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Published: August 9th 2007
Sweatin'Stlye in Hong Kong
My first time to Asia, and boy I chose the wrong time of year. Fifteen hours by plane with a hussle cross Joberg airport left my heart behind in Cape Town along with my sobriety and journal. The sun rose somewhere over the Indian Ocean and brought me to Hong Kong through clouds mirroring the islands below as they spotted my descent. Everything here is new, nothing is familiar. New faces, new languages, new culture and religion, new foliage, new buildings, new terrain. New heat. The hummidity is oppressive. I optomistically opted to walk from the MTR (tube) station to the building where I would meet my Hong Kong host, only a few blocks away, rather than pay the HK15$ taxi fee, I like to see the city when I first arrive... The thing was, since Id been in Hong Kong (approximately 2.5hrs) I had not felt the open air. I arrived, walked directly into the airport express train and up the escalators right into a mall rather than out to the taxi stand. I am sure if I had hopped into the conveniently placed taxis I wouldnt have had enough air time to feel the
bomb that would later render me a sopping wet pink sausage. You know the condensation I mean when they come out of the fridge, a sweaty pink sausage. So I proceeded to walk three blocks, passed versace, armani, dolce and gabana, to meet my host in a sweaty pink mess, not sweet pink, sweaty pink. Sweaty sweaty, lovely. But changing in the bathroom of a Starbucks to the delightment of a little lady chuckling away in cantonese was the least of my worries. I hadnt had time admist all the sweating to realize that no matter what I put on it would in no way matter as I would still look like Tarzan, both physically and fashionably while walking along side the women, and men, of stylish Hong Kong. And that is even without my pack. Yes this city is a walking fashion show, vogue on legs! Skinny petitte legs at that. Even the t-shirt and jeans worn by the most basic city goers is fancier or more put together than what id been wearing out to party for the last few months. Shit man, and I thought London was hard to keep up with, but at least I can
So many steps...
I thought that they were pretty at the begining. And then they came and I climbed and they came again and I climbed and climbed and lets just say they were so steep that going down was not the easy part!get away with an oddly matched top and some less than perfect hair when Im there. My last stay in England I actually thought I looked quite cute, my little pink connies, white shorts and flowy light pink top with a little lacy design. But I've had to shed a few things since London, including cute shoes, and I don't think those would even help me when it comes to the level of cuteness the girls of Hong Kong uphold. I mean damn, really. I'm not 'cute' anyways! Curvacious and vuluptious and damn proud of that yes, but who wants to carry vuluptuous around in 32 degrees Celcius with enough humidity to turn a polar bear into a massive pink sausage! Global warming (and yes I know its climate change but global warming goes with what im saying here😉 means nothing, just get the giant Po Lin Buddha to hold one fan south and one fan North and start flapping and you got the whole world as a fucking sauna! I spent my first day, 'fresh' off the plane, walking around in circles on the elevated walk ways with cute shoes, cute shirts cute frilly tops and matching cute accessories
shocking me with fashion police tazers each time a cute little Hong Kong girl walked by (and with the population of Hong Kongs streets it was like wildebeests migrating in luis vitton and channel!) And thats the thing about Hong Kong Island eh. You get stuck walking around in circles on the elevated walkways that only take you to another shopping centre and you can't leave because the second you walk out onto a street you are suffocated by the heat and humidity and you start to sweat again making you stick out even more, Tarzan having just swung in from his afternoon workout up and down the nile, without having taken a bath. But honestly, his tanned naked body and loin cloth look better than me that first day!
At any rate my Hong Kong experience will only dance around the shame of looking like Tarzan for a few embarrassing hours. For if you jump on the tube as far as it will go, and then onto a bus as far as it will go, and then into a taxi to somewhere called Shan Liu Ha Low, walk up and then down a little path, you will find yourself
Buddha Buddha
I think I can I think I can I think I can..... after my 5 hour excursion to the waterfalls I ambitiously climbed around 500 steps to see all the Buddhas! in a comfortable 3 storey air conditioned home with expansive ocean views spotted with islands and empty beaches and a rooftop terrace to view it from. And that is exactly where I stayed while in Hong Kong.
EX-Pat Party
I had a great revelation while traveling home late on my last night in Hong Kong. I realized that I had found 'where I belong.' Well at least in one sense and one category, as I definitely have lots of places and different criteria and categories. Anyways, I realized a pattern in my travels, the Ex-pat party. Yes, many of you will understand what I mean by this, many of you simply are this. Let me explain a little. Out in Sai Kung, on the East coast of Hong Kong New Territories, I found my self in a little pub called Dudley's, or something along those lines, drinking a pint of larger, listening to bohemian raphsody and Robbie whatever his name is amongst a lot of red roasted old men with rural English accents. When the Old Man Jam Band came on and the drinks began to flow more heavily I said to myself, yes, I have stumbled
upon it once again, the Ex-pat party.
This party is everywhere, persistent pint guzzlers since th 1950s and the begining of the end of the British Empire. The Irish Pub is nothing but a chain tourist gag i comparison to the hardcore living that goes on in these communities all round the world. And although they appear racous and embarrassing, perhaps there is disdain, I quite enjoy myself. Scratch that, I always enjoy myself. And so, where ever I might travel, even though I am always enjoying and looking for the cultural experience history and tradition, I always keep and eye out for my ex-pat party and a pint or two, or five!
Nudie Nudie sitting on a rock! Nudie Nudie going for a walk!
Oh the joys of getting lost in a tiny village in the midle of the Southern Chinese jungle! Well, almost. After one day of tiredly walking around Hong Kong city, then the next just lazing around a small fishing village swimming in the warm waters, I decided to go on a little excursion. Feeling quite ambitious, encouraged by a hikers guide to Hong Kong, I got on a the Kowloon East Railway,
took it waaaaay out to Tai Wo, then hopped on a bus for 30 minutes or so and stepped off to find myself on a road with nothing but jungle all around me. The guide books beginning details, which I had copied down on a scratch of paper had been less than accurate, and less than helpful at this moment. Sweating but still very enthusiastic, I started up the only side road there was. Eventually I found myself in the village I presumed was the one I was looking for, standing in the square I presumed was the centre. But there was no yellow sign, and it certainly didn't look like any trails around, or Buddhist monastery's that were supposed to head off the hike. After walking through various fields, down small paths behind houses and into there yards, chicken coops, dog beds and dead ends I told myself to be optimistic, that even if I had to go home without a walk it wa still an adventure and I had still sweat plenty!
Guarded with a makeshift pack, a plastic bag wrapped round my waist with a sarong and filled with apples camera swimsuit and change of clothes for
the later trip into the city, for I would not look a Tarzan mess this time, I decided that I would just walk up, this hike had to be up, it had supposed waterfalls, waterfalls come down from somewhere. So thats what I did. And low and behold it worked! and boy was it worth it. a little nder an hour of steep climbing I reached a sign that read 'Bottom Fall.' Yes, my bottom did want to fall, to the ground and never get up again! But the sound of rushing water made sweet promises to clear the sweat and restore my shaky legs and I climbed down to that bottom fall and boy was it something. But before I rest I was determined to make it to the swimming pool promised at middle fall, secretly hoping that the extra sweat would mean my middle would fall off! And although my middle is still there a piece of my soul has been left so that I would have to space and strength to carry back with me the memory of stripping down to my nudie self and plunging in that cold water.
Laying fully natural on a rock looking
up at the clouds and the water falling behind me I listened to my soul slow down and rejuvenate. If only I lived in the tiny town of Ng Tong Jai I would do this every day. And that is the story of how you almost all lost me to the Buddhist monastery at the bottom of bottom fall.
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Rachel
non-member comment
WOW
Tesssaaa wow i am soo envious everything looks simply divine!!! i think that you just might need to do this with me when i graduate :D i just want to be in that nature!! and yes i would love to be eating breaky and a zebra to stroll up and say hi haha i think that would be incredible!! miss you tessa come visit me on the way home :) i love you muchhhhhhhooo!!!!