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celebrates its national day on October 1st, moreover, on October 1st, 2019, the Chinese Communist Party celebrated its 70th anniversary. Why is that bad?

      Well, Hong Kong wasn’t at peace already and chaos reigned there due to mass protests. We will leave politics aside, but closed metro stations, closed streets, crowds of people in black T-shirts, uprooted and burnt ATMs created a rather overwhelming atmosphere.

      I knew that the metro station next to the temple would be closed that day, so I took a bus. And everything was fine, well, except that the army of policemen on the way frightened me a little.

      I was in the temple and had just found comfortable steps to take a couple of pictures upside down, when suddenly the workers began to move actively and close all the doors, saying, «Close door, close door.» It was still two hours before closing, and I didn’t understand why they were closing the doors. I assumed that they wanted to close earlier, and hastened to leave.

      I got to the bus stop and started looking for my bus. I couldn’t see it anywhere, and from the information on the signs it was not clear where it was supposed to stop. Remember when I said that in Hong Kong, multi-level overpasses are intercrossed with subways and shopping malls? This was the case: there were overpasses, a closed metro station and the entrance to a multi-storied shopping center around. The bus stops were both a level above and a level below – it was not clear to me where to go.

      I went into an empty shopping center, where the lights were dim, the doors to the shops were closed and taped with yellow tape, people were somehow chaotically wandering around, and the same alarming announcement was on repeat. It looked rather like a post-apocalypse…

      Fortunately, I managed to connect to Wi-Fi and build a route home. But the stop was still at an unknown level, and I asked people around who informed me in an alarming voice that the buses were no longer operating due to the protests nearby. To my naive question, «How can I get out of here?» they just shrugged.

      My brain began to draw scary pictures, but I hastened to get out of the web of overpasses and closed doors. I wanted to walk a couple of stops ahead, hoping that the bus stopped there. The only way out was through the mall. I followed well-dressed guys who were also clearly looking for an exit. It was impossible to see what was happening outside, as there were closed shops along the entire perimeter. Eventually, we got to the escalators that led down to the exit…

      Step by step I approached the light… no, instead there were dozens, maybe hundreds of people in black T-shirts and respirators blocking the light. Firemen walked somewhere between them. There were skyscrapers and flyovers all around.

      The only street went straight, my bus went along it, I had to go along it too, but it was blocked from my side by the protesters!

      I still hoped that I could just walk past them further down the street, but that was not the case. Looking closely, I saw that part of the street was completely empty, and that a very large army of policemen was standing far ahead on the other side. Imagine this: I am in a bright yellow suit between protesters and an army of policemen going to look for my bus. Absurd, of course. I didn’t go anywhere, but for a couple of seconds, together with those guys, I looked around to understand where to run…

      Nothing seemed to be happening, but that was clearly the calm before the storm. This was the case when intuition and subconscious worked more clearly and faster than usual. I analyzed dozens of scenarios in a minute. There was tension in the air. People around were talking, some were sitting and watching those who were in the forefront.

      I remember the mixture of insecurity, calmness and fear in the eyes of the protesters. They were all very young, many did not want to be there – this was evident from the detachment in their eyes and the obvious body language: they sat sideways or even almost with their backs to the main activists, as if they were preparing to escape from there.

      I was torn apart by curiosity and my self-preservation instinct. I wanted to stay, film all this and just watch – the picture was very impressive. But of course, the consequences of such curiosity could be sad. I decided to leave. I went back, not inside, but around the mall to find a way around it. There were three levels of flyovers and there were still a lot of people in black, there was no way out.

      Some kind of suspicious movement began behind me, the rumble of voices was alarming, I walked faster. Ahead, I noticed those same guys, they were moving confidently towards the overpasses. Shouts were heard from behind, I turned around, and someone, looking at me, shouted in English, «Run!» And I ran.

      Right near the overpass, I saw a road that went behind the building to the right and was supposed to be our way out of the danger zone. We climbed over a barricade of bags, tires, bicycles, and furniture and turned into a parallel street. Only one row of buildings separated us from the crowd. But there was another problem: there was a river ahead and it was necessary to cross the bridge. That was where my cherished bus stop was supposed to be.

      And now, coming close to the crossroads, I saw a closed gate of a small square. It linked us to the bridge and to that very street with the protesters and the police. Slogans, claps and shouts started to sound. I looked at the closed gate and thought, «How strange, how did the water get into my nose? Maybe I had a flu? It was stinging inside.» A girl came out from behind the buildings that separated us from the crowd, and gave me a wet tissue. She told me: «Put it to the nose, they are using the gas.»

      «Holy shit!» I thought, and with a brisk step I walked in the opposite direction, just to get away from all this. It got really scary.

      There were almost no people around. Then I saw a bus stop, a bunch of people trying to leave, cars being turned around by the police. I kept walking. Judging by the map, there was another metro station nearby. I asked the locals if it was open. Yes! It was open. In total, I walked for about an hour.

      In the metro, everyone was warned that 3 or 4 stations along the way would be closed. When we passed the very station from which I ran away, the train was passing above, and the very crowd was perfectly visible. It was like watching the news, but only from the window. Not bad.

      I stayed alive and well, got home and cooked buckwheat for my hosts.

      The next day, Zoinho finally returned to Hong Kong and I went to meet her!

      Instrutora Zoinho – Hong Kong

***

      A Filipina with an American accent who grew up in Asia, spent her youth in the UK, and who fell in love with and absorbed Brazilian culture so much that she became a source of it for her students in Hong Kong, the uncatchable Zoinho.

      When I came to Hong Kong for the first time, she was celebrating her birthday in the Philippines. When I came for the second time, she was somewhere in the United States for a capoeira seminar with almost the entire capo-crowd from Hong Kong. However, my patience paid off and I met her. This was my last day in Hong Kong. She landed at 6 in the morning and went to work, and then gave a capoeira class in the evening. This’s impressive!

      Zoinho suggested that I stay with her in the first 10 minutes of our WhatsApp conversation (oh capoeira, thank you for that!). I did so. I came to her in the evening before the class with my three suitcases. I tried to come by foot but gave up 5 minutes later when I realized I had to climb 300 meters of a very steep hill, got sweaty and out of breath…. I caught a taxi hoping I would have enough cash to pay for it. When I arrived, I met Zoinho and her friend, also a capoeirista, Emily, but from a different group. Later, I learned that Emily was supposed to move to London, but decided to stay to support Zoinho during a seminar that took place a week after my departure.

      I left my bags at home, attended the class, met her students, and then her student gave us a ride back home.

      In one

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