29 February 2008
Oh, and there's more
They have decided that it would be a really good idea to renovate the floor just under ours in the hotel, so it's drilling and banging galore while the neighbour screams into her mobile phone over the noise and I try desperately not to cry. Mr Cedric, please move out soon so that we can move in...
27 February 2008
En francais
OK les frenchies, c'est bon, vous pouvez arretez de tous m'ecrire pour vous plaindre que mon blog ne soit qu'en anglais. J'ai passe des heures a traduire, alors vous avez interet a le lire maintenant!!
Le blog francais - http://leratetlesinge.blogspot.com
Bonne lecture...
Le blog francais - http://leratetlesinge.blogspot.com
Bonne lecture...
Tic Talk
My biological clock seems to be ticking much louder than usual nowadays. It must be down to the fact that everyone I know appears to be having babies or getting married in preparation of having babies. And I’m jealous. I know I have lots to be happy about in my life, but there always seems to be something missing!
And the reason I know there’s something going very wrong with my body clock is because we went to see Juno the other day at the cinema, and I started crying because I was jealous of a pregnant 16-year-old... I am quite sure that this is not the sentiment the film was trying to get from me. And so during all of these funny, endearing scenes with the poor girl trying to figure out what to do with this baby that she obviously can’t bring up herself, I was just crying and thinking how lucky she was! It's official, I’m a freak.
And seeing Meko and Dave didn't help. As we dined on the delicious Thai food being served to us at the back of their local corner shop, on formica tables and folding stools amid the shop's back up stock, I couldn't stop cooing and looking at her bump. She is so tiny that it looks like she has stuffed a pillow under her sweater. It's adorable. No, of course I don't know what stuffing a pillow under your sweater looks like. I mean, I certainly have never stuffed a pillow under my sweater to pretend I was pregnant. Of course I haven't...
Anyway, Krusty found a good way to put me off procreation. In fact he found a way to put me off living altogether – he took me to a financial risk magazine's awards ceremony. I can confidently say that this was, without a doubt, the most boring event I have ever been to. Not just because I was the only ‘civilian’ there (so people kept coming up to me offering their business cards, only for me to have to answer, ‘oh, sorry, I don’t have a card, I don’t know anything about money, I’m just here as a lady of leisure’), but also because I had to smile along as I listened to a bunch of men in suits talk about FX rates, equity derivatives, ELDs, CRDs and more... The editor of said risk magazine (a riveting read, I can assure you) finally stood up to give out the awards with a speech that made him seem like the founder of hypnotherapy, and all I could do was go from staring in disbelief at his inCREDibly greasy hair to staring incredulously at the nodding zombie participants of this grim ode to cash... Who would want to bring children into this sort of environment?!
There was one interesting bit to the evening though – the head of communications for an investment bank was there, and while she completed the usual scan of the room to try and find someone more important than us to speak to, she realised that Krusty’s surname was quite peculiar and that she had only ever heard it once before, when she was living in London. In fact, she said, her neighbours had the same surname. In fact, we realised, her neighbours in London were Krusty’s parents! I knew HK was a small place, but this is just...
Anyway, the next day was a much more fabulous affair as I met up with my HKU buddy, the lovely Victor, for lunch. His hair defies gravity, his style defies testosterone, and I realised how much I had missed him as we chomped down on an odd Chinese interpretation of Japanese cuisine.
He invited me to a product launch that night, and I took Krusty along to show him how fun one of these events actually should be in comparison to the suicidal-tendency-inducing shambles of the previous night. We got there by Star Ferry, enjoying the romance of the boat swaying on the water, which rocks you and slows you right down as you admire the reflections on the water of this vibrant city. It’s so much more photogenic at night, when the grey clouds of pollution are impossible to detect.
Once there, we displayed our rank of novices with a long list of PR no-nos... First we were pushed into a room lined with people on one side and a velvet roped corridor on the other. As a heavy curtain had been closed behind us, we couldn’t turn back, so all we could do was ask this troupe of people where to go. They kept saying ‘we are the press, we are the press’ so we tried to find our way out. Someone started edging us towards the empty corridor, which we engaged in, squinting in the dark to try and find the exit. Half way down, we turned to realise that we were in the line of fire of a row of cameras! I am sure that great pictures of us fumbling around with confused frowns will grace the front pages of the society sections this weekend... How embarrassing.
We finished the walk of fame – or walk of shame, rather – and continued to get frustrated as we couldn’t find a drink. We stopped in a corner, realised that everyone was dressed appropriately fashionably and that Krusty’s overcoat and laptop look coupled with my riding boots and jacket look were a little out of place... We soon left, preferring the spicy wanton soup next door to the fabulous sweat pit. Oh how I have aged!
So maybe I AM ready to trade in standing around in a crowded room of opportunists looking for a free glass of champagne for sitting at home with an opportunist looking for a free bottle of breast milk... But I’m ready to give the party scene one more try before I do. And next week has big brand catwalk shows and Chinese fashion magazine launches written all over it.
Baby, it ain't over ‘til it’s over.
And the reason I know there’s something going very wrong with my body clock is because we went to see Juno the other day at the cinema, and I started crying because I was jealous of a pregnant 16-year-old... I am quite sure that this is not the sentiment the film was trying to get from me. And so during all of these funny, endearing scenes with the poor girl trying to figure out what to do with this baby that she obviously can’t bring up herself, I was just crying and thinking how lucky she was! It's official, I’m a freak.
And seeing Meko and Dave didn't help. As we dined on the delicious Thai food being served to us at the back of their local corner shop, on formica tables and folding stools amid the shop's back up stock, I couldn't stop cooing and looking at her bump. She is so tiny that it looks like she has stuffed a pillow under her sweater. It's adorable. No, of course I don't know what stuffing a pillow under your sweater looks like. I mean, I certainly have never stuffed a pillow under my sweater to pretend I was pregnant. Of course I haven't...
Anyway, Krusty found a good way to put me off procreation. In fact he found a way to put me off living altogether – he took me to a financial risk magazine's awards ceremony. I can confidently say that this was, without a doubt, the most boring event I have ever been to. Not just because I was the only ‘civilian’ there (so people kept coming up to me offering their business cards, only for me to have to answer, ‘oh, sorry, I don’t have a card, I don’t know anything about money, I’m just here as a lady of leisure’), but also because I had to smile along as I listened to a bunch of men in suits talk about FX rates, equity derivatives, ELDs, CRDs and more... The editor of said risk magazine (a riveting read, I can assure you) finally stood up to give out the awards with a speech that made him seem like the founder of hypnotherapy, and all I could do was go from staring in disbelief at his inCREDibly greasy hair to staring incredulously at the nodding zombie participants of this grim ode to cash... Who would want to bring children into this sort of environment?!
There was one interesting bit to the evening though – the head of communications for an investment bank was there, and while she completed the usual scan of the room to try and find someone more important than us to speak to, she realised that Krusty’s surname was quite peculiar and that she had only ever heard it once before, when she was living in London. In fact, she said, her neighbours had the same surname. In fact, we realised, her neighbours in London were Krusty’s parents! I knew HK was a small place, but this is just...
Anyway, the next day was a much more fabulous affair as I met up with my HKU buddy, the lovely Victor, for lunch. His hair defies gravity, his style defies testosterone, and I realised how much I had missed him as we chomped down on an odd Chinese interpretation of Japanese cuisine.
He invited me to a product launch that night, and I took Krusty along to show him how fun one of these events actually should be in comparison to the suicidal-tendency-inducing shambles of the previous night. We got there by Star Ferry, enjoying the romance of the boat swaying on the water, which rocks you and slows you right down as you admire the reflections on the water of this vibrant city. It’s so much more photogenic at night, when the grey clouds of pollution are impossible to detect.
Once there, we displayed our rank of novices with a long list of PR no-nos... First we were pushed into a room lined with people on one side and a velvet roped corridor on the other. As a heavy curtain had been closed behind us, we couldn’t turn back, so all we could do was ask this troupe of people where to go. They kept saying ‘we are the press, we are the press’ so we tried to find our way out. Someone started edging us towards the empty corridor, which we engaged in, squinting in the dark to try and find the exit. Half way down, we turned to realise that we were in the line of fire of a row of cameras! I am sure that great pictures of us fumbling around with confused frowns will grace the front pages of the society sections this weekend... How embarrassing.
We finished the walk of fame – or walk of shame, rather – and continued to get frustrated as we couldn’t find a drink. We stopped in a corner, realised that everyone was dressed appropriately fashionably and that Krusty’s overcoat and laptop look coupled with my riding boots and jacket look were a little out of place... We soon left, preferring the spicy wanton soup next door to the fabulous sweat pit. Oh how I have aged!
So maybe I AM ready to trade in standing around in a crowded room of opportunists looking for a free glass of champagne for sitting at home with an opportunist looking for a free bottle of breast milk... But I’m ready to give the party scene one more try before I do. And next week has big brand catwalk shows and Chinese fashion magazine launches written all over it.
Baby, it ain't over ‘til it’s over.
Krusty's contribution
Krusty felt that he needed to add his voice to the HK archive, so here's his contribution. For those of you who know him, you will notice that it is appropriately surreal... Please address your requests for clarification to him directly!
"It's our tenth day in Hong Kong and we finally get a break from the frenzy of the first two weeks. A short intermission and an opportunity to grab pen and paper to scribble a few words documenting the craziness.
The Hong Kong air appears to have done wonders for the Ogre's consitution. She has been pixified almost permanently since we arrived, although the 'waning gibous moon' has me worried. I have observed that fortune's great wheel has one broken spoke, and I am preparing myself for the inevitable - Hong Kong may have it emergency drills in place for the regular typhoons, but I fear they are ill-equipped for the coming storm.
'A bijou serviced apartment with ensuite water droplet dispenser and exercise wheel, comes complete with wood shavings.' I pulled myself away from the pet shop window and refocused attention to our flat hunt. The momentary flash of pity in the hamster's eye summed up my experience of the Hong Kong rental market.
However, this is the year of the rat, and rats, unlike their cuter hamster breathren, are not meant for cages.
I met the hamster's pitying gaze defiantly, hoisted the underpants of determination and resumed the search for something with a bit more space."
"It's our tenth day in Hong Kong and we finally get a break from the frenzy of the first two weeks. A short intermission and an opportunity to grab pen and paper to scribble a few words documenting the craziness.
The Hong Kong air appears to have done wonders for the Ogre's consitution. She has been pixified almost permanently since we arrived, although the 'waning gibous moon' has me worried. I have observed that fortune's great wheel has one broken spoke, and I am preparing myself for the inevitable - Hong Kong may have it emergency drills in place for the regular typhoons, but I fear they are ill-equipped for the coming storm.
'A bijou serviced apartment with ensuite water droplet dispenser and exercise wheel, comes complete with wood shavings.' I pulled myself away from the pet shop window and refocused attention to our flat hunt. The momentary flash of pity in the hamster's eye summed up my experience of the Hong Kong rental market.
However, this is the year of the rat, and rats, unlike their cuter hamster breathren, are not meant for cages.
I met the hamster's pitying gaze defiantly, hoisted the underpants of determination and resumed the search for something with a bit more space."
26 February 2008
The verdict
Krusty's kneecaps were smashed as he knelt down onto his (twin!) bed to get into it, and I feel like I have spent the night chained to a radiator...
25 February 2008
Why did I complain?!
There I was, all smug, complaining about my 5-star hotel room and now here I am being punished for my complacency, slouched in a tiny room that smells of damp watching the Oscars on a buzzing TV that has a red tint on a bed that feels like just a slab of stone... Damn you, karmic retribution!
Well, at least it's funny to watch all the Hollywood stars look like they have terrrrible sunburn and rotting teeth...
Well, at least it's funny to watch all the Hollywood stars look like they have terrrrible sunburn and rotting teeth...
24 February 2008
Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with enthusiasm – Winston Churchill
It seems that our continued efforts to go from one failed flat search to another has finally resulted in finding the hidden gem that everyone wants and we now have a place to call home! This little miracle of an abode is actually in a commercial building in the middle of Sheung Wan, so the path that leads to it demands some apnea: the street is renowned to be THE source of Chinese medicine in HK, so bird’s nest, dried scallops and shark’s fin abound in every shop that lines the pavements. The entrance to our building is fragrant to say the least.
Two flights of stairs lead you up off the street into the belly of the building, where a small Chinese man shiftily smokes a cigarette on his stool. The first time I visited it I got slightly worried about the number of Philippinas coming in and out of the lifts and starting wondering if one of the ‘trades’ in the building would be one I would come to regret moving in next to, but as the lift opened on the 4th floor I was reassured – there is no brothel here, just a Christian mission. Me and my shameful Western prejudice...
The flat is on the last and 16th floor and is made up of two business ‘units’ of 750sqft each. For the first three months we will be living in 16C, which its current occupant, a Frenchman named Cedric, has tastefully converted into a lovely flat complete with sliding doors hiding tons of storage (and what a relief it was to know that my extensive collection of clothes will have their own space!). He has even attempted to create a sort of fake brickwork pattern on the breakfast bar that gave us some unreasonable nostalgia for our flat in London. It was made to be...
We had to put up a fight though – this kind of flat comes with a long list of people ready to outbid you. In the end what closed the deal for us was that... I am French! French monkeys 1 – English rats 0 on the flathunting front!
So anyway, after three months we will build a door in the wall that will lead into unit 16B, and make room for a master bedroom that will take the flat to a comfy 1000sqft, at a real bargain price. And that’s not all! Not only are there great sea views from the flat, but the view is even more amazing from... our roof terrace! It’s about 1500sqft in total and has lots of plants and furniture and even a hammock. More importantly though, for Krusty, it has a BBQ... and his dreams of cocktails and grilled steak in his own garden have finally come true. We know where we’ll be having the housewarming party.
So you see, a little dried seafood is a very small price to pay to live here, especially after seeing some tiny rabbit holes that could have been ours for even more rent per month. We got lucky. Something to do with the Year of the Rat...?!
Now we just can’t wait to move in. And not to sound too spoilt, but it’s not just because I miss cooking and washing my own clothes – I am NOT impressed with Le Meridien. It is far from the centre yet has a shuttle service that you have to pay for, the bathrooms inexplicably smell of urine all day long, the swimming pool and sauna are closed for maintenance, the food is outrageously priced and not only does room service come with a hefty price tag but there is also a delivery fee (what are you supposed to do, pick it up yourself?!), it is supposed to be a hi-tech hotel but the internet costs a bomb and disconnects every three minutes... AND they forgot to give us our wake up calls twice! I’ll be doing some completely justified whingeing on the ‘Suggestion’ card just to vent my hotel rage.
Of course, the roof terrace now also makes me want to find a job that I can do from home... Nonetheless I also had two interviews last week. One was with a publishing agency that is a sister company of an agency I worked for in London a while ago. The offices were funky, industrial yet cosy, with stickers like ‘the number 2 source of hot air in this office’ on the hand dryer in the bathroom. I thought I had a good chance, too – I had experience working with their sister company, I came with two good recommendations, I was available immediately... My interviewer was kind and friendly, and I was just thinking I would love to work there when the worst thing happened – I was told that they would love me to work for them but that they actually have no jobs at the moment... At least they suggested some freelance opportunities to apply for from my hammock until they find something suitable for me, and to be honest this freelancing idea is sounding more and more appealing. As long as someone finally takes a chance on me one day!
For the second interview I felt that I needed to play the style card. The company produces deliciously quirky travel guides with no pictures, just succinct and witty spot-on reviews of major cities across the world. As they have extensive beauty listings in their guides, I thought I should prepare myself in terms of stylishness by taking advantage of one of HK’s many exciting treatments on offer – I submitted my grubby stubby excuses of bitten fingernails to a manicure. I felt so girly it was embarrassing and I almost felt like I should hide on the way out in case someone spotted me. People have already commented on the nails though, and as there’s no hiding the ends of your fingers short of wearing gloves all day, I’ll just have to face up to my moment of weakness and live up to my pretensions to being a woman...
The interview went well, not least because my friend Victor is good friends with the MD and put in a good word for me beforehand. Said MD was fabulous to listen to and his camp discourse was perfectly accompanied by his coiffed grey hair, beige cashmere clothes, tortoise shell spectacles and leather cufflinks. It made the fact he was telling me that working for him meant sacrificing everything seem enchanting. He was basically saying that he wanted a slave, but it made me want to get up, find a computer and start writing for him. Not that this seems likely ever to happen though – they made it very clear that I would need to find myself a visa, by any means necessary other than asking them to apply for one...
So the flat hunt is over, but the search for the perfect job that is actually willing to have me continues. Until then, I suppose you want to see some photos, eh? Well alright then, here you go... Here's a random selection of scenes from our week, including some stolen shots of the flat (that's my excuse for the rubbish composition, anyway) and some ideas of what our street looks like! See if you can The Girl with the Pearl Earring...!
Two flights of stairs lead you up off the street into the belly of the building, where a small Chinese man shiftily smokes a cigarette on his stool. The first time I visited it I got slightly worried about the number of Philippinas coming in and out of the lifts and starting wondering if one of the ‘trades’ in the building would be one I would come to regret moving in next to, but as the lift opened on the 4th floor I was reassured – there is no brothel here, just a Christian mission. Me and my shameful Western prejudice...
The flat is on the last and 16th floor and is made up of two business ‘units’ of 750sqft each. For the first three months we will be living in 16C, which its current occupant, a Frenchman named Cedric, has tastefully converted into a lovely flat complete with sliding doors hiding tons of storage (and what a relief it was to know that my extensive collection of clothes will have their own space!). He has even attempted to create a sort of fake brickwork pattern on the breakfast bar that gave us some unreasonable nostalgia for our flat in London. It was made to be...
We had to put up a fight though – this kind of flat comes with a long list of people ready to outbid you. In the end what closed the deal for us was that... I am French! French monkeys 1 – English rats 0 on the flathunting front!
So anyway, after three months we will build a door in the wall that will lead into unit 16B, and make room for a master bedroom that will take the flat to a comfy 1000sqft, at a real bargain price. And that’s not all! Not only are there great sea views from the flat, but the view is even more amazing from... our roof terrace! It’s about 1500sqft in total and has lots of plants and furniture and even a hammock. More importantly though, for Krusty, it has a BBQ... and his dreams of cocktails and grilled steak in his own garden have finally come true. We know where we’ll be having the housewarming party.
So you see, a little dried seafood is a very small price to pay to live here, especially after seeing some tiny rabbit holes that could have been ours for even more rent per month. We got lucky. Something to do with the Year of the Rat...?!
Now we just can’t wait to move in. And not to sound too spoilt, but it’s not just because I miss cooking and washing my own clothes – I am NOT impressed with Le Meridien. It is far from the centre yet has a shuttle service that you have to pay for, the bathrooms inexplicably smell of urine all day long, the swimming pool and sauna are closed for maintenance, the food is outrageously priced and not only does room service come with a hefty price tag but there is also a delivery fee (what are you supposed to do, pick it up yourself?!), it is supposed to be a hi-tech hotel but the internet costs a bomb and disconnects every three minutes... AND they forgot to give us our wake up calls twice! I’ll be doing some completely justified whingeing on the ‘Suggestion’ card just to vent my hotel rage.
Of course, the roof terrace now also makes me want to find a job that I can do from home... Nonetheless I also had two interviews last week. One was with a publishing agency that is a sister company of an agency I worked for in London a while ago. The offices were funky, industrial yet cosy, with stickers like ‘the number 2 source of hot air in this office’ on the hand dryer in the bathroom. I thought I had a good chance, too – I had experience working with their sister company, I came with two good recommendations, I was available immediately... My interviewer was kind and friendly, and I was just thinking I would love to work there when the worst thing happened – I was told that they would love me to work for them but that they actually have no jobs at the moment... At least they suggested some freelance opportunities to apply for from my hammock until they find something suitable for me, and to be honest this freelancing idea is sounding more and more appealing. As long as someone finally takes a chance on me one day!
For the second interview I felt that I needed to play the style card. The company produces deliciously quirky travel guides with no pictures, just succinct and witty spot-on reviews of major cities across the world. As they have extensive beauty listings in their guides, I thought I should prepare myself in terms of stylishness by taking advantage of one of HK’s many exciting treatments on offer – I submitted my grubby stubby excuses of bitten fingernails to a manicure. I felt so girly it was embarrassing and I almost felt like I should hide on the way out in case someone spotted me. People have already commented on the nails though, and as there’s no hiding the ends of your fingers short of wearing gloves all day, I’ll just have to face up to my moment of weakness and live up to my pretensions to being a woman...
The interview went well, not least because my friend Victor is good friends with the MD and put in a good word for me beforehand. Said MD was fabulous to listen to and his camp discourse was perfectly accompanied by his coiffed grey hair, beige cashmere clothes, tortoise shell spectacles and leather cufflinks. It made the fact he was telling me that working for him meant sacrificing everything seem enchanting. He was basically saying that he wanted a slave, but it made me want to get up, find a computer and start writing for him. Not that this seems likely ever to happen though – they made it very clear that I would need to find myself a visa, by any means necessary other than asking them to apply for one...
So the flat hunt is over, but the search for the perfect job that is actually willing to have me continues. Until then, I suppose you want to see some photos, eh? Well alright then, here you go... Here's a random selection of scenes from our week, including some stolen shots of the flat (that's my excuse for the rubbish composition, anyway) and some ideas of what our street looks like! See if you can The Girl with the Pearl Earring...!
22 February 2008
It's all coming back to me
I’ve been having a few flashbacks, mainly due to smells – they don’t call it the fragrant harbour for nothing. Here are few things I remember from the first time around, and how they compare to today’s Hong Kong:
The heat – I remember a sweltering oven. Perhaps because we have arrived in February, or rather because this is the coldest weather HK has experienced in the last 40 years, it is actually colder than in London at the moment. Just my luck. (Don’t worry, I’ll be complaining about how hot it is before you know it.)
The cockroaches – Never have I seen such shiny, long, crunchy creatures as those that I encountered last time I was here. But I haven’t seen any so far... It looks like SARS did a lot to clean HK up, from encouragement to wash your hands to more frequent hosing down of the pavements. There are even automatically flushing toilets!
The toilets – I remember disgusting toilets with no one flushing them for fear of actually touching anything. Most toilets are now relatively clean and the automatic flushing is a godsend. Would be nice for the trend to extend to every single bathroom on the island though, as it makes the bad examples even worse to put up with...
The shuffling, the snuffling and the spitting – Girls continue to shuffle along dragging their feet, and many continue to hack up their flegm and spit it out in the middle of the streets or, more notably, in the toilet next to which we were sitting in the plane. This time I am determined to get to the bottom of this phenomenon – laziness, impoliteness or just a tradition that I am unaware of?
The birds – I had completely forgotten about the circling black eared kites. Probably the most serene thing in HK and they are just outside my window all day. Very relaxing.
The service – I had also completely forgotten how your plate is immediately removed from under your nose as soon as you have finished, even if your fellow diners have not. It will take me a while to get used to that again. Or maybe I should just start eating really slowly.
The islands - I knew there were many, but I had forgotten that HK = 260 islands in total! It's huge! We'll have to jump on a ferry this weekend and start checking them out. Come back sunshine!
The heat – I remember a sweltering oven. Perhaps because we have arrived in February, or rather because this is the coldest weather HK has experienced in the last 40 years, it is actually colder than in London at the moment. Just my luck. (Don’t worry, I’ll be complaining about how hot it is before you know it.)
The cockroaches – Never have I seen such shiny, long, crunchy creatures as those that I encountered last time I was here. But I haven’t seen any so far... It looks like SARS did a lot to clean HK up, from encouragement to wash your hands to more frequent hosing down of the pavements. There are even automatically flushing toilets!
The toilets – I remember disgusting toilets with no one flushing them for fear of actually touching anything. Most toilets are now relatively clean and the automatic flushing is a godsend. Would be nice for the trend to extend to every single bathroom on the island though, as it makes the bad examples even worse to put up with...
The shuffling, the snuffling and the spitting – Girls continue to shuffle along dragging their feet, and many continue to hack up their flegm and spit it out in the middle of the streets or, more notably, in the toilet next to which we were sitting in the plane. This time I am determined to get to the bottom of this phenomenon – laziness, impoliteness or just a tradition that I am unaware of?
The birds – I had completely forgotten about the circling black eared kites. Probably the most serene thing in HK and they are just outside my window all day. Very relaxing.
The service – I had also completely forgotten how your plate is immediately removed from under your nose as soon as you have finished, even if your fellow diners have not. It will take me a while to get used to that again. Or maybe I should just start eating really slowly.
The islands - I knew there were many, but I had forgotten that HK = 260 islands in total! It's huge! We'll have to jump on a ferry this weekend and start checking them out. Come back sunshine!
19 February 2008
Honkers Bonkers
We've been here for a week now, so I am taking advantage of feeling too squeasy to flathunt today to post my first entry on our new blog. Of course, I would love to say that my inability to leave the room is down to some dodgy dim sum, but unfortunately I think the culprit might be the unreasonable quantities of white wine consumed during our big Hong Kong reunion on Saturday night...
Anyway, after recovering from our leaving party (that other wine-fuelled bonanza) and managing to remove a glass splinter from my foot that I don’t remember actually getting in the first place, the flight went relatively smoothly. I managed to nod off (literally) every so often, waking up to Krusty doing lunges in the aisle with his noise cancelling headphones on saying, louder than necessary, 'this is just great for my circulation'. But, as embarrassing as this was, I still felt serene and glad to be rid of the heavy task of packing.
In fact I was abnormally calm and the whole adventure felt worryingly natural, as if I was coming full circle for the first time in my life. I wasn't at all excited, rather almost numb, but Krusty was cute enough to explain that this is because now we are each other's homes, and we don't need four walls and a roof to feel settled and comfortable. A comment at least as cheesy as a slice of camembert, I feel, but then I do enjoy a good bit of runny fromage...
Only problem is that we do still need new walls to house our coupled cheesiness here in HK. The year of the rat might just mean that we will have to live underground in a sewer-like environment, scavenging for scraps of uneaten Chinese food because so far I have seen a whole range of risible choices. One flat only had room to fit a sofa bed which, once unfolded, made it impossible to open or close the front door. And that cost £1,000/month! Another flat didn't have a kitchen and my surprise at this fact was brushed off by the estate agent with a cold and serious 'nobody cooks in Hong Kong'. My mistake...
A long string of other inconveniently tiny and impractically thought-out hovels were on the list, and I am now at the point where my faith in finding something acceptable is running out. As Krusty’s friend suggested, perhaps we should turn things around and completely ride out the ridicule of the situation by renting the tiniest flat we can find and filling it with a giant cuddly toy in the shape of an elephant, which we will never, ever talk about...
Of course the grim flat hunt hasn’t been made any easier by the fact that we have been put up in Le Meridien for the first couple of weeks. The room is huge, the sheets made of Egyptian cotton and the view out of the floor to ceiling windows offers us the sea, the mountain and a glimpse of the Royalton, where I lived the first time around. Perhaps we can just live here for a few years and just ‘forget’ to pay the bill? Well, at least the rest of the cost of living is quite cheap - I got myself an 'Octopus' card when I arrived and charged it up with about £10. A week of dashing around town later I am only down to £8.50! Same for my pay as you go mobile - I have only spent £2 so far, and I am almost surgically attached to the phone...
On the job front, I had an interview the morning after we arrived. Not ideal, but I wasn’t about to refuse an offer to work...until I got there. I first had my doubts when I had to fill in a form that finished with an evaluation grid which asked me to score myself on things like Attitude, Aggressiveness and Leadership (all essential editorial qualities, I am sure). Three hours and a half of interviewing and testing later, including an hour in a tiny cubicle armed with a 1990 PC and a floppy disk, I knew that not only could I not work in that environment, but that the subject matter of the magazine – jewellery – was best left to the imagination and fantasies of engagement rings. Who knew diamonds could be so boring?
Unfortunately they really put me on the spot by actually offering me the job right then and there, and I had to invent an impending business trip to explain why I couldn’t start that Monday... I felt terrible turning work down when I am of course unemployed, but I didn’t really want to take the first job that came along just for the sake of it. And of course it was a great ego boost – if I can get a job the day after my arrival, completely jet lagged and uninterested, then surely I’ll be OK to find something more exciting once I have settled in? I have two more interviews lined up this week, so fingers crossed they’ll like me too!
In an attempt to make myself feel better after turning down a job and not finding anywhere to live, I decided to drop in to see the bookshop where I worked eight years ago. The girls don't seemed to have aged one day, and it was so lovely to see their reactions to this ghost from the past walking through their door. Madeline has lost none of her outstanding generosity - she even gave me a ticket to see a play by Beckett that she couldn't attend that night, allowing me to surprise Marc, Julie and Jesse who thought the seat would be empty. As I waited for them in the HK Cultural Centre, my racing heart made the entire metallic rail vibrate. This was the first time that I had felt anticipation since leaving the UK, and I have no idea why I was so scared to see them. It was totally unjustified, too. I was so pleased once they arrived... Marc couldn't get over how English I had become. I am still trying to figure out what it is I am doing different!
Anyway, after a few more jam-packed days and one in Macau to get Krusty’s visa stamped, we met up with the old HK gang on Saturday to celebrate Cyrielle’s birthday. The arrival was a little shaky as I had completely forgotten how to be sociable, but then we took our shoes off, had an Egyptian meal on cushions on the floor and had a fabulous time. The whole group was there minus two, so it really was like going back in time. It’s just so reassuring to already have a social network in place and people to enjoy HK with or call in case of emergencies (such as sudden urges to shop, for example).
Now, if only I can find a way to ship all the people I love over from the rest of the world, we could all live happily ever after in this surreal, exotic bubble...
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