(Hong Kong, China 13:53.4.4.2004)
So if I'm sitting on my bed and stretch my arms -- well I can't. The room is about 5 feet wide and there is only enough floor space to accomodate my bag. The bathroom -- I measured it this morning -- is 2.5 feet by 3 feet. This means the sink is on top of the toilet. This means discovering new body positions during my shower last night (one of which included mounting one leg on top of the toilet). Crowded, uncomfortable and novel -- welcome to Hong Kong.
Hong Kong is a compressed metropolis. This means concentrated and extreme forms of everything an urban scape should have. Horrific traffic. It is also impossible to walk five paces without bumping into another person. But at night, everything changes. The noise becomes musical, the billions of people at every street corner walk in rhythm. And the buildings vie for consumer attention in a stunning neon competition.
OK, as much as I'd like to highlight the beauty of Hong Kong I have to address something more important: There are tons of Filipinos here. And they hang out like how Mexicans in LA hang out. They go to the public parks and just sit there. For hours. I went to Kowloon Park this morning and a gaggle of them spontaneously erupted in Jesus songs within 50 yards of Chinese people doing Tai Chi. "The name of my Lord is Jesus! The name of my Lord is Jesus! One more time!" I thought it disturbing, but the Chinks had their chi in focus and didn't seem to mind. Thousands of years of disciplined practice allows you to block these things out I guess. Filipinos here must occupy the lower socio-economic plane of this society, and there are institutionalized forms of racism as proof. At one park, there are signs against loitering, solicitation, littering and other minor civic transgressions in the official Chinese and (and only) Tagalog.
There are also lots of Indians here. They don't loiter nearly as much, but they do love to offer me hash and Rolexes 'for a good price my friend.' They also dye their hair wierd colors. There's this oldish Subcontinental man who was right next to me in the elevator (the simile with tuna in a can would understate the claustrophobia) and his hair was dyed the color of baby poo (after eating carrots and peanuts).
So....Hong Kong is really neat, I really like it here.
So if I'm sitting on my bed and stretch my arms -- well I can't. The room is about 5 feet wide and there is only enough floor space to accomodate my bag. The bathroom -- I measured it this morning -- is 2.5 feet by 3 feet. This means the sink is on top of the toilet. This means discovering new body positions during my shower last night (one of which included mounting one leg on top of the toilet). Crowded, uncomfortable and novel -- welcome to Hong Kong.
Hong Kong is a compressed metropolis. This means concentrated and extreme forms of everything an urban scape should have. Horrific traffic. It is also impossible to walk five paces without bumping into another person. But at night, everything changes. The noise becomes musical, the billions of people at every street corner walk in rhythm. And the buildings vie for consumer attention in a stunning neon competition.
OK, as much as I'd like to highlight the beauty of Hong Kong I have to address something more important: There are tons of Filipinos here. And they hang out like how Mexicans in LA hang out. They go to the public parks and just sit there. For hours. I went to Kowloon Park this morning and a gaggle of them spontaneously erupted in Jesus songs within 50 yards of Chinese people doing Tai Chi. "The name of my Lord is Jesus! The name of my Lord is Jesus! One more time!" I thought it disturbing, but the Chinks had their chi in focus and didn't seem to mind. Thousands of years of disciplined practice allows you to block these things out I guess. Filipinos here must occupy the lower socio-economic plane of this society, and there are institutionalized forms of racism as proof. At one park, there are signs against loitering, solicitation, littering and other minor civic transgressions in the official Chinese and (and only) Tagalog.
There are also lots of Indians here. They don't loiter nearly as much, but they do love to offer me hash and Rolexes 'for a good price my friend.' They also dye their hair wierd colors. There's this oldish Subcontinental man who was right next to me in the elevator (the simile with tuna in a can would understate the claustrophobia) and his hair was dyed the color of baby poo (after eating carrots and peanuts).
So....Hong Kong is really neat, I really like it here.
