The marriage lines

UNDER THE SHADOWS outside the Queensway Government Offices, the street sleepers are preparing for another night on the concrete.

Some men sit on the ground, couples bed down under sheets or in sleeping bags, and others spread themselves flat, wrapped up in old newspapers for warmth. Blue-and-white striped police tape is tied between pillars, keeping the campers from spilling into the passageway.

But this is no improvised base for the homeless or dispossessed. Among the huddled group are bank workers, MTR technicians, civil servants, stewardesses, teachers, clerks, insurance brokers, marketing managers and restaurant workers.

Any reasonable person might ask, why, since early this month, this unlikely band has forsaken the comforts of home and bed in favour of cramped, spartan nights outdoors. So, armed with newspapers and plastic bags for my bed sheet and a backpack for a pillow, I too have set up home for a stint with the podium crowd to find out what's going on.

The answer is simple, if still bewildering: everyone just wants to get married. In Hong Kong, people sleep on the streets to buy first-edition stamps and to register their wedding date.

In most places, people wanting to tie the knot simply make a booking at a marriage register office. But in Hong Kong, wives-to-be and their fiances have to endure one more rite of passage - the registration queue.

The reason is superstition. Many Chinese people insist on tying the knot on an auspicious day. This helps to ensure a good marriage and gives birth to the phenomenon of pai dui gi fun, queuing up to be certain of getting a desirable slot. But it's not just the date which is crucial, couples also battle for the most auspicious and most convenient time of day (the prettiest register office is also a factor - Cotton Tree Drive is the location of choice).