Saturday, 10 November 2007

Canton Road noodles

As recommended, last night we went down the Canton Road and found wanton noodles and other Chinese delicacies.  Well worth finding (and much more traditional than the usual tourist places), we ended up ordering and eating a bit too much, and with Vicky worrying that they would be adding MSG to the food.  As if!

Afterwards, we found a traditional foot massage place on Nathan Road nearby.  Notwithstanding the fact that we should have left more time after eating all of that food, it was lovely (although it might have been a bit too vigorous for Vicky) - about an hour and a half of head and foot massage was just what was needed to send us back to the hotel feeling very sleepy.

It was midnight when we got to bed and I was still fearing waking at 4am.  Bang on cue, at 3.45am, I was awake - and panicking that I'd then be awake for the rest of the night.  Surely not?  Thankfully, I was back to sleep in no time and I had much difficulty getting up at 10am to get ready to go out and meet William.

Trouble waking up on a Saturday morning?  Now that sounds like the sort of Saturday I'm used to.

Friday, 9 November 2007

Speaking Honglais

Those who've worked with me will know my special language for communicating with the French - Fringlish - which is like normal English, only louder and with some words missed out altogether.  Look, you might laugh, but it works - the Frenchies love it.

Well, I've invented a new language for talking to the guys over here.  Honglais.  It seems to work a treat - everyone seems to be able to understand me well enough.

It took Vicky to bring me back down to earth.  "You know when you're talking Honglais to William?  It sounds just like Fringlish".

The cheek of it.

Bus to Buddha

What a day!  Ok, surely it was the right decision to fight the jetlag and plough on without much sleep.  It was hardly a surprise that I spent most of the day going in and out of the corridor.  But the rest of it I couldn't have anticipated.

We went back to the food court for breakfast, resisting all temptation to rely on the cryptic maps to guide us there.  We purchased basically one of everything available at the bakery, which in hindsight might have been slightly too much.  This would be regretted later.  The food was nice, though!

Then it was the ferry to Central, and afterwards the ferry to Lantau island.  No problems there.  But to get the Buddha itself (or, more specifically, to the bottom of the massive flight of steps up to the Buddha) it takes a 1 hour bus journey.  Sounds ok, doesn't it?

That's what we thought.  The road between the ferry and the Buddha is of reasonable quality, but very hilly and extremely twisty.  Add to this an old (but paradoxically air-conditioned) bus which has obviously had its suspension retrospectively removed.  Now, load that bus up the max and put a suicide driver in the hot-seat.  What you end up with is something akin to a rollercoaster ride.  That lasts far... too... long.

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The Buddha itself is well worth the effort.  So is the monastery.  But in the back of your mind, you've always got that morbid fear of The Bus.

By the time we got off again at the ferry, I was in quite a state.  I wanted to take a photo of the bus to show you but, predictably, it sped off immediately.

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As usual, there's more photos over on Flickr.

Jet lag? What's jet lag?

Those that have read my earlier work might not be so surprised about this particular post.  But seriously, just how difficult can it be to sleep through the night unaided?  Well, if my experience is anything to go by, pretty bloody difficult. 

You don't get problems like this when you go to Mallorca for a week.  This will teach me to go all Oriental.  (NB - Tang's buffet is Oriental, however I've yet to experience jet lag issues whilst dining there).

Anyway, this jet lag probably goes some way to answering the question as to why there's not been many blog updates so far.  It's the strangest thing, because logically writing a blog in the middle of the night might seem like the perfect cure for insomnia.  But the strange thing is that, even though you're awake (and I mean, properly awake, none of this casual drifting back off to sleep business), somehow you just can't do anything.  Except moan about the fact you can't go to sleep, something which seems to come really easily.

The first night I think we both expected it.  Yes, we woke up at 4am, but we eventually slept again and woke up at 2pm.  It felt like the whole day had passed us by but, fair enough, we'd travelled half way around the world.  The second night we woke about 5.30am.  We got up, went out to see the t'ai chi (see below) and came back to the room about 9am, felt totally exhausted and slept until 3pm.  Hmm.  Last night, we stayed out late, deliberately, and I think I went to sleep around 1.30am.  And then woke up at 5am...

Today, we've got to just bite the bullet.  I've stayed awake and am loading myself up with Red Bull, Diet Coke and Pro Plus (I feel it necessary to cover all bases).  Vicky's asleep as I write, but once I'm done with this, I'll wake her up and we've said we'll stay out all day to force the issue - but I think we all know that at 5am tomorrow morning, I'm going to be wide awake... again.

Chi in the Park

Surely the only advantage of our non-sleeping is the chance to see the t'ai chi being performed in the morning.  Normally, if the paragraph in the guidebook starts with, "you'll have to get up very early in the morning to catch this..." I would immediately skip over the whole section.  But, it turns out that "very early" is my new friend!  So off we went to Kowloon Park, which is very close to the hotel.

Kowloon Park's a bit like Central Park in New York.  A beautiful, manicured park right in the middle of the hectic city.  It's not as big as Central Park, but big enough that I was worried that we might not find the t'ai chi, so I asked William to mark a few places on the map the night before where we might be most likely to find it being performed. 

To be honest, if he'd put a hundred crosses on the page, he wouldn't have marked all the places that t'ai chi was going on.  It felt like the entire population of Hong Kong was in that park at 6am in the morning.  Do they sleep?  There they all were, in soft shoes and tracksuits, throwing some big, slow shapes (Victoria would be proud). 

The first group we found was about 50 people, all gathered outside the swimming pool.  Someone had brought a ghettoblaster and some 'classic' Chinese music for everyone to perform to.  It was strangely disorganised - people joining in, people leaving, others just walking through the middle of it all on the way to the swimming pool - it was just kind of weird...

Later, we walked round the park and found others doing it, this time without music, in smaller groups and generally looking a bit more hardcore.  In fact, every path, every flat piece of ground, had people doing t'ai chi.  Trust me, it's a revolution.

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Street-fights at Thai Orchids

The previous night, we'd gone to meet William, Denise and Myra who'd been helping us to plan our sight-seeing in Hong Kong.  First stop was the office and a little chat about the latest situation with the stands.  I'm not sure we moved the topic any further forward however, since we worked for at least 10 minutes, I guess it would be OK to put the flights and hotels on expenses now...?

We managed to get in the highlight of our trip so far, having our picture taken in front of the famous microwaves that we always see on the Thursday morning videoconference.  Worryingly, one of the microwaves on the racking there is the very model I bought from Comet for the flat.  I'm not saying that I don't trust these guys to test them properly, but perhaps Ian could unplug the microwave when he goes to check up on the flat?  Thanks.

Perhaps not too surprisingly, we ended up drinking & eating outside Thai Orchids, the restaurant just outside the offices.  Everything was pleasant enough - guidebooks on the table, lists of things to do being written out (in two languages, to help with the taxi drivers - thanks guys!) and some impossibly spicy beef noodles to eat.  But the guys on the next table had other ideas.

"Do you think that I'm a racist, murdering b***ard?"

Was he talking to us?

"No, please tell me honestly.  I'm sat here in a South African rugby shirt.  What do you think that says about me?"

Yes, he was talking to us.  But... what was he on about?

I turned round and said calmly: "all I know mate is that you beat us in the rugby world cup final".  And with that, he seemed to go quiet.  For a while.

It turned out that he was, in fact, English (of course) but he was with his South African friends and was wearing one of their rugby tops.  During their conversation, they obviously got talking about what it meant to be South African, and that's when we got involved.  I had my back to them whilst they carried on this conversation but apparently he changed back in to his own shirt whilst sat at the table, a sight that Vicky said was just... lovely.

Eventually they moved on, but better was to come from the taxi drivers.  The first we were aware of was some shouting and scuffling coming from the end of the road.  It went on long enough for me to walk down there (along with most people in the Quarry Bay area) to see what was happening.  What was happening was two taxi drivers fighting in the street.  I only wish I had photos, but let's just say that they went though phases: for a while, it would seem as though they had worked out their differences, and then one of them would lash out at the other, and then they'd be off again.

Back at the table, Myra explained why it had happened.  It turns out that they queue of taxis on that particular street corner is unusual for two reasons.  Firstly, taxis that queue there will only charge you one toll for crossing the harbour - normally, taxis charge customers double toll to cover their return journey.  Secondly, because of the particular geography on that corner, taxis joining the queue do so at the front and customers take taxis from the back of the queue, nearest to the office blocks.  When that taxi leaves, all of the taxis reverse down the street a bit and it starts again. 

Inevitably not all taxi drivers are aware of this peculiar arrangement and innocently drive up and join the rear of the taxi queue... and then have a fight with one of the taxi drivers who's been waiting there for ages to get to the rear of the queue. 

To be honest, I reckon the whole gag is organised by the HK tourist board as a form of street entertainment.

Back to the Peak

I remember just how upset Ben was with me that day.  It was my first trip to Hong Kong, two or three years back, and we hadn't had time to go and visit the Peak, overlooking Hong Kong island.  So I made Ben get in a taxi with me and up we went.  He was upset because the day was quite cloudy and he said it would be "pointless" go up there because we'd "see nothing".  I was adamant that we should go: surely it's the one place that everyone should go on their first trip to Hong Kong?

He was right: it was pointless.  Cloudy and polluted, I could hardly see my hand in front of my face, let alone Hong Kong.

Yesterday, I went back there with Vicky, and this time it was just perfect.  The view is amazing when it's clear and photographs can't do it justice, nor just how steep the Peak tram is that gets you up there (when you're not going up in a taxi with Ben shouting in your ear).  I'll put the other photos on Flickr, but here's the obligatory photo of me next to the tram.

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Finding the food court

Apparently our location here in TST should mean that we can easily find traditional food very near to the hotel.  Actually finding that food has proved much harder than expected.  Yes, we found Starbucks, but that's hardly traditional (even though we've been back there more times than we're prepared to admit - and, let's be honest about it, some muffins may have been consumed).  But traditional food has been harder to find.

Myra told us that there's a food court in the shopping centre joined onto the hotel.  It would would have been easier to find that food court had the shopping centre not been the size of Scotland.  And yes, there are maps everywhere around the centre, but I think you must have to go on some kind of special training course to understand them - yes, they are in English but the diagrams don't appear to correspond in any way with your surroundings. 

We found it in the end (not before passing at least one Starbucks and managing the resist the temptation to visit...) and it really is a world of happiness.  From the bakery which we'll have to visit when I wake Vicky up soon, to the Indian kiosk, there was so much choice.  And so cheap too - Vicky had a large plate of prawn rice, I had some sweet & sour pork with rice, with drinks - and it came to HK$78 - around £4.50!  (Mr Tang, note that you seem to have competition...)

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In addition that that, and those super-hot beef noodles from Thai Orchids (above), we've had some street food in the form of super-hot, super-spicy pork & shrimp balls.  So, aside from those Starbucks relapse moments, we've kept it quite traditional and authentic.

Well, until last night, when we went out and had a McDonald's.  All these noodles just leave you dying for a burger.

Batman begins... again

Turns out that the next Batman film, Batman - The Dark Knight, is not only being filmed in Hong Kong but it's been filmed this week.  It's caused a fair amount of adverse publicity, which surprised me - the South China Morning Post (not yet available in Rickmansworth) is full of stories every day about it.  The latest 'scandal' is that the film's producers have asked the local skyscraper owners to leave their building's lights on over the weekend to aid filming.  Cue stories about why Hong Kong businesses should indirectly fund the filming, about the CO2 impact of leaving the lights on...

All I can tell you is this.  I've never watched a Batman film in my life (something which I know will surprise Ian).  But I've seen the plane flying over the island as part of the filming, so I know that I'll be going to see this one.

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More photos

You want more?  I can't believe that anyone would.  But if you do, there's more photos over on Flickr.

Thursday, 8 November 2007

Video conferencing

Ok, so we're not on this morning's video conference (for reasons of extensive jetlag issues, which will be documented more fully later) but here we are in front of the famous microwaves, with Myra, Denise and William:

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What followed this picture was an unbelievably spicy dinner, accusations of racism, and taxi driver street-fighting; more later!

Call it a hunch, but I reckon that Henry might be a few minutes late getting to the offices this morning.

Tuesday, 6 November 2007

Attachment selling, Hong Kong style

You'd think that, given our background, we'd be used to attachment selling by now.  But I don't think either of us expected it in the hotel.  I was more concerned that something catastrophic was going to happen - no record of our reservation, credit card declined, room on fire - you know, the usual stuff that I come on here to blog about.  But the receptionist was concerned with giving us a "one chance only" opportunity to upgrade our room to "deluxe room on club floor, room is minimum of twice the size of your existing room" (it sounds funny in a Chinese accent).  After we declined this, then she started on the "special offer, today only" if we pre-booked breakfast for the duration of the stay.

Anyway, the non-upgraded room turns out to be just fine and is probably bigger than our flat anyway.  (We're working on making the room as untidy as the flat but, unlike the flat, I reckon that they'll clean this room daily).  We both still felt OK, tiredness-wise - the local time was 8pm, in the UK it would have been 12pm and we'd been travelling since Monday evening).  So we went out, watched the light show over the harbour (like fireworks without the banging) and found somewhere to eat.

Half-way through dinner, Vicky suggested taking a photo of the food: here it is, just for you, our half-eaten Chinese dinner:

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Our favourite here is the fried rice with pork - true genius food; not quite as good as Tang's Chinese buffet in Rickmansworth but, let's face it, what is?  (NB - I can confirm that the restaurant was not £5 all-you-can eat).

After, we came back to the hotel and at 11pm, it seemed to be the perfect time to sleep and get onto local time.  I knew that the jet-lag and disturbed sleep patterns would kick-in eventually and it did - at 4am, when both of us were wide awake and unable to sleep any more.  No doubt that will be back to bite us later.

Before coming back to the hotel, I went to the shop to buy some water and was surprised to see that Dave's been moonlighting with a shoe & hand-bag shop here in Hong Kong.  Fair play to you, Dave.

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Remembered everything?

Some people thought that I'd forget my passport, or perhaps run it through the washing machine.  Others wondered whether I'd have booked flights for the correct dates. 

Obviously working in supply has sharpened me up to the real world, and there were no such catastrophes.  What was a minor catastrophe was the amount of champagne I managed to consume at the Christening yesterday.  Never a great drinker at the best of time, having a bit too much not only secured me disapproving looks from Vicky who had to drive us the two hours back to Rickmansworth, but also a sleepless night to really kick-start the jetlag.

Monday was always going to be a busy day for us.  Not only did we want to leave the flat looking semi-reasonable (Ian is coming to look at it whilst we're away, and we can't have him thinking we live in total squalor, can we?), but we had the packing to do, and I'd managed to get the laptop to a state where it no longer got any further than a "blue screen of death" (BSOD). 

Obviously the laptop had to take top priority; without it, there would be no blog and without a blog, there would be endless abuse from those already subscribed to it.  Suffice to say, I'm typing now but it was, to coin the phrase invented by my Conquer Club colleague, a world of hurt.

The taxi was booked for 6pm.  We planned in advance that we would do the bare minimum to bring the flat to reasonable levels of sanitation and that if we did this first, we'd have 8 minutes left to pack.  Packing is always my least favourite job (ref: any previous blog, forgotten items post) so it must only be done at the very latest moment, as if to maximise the opportunity for basic, fundamental errors.

The journey to Hong Kong bears some similarities to my business trips to Hong Kong: we were picked up by one of Terry's cars, and we are flying on flight VS200, surely the most booked flight by colleagues flying to the Far East.  Sadly, there are some key differences to the business trips:

  1. Terry's driver wanted paying
  2. Terry's driver didn't go through the Virgin Upper Class drive-thru check-in at the airport
  3. Food (in the loosest sense of the term) and drink was available at the airport, however, unlike in the Virgin lounge, they also wanted money for it
  4. The seat on the plane may be fractionally smaller than the business class seat.  Also, I don't recall my seat getting kicked from behind by a noisy Australian woman quite as often as it's happening today

Turns out that airport security staff are equally unpleasant on the commoners side of the divide.  The only difference in the 'by invitation only' area is they have fewer passengers who are completely unable to understand why they can't bring through 18 2-litre bottles of Coke through security, claiming to have "never heard" of the 100ml fluid rule.

As I type, we're flying over China still a couple of hours away from Hong Kong.  Vicky's asleep, but I always find that aircraft sleeping somehow doesn't count to your sleep quota and makes you feel even worse than before. 

But overall I have the most unusual feeling: normally when away on holiday I'm targeting doing as little as possible, but this time I'm impossibly excited.  How much can we actually do and see during this trip?  Will the jetlag really bite, will I have to take intravenous Red Bull to keep myself awake?  Perhaps I'll revert to type and just want to sleep until it's time to fly home.

Let's just hope that I can have this Australian woman sitting behind me on the way back, too.