More Bargains than Beds

Hong Kong, a capitalist balcony dangling on the outer wall of Red China, has become the world's largest and most varied supermarket. In this customs-free and refugee-packed enclave, Chinese merchants flourish, and practically anything--Japanese pearls, French perfumes, mandarin furniture--sells for a fraction of what it costs elsewhere. "If you live here," says a Western resident of the British crown colony of Hong Kong, "you're always broke because there are so many things you can't afford not to buy." The casual traveler can order eight best-quality English worsted suits at $25 apiece and receive them meticulously tailored, after two hotel-room fittings, less than 24 hours later. In the same time and for even less money his wife, pointing to the pages of a Harper's Bazaar or Vogue kept on the counter of every Queen's Road tailor, can outfit herself in a copied suit, cocktail ensemble and dinner dress, all in rich Thai silk.

Last week word of Hong Kong's bargains had spread so widely that the city's hotels were swamped. Only five hotels (mostly of prewar vintage) are rated first-class, and their 760 rooms all have waiting lists. On their way to visit President Eisenhower in Washington last month, the King and Queen of Nepal had to put up in a third-class hotel. In third-class hotels (and even in second-class), bell boys freely peddle the services of call girls. Another traveler, in desperation, spent the night at the Shanghai Bathhouse and Massage Parlor near the airport, emerged next day declaring he felt so "soft boiled and beaten to a pulp."

With jetliners now disgorging more tourists at Hong Kong's Kai Tak airport, the bed shortage may get worse. Only two new hotels will be completed this year, a third in 1962, for the jet-borne trippers. Travel agents' advice to Americans planning to see and shop in Hong Kong: book six months ahead.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.