Bring The Rain

We arrive at Hong Kong airport. It's raining. It doesn't stop raining for the three days we are here:(

The fair weather is provided by Sarah. And, her Little Miss Sunshine - Katie:)

We take a train into the city. Ask a taxi driver to take us to 'Lobinson Do'. That's apparently Mandarin for Robinson Road. Arrive at Sarah's apartment. She's gone up in the world. She lives on the 19th floor.

A blonde boy with a familiar face answers the door. It's Sarah! She has a new short haircut. Think Twiggy. With a silent T...Just joking. She is glowing in the way only new mothers can.

We meet six-month old Katie. She is baby commercial beautiful. Big blue eyes and a whisp of blonde hair. I could eat her toes. Sarah bravely tells us of Katie's recent health scare, while the happy ending sits on her lap. Katie is happiness personified and will melt hearts for many years to come. I want one. As long as I can only keep it for Christmas:)

The babysitter arrives. Sarah is engaged to him. Mark is from somewhere called north of Watford. I can barely understand his foreign tongue:) Mark is fitter than a butcher dog's fiddle. He has returned from playing a game called sport. He is built for rugby but plays football. Unfortunately, an admininstrative error means he has missed the cut for the International Sevens Tournament staged here. I wouldn't want to be the one that told him. A smile from Katie saves the day.

Sarah takes us out for the night. It seems the nightlife district of Wan Chai hasn't yet been returned to China. It's a playground of stylish bars for ex-pats dressed in designer clothes. I feel like Mr. Wendall. We are joined by a group of Sarah's many friends. All girls. I'm hoping the evening ends with a sleepover, facial, practice kissing and chick-flick..."Now, I've had/The the time of my life".

It doesn't. Instead, we drink Jagermeister bombs. Get drunk and call Billy. Sarah's late-night drunken calls home are infamous. Especially since it's usually lunch time in England. It's more fun being on the Eastern end of the call. Billy doesn't believe it's us. He insists it is someone impersonating the three of us!? You can't argue with logic like that.

Sunday brunch is a Hong Kong institution. I wake up feeling as if I should be commited to an institution. However, I can reccomend a champagne buffet as an excellent hangover cure.

The occasion is held at a sporting oasis surrounded by hills and high-rise buildings. The immaculate dining hall looks out over a football pitch and sports complex circled by a horse racetrack where high rollers come to gamble fortunes. It's the good life. And, we haven't seen food on this scale for months.

Over breakfast. Second breakfast. Elevenses. Brunch. A roast dinner. Afternoon tea. Dessert, and an After Eight mint - we are accompanied by sixteen of Sarah's friends and fellow teachers. I imagine their equivalents back home are eating Sunday lunch under less salubrious surroundings. The bubbles go to my head. Flo says, "You must be drunk!" It's an order I dedicate myself to for the rest of the day. I like Mark.

Watch the final games of the Premier League season. Nervously. Mark is a Sunderland supporter. Flo is a Chelsea supporter. The two teams are playing each other. If Chelsea win, Sunderland could get relegated. This would make Mark very unhappy. Two football related disappointments in one weekend means we might not have a place to stay. When Monday comes.

Fortunately, the best case scenario plays out. Chelsea win. Sunderland stay up. Newcastle go down. There's only one Alan Shearer. Thank fuck!

Mark falls asleep before the climax! I contemplate waking to him and saying Sunderland have gone down for a laugh. I don't. Like I said, he's a big bloke. He's not out of shape. And he could 'do' me for a living (if you Get Carter me)

As a sum of its parts, Hong Kong is unlike any other city in the world. But, in the mix, there are reminders of other places...

Endless stairwells. Teired towers of buildings surrounded by a green, mountainous skyline - S America.
McDonalds and mass consumerism - N America
Neon lights. Convenient planning (there's an escalator that takes you up the hill). Polluted but clean - Japan.
The indiginous population - SE Asia.
The ex-pat population (and road signs) - England.

It's still pissing down the next day. We walk from the Mid-Levels to the harbour. The view is shrouded by grey mist. Take the Star ferry to old Hong Kong, Kowloon. See rows of new expensive designer stores. Luis Vitton. Prada. Hermes. Cartier. You know that/ I am living in a material world. Fortunately, Flo isn't a material girl.

Eat at a local Chinese diner. Have to point at pictures to order. The food served actually looks better than the pictures. Wonder why we are attracting attention. Realise we have mistaken the cup warming water for tea. Waiter saves us before we drink it. There are no pictures explaining how to eat and drink.

Get a takeaway. Watch a film. The one with the mouse in it.

Last day. It's not raining! Have the ingenious idea of posting home all the clothes I should never have packed. And the new ones I have bought that would otherwise suffer a terrible fate in India. Six kilos of extra baggage. Gone. It feels satisfying in the same way that a good shit leaves you lighter on your feet.

Johnny Mac once made a shit at my house that was so enormous it refused to flush. He spent 15 minutes in the bathroom deliberating before confessing. I think he took a picture he was so proud. Then I handed him two plastic bags and a stick and told him to get to work. I'm digressing aren't I?

Anyway. Eat gourmet burgers. Savour every bite knowing we won't taste meat like this again for months. It was probably dog. Eating with intent of fattening ourselves up for India is like a skewed version of Brewster's Millions with calories. Must. Eat. More.

Clouds have cleared. Take a steep climbing tram to The Peak. See postcard panoramic views from above the congested skyscrapers protruding from the bay. Pass entrance of Madame Toussaud's. Pose with a waxed Bruce Lee. He's surprisingly small. Think I could've taken him. Flo is goosed by Mickey Mouse. Pervert!

We've been riding our luck escaping the monsoon rains for months. The weather might have caught up with us in Hong Kong. But, a glimpse of the city and way of life here, especially for raising children, leaves us wanting a second look.

It was special to meet Sarah's family. Thanks for letting us get by with a little help from our friends. Mark. You're a top man. And, Katie. As beautiful as you are. You might need to work on those conversation skills:)

And then just like that. We were gone.

---

---