There are times when you never want to look or be or act like a tourist. You don't want to be fumbling with maps, you want to be subtly consulting a square of directions tucked secretly inside your novel/moleskine/magazine. You want to be asked for directions by a jeune Parisian as you stroll down the Rue Debelleyme wearing tapered trousers and Isabel ankle boots. You want to be seated straight away without a minute's wait at Balthazar. But, you know, there are times when it's okay to pore over a map, and have locals glance at you up and down and wait in line at an overpriced restaurant. Sometimes it's okay to be a tourist. And one of those times is whenever you are in Hong Kong, and, after enduring a rickety few minutes up the historic tram service you arrive at the top, and you step out onto the old observation deck and you look out at the world - or such as it seems from those heights - from The Peak.
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