There are few places in Hong Kong that could claim to move you with the same stillness of this Icelandic heaven. And all through your monitor. But in pursuit of at least one, I will take to hiking.
Listening reminds me of Norway and Sweden and the freezing cold crispness of the air.
“And at once I knew, I was not magnificent”
For a destitute teacher who buys pesto for a treat on payday but must simultaneously sacrifice spaghetti for noodles, having your parents (who have not seen you for six months) come to visit Hong Kong, it can mean only one thing: FOOD (and love and laughs and all things intangible).
Food in the bath
Day 1: I had finished work and gone directly to the airport to welcome my parents to Hong Kong. On checking them in, I made a beeline for the lush bathroom and proceeded to soak in bubbles whilst watching a film and enjoying peanut M&Ms and Diet Coke courtesy of the free mini bar. Just for starters.
Food at a R.E.S.T.A.U.R.A.N.T
Night 2: With a real adult by your side, you have licence to eat in an establishment with table cloths. And with such a licence also comes an alcohol permit, which made a change from lemon tea being the most toxifying thing on the drinks list. Well dressed wine (it was in a glass, not a beaker), well dressed food (sesame oil, pine nuts and caviar on salmon) and well dressed waiters (they were smiling). This was a recipe for happiness.
Liquid food
Later that very night: Apparently, it only takes an old-school Irish coffee to stir bouts of nostalgia circa 1980 in a parent. Such reminiscing is proven to lead to a reversion back to teen-hood and cause a certain whimsicality with one’s plastic. Before we knew it, we had visited the two most overpriced but reputable bars in the entire city. We were sipping margaritas, humouring the string quartet and trying hard not to ruin the facade despite an overwhelming desire to crease at the ridiculousness of it all. See happy child faces for approximate excitement levels.
Food by the sea
The next day: Having failed miserably at locating the start of our intended 2hr hike (much to everyone’s relief slash feigned disappointment), we settled down for some New England beach-side cuisine, in Stanley. The seared tuna was perfection and the Bulmers (as my hair of the dog), reminded me of all that is good about British binge drinking culture.
Food in the lobby
Day 6: The end was nearing but we didn’t part ways before pilfering the entire contents of the mini bar and draining the bathroom supplies. Dad was mortified (“Where do you draw the line? You might as well take the TV”) but Mum, encouraging (“Loo roll?”). We then sat beneath Asia’s largest vertical garden, because we could, and ate cheese and cupcakes with red wine, Baileys and coffee. In that order.
Divine.
Post script: My parents have been home for a day and for lunch I had Mum’s Thai leftovers from two nights ago and the last packet of M&Ms. And so it begins again…
I’ve decided that blogging isn’t blogging without the -ing.
This dawned on me when I was asked, ‘Do you blog?’ and without thinking replied, ‘No, but I do have a blog.’
I don’t like ‘blog’ as a verb. ‘I blog’ sounds pretentious and ridiculous. If you’re a professional blogger, well done, you have a right to call yourself so. Blogging is your thing. But as far as occupations go, to say ‘I blog’ (like you were telling someone ‘I teach’ or ‘I cook’ or ‘I mechanically engineer the shit out of aeroplanes’) usually won’t fly and will just make people laugh at you.
‘Blog’ should stay as a noun and let ‘blogging’ do the active verb-ing. You can ‘do a bit of blogging’ whilst still leading your socially acceptable, visually monotone, conservative life.
The only problem with this is that if you keep your blog firmly in the sphere of the concrete, never moving it forward, freshening it up, or even occasionally prodding it, then bad things can happen.
It can get putrid and stale and soon you’ll come to regard it with dread, like mouldy yoghurt stuck on the shelf at the back of the fridge. You don’t want to touch it because it’s been too long and is now just a thing with a name that belongs to you but that you’re not particularly proud or happy about.
Saying you’ll make a change by regularly blogging on your blog is silly. These kind of desperate concocted promises to yourself only serve to breed further guilt when failure to post not only saps more life from your blog but also chips at your self worth. Which is the same as eating your own soul.
Ways around it:
“I have the strong feeling that unless Katherine is closely watched she will one day do something terrible to another person, or perhaps even to a large group of people. The key is not to aggravate her, I think.”
—Helen Oyeyemi, Mr. Fox
The feelings I get with some of the kids I teach. Disconcerting.
One image to accompany 2 months worth of updates is a tall order. Here is something to epitomise my neighbourhood, though…
There are a million things to say, at the very least. However, I have to start somewhere so with the view that the old ways are the best, I’m reverting back to primary school methods and using the alphabet as my guide. This will defy the laws of chronology and instead, these memories will be random pickings from whatever moment surfaces from each letter of the alphabet. Here goes:
A – Argyle Street: from Ladies Market to Langham Place. I can haggle for cheap crap with a scary local woman then turn the corner into the pristine mall where H&M makes me feel like I’m back in Leicester. Minus all the Asian shoppers, obviously.
B – Baptist Lui Ming Choi: the name of the primary school where I work (ahem, am flogged like a slave). Band 1 (supposedly having the best English) and in the New Territories, it is a place I would look forward to going to much more if I didn’t have to teach 6 lessons a day to all levels/ages of students who frankly, my dear, could not give a damn.
C – Clockenflap: a festival yet to take place but firmly scheduled in my diary. I’m ticketed and even have time off work for what is set to be an absolutely beasty weekend of UK, US and HK music, art and film. Highlight: Bombay Bicycle Club. YES. http://www.clockenflap.com/. Also, Classified; a cheese and wine restaurant I must visit after having met one of the founders at a rooftop party, eaten his rosemary and garlic melted camembert and fallen in love.
D – Dim Sum: delicious bite size Chinese food of all varieties. This genius way to eat is social, exciting and so varied. My friend and I recently found a Dim Sum restaurant with a Michelin star; the shrimp and leak dumplings with chilli oil and soy where a DREAM.
E – Eve at Savvy Style HK. I landed myself a fashion writing internship with a native New York business woman. Win. Eve runs two companies and is responsible for styling Hong Kong’s men and women. She is award-winning and also writes a weekly column in the South China Morning Post. I am incredibly excited for the future and all its prospects. http://www.savvystyle.com/
F – Feet: belonging to chicken and eaten as snack food in this delightful city. Vegetarian or not, I would not go near (or nearer than I do every day on my walk to the bus stop) this poor excuse for a food-stuff for love nor money, not to mention nutrition. Shivering just at the thought of toenails in my mouth.
G – Gut: deliberate misuse of the popular word ‘got’ that features on the hilarious t-shirts of teenagers and grannies alike. A favourite is ‘I gut you’ and ‘You gut me’; worn by Hong Kong lovers whilst walking arm-in-arm on the street as if they’d not thought twice about their outfit choice that morning. Priceless.
H – Hong Po Building: AKA Casa de Femme, home to Kelly, Laura and myself. My new flatmates are from the UK and US respectively and our colleagues LOVE our abode. Our flat is on the plush side considering our wage packet so we have been host to the less fortunate – especially the guys who miss their mums and a good spag bol.
I – Issac: without a doubt the happiest, most energetic, most astute, kindest eight year-old I have ever had the pleasure to meet. A clear favourite and teacher’s pet, he makes my days worth while with offerings of origami pigs, drawings and proposals of marriage. I love. (And no, I did not missspell, he spells his name wrong but I have neither the heart nor desire to tell him).
J – Jordan: and my first night at the Knutsford Terraces with Isabel. My auntie’s sister’s friend (contacts, contacts, contacts) kindly met with me one evening and introduced me to her husband and beautiful 2 year-old daughter. Originally from Spain and having lived in West Coast America for years, they have had very interesting lives. As Dad fed baby chips at the bar, I pined for home.
K – Kowloon: the mainland side to HK and where I now call home. More specifically, Sham Shui Po; only the poorest area in the whole of Hong Kong (don’t cha know) with the greatest number of government housing. Shhh, don’t tell my Mum.
L – Lan Kwai Fong (LKF): party district. Friday night for cocktails and Saturday night for 7/11 street drinking (see S) followed by over-priced but usually worth-it clubs. Favourite is Azure which just happens to have the best view from a loo in all of HK. I took a picture of said view two weeks before this fact was publicised. I have an eye for quality. http://www.cnngo.com/hong-kong/play/pee-panorama-hong-kongs-best-and-worst-toilets-689464
N – Noah’s Ark: easily the most enjoyable and yet most surreal time of my life. 3 weeks, 60 graduates, 8 roommates, many animals, 1 ark. The 3 week orientation period was spent living in this hostel/amusement park on Ma Wan Island which featured a beach, beer and new buds; what could be better? http://www.noahsark.com.hk/eng/index.php
O – Octopus card: like an Oyster card but, well, better. An Octopus can buy: MTR travel (Tube equivalent), bus/train/minibus/ferry travel, drinks, food, clothes, McDonalds, toiletries, 7/11 and Circle K goods and at least a hundred other things which make it easily the most convenient way to pay for stuff. It puts England to shame. Mine stays in my phone case and is beeped/swiped at least 4 times a day.
P – Property Agents: Sugar So and her scandalous story. We met, bought a flat through and befriended our property agent, Sugar, after having many problems with previous agents. Sugar would sweeten us up with biscuits and milk tea. She then proceeded to take our commission, take her child, leave her husband and flee the country. But don’t worry, we’re friends on Faceyb so none of the action goes unmissed (last month, she uploaded a picture of a wad of cash and an airport departure board).
Q – Quarry Bay: the infamous stop on the MTR which seems to be the starting point for many HK hikes. I’m signed up to a hiking ‘meet-up’ group who email me daily about prospective hikes in this area. I’m yet to sign/meet-up. To Do.
R – Ray-Ray: my new label. I resisted at first, like, really hated it. But now Ray-Ray has some endearing quality. Either way, it’s stuck, so I really don’t have a choice.
S – Seven Eleven: few words can compare to the greatness that is. I have three 7/11 shops on my street. This is where Vitasoy, water, alcohol, gum, school lunches (WANTON when I’m really late/lazy), phone credit, Octopus top-up and all things survival are sourced. I thank The Big Man every day for this.
T – Tai O: my day off was reserved for this remote fishing village on Lantau Island. Armed with no less than 3 books, I was headed for a day of relaxation and ‘me time’ – the first since arriving. Naturally, I was approached by a western guy at the bus stop and ended up getting lost with him; visiting a beach with him; walking the 200 steps to the Big Buddha with him; and finally, at 4pm, reaching Tai O and wandering around taking beautiful photographs of the scenery with him. The books are still on the shelf.
U – Uni: Big Mouth Corner at Hong Kong’s Polytechnic University. It’s been a welcome change going back to uni to mingle with people doing what I used to love doing – studying! Of the 50 Chatteris employees who interviewed, 15 or so of us got picked to host informal chat groups to help students improve their English. Thursday nights, 2 hours, free pizza and lots of advice about where’s good to go in HK with students who want to talk to me. Win.
V – The letter that not ONE of my students can pronounce. Vehicle is wee-icle, vase is wase, vet is wet – you get the picture. Also – Vitasoy; my one true love, a soy malt drink incarnate.
W – Wan Chai: seedy, western and just downright dirty. This district on the island side is the go-to place for watching sports in bars, finding a prostitute or dancing in below-average ‘clubs’ with sticky floors until 6am. It’s also home to the VTC college where I (attempt to) learn Cantonese for 2.5 hours every week. I’m supposed to be there now.
X – Xpat: as a member of this not-so-elite club I am privy to a world of free stuff that people from my neck of the woods (and elsewhere, of course) need to get rid of before leaving the country. XPat Asia helped my flatmates and I bag a sofa, a chair, two tables, a lamp and an almost-full bottle of absinthe from an Australian who invited us to his reggae-themed farewell do. We took the booze but not the invite (sadly).
Y – Yes Natural! Unashamedly, the organic food shop that brought tears to my eyes when I first found it for two reasons. 1 – it’s ON MY STREET and is like no other place in the whole of Kowloon; selling quinoa, rye, tofu and sweet potato. 2 – it makes me miss home and my best friend (who I would go with to similar places to investigate our passion) so bad. Weirdly painful and joyful to visit at once. But also necessary if my body has any chance of survival.
Z – Zero memory: of the preliminary beach nights when we had no responsibility, no kids and as a result ended up with no camera, no money and no dignity. When I say ‘we’, I mean ‘they’ of course. This number also represents how fast my time here is going; it will be over in no time at all.
Procrastination is my number one fault. Or is it number three? I forget, I got sidetracked when making the list. Anyway, JUST before I get started on the documenting, the link to the above blog must feature. Mainly because it includes two Atwood quotes and two Mad Men references before you’ve even scrollled down to October 17th (last week). Followed.
After reading a quote by an (unidentifiable) Patrick Lagrange, the protagonist muses: “my memory now of my reading then of what was happening at the time”.
The Lagrange quote: “History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.”
Now, as beautiful and lyric as it sounds, this did (i admit) cause me some problems at the time. Surely imperfections and inadequacies are not synonomous with certainty? Surely they connote ambiguity? But then it dawned on me (or if not ‘it’, something). The certainty lies in the absolute truth that is that no event, whether ancient or recent history, may be documented in such a way that the perfection of what happened at the time can be accurately depicted. What happened at the time remains frozen there, and that is absolutely certain; that certainty in the inadequacies of documentation is history.
The history I wish to document dates back to August 8th 2011 when I left the UK for Hong Kong. There have been 80 days since that one. I wonder what my memories will come to look like…Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending, Booker Prize, 2011.
For the first time in almost three months I have taken the time to breathe. This rare opportunity has come as a result of a cancelled lesson at the primary school where I now work (dodging a P6 class - hurrah!). As a 35 minute lesson, however, this time is fleeting and so I use this opportunity to quickly say - don’t go away. I have much that I am anxious to share and a good idea of how I will share it.
So be left with this - I have arrived, I am settled and I have lots to tell!
Love sent from Hong Kong x
