Hong Kong: 17/9/07
Wednesday, 26 September, 2007
We woke late on Monday morning. There's a two-hour difference between Sydney and Hong Kong (Hong Kong are two hours behind) but we were rather exhausted, plus there's the added period of adjustment when you have to get used to a new bed and new surroundings. My dad and stepmother had already left for work but my brother was still around. I had toast and a banana for breakfast (in Hong Kong, bread is sold not just in loaves but in packs of about 10-12 slices. Why don't they do that here???) Ben negotiated with the shower which could do scalding hot and the cool side of lukewarm but could not conceive of the spectrum in between.
Here's the view from one side of my dad's apartment:
It's rather Rear Window-ish being able to look into other people's apartments over the way.
We had to go buy Ben a black shirt because the one he'd bought wasn't suitable so we decided to go shopping that day. We narrowly missed the shuttle bus but caught a cab to Central instead (like I said, only AU$2.50!) and then the MTR to Tsim Sha Tsui. I caught people glancing in my direction and I wasn't sure if it's the way I was dressed (which wasn't the height of fashion and, I suppose, was also slightly unconventional, but then, five years on, the average girl in Hong Kong is no longer clad in long pants and T-shirts to keep the street dirt off; I saw quite a few in miniskirts and short shorts). Maybe it was because I was hanging out with a white guy (not that they're uncommon in HK either).
When we got to Tsim Sha Tsui, I tried to follow the signs to a shopping centre. I found plenty of shopping centres—New World Centre, Sogo, the Sheraton Hotel—but it was like we were on the set of The Devil Wears Prada because they were full of designer chains like Valentino, Prada, Salvatore Ferragamo, Louis Vuitton and Calvin Klein. And there was not a black shirt in sight (well, at least one that wouldn't cost AU$2,000 like the Dolce & Gabbana one we saw!) We ended up walking in circles a lot, moving from air conditioned interiors to the heat outside. The shop assistants were friendly but also rather agressive. After about two or three hours of walking (during which we bought luggage with wheels because we thought it was about time we owned luggage with wheels, and when your husband has just had a bilateral hernia, it's probably best if he isn't stuck lifting heavy bags just because he's the guy), we decided to stop for some lunch. We had noodles at some Dragon noodle place, plus these weird deep-fried dumpling things filled with custard for dessert.
Continuing our quest for the black shirt, we rounded the corner and came across a Park 'n Shop. Ben waited outside while I went in to get breakfast supplies because my dad was running out of bread. Unfortunately I couldn't use the voucher he gave me because I wasn't spending over HK$100 but I was able to use my Octopus card (not that it mattered heaps!) It seemed odd to me that four apples, a bunch of bananas, two lots of bread packets, a pack of chocolate milk poppers, a Toblerone and a water should cost less than AU$12 but there you go. We put all the groceries in the luggage with wheels and continued.
We were pretty fed up by this stage and Ben certainly didn't want to take the luggage with us to dinner, so I suggested calling it quits—we should head back to the MTR, go home and then come back a little earlier to go to Mongkok or some other place to find a black shirt. But as we were walking back towards the MTR station, we found a men's clothing store called City Club that had—oh my goodness!—black shirts. And in Ben's size too. Everything was pretty reasonable and some things were on sale, so we took the opportunity to refit Ben's wardrobe a little. Again, the shop assistants were friendly but aggressive (“You buy shirt? What about pants too? Jacket? Very cheap!”) They gave him free cuff links (for the shirt) and gave me free water (which made me wonder why I had purchased water at the Park 'n Shop). We ended up buying the shirt, a very nice jacket (which Ben wore to How Sweet the Sound and I reckon it made him look like a rock star) and a pair of pants. Then, a little further down the street, we found a shop called Trendyland full of Disney characters and Hello Kitty merchandise. (I bought Elsie a birthday present there.)
We headed back to my dad's apartment via MTR and cab, and spent the afternoon relaxing a bit. I switched on the TV because I wanted to see if there was any anime on. When we used to come to Hong Kong in the summer while I was in primary school/early high school, I remember watching lots of anime. I couldn't understand them (they were dubbed in Cantonese) but I liked watching them anyway because they were so weird. I remember there was this one about this girl with blue hair who had these older brothers who were constantly being chased by girls, and she had this magic wand that she waved to turn her into an older girl with reddish-pink hair who would go out and do whatever was needed to save the day. (I can't remember what that show was called so unfortunately I can't Google it!) There was another show about a girl who was given a magic paintbrush, and whatever she painted would come to life. She had red hair. I don't remember the name of that one either. Anyway, Ben read and I watched and knitted, and my brother came out and told us that my dad had cable, so we caught the end of Serenity.
Then it was time to go to dinner so the three of us hopped on the shuttle bus down to Central and caught the train to Lai Chi Kok and went to Super Star Seafood Restaurant for dinner. Apparently it's not done to dine with the masses; we had our own private room (with our own massive flatscreen TV) and, once again, dinner with my relatives consisted of about eight or nine courses.
My dad says that when my parents took me to Hong Kong when I was three (which was before my brother was born), I was good at speaking Chinese. I find this rather curious—especially as I am now the only member of my immediate family who cannot speak Chinese and especially as I decided long ago (in a childhood fit of rebelliousness because I was sick of coming to Hong Kong and being asked, “Why can't you speak Chinese?” by relatives who just sort of expected me to pick up the language through osmosis, totally forgetting that Chinese kids start learning Chinese well before kindergarten and that mastering the art of writing alone takes years and years, and that it helps, obviously, if your parents teach it to you [mine didn't, so why blame me for something I can't help?])—I decided long ago that I would never learn, and if I'm stubborn about it (I inherited my father's stubbornness), I'll stick to my word. I do think there was some sort of unspoken pressure there regarding the language thing because my brother decided to learn while at Uni and now he's proficient in both Cantonese and Mandarin, but I'm probably reading too much into it; he had his own reasons for learning and he likes Hong Kong and China more than I do.
Anyway, it's very strange being the only one in the family who cannot speak Chinese. Over dinner, my relatives converse in Chinese with one another, and though I have faint inklings of what they're talking about (I can understand bits and pieces—especially the bits and pieces where they're talking about me), I cannot participate. So I usually spend these sorts of dinners tuning out and feeling bored, until one of them addresses me or Ben in English.
All this is a very long-winded way of explaining why I have so many photos of food.
At these sorts of things, I normally end up drinking lots and lots of Chinese tea. But this restaurant served mango juice with sago balls.
I don't remember what this is:
This is one of my favourite foods ever: shark's fin soup.
Duck's feet (which I ate but don't think I'll have again):
Steamed fish:
Pigeon (which I ate but don't normally like—the bones are way too small):
Red bean soup:
Little cakes for dessert:
My aunt remarked that Ben was very adventurous when it came to food: he'll try just about anything. It certainly makes things easier!
Afterwards we caught a cab home with four of us crammed into the back seat. You would think that with such a wonderful and efficient public transport system, paying the toll for the harbour tunnel would be equally as efficient, but that's not the case: every single cab stopped at the booth to pay in cash. (My stepmother says it's because they hire the cabs and they have no way of knowing who has used the tunnel and how many times it's been used if they just put e-tags in them.) Hong Kong drivers are also hugely aggressive when it comes to merging lanes. This bus cut in in front of us and didn't seem to care that we could have almost crashed into its passengers. All I can say is that HK cabbies have really good reflexes.
Blinks:
A way of funding writing in the future: pitch and idea and get people to support it.
Place where you can hire play equipment for parties, etc.
How to recalibrate the home button on your iPhone.
Unsolicited manuscripts accepted by Pan Macmillan with certain conditions.
Thought Balloon is a group blog in which the writers tackle a new theme every week? month? with one-page scripts. This URL is for their Phonogram ones.
How to sew a zipper on a knitted garment.
Issues organised by tale.
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I can’t wait to go to HK!!!
I am visiting the website for Trendyland. Currently hyperventilating. I am going to go NUTS when I am over there!!!
They dont’ sell bread in big loaves because for most people, bread/toast isn’t part of their staple breakfast diet. So the demand for it.. isn’t there.
And yeh the shop assistants in hk are all like that. especially if they can smell ur foreign!
I watched lots of tv, too, I specifically remember this program on health for kids, where the naughty boy’s clothes got dirty and his shoes started to talk, and the good girl who kept her clothes clean got to go to some kind of heaven, and choose a nice party dress. haha. and I have a tape of old chinese cartoons. Maybe I have that one?
that’s brocoli and like some kind of melon it looks like stuffed with..??
Nothing wrong with pictures of food!
In Brisbane, at least, we can buy 1/2 loaves of bread at the grocery store - most of the usual brands. I imagine it would be the same in Sydney?