Hong Kong in October, part 3

Following Suit

October 18

I may be adjusting to the time difference. You may notice that I can now remember what month it is.

I didn’t take a nap yesterday. By eight o’clock last night I was so wiped out that I started to fall asleep in front of an open beer in the hotel room. It was my first beer of the day, so that proves how tired I was.

I slept through till five or so. I had so much energy when I woke up that, after three coffees, I had a caffeine high.  That’s always a good sign.

But before I went out for coffee, I developed a plan. We leave for Macau on the 19th and return to Kowloon next week. If I drop the laundry off in Kowloon and order a suit there, I can pick them up in a few days, when we get back.

First order of business, though, was to send a postcard to Karl and Jeanie. Karl likes postcards. He sends me one when he’s traveling and I try to send him one.

It took us over an hour to find a store that has postcards. We finally found a rack of them in Kowloon next to a currency exchange office. The post office was easy enough to find. Right off Nathan Road on a street not far from PJ Murphy’s Irish Pub. Need you be told where Harry had lunch? 

Nothing exotic, but it was good: half pints of Guinness (for Joanna), Lowenbrau (the German one, not made somewhere else under license), and Boddington’s (a light English ale). We shared a steak sandwich as a break from all the Chinese food we’ve had lately.

We dropped the laundry off at a cleaner on Hankow Road and then checked a few tailor shops. We didn’t bother with the dozen or so guys who came up and pressed their business cards on me. 

I had flashbacks to Pattaya. I was wearing the linen suit again, and everybody offered to make me an exact duplicate. I bought that suit at Daffy’s for a hundred dollars.

I wasn’t going to buy until I checked Sam’s on Nathan Road. It is supposed to be legendary. 

And maybe it is. The inside of the store is filled with pictures of celebrities and framed checks from members of the British royal family. 

In the room where I changed my pants, there is a photo of some duke named Henri. Lucky for him he’s a duke, because he can’t spell.

I figured if this is good enough for Kevin Spacey, it has to be good enough for Harry. So I bought a navy two-piece suit. It was about 75% of the price I’d pay for a made-to-order suit at My Suit in New York. It’s about half what I’d pay for off-the-rack at Lord & Taylor, where I generally do not shop.

Joanna had brought a skirt that she wanted to have duplicated, and she ordered that.

A tailor measured me, and then Sam and crew told me to come back at four, (This was before lunch, around noon or so.) So we had time to kill in Kowloon.

Nathan Road is the same kind of commercial overload that you find on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. Only instead of St. Patrick’s and St. Thomas, the big church is a mosque. There is also a St. Andrew’s so the Anglicans aren’t left out.

We found our Kowloon hotel, the Kimberley on Kimberley Road. So we won't have to search for it when we get back from Macau.

Unlike the neighborhood in Central Hong Kong, they have bars there. 

Across the harbor, where we are staying in Central, I have to travel for draft beer to Lan Kwai Fong or to the Red Light District.

Our street in Kowloon is also in the wedding district. Every second shop sells bridal gowns or other whatnot for Western style weddings. A few also show traditional Chinese red dresses with the high Mandarin collar.

One of the great finds in our wanderings was Kowloon Park. The part we saw this day was paved with mosaics, but best of all was the Avenue of Cartoon Stars. 

One, Lo Fu Ji, was familiar to Joanna from when she was a girl, and she had passed the tradition on to her sons. He is a symbol of wisdom. [Later, I’d see Lo Fu Ji on posters explaining proper coughing manners, a leftover of the SARS era.]

I was down to the shirt on my back after spilling breakfast on one and sweating liberally into the other two. So they were in the laundry. It turns out that shirts are as hard to find here as postcards. I finally bought two overpriced models at a Tommy Hilfiger shop on Nathan Road.

The photo of the day is a shot taken from Nathan Road. I have a feeling that Gaultier did not approve that message.

Joanna pointed out, quite literally by the way, that it’s easier to find a Tsui Wah restaurant (like the one next to our hotel) than it is to buy a shirt in Hong Kong.

By four, Sam’s had the shell of my new trousers and the jacket tacked together. The tailor secured the fly of my trousers with a straight pin. The jacket had one sleeve. The tailor marked adjustments.

Wherever I go, the fitter wants to make a suit fashionable. If I wanted to be fashionable, I’d settle for one of these new tight suits they sell off the rack.

I kept trying to explain. No. I like the trousers loose. I have very big thighs and when I sit down they get bigger. No. I want the jacket big and roomy. I haven’t been happy with fashions since the Miami Vice zoot suit went out of style when the 80s were over.

It was pushing five when we left the tailor shop, and we had reservations at a tourist restaurant called Cafe Deco on Victoria Peak. As it turns out, we were lucky that we didn’t have too much time. We took the subway to Central Hong Kong and a cab to the peak. We were dropped off in a transport hub that might be what the New York Port Authority Terminal would look like if it was a single story.

We weren’t sure where to go, so we headed for the same exit where the traffic was going. Then we saw the iconic building that is the tourist navel of the peak. We went up the stairs, and there was Cafe Deco, so we wouldn’t have to look for that.

We had about an hour to explore the park.

The dominant feature of the peak park is a grotesque building that looks like a slice of watermelon balanced on a pedestal. The roof is an observatory. The rest of it is filled with fast food and sellers of souvenir trinkets. Somehow Swarovski also got in there.

We started going up the escalators. To encourage us to continue were signs telling us that at the top was “the higest 360-degree viewing platform in Hong Kong.” Kind of a qualified statement, even if it is “the higest.” I remembered the sign on I-80 between the two exits for Clearfield, Pa.: Highest point on Interstate 80 east of the Mississippi. Almost impressive.

We decided to bag the escalator trip and hit the trail instead. We couldn’t find how to get out of the building. I started to get claustrophobic. We wandered up one promising avenue of escape and encountered a horde of people coming towards us—sort of like trying to catch a train out of Penn Station during the morning rush hour. Did they fit all those people into one tram car? That must have been a gruesome experience. I was glad we took the cab.

But this still wasn’t the way out. Maybe I was going to be trapped in this place full of chattering kids and lost tourists forever. This isn’t right, Buddha. I gained merit yesterday. I said a Hail Mary in front of Kuan-Yin.

We  finally found a lady in uniform who couldn’t understand “How do I get out of this building.” She did understand the question phrased less desperately by Joanna in Cantonese.

Night was falling when we got instructions to the trail head. It’s a gentle climb with trees and shrubs lining the walk. Every now and then there is a sign pointing out highlights of the flora or history. There was one about ferns, but it was dark and I couldn’t see them.

There was another about possible derivations of the name Hong Kong. A fierce pirate surrendered here to the imperial authorities early in the 19th century, and for a while after that, Hong Kong was known as the Peaceful Island.

According to one legend, a red incense burner washed up on one of the shores. So the place was named for that: Ho Heung Lo Kong (Red Incense Burner Harbor). 

Heung Kong is now generally interpreted to mean “Fragrant Harbor.”

About 15 minutes up the trail, we had been told, was a spectacular view of the city. And yes, there is, right on schedule. It was night and everything but Harry was lit up when we got there.

The restaurant sat us near a window. All the tables are near windows. “I can’t believe I’m tired of Chinese food,” Joanna had said earlier in the day. We shared a salad of grilled asparagus and arugula. Then we each had a pasta dish. Joanna’s was scallop tortellini with fish roe and a crispy salad on top. Mine was a clam sauce with tomato.

I had an Italian Chianti, which was mild as chiantis go. Joanna’s wine was more interesting, an Australian mix of cabernet sauvignon, shiraz, and merlot. It had an unusual edge, which I attributed to the shiraz. I’ve had wine made of that before, but not for a long time.

The tram line was still miles long and we were worn out, so we took a cab back to the hotel.

I didn’t even try to open a beer.

Hong Kong in October, part one

Facing East

Friday, October 12

Actually I will be facing west.

This is just a reminder to those of you who haven't heard it 20 times already.

We will be leaving tomorrow for two weeks in Hong Kong and Macao. The itinerary retraces much of the route I took last Christmas day: Newark Liberty to Chicago O’Hare to Tokyo Narita. If we get on the right plane, the final leg out of Tokyo will take us to Hong Kong instead of Bangkok. Either way, we will be 12 time zones away. Different time, different day, different season.

I am looking forward to seeing O’Hare and Narita again.

Joanna, as most of you know, is the sensei on this trip, so under her guidance I expect to find my way back in one piece, if not entirely sober, on the 27th. 

Back in Asia

Sunday, October 14

Hello, all.

I'd say I can't quite believe I'm here, but that wouldn't be quite accurate. I just wouldn't have believed it if somebody had told me when I was a kid that some night I would be eating chicken feet at the restaurant next to my hotel in Hong Kong. 

Right now, I’m sitting in the living room of our 22nd floor suite at the 88 Hotels and Serviced Apartments—so called, I guess, because it’s at 88 Des Voeux Road in Hong Kong. 

I’m in Asia, 12 times zones away, so I got up bright and early at 10:30. It’s fun to make connections at airports, especially at Tokyo, where you zip right through. So fast, in fact, that you have time for not one, but at least two Kirin beers between flights.

But even so, thirteen hours from O’Hare to Narita and another four and a half more to Hong Kong can make you a little numb.

We left home at 7:30 Saturday to board a 10:15 flight out of Newark. Remembering my misdirection last December on the outset to Bangkok, I called ahead to make sure that American Eagle does indeed fly out of the same terminal as American, from which I had booked our tickets. You may remember the fun I had last time, when I showed up at the Continental desk with a Continental ticket and was told that United was handling the flight from another terminal. So I remembered to be careful this time.

Good thing, too, because we had plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast. Even so, we had to wait until nine—well, I did; Joanna was just being patient—so I could get a mimosa with my crab omelet at the seafood restaurant concession.

We drank coffee and read the Times until the blue laws kicked in in our favor.

The flight was delayed maybe half an hour getting out of Newark. We were told that a mechanical problem at O’Hare lost some time while they changed planes. So our plane was behind schedule coming in from ORD.

No problem, though, even for a worrier like me. We had a two-hour window at O’Hare. No flashing lights this time, so I was in another terminal, or maybe I wasn’t paying attention. It was lunch time, even in Chicago, so I had a pint of Sam Adams lager at a bar near the gate.

I can’t believe I watched “Men in Black 3” and “Captain America” both all the way through in the same day. Four hours worth of movies without a single naked lady, but it’s amazing what you can do when you spend 13 hours confined to a seat in the middle of the row.

I got up for maybe three walks when I was able to hang around the window at the back of the plane. The clouds were thick yesterday so I didn’t see much on the ground—just some lakes in Canada. 

I haven’t had a smoke for more than six years, but I still get nicotine withdrawals from time to time. It is usually at a time of inconvenient confinement—like when I’m driving or penned in a seat somewhere—that they are going to hit hard. They make me squirm and I either have to endure it or get up and move around. Maybe Buddha was with me, because the fits were mild yesterday. 

At Narita, we stopped at a miso soup shop and sat at the sashimi bar for a couple of draft Kirins. I tried to get some money from the local ATM so I’d have a few yen in my pocket, but it turns out they weren’t ATMs at all, but international pay phones with video screens. The cashier even gave me a U.S. dollar in change, so all I have are a few 10-yen coins and another that is written entirely in Japanese and has a hole in it, so it looks official.

I slept most of the way between Tokyo and HKK. 

Passport control was very efficient. Joanna taught me to say “thank you” in Cantonese—mgoy—to which a uniformed immigration lady laughed and said, “No big thing; you’re welcome.” (Sounds like: “M’sai hot heh.”)

The cab let us off about a block from the hotel, and we checked in sometime between 11 and midnight Sunday. So that was a good 28-hour day of travel.

We hit Tsui Wah, a restaurant open till two right next to the hotel. We had boned chicken feet in something like a mild wasabe sauce, pork tendon with noodles and fish soup, and mai fun (rice capellini) with preserved mustard greens and shredded pork. I had a couple of Tsingtaos and two Heinekens, so I was feeling no sign of fatigue. It was after one and I could have kept going. 

Joanna found the food a little hot for her taste. She only sampled the chicken feet, for instance. There was a bottle of chiles in oil on the table, and I haven’t had that for ages. I had white rice for dessert to cool my tongue. 

Then we went for a walk. We passed the escalators to the Mid Levels. If we get bored, we’ll ride them and see what the Mid Levels are. 

We are near the base of Victoria Peak and have a reservation on the 18th (whatever day of the week that is) for dinner at the Cafe Deco at the top.

Gotta go now. I’m in Hong Kong.

Harry

October 14

Welcome back to Asia, Grasshopper! The food already sounds great!

Enjoy!

Larry

October 14

Confucius say send postcard!!!

Karl

Hopping a Ferry and Several Bars

Monday, October 15

Time to catch up. I have been very busy following the footsteps of Jean-Claude Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren. I have also developed strange sleeping habits.

I didn’t wake up Monday morning at 10:30 after all. But more about that in a few lines.

We started out looking for congee. That’s not an eel but slow-cooked rice soup which is traditional for breakfast here. The place had been recommended to us by one of the waiters at Tsui Wah. It was right down the street from the hotel. Of course, we couldn’t find it.

We asked a vendor on the street who said it was next to the 7-Eleven. The lady at 7-Eleven said it was a couple of doors down. There it was: old chairs, plastic tabletops, discolored walls. We knew the food was going to be good. And so it was.

We had gai lan (a kind of Chinese broccoli rabe) and congee with chicken and “century egg.” That’s an egg that has been aged in the shell until the yolk turns a deep forest green and the white becomes transparent brown, almost like coffee. Don’t scoff if you haven’t tried it. Like snails and ants’ eggs and pork tendon, it’s delicious.

The house also kicked in a small plate of fish balls. They are popular here, but not one of my favorites

The clock on the wall as we were finishing breakfast read five to 11, but that didn’t seem right—not if I hadn’t rousted before 10:30. Turns out the clock on the microwave oven in the suite is more than three hours fast. It was close to three when I sacked out and wasn’t quite 7:30 when I got up. I had about four hours sleep.

Coffee is difficult to get here, because so few people drink it. As it was in Thailand, it all seems to be instant. But I had coffee at the hotel before we left. Joanna doesn’t touch the stuff—well maybe a little decaf now and again, but then only cut with hot water. If I don’t have at least two cups in the morning, I start having withdrawals—headaches and chills—sometime in the afternoon.

After we were suitably nourished, we scouted the ferry terminal for Macau (Yes, spelled over here with a ”u.”). On the way we bought Octopus cards. They’re sort of like the Oyster card in London, good for buses and other mass transit, but the Octopus is also good at 7-Eleven and McDonald’s. So we turned around and of course there was a 7-Eleven. We bought a soy milk and I paid for it with the Octopus. I had seen that done recently in a Hong Kong crime movie so I was eager to try it.

The ferry terminal is in a shopping mall and took us a while to find. The signs kept sending us in circles until we saw one little sign that pointed up one more flight of the escalator.

the Macau service is jet powered. In the background of this shot are some of the towers of Kowloon. Real estate is so valuable here that they just pile apartment on apartment. Like New York, only more so.

Being in that part of town, we decided to stroll down the skywalk to the Star Ferry terminal and take ship for Kowloon. We didn’t explore much there because we’re going to be staying in Kowloon next week. The ride alone is spectacular, different, but as much fun in its own way as the water ferry ride up the river in Bangkok.

Here is a snapshot of Hong Kong from the Star Ferry.

And another shot of Kowloon.

And Joanna's view of Harry's nose from the Star Ferry.

The walking and sea voyage wore us out so we dragged back to the hotel and slept until late afternoon. Then we got up and went to the party district, Lan Kwai Fong. I think this area is a setting in “The World of Suzie Wong.” It is full of bars and was decorated for Halloween, with effigies of witches and vampires, plastic limbs and skeletons hanging up with the prayer flags.

Before we started bar hopping, we stopped at a restaurant called Yung Kee that specializes in goose. We shared a goose leg and a plate of choy sum, which reminds me of broccoli, and finished with a sweet soup made with black sesame seeds. They had three kinds of beer—Tsingtao and Heineken, both of which I had had the night before, and a third whose name I didn’t catch so I ordered that one. It was Carlsberg, which I haven’t drunk in ages.

So far, all the beers I’ve encountered have been light lagers and pilsners. Most of them are familiar to me. But just about every bar has taps, so there is more draft beer available than there was in Thailand.

I tried to stop at every bar in the Lan Kwai Fong neighborhood, but that just wasn’t possible in one night. I do remember lighting a joss stick at a small shrine outside the Baby Buddha bar. The shrine and the name are unrelated, we were told.

The photo of Joanna is outside one of the bars we didn't try. In the background you may notice several men suspicious of having their photos taken. 

We walked up a dark alley and then climbed down a set of stairs to find Le Jardin on a landing. It was clean and almost sleek, and therefore not a distinguished bar, but the location on the stairs was terrific. I had a couple of half pints and Joanna and I were given complimentary membership cards in Le Jardin Club.

We cabbed back and passed out sometime between eleven and midnight.