OCT 25 — My son has recently shown an interest in numbers, pointing them out wherever we go, be they the numbered bays in a car park or the keypad in an elevator. The problem is that where we live, the number system is anaemic.
Superstition is to be blamed. It is common practise in Hong Kong’s high-rise buildings to omit the number 4, which denotes death in Cantonese. And so thanks to superstition, our building is missing the numbers 4, 14, 24, 24 and 44.
Then there is the matter of the refuge floor (a temporary safe place for fire evacuees), denoted as 26R after 26 and before 27.
Serving to further confuse newcomers to the numerical system, newer high-rise dwellings are constructed like a birthday cake, with a broad base forming the podium level and several towers of apartments standing atop this, looking much like candles on a cake.
This means that the numbers on the elevator panel go something like G, 1, 2, 3, P (podium level), 6, 7... I assume 5 is missing because the lobby to each tower at the podium level usually features double-height ceilings.
All this puts a dent in our effort to show Ishan the practical application of the wooden numbers he plays with. Or hopefully he will notice the discrepancy and question us and the Hong Kong Buildings Department.
Meanwhile, Ishan’s favourite letters are G and P. Numbers: 8 and 32. I suspect he likes the former because of its shape; the latter because we live on the 32nd floor and he gets to jab the button on the lift panel.
That’s right, 32. That’s just mid-height; the highest floor is the 53rd (which in effect is only 47 storeys high). This is a city where higher is better — better view, better air quality.
I remember feeling faint-hearted when my husband first informed me that we would be calling a unit this high up our new home. I’d only ever lived in a two-storey house and no higher than the 12th floor in a hotel. Plus we had a baby who would only too soon reach for the windows.
We are soon to move to a unit seven floors lower, and already I am missing the bird’s eye view that we enjoy. The bridge carrying heavy traffic is that much closer and noisier. Now I want to live on the highest floor.
The numbers game is big in real estate, with property developers racing to build the highest and most luxurious blocks of apartments to entice the wealthy.
The latest property to hit the headlines is 39 Conduit Road in the Mid-Levels for becoming the world’s most expensive apartment, located on the 68th floor. The property developers, Henderson Land, claim that this would be trumped when the 88th floor goes on sale (“68” reads “continuing fortune” in Cantonese while “88” is “double fortune”).
The problem is that this particular property stands at only 46 storeys high. The 68th floor and 88th floor do not exist apart from their presence on the lift panel.
You see, the floor numbers are a marketing ploy based on superstition; a total of 42 floors are missing.
These include the inauspicious floors containing the number 4 as well as all floors between 50 and 59. Oh, and the floor after 68 is 88.
What is the mother of a budding number-cruncher to do amidst all this confusion? Maybe I will stick to teaching Ishan about numbers using the mobile phone.
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