Hong Kong - Nov 2nd 06

Hong Kong, for me, has always been somewhere replete with exotitude (a new word that I’ve just made up). A notion, perhaps, maybe more so than a real place that I ever thought I’d get to see. Yet here I am.

My Mum has been here on a couple of trips, my Dad has dropped in from time to time on that high seas and my cousin Donald was high up in the tourist board here when it was a bastion of Britishness, a legacy from the Opium Wars hundred’s of years before. The same wars in which, much as we now sanction countries in our own way when we disagree with them, the Chinese Emperor of the time put an embargo on rhubarb from China to the UK. Rhubarb being a powerful, natural, laxative was very important to the bottoms of the British citizen. Imagine his council of war…

“Mighty emperor, son of the son, greatest ruler of all, I have an idea!”

“Pray tell what may that be, my noble minister of war?”

[Ned voice] “Hows about we stop the rhubarb trade and that way they cannae shite and stuff, and they’re all bloated and sore like and when they come tae fighting us they’re like – Naw Man! Cannae fight! Need tae shite!”

“Truly you are a philosopher of war as wise as Sun Tzu. That is what we shall do”.

In a way they could’ve been called the Rhubarb, or Laxative, Wars.

Anyway, here I am sat cross legged on a nice hard bed in a tiny tangerine coloured bedroom. Moisture has made much of the paint peel in the room, so there is a large painting propped up against the wall to try and make it seem somewhat more dignified.

I’m not bothered actually. When I got in yesterday I was so tired and pooped, I was just glad to see a bed. It’s actually a rather nice wee flat, with a mysterious room up through some stairs in to the kitchen and beyond, near the roof. That needs to be explored later. When I’m not just in my pants.

Flying here was a doddle. Air New Zealand are great, exceptionally tasty food, very fine wine and a movie choice system like you’ve never seen before. Judging by the majority of the movies you could chose from there seem to be a lot of older ladies who watch channel five of an afternoon that go to New Zealand… But there were many great films on there too. I was tempted to watch all three Lord Of The Rings movies in one go, but in the end plumped for X Men –Last Stand and flailing around trying to sleep on the row of seats that I had all to myself.

The train to the city is faster than almost anything I’ve been on before, and so smooth. Just imagine travelling between Gourock and Glasgow on a bullet train. “This is Bishopton. The next stop is Port Glasgow. Hoad on tae yer horses. Here we go.” ZOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOooooOOOooooooOooom!

Bonnie and Sean, with whom I’m going to be working, met me at the train station. Taxis here are great. You see them speeding about all over the place with their boots half open, stuffed with suitcases. Of course, the taxi driver that took us to this residence started to talk (in Cantonese) about how nice the Scots were, how they aren’t afraid of hard work, and that they weren’t feart of Communism, not like the Londoners. A top man.

The scaffolding here has to be seen to be believed. It’s all bamboo! Hundreds of meters of vertically inclined bamboo. Apparently the builders just dot about it like nobody’s business, not wearing a harness or anything. No wonder they don’t need laxatives here.

As you walk the streets you see all sorts of sites, it’s a bit like Blade Runner without the rain.

All sorts of meats hang from hooks in exotic looking fast food restaurants, I saw tripe just dangling from a hook above a hot steaming wok, and that’s the least out of the ordinary thing.

After Bonnie, Sean and I had dined last night in a local Vietnamese establishment, I nipped back to the flat, changed and went for a stroll around the neighbourhood. It’s all very high rise and fast paced, even at ten or eleven at night. Oh I’m still a country boy at heart.

A warm wind blew through the streets, smelling sweetly of noodles and I found myself the only western looking individual within eyeshot. That was a first for me. How British I looked, with a pinky orange smart t shirt, shorts and trainers with no socks on. I thought “Hello whitey”.

Not fitting in and then finding ways to fit in is one of the true joys of travelling.

After that I visited one of the many 7 – 11’s here and got some bottled water, toilet roll and a fancy packet of Cadbury’s nut cluster things. Foreign sweeties, so very exciting. I’ll never forget playing Russian Roulette with a packet of salty liquorice in Sweden.

And then back to the flat. The other gentlemen who stays here seems to be a video artist of some sort, and has left a project digitising on his apple mac over night. He seems very pleasant and has a slightly motherly attitude.

Today we’ll start to get stuck in to the work. It already seems so appropriate that we should working on a Kafka piece in this environment. I can imagine only too well Gregor Samsa trapped in a tiny room turning in to an insect in one of the high rises facing me!

But first the challenge for me will be – where do I find shower gel and, more importantly, what do I have for breakfast?

The view from my bedroom.