PSA

People of Hong Kong,
Do not attempt to bleach your hair.
Do you really want to be the Chinese version of this?

I thought not.
Love,
schmeeve

Lan Kwai Fong

[ right now I’m missing Dredg… dammit ]
Dinner last night in Lan Kwai Fong which was described to me as “where lots of ex-pats hang out.”
“Ohhh!! White people!” I chortled.
Along with it’s neighbor SoHo, it can pass for any bar-lined American street where frat boys long to share their chlamydia with some girl who thought it was a good idea to go out on dollar Pabst night.



Some random others (think these were around Stanley…)

Hong Kong Sanity

Sick? A Chubber?

Mmmmm… Chewey

Chow last night with 17 co-workers, my only requirements were no chicken feet or drunken chicken (of which the major point seems to be gnawing the bones for delicious marrow.)
Of much interest is what the white boy would eat. No one would eat until I’d sampled whatever was placed in front of me, which greatly fucked with my OCD: I usually must pick through and identify all the bits before throwing anything down my gullet.
The only oddities included shark fin soup, which wasn’t bad — but somewhere between motor oil and wallpaper paste on the consistency scale. Next up: jellyfish, which didn’t have much taste per se. If you want the experience and the store’s fresh outta jellyfish, just do a rough chop on your sack (yeah, that one) and saute lightly in sesame oil.
The whole dinner consisted of about 10 courses, and was really quite delicious. I must say there’s some spectacular cuisine to be had here, including the “beef doughnuts” I had last Saturday night.
Tonight had Indian, as my colleague has some whacky dietary restrictions/superstition on Friday which I don’t pretend to understand. (Hell, Indians get superstitious about breathing.) We ended up in Wan Chai, where I learned that street numbers mean basically nothing. (In Japan, they’re numbered in the order in which they were built. Same here? F if I know.) The dal and dosa were delicious though!
Saturday tomorrow, which means a half day of work, since these people are masochist… I mean, SOOOO hard working. I can tell by the many MickeyD’s and KFC’s that given another decade Hong Kong will enjoy the same obese lethargy that makes America USA USA USA #1! Saturday will take it’s proper place: hang-over recovery day.
Oh, I found a relatively uncrowded supermarket today and picked up a few things. Smooth sailing until I wanted oatmeal — my choices included “drinkable” oatmeal or two flavors: chicken & mushroom or anchovy. I passed.

Crikey!

This apartment came complete with teddy bear sheets and sand-paper towels, so of course the first thing I did was scurry out and acquire new — a hair-raising experience as shopping anywhere here is akin to a European soccer riot.
The place was cleaned today, the lil’ darling even sweet enough to pick up my dirty socks from the floor (charmed, I’m sure) and fold them into neat piles arranged by hue. (Or is it crustiness?)
Anyway, they absconded with my $250 worth of new sheets and towels! I’m back to the sand-paper, my bed now sporting a bi-polar nautical/sunflower theme.
Tomorrow: I brave the supermarket! Edge of yer seat, ain’tcha?

Oh, Kylie!