Cultural Desertification

The other day, I came across a quote in the newspaper from a mainland Chinese tourist, who said that he'd always assumed Hong Kong to be a “cultural desert”—that is, until he got here. Now “cultural desert” is a phrase you don't hear so often any more, I thought. But there was a time when you heard it constantly, chiefly from colonials who meant that Hong Kong was a desert of western culture, without a La Scala or a Wiener Symphoniker (how anyone could reasonably expect a city on the south coast of China to be an oasis of western culture, even if it was a British colony, I will never understand). But in any case, what do people do in cities that are deemed cultural oases? Do they spend every free hour in art galleries and recital chambers? As if. They're sitting on sofas eating rubbish and watching re-runs of The Simpsons like everyone else.
But it has given us something of a stigma, being thought of as a cultural desert for decade after decade. A couple of weeks ago, I googled “cultural desert” and the first result was about Hong Kong, which was also the only place to appear twice in the top 10. The results have since changed, and as of today Hong Kong appears three times in the top 30 (again, the only place to appear with such frequency). The first time is at number 16, putting it behind the Valley of the Sun in Greater Phoenix, Arizona; Brazil (a “cultural desert for the young” apparently); Singapore; Osaka; Shrewsbury, England; and Canada. In fact, searching online demonstrates that practically everywhere, large or small, thinks of itself as—or has critics who say it is—a cultural desert. Guangzhou; Waikato, New Zealand; Canberra; Odense, Denmark; the U.S.A.; and Pusan, Korea, are all tagged, or have been tagged, with the label. To them and to my fellow Hong Kongers I say: get up off your knees. “Cultural desert” is the phrase used by bitter old prunes to refer to places that don't do sachertorte or Shostakovich they way they like it. As though that were some kind of big deal. As if life held no greater pleasure than interminable operas and overpriced ballet tickets.