Ying Ying is fast asleep the first time we see her. Her giant furred belly rises and falls in rhythm. A stack of half-eaten bamboo shoots lies beside her. “Eat. Sleep. Repeat. That’s her routine,” say the panda zookeepers, who are off to get the next stack before Ying Ying wakes up. A kid beside me knocks on the glass window, inviting the attention of a strict, uniformed teenager from the Ocean Park’s educational programme. “They are solitary animals. They do not like to be touched or disturbed,” she eagerly whispers. The kid, quite relentless, says something about a panda hug, but is whisked away by her mother. The rest of the crowd quietly takes selfies with the sleeping panda in the frame.
Ying Ying and her neighbour Le Le, a dreamy male panda, are an important attraction at Ocean Park, one of the top 10 amusement parks in the world, according to Forbes. Both were born in August 2005, and were gifted by the Chinese Government to Ocean Park two years later, to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Hong Kong’s return to China. They are neighbours to the big female panda Jia Jia, the Guinness World Record holder for the longest living panda in the world (she is 37), and the calm male panda An An, who is around 30. “It’s not one big panda family; they like their own space. The male and female pandas only get together during the mating season, which is for three months between March and May. And in those months, it’s just three days in which the female panda can get pregnant,” says the zookeeper. “We have been trying to get Ying Ying and Le Le to mate, but not one cub has been born in Ocean Park till date!” they say, disappointed. Both natural and artificial methods have been tried; Ying Ying was even sent to Sichuan in the hope that she will get attracted to a male panda there.
An hour goes by and Ying Ying is still fast asleep. We move on to see an array of sharks, ray fish, seahorses, Southern koalas, red-necked wallabies, red pandas, otters and laughing kookaburras; sit for a quick show by sea lions and dolphins; and take a wobbly cable car ride from the summit of Ocean Park to the waterfront, soaking in the full view of the dipping sun in the South China Sea. It’s time for a ‘therapeutic dinner’ at Neptune’s Restaurant that shares its wall with the grand aquarium. Between a spoonful of pumpkin soup, a bite of mushroom salad, and the soothing view of majestic sharks and calm turtles, we learn about the Park’s efforts to conserve and rescue endangered species, and get people up close with animals, with programmes like shark and ray feeding, grand aquarium scuba diving, interaction with dolphins, feeding sea lions, parent-kid weekend camps, penguin and panda encounter programmes and more. The last bit, in particular, piques our interest. “Can we cuddle and carry them?” we ask, between mouthfuls of apple crumble.
Day Two begins with a discovery. In the quiet of the 49th floor of L’hotel Island South, Hong Kong, I google Ying Ying’s name. The over-10-year-old, which is identified with an obvious birthmark — a black ‘eight’ patch around its eyes — was in the news a year ago, for being the first-ever panda that would give birth to a cub in Hong Kong. Ultrasound scans showed a 3.5-cm foetus. So, what happened to the baby? The question gnaws at me, until it’s cleared that afternoon as I stand dressed in an oversized khaki uniform and boots (as part of the panda encounter programme) inside Ying Ying’s home — a breezy weather-controlled enclosure, with trees, rocks and blocks of ice. As it turns out, she suffered a miscarriage. “We pray that she makes babies this year,” says the zookeeper, leading us to the panda kitchen.
With an extra rush of sympathy, I cut apples and pears into small cubes and fix them on a bamboo stick for her ‘fruit kebab’. Her watery brown eyes stare at us from a glass door. She comes closer, sits on her backside and sniffs at the kebab which I slowly extend through an opening — a moment that gets immortalised in a camera click. There is a quick pull, and the next thing you see is a clean bamboo stick with all the fruits sucked out. Excited, we discuss the momentous feeding experience, while Ying Ying continues chewing lazily, and vanishes behind the door to probably take a poop.
“It’s not smelly at all,” says the zookeeper, handing us a mop and a bucket. He then picks an oval piece of poop and asks us to touch it. Under gloved fingers, it feels like grass that has been crudely ground. “It’s just a bunch of raw plants!” we reassure each other, and mop the last bit of it. With that, we pass our final test of love for Ying Ying. But, of course, she has gone back to sleep again.
Miles away from Hong Kong now, I remember that it is the peak mating period for Ying Ying. Can’t help but wonder: what must she be doing now? No risqué humour intended.
(The writer was there at the invitation of Ocean Park Corporation, Hong Kong.)
Five must-dos at Ocean Park
Penguin Encounter programme: Get to pat a penguin’s head, and feed the group of King, Southern Rockhopper and Gentoo penguins — all inside their ice-cold habitat.
Planning to propose: Do it underwater, or upside down in the thriller ride ‘Flash’. For the less adventurous ones, the settings at Baywatch restaurant, overlooking the South China Sea, or the Tuxedo restaurant, which offers the company of penguins, is romantic as well.
Fire and water: Symbio! A 360-degree water-screen show, featuring fireworks and lively music by Oscar-winning composer Peter Lehman in the background, is how you ideally end your day at Ocean Park.
Travel back in time: Stroll through the old Hong Kong street, which includes box-type stalls that sell authentic street food, ranging from fish balls to rice noodles. Rickshaws, trams and film posters are reminiscent of the city in the 60s.
Ride of your lifetime: The rollercoaster ride, Hair Raiser, might hurtle, plunge, loop and dangle you, but brave it and you will know it’s worth the two-minutes of heart-arresting fear.
