Hong Kong, the island, is only part of Hong Kong the former British colony — and current Special Administrative Region of mainland China.

A big chunk of this semi-independent mini-state is on the mainland side of the harbor. Specifically, Kowloon.

I’ve been looking at Kowloon every day since I started work — because the offices of the International Herald Tribune are right on the water, on Hong Kong Island, and that’s Kowloon (and another set of skyscrapers) just the other side of the strait.

I actually went to Kowloon today, and as first impressions go … it wan’t exactly love at first sight.

Actually, Kowloon made such an impression on me, I can’t imagine going back any time soon.

The afternoon started off promisingly enough. An IHT staffer invited us to lunch at Maxim’s, the classically touristy (but very good) dim sum restaurant in City Hall — and overlooking the harbor.

The Star Ferry to Kowloon is just a few hundred yards away, so after lunch we decided, hey, let’s go look at Kowloon. We paid the 50 cents or so to get on the ferry, and in about 10 minutes we were docking at Kowloon — and back on the mainland of Asia.

And it was interesting, how much different Kowloon is from Hong Kong Island. At least the part of Kowloon I saw, right there by the water and a bit off it.

Touts from the subcontinent assaulted us as we got off the ferry. I thought they would be offering cab rides or tours, or the usual claptrap that tourists are bombarded by … but in fact they were offering to set me up with a new suit. Several of them. Just had to wade through them.

And it basically never stopped. We were accosted by a particularly persistent would-be fortune-teller (didn’t he know we will never talk to fortune-tellers? Didn’t see that coming, apparently) on the promenade. Anyway, he was less than charming.

A block off the water, outside some of Kowloon’s nicer hotels, I was offered cheap watches, invited to enter a cheesy bar, and promised a wonderful and cheap suit at least two dozen times.

Basically, it was impossible to get across a street without some stranger getting in my face and offering me a deal. It was like crossing the border into Tijuana (back when people still did that).

And it struck me that in Hong Kong, even in the working-class neighborhood we are staying in, I haven’t had one person try to sell me something. Not one.

Clearly, some different sort of dynamic is at work over there, vs. over here. Kowloon Side vs. Hong Kong Side. As if the rules are different. Maybe even the laws.

Hong Kong may be noisy and crowded, but it isn’t rude and pushy. You are afforded privacy. You are not ambushed walking down the street because you might be, as a non-Asian, a tourist looking for a deal too good to be true. (Or, at least, honest.)

I lasted about 90 minutes on the edge of Kowloon, and I wanted out. It was as if I had wandered into Hong Kong’s evil twin. The one with no class. The one that was all crass.

I wanted back to the gritty Wan Chai neighborhood on the island, where I can just walk down the street and attract nothing more than a few curious stares. Or any of the neighborhoods I’ve seen on the island. None of which were remotely as objectionable as Kowloon.

Finally, we found a metro station, and about five minutes (and one strait-crossing tunnel) later, we were back on the island. Back among several million of our best friends, none of whom tried to sell us a suit or a watch.

I see no need to go back to Kowloon. Housing may be cheaper there, but I’m not buying a house, either.