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Help! I've been poisoned! Poisoned by Hong Kong; poisoned by its people; but also literally. Ah, sweet, sweet Asia...
A mere three-hour flight from Kota Kinabalu I touch down at Hong Kong International Airport. Michel is already waiting for me. It's good to have a guide. We make our way to the city centre, to the ghetto where we will spend these next few days. Hong Kong can truly be called the New York of Asia. High rise everywhere, giant skyscrapers reaching for the skies, and people scurrying in huge masses every which way. Neon billboards dot the streets, avenues, giving off an unnatural glow light up the skies. It is actually darker during the day than at night when flashes, animations and pretty colours. A buzzing, never-sleeping city.
Definitely not designed for pedestrians. Whereas in Kuala Lumpur you could just cross the street anywhere if brave enough, Hong Kong has guard rails running along the street, only opening a slight gap for pedestrian crossings; that might be spread quite far apart. It's best though to use these if you value your life. Cars race past like crazies, especially cabs, taking turns with screeching wheels. The horn is a stable part of their diet, cursing if they have to break for people. At least they do; most of the time. Underpasses, overpasses run everywhere, through buildings, shopping malls. If you want, you could get anywhere and never touch the ground. Amazing.
If we would call the southern downtown Hong Kong Island Manhattan, then just across the water - up north in Kowloon - giant Harlem can be found. This is our place. A few minutes by subway from all the glitter and glamour, designer-shops, yuppies, expats, millionaires, the buildings remind me of a dirtier version of Singapore's suburbs. Perhaps mixed with some glorious Soviet-Union dime-a-dozen designs. 10-15 storey flats, small windows, air-conditioning units for every apartment clinging on for dear life, clothes drying in the sun, and dirt. Just dirt. Everywhere. I am really glad Michel's here to guide me through this concrete maze because everything looks the same.
A few days later I do start to get my bearings, but just by remembering some small details. An ugly billboard here, live fish in a restaurant, a cute salesgirl; otherwise I still feel lost.
The weather is horrid. Hot, even more humid than down south, the dizzy, clenched heat even made worse by a completely asphalted city. The only green you see is in parks, and even then every tree, shrub is numbered, its place carefully planned by human hands. The only "raw nature" one can find in HK are the cockroaches that scurry on the streets in Kowloon. For once I am glad for the air conditioning that's all over town. Even a few minutes, just standing around, especially inside a non-air conditioned building and you just don't feel comfortable. In such warmth it is strange to see people wear masks. They look funny, like surgeons on their way home, in their hurry forgetting to undress. Hong Kong has a tick about cleanliness. Most public employees wear gloves; seats, railings are disinfected regularly and signs proclaim that this or that "has a special anti-bacterial coating". Hehe! I wonder if mass panic will break out if I cough in public without covering my mouth...
I also witnessed the first criminal act ever in Asia while being here. And a beggar. A small child looking at me with such hunger-stricken eyes it was heartbreaking. So I gave him half of my Grilled Chicken Burger. Such a rich city that taxes don't even exist, yet people beg for food. Not for drugs, or alcohol, but to eat. I b**** a lot about the Dutch government taking so much in taxes, but at least if you don't want, you don't need to go hungry. Or sleep on the street in a make-shift card-board paper box. Bad, bad points for you Hong Kong.
Around five in the morning on Saturday, after the football match we witness two youngsters running away with a purse. A girl slowly trots behind them, her high heels making it impossible to ever up. Another casualty of crime, the first similar occurrence was witnessed by Michel the day before. This is supposed to be the safest city in Asia. He. I'd like to see some small, nerd-looking Asian try stealing from me and get away. As long as I keep my hair short they probably won't even approach me :P
Which reminds me. God, I have never seen so many nerds in one place. All of the boys, men, look wimpy, chest deflated, arms like twigs. Nerdy glasses, the most horrible hair, impossible clothing and all of them playing on their PSP, Gameboy, or whatever. Half the time I - and Michel agrees with me - can't make out if they're male or female. WTF? What's going on here? Michel in comparison looks like a professional body builder. I wonder how come chicks dig these boys. There's probably no alternative...
Michel's apartment is really small. I think even smaller than my kitchen, not even 10m2. And this is including the bathroom/toilet/sink. A small TV is cramped in but doesn't have much function. You don't want to spend more time inside than necessary. The two of us barely fit in here, have to "hold in our belly" as we pass each other in-out of the showlet - remember the word? ;) - and I really wonder how there'll be space for Remko as well in a few days. But let's worry about that later.
Back to the interesting part. The poisoning. Hong Kong is so much different from Kuala Lumpur. The people: they are terrible. Everywhere you look you see grumpy Cantonese, not a single smile on their face. As we come home from the airport I greet the bus driver. No nod, no return greeting, not even an acknowledgement of appreciation by a flicker of his eyes. Nothing. Just staring blankly ahead. Arrogant b******.
As the people on the streets flock to the shops, restaurants, they are only concerned with themselves. Sometimes looking up but only of absolute necessity, or maybe a bit of curiosity - I can't discern - you can see they don't care, you can taste their arrogance and the air of "superiority" of the wealthy. I feel cold; ignored. I can't imagine how one could live here as a westerner. How can the lure of money be so huge to be able to put up with this. Truly the New York of Asia...
Could it be a mask? A western style behaviour to shield yourself? When caught off guard, at night, alone, a faint smile can still be seen. People are still curious, wave back, giggle. Of course it's the normal middle-class I'm talking about, for the "prada chicks" - as Michel calls the richer women in Hong Kong Island, I would need at least a $10.000 rolex watch and matching suit to even get some acknowledgement of my existence. Well; f***'em.
I'm a bit disappointed by Hong Kong.
As my plane arrives around six in the evening on the Friday we drop off our bags and go on a tour. We hop onto one of the myriad double-decker busses cruising the city and enjoy the view. The buzz of activity, the lights, the billboards, they really make this city feel alive. Especially at night it is a sight to behold, everything flashing, moving, one could go epileptic here. But it's pretty. We too are attracted to pretty lights and they do make for excellent photos. Especially taking the tourist ferry from the northern island to Central. For just HKD 2 this is an amazing view of the waterfront. Amazing architecture occupied by huge corporations, insurance companies, and offices of Philips, Samsung, Deutsche Bank; all advertise themselves at the financial centre of Asia. Most even animate the lights on the buildings making you keep watching forever. The biggest sight however is the Batman. As I don't have internet now I can't tell which bank owns it - maybe Bank of China - but this is the building that Batman infiltrated in the second movie, where the bad Chinese guy took refuge. It's the silly things that we remember :)
Holland is playing against Brazil tonight so we are off to find a pub. Obviously - this happens to me all the time - we head for the red-light district. Cougars invite me into their clubs, some by forcibly grabbing my arm, trying to pull me in, scantily dressed girls show what awaits inside. I also spot the first Europeans of the day. Most of them are big, fat, balding English men; each accompanied by an Asian girl, one more slutty than the other. So utterly disgusting. Even if some could be truly their girlfriends which I is a possibility, it's not normal to be with someone less than half your age. Beauty and the Beast. The horny, follow-your-dick, disgusting, pathetic beast. Most of the girls barely reach the man's shoulder, and they cling onto them like a teenager in love. I know the Asian type likes Europeans, but seeing it this obviously just makes me want to vomit. How can men do this? Ugh! But it gets even better...
We watch the game, we win surprisingly! All the fatty English cheer for Brazil. Ha, good for them! We stroll around a bit more, soak in the evening ambience, avoiding the cougars, ridiculing the white male but make our way back to our night cage. I haven't really slept since Thursday so it'll be good to get some rest. Tired, eyes intermittently closing we take the air conditioned elevator up to the seventh floor. Michel tries opening the door, the lock yields but nothing happens. The door's stuck, we cannot enter. Great. We try for a few more minutes but to no avail. As it's already past midnight there is nobody to call. We have to occupy ourselves till the morning. He. We try making our way back to Hong Kong Island, but the subway is already closed, there is no ferry and the night busses are some mythical magical being according to my friend, so we decide on walking. About 5km down near the entertainment area of Kowloon, some pubs should be open so we can watch the 2:30 football game. Like zombies we walk the streets for more than an hour. Most streets are deserted, just taxis race by, but the neon-lights still glow vividly. I retract my words. This isn't New York; just some cheap rip-off.
We finally find a place and sit down, wait for the match to begin. Something vs. Ghana I think, I have no idea as I slip in and out of consciousness. Five o'clock. We drag ourselves back home over the next hour and sit down in the restaurant next to our apartment. Owned by Michel's uncle he'll know what to do once he arrives. It does take an awful long time. Or maybe not, I don't know, I can't really think straight anymore. First we try opening the door again, then more forcefully, but to no avail. So we call a lock-smith and wait. Or sleep. No, I think just wait. Finally, just before eight we can enter and I drop on the bed exhausted. Sleeping...
Not for long. I don't know if it's the fatigue, the beer I had to during the football game, the sleep-deprivation or that horribly disgusting fish-ball soup on Friday night, but my stomach really doesn't like it. I throw up once, twice, a few hours later again accompanied with that substance less brown slurry out my butt and as I finally wake up around four in the afternoon I feel horrible. My stomach is feeling uneasy, my head hurts, I think even have a fever, and I barely have the strength to move my arms. Great. Hong Kong. Thank you. F U C K.
It's needless to say Saturday was a total waste. I do go outside just to do something but I can hardly get anything in, totally listless. At least it's not food poisoning. I think. What does that look like? On Sunday I'm a bit better, maybe the aspirin I took last night helped. I also stick to sterile food, no more adventures for now. This to the great pleasure of Michel who shares the clean-fetish of the fellow Cantonese around here. We visit the Asian fast-food chain 'Cafe de Coral' where Michel ecstatically gives a detailed account of how sterile the food preparation is. I also enter a McDonalds for the first time in at least a year. Fine, because I have to. But once I'm better I'm not setting another food in these establishments. Nor Burger King. Or anything that resembles fast-food.
I think I'll survive though. Sunday is still a bit cautious but I know I have to eat, drink, to strengthen and I've had no toiletry adventures since that fatal day yesterday morning. We venture out into the city, now to explore it during in daylight.
A total transformation has taken place. Every overpass, park, pedestrian walkway is filled to the brim by women. Just overnight Hong Kong Island has become little-Philippines. Maids, workers, nannies, cleaners, this is their only day off. The rest of the week they work for the wealthy but Sunday they flock together to eat, play games and gossip. Such nice people, real Asia is back. They smile back, make small talk and are ever so friendly. I like the Sunday Hong Kong!
We take the longest moving stairs in the world up in SoHo, sweating even though we do nothing. Truly worth a visit.... being sarcastic, yes.
Things will get much better tomorrow. We're taking the ferry to Macao on Monday. Maybe even get filthy rich so Michel can score his "Prada chick". Ha, yeah, right! At least we'll definitely have a few more stamps in our passports, some souvenir Macau Patacas and a magnet to be added to my ever growing collection...
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