walked in, circled racks displaying the kaleidoscopic cans, tins and boxes of groceries, and left with packet drinks and chocolate waffles to quell our hunger pangs. Nearby, a laundry shop was unusually silent without the expected spinning and splashing in washing machines while ugly printouts pasted all over the glass doors of a property rental company blocked out any signs of life inside.

We also passed what is arguably the most bohemian thing on the island - a New Age vegetarian eatery cum second-hand bookstore cum Internet café aptly named Bookworm Café. Most of the cafés were half-empty, suffering from a case of supply exceeding demand perhaps. But there was a hive of activity in a pub filled with a boisterous expatriate crowd glued to the television screen telecasting a 'live' World Cup match. Work can always wait, at least until the referee blows the final whistle.

Beyond the narrow lanes flanked by these mini hubs of commerce are modest-looking villas with unkempt backyards. In recent years, the girth of Yung Shue Wan has continued to widen, with newer houses mushrooming on unused farmlands to accommodate a growing population. A decrepit Chinese temple stands stoically in stark contrast to the spanking new soccer court near the waterfront, where several teenaged boys played out their own World Cup moments...

Without much realization, we switch to an unwinding mode under the shady canopy of the restaurant and three 'cigarette sticks' directly across the sea became our conversational piece. Actually, they are the chimneys of the island's power station. Standing wide apart from each other in seemingly calculated equal distances, the 'cigarettes' are possibly the tallest structures in Lamma; even the leafy hill peaks in front can hardly camouflage them. We find the 'cigarettes' a rather interesting sight. Fortunately, they are not lighted and burning away. Or, we might have formed an entirely different opinion.

Even the two or three-story low villas facing the sea exude a bohemian feel, although not in any artistic sense. From afar, they resemble casually but closely stacked cardboard boxes of un-coordinated color schemes. It is quite a picturesque sight if you can appreciate air-conditioners jutting out everywhere, dull stripe tents and uninspiring signboards that litter the houses' surroundings. Sometimes, all it takes is a bit of messiness and unpretentious chaos to give a place its charm and character.

It seems like time freezes over at our front-row seats to the best views of Lamma. Nothing moves. The houses, the hills, the rocks, the 'cigarette sticks' shouldn't, the anchored sampans can't, and the ripples barely. Then, all of a sudden, the silhouette of a boat paddles fast and furious and interrupts this sea of tranquility before disappearing from our sight. It must be another training session for the perennial dragon boat race. Then dinner is served...

Every once in a while, our attention would be diverted from the succulent lobsters and salty prawns to the droves of people who have just disembarked at the ferry pier and passing polite waiters with menus. There is a fair representation of local and foreign faces in the motley crowd and from their power suits and sense of familiarity, there is no way of mistaking the latter for wide-eyed tourists.

For the uninitiated, a sizeable expatriate community resides in Lamma. Many of them are drawn to the low rental and seduced by the promise of a stress-free lifestyle and nature at their doorstep. There are no cars here, decent beaches like Hung Shing Yeh Beach are close by, and on a clear day, a hike along the undulating hills that ends at Sok Kwu Wan village in the south offers panoramic views of Lantau, Cheung Chau and Aberdeen. This expatriate exodus has in turn spawned a mini Lan Kwai Fong of cafés and pubs, adding variety to the island's famous Chinese seafood restaurant scene.

With our longest (and best) meal in Hong Kong over, we say goodbye to the people at the restaurant and make our way back to the pier. For the first time in several hours, we find ourselves walking briskly, for fear of missing the ferry. Maybe the bridge linking to the pier also serves as a running track for the residents.

Even as we wait on the soon-to-be-worn-out chairs inside the dated but dependable pier, we are again reminded of Lamma's cachet: in a city most famous for its ever-changing skyline of skyscrapers trying to outdo one another in scale, stature and style, this island has opted to keep things low and slow and always make time to catch the next rainbow.

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Published on 8/21/04