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At about the same time, I go on another visit to the site of the two great bridges that will link the center of our city to the airport that in those days was just beginning to emerge from the sea. There's nothing there but a few lengths of white tape on the ground showing the alignment of the giant structure. In the distance through the haze we can just make out the first dredgers unloading their spoil around the island which, when its hill is scalped, will form the heart of the airport. Less than five years later, bridges, airports, roads, railway lines, cuttings, vast terminals, a new town have all gone up around the site. Where else does a "can do" philosophy achieve so much so fast? And all this has been done while those managing the project have had to survive a constant barrage of criticism and one political ambush after another. It's an early Sunday morning in the autumn of 1995. I'm touring the polling stations on the day that will see, for the first time, the election of the whole of Hong Kong's legislature. Hong Kong's citizens line up to vote. They vote, just as they registered to vote, in record numbers. I enjoy here in this Chinese city the same excitement that I used to feel at home--the quiet drama of watching men and women take part in shaping their own lives. The democratic hour.
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