Hong Kong - Home Dec 19th - 22nd '06

Well.

That's it. It's all over and done.

So I find myself back in Scotland, in the cold, grey neon arms of Christmastime.

I shall now relate unto thee the events that preceded my sitting here at this desk in Hunters Quay, surrounded by books, a cup of green rice tea at my side and a cat asleep on my bed.

After the show finished a few of us popped out to Felix’s bar in the Peninsula hotel, just along from the Cultural Centre.

Felix’s is a well known spot, due to its situation on the 28^th floor of the hotel, where it looks out on to the waterfront, and Hong Kong across the other side.

A popular place of the nineties it now feels slightly demoded, which was fine by me as I’m not really one of those smarmy bar types.

As you approached the 28^th floor in the lift the lights changed colour as if to slip you in to the clandestine atmosphere of the bar.

It’s all very nice actually, but with a slight feeling of Miami Vice about it.

It wasn’t designed for comfort though, I’ll say that, as I kept slipping off of the perch ledge seats along the back wall of the bar. In the end I just stayed standing up, where I closer access to the Walkers plain salted crisps.

The beverage I supped, whilst at the counter was called a Red Rain, and it contained Vodka, Cranberry juice and some other things that I can’t recall.

All in all the prices at the bar were quite reasonable really, and it had a nice, relaxed atmosphere. Definitely worth a wee investigate, should you find yourself in Hong Kong / Kowloon.

Descending in the lift, back to the plebeian world, Sean hinted about fart noises, a la Peter Sellers in the Pink Panther Strikes Back. Standing in front of us in the lift was a tall, very serious looking business type.

And so the chorus of hand farts and, indeed, one real, squeaky fart, started.

The poor fellow couldn’t wait to get out of the lift. We all tittered like school children.

From Felix’s we went on to an Irish bar, and had ourselves a pint of Kilkenny. That went down well.

And then came the meal. Chinese style Hot Pot.

My esteem’d friend Mr Euan Davidson informs me that the Japanese have something similar called Shabu Shabu.

Hot Pot in this case, is not a dish of meats and sausages cooked in an oven till tender and juicy, but a communal feast that all can enjoy.

In the centre of table there is a hot plate, and on to this hot plate there is placed a pot of water and herbs that is brought to the boil. In to this boiling pot of water you then throw in all manner of vegetables, meat and fish that you have ordered.

The rule is: Once it floats you may eat it.

A simple way of eating, but oh so very tasty. And really communal. Every one is leaning over, prodding things and dipping things in to the pan. It’s a great thing for all the family.

I particularly liked the tender beef strips that you dipped in, until they were cooked. Lovely. I remember my Gran talking about Boiled Beef, but I’m sure it was nothing like this.

One of the really neat things about the hot pot is the fact that you get to concoct your own sauce to dip your objects in to. Oh yeah! Sesame and soy with garlic and spring onion and chilli and all sorts of goodies-tastic.

It’s a lovely thing to do with a group, and I really felt that it rounded off of our time working together so well.

Then it was out to the island for my last night and bed.

The next morning I had a walk out to Sai Wan, and a nice coconut pudding thing, with the wee ginger cat on my lap, enjoying the sun. Then that was it, I was off to central, luggage and all.

On the boat I listened to the last episode of the Hitch Hikers Guide to The Galaxy, which I’d been holding on to for some days.

After a Feldenkrais session with Sean, we went out to dinner with Bonni and Ming (a friend of Bonnie and Sean who had been helping out in production week). We went to a Chinese vegetarian restaurant, which was lovely, so light and delicate, and yet filling. Not to mention the brown rice cake, which was in no way light or delicate, just bloomin’ tasty!

Then it was tatty bye to Sean and Bonnie, and off to stay with Lawrence, the company production manager, his 3 dogs and 4 puppies in Causeway Bay.

I had a very pleasant evening in the company of dogs and puppies, and then slept fitfully in the temple to Mickey Mouse that Lawrence keeps as a bedroom. He’s a really cool guy, a happening man about town, but with a penchant for Mickey Mouse that has to be seen to be believed. He’s great.

Anyway. I was awoken by the strains of the mickey mouse alarm clock screaming at me in some unknown language. After footering around with it for some time I finally managed to get it switched off. And then I noticed that the dogs were howling too – scrabbling to get in to the room.

I opened the door and there they were, all three grown up dogs, Soda, Cola and Fanta. They were smiling away and wagging their tails like nobodies business.

Lovely dogs.

Then I looked a bit closer.

One had my dental floss box in its mouth, another my comb. Strewn across the floor were various items from my toilet bag, all chewed, my toilet bag, also chewed and a turd, not chewed.

Bugger.

So I had to try and get them back in to the bag and out of harms way, which I just about managed, although one of the dogs did decide to eat my soap dish and soap around that time.

That too was eventually wrestled from their gums.

Lawrence’s partner came down to see that I was up, it being half five, and he having jet lag.

Lawrence was fast asleep in a lazy boy recliner, completely oblivious to the whole affair.

While Lawrence’s partner kept and eye on the dogs I dived in to the shower for a quick wash, and turned it on, only to have it be very high powered and soak the entire bathroom with one burst of water that went skywards.

Eventually I managed to get a taxi with the help of Lawrence’s man and that was it, I was off to the airport.

Luggage – over weight.

Bugger!

Spoke very nicely to the lady behind the desk, and she gave me another bag to split my affairs in to so as to balance out the weight.

Fab.

Got the plane, no probs.

The captain announced the various places that we’ll be travelling over, including the Soviet Union. So I guess it’s not just a jet, but a time machine too.

13 ½ hours, no worries. Slept 6 hours, watched Little Miss Sunshine and Scoop.

Scoop is not one of Woddy Allen’s best, sadly. I really don’t like Scarlett Johansen’s acting style, especially when it’s mixed in with the over blown Woody acting impostions.

Fly in to Heathrow, on the descent see the ground suddenly appear as if out of no where. The fog was so heavy, you could barely see the wing of the plane. Descending, descending, descending, then Whheeeeech! We’re back up into the air like nobody’s business and the 747 is behaving like a fighter plane.

Quite exciting really.

Then a voice comes over the tannoy and says:

“Sorry about that, we had an aborted landing, there was another plane on the runway. We should be back on radar in a minute or two, when we’ll try to get you on the ground in seven or eight minutes.”

The next landing was fine, and lefty me with barely enough time to catch my connection, which I just managed, just and no more. Thank god, because the next flights were full and then the next day all flights were pretty much cancelled due to fog.

Got in to Glasgow in the evening, Mum & Dad there to meet me, all is well.

It takes another day for my luggage to turn up. The turnaround in London was too tight for my bags.

So now here I am once more.

Thoughts turning from HK to Newcastle and Mull.

Without a doubt working for Theatre Du Pif in Hong Kong was the best professional experience I’ve ever had. Bonni is with out a shadow of a doubt the best director I’ve had the privilege of working with. I’m really pleased with the whole experience, it was absolutely fabulous.

If you have a chance to go to HK do grab it with both hands, I believe that Oasis, a charter line, now do flights for £250 return from London – which is amazing.

But make sure if you do go that you go and stay on one of the islands to get a contrast to the hustle and non stop bustle of Hong Kong.

I leave you now with the imagined sound of Airline cabin music playing in a loop, and wish you all a very merry holly berry and a happy new year.

Awrabest

Hong Kong - Dec 16th 06

So.

The show has started, and all is well.

The set up of theatres here seems to be pretty much the same as at home.
With some crucial differences that I find a bit odd.

• The technical crew do not wear shorts in the Hong Kong Theatre.

In Britain it is well known that all technicians (mostly the male of the species) tend to wear shorts no matter what the weather, when working in the theatre.
I was thrown by this, I admit, but I will survive.

• The Sound and Lighting designers during the tech did not lounge about and read The Sun or The FT when they weren't required, they practiced Tai Chi.

Now that, to my mind, is pretty cool.

The theatre is built on the site of the old railway station that linked Kowloon to the rest of China. It's a massive building, with three auditoriums, and totally with out windows. It's on the sea front, so there was a bit of a missed opportunity for a nice theatre cafe there, selling buns and other such interval goodies.

Finished reading Gravity's Rainbow. All very silly. I liked it a lot, but boy was it silly. That's probably why I liked it.
I'm now reading a few of Murakami's short stories.
I've got the first Jeeves and Wooster book to read for the plane home, but it's so thin I'll probably have read it by the time we taxi off...

So all is well.
Today we have two more shows, and then on Sunday, one more and that's it. Job finished.
Coal all spent.
Awwwww.

Hong Kong - Dec 7th 06

I went out for Thai food in HK tonight. I went with Yasmin, the musician who's working on the show with us. Whilst at the wee food providing establishment we randomly met some one she knew from an island that she used to live on. This chap, from England, called Survinder, had lived in Orkney for 7 years. He was George Mackay Brown's personal secretary. So we had an interesting talk about Scottish literature and how neither of us really liked Andrew Greig's writing that much, and couldn't understand what all the hype was about. All very odd.

After eating, I went to go and browse in a local HMV. Standing at the traffic lights I noticed that a lady was pointing at me in mute horror.
"Calm down dear, I'm only a white boy from Hunters Quay" thought I.
Then another of her friends pointed as well. And another.
I thought, "What the Jimminy Cricket?"

I currently have a beard, to make me look older for the show.

I felt my beard twitch slightly.

I put my hand on my neck and felt something on it. Something solid and odd.
I brushed it away, making a noise that doesn't type well, but sounds a bit like "uuuuuuugggjjjjaaaagagagagagkq", but uttered in one burst.

The ladies were still pointing at me.

The What-Ever-It-Was, was still there.

Again brushed my neck, slightly more frantically this time, and bumped in to a chap behind me.
Satisfyingly I felt the What-Ever-It-Was falling from my neck and going Somewhere Else.

The Somewhere Else in question happened to be the face of the lady next to me. Who was on a mobile phone and didn't really seem too bothered.
And then she noticed people looking at her, as a large cockroach tried to untangle its self from her hair.
She "urghed" and jiggled it out of her hair. Jiggle, in this case, doesn't do the motion quite the justice the action deserves, but there we are.

It landed on the ground with a thud and the car - light - pedestrian interface attendees all stared in disgust at the beastie.

It was large enough to feed a small family for a week.
In another life I think it very well may have been a prop in Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom, from the banqueting sequence.

Then the lights changed and we all calmly crossed the road.

How it got on to my neck, I'll never know, and what I would've done if the ladies hadn't stood, pointed and gawped, I'll likewise never know.
It may have been ended up as an inadvertently tasty after dinner snack?
Seeing as I'm here for a production of Kafka's work, including the Metamorphosis, it seems vaguely appropriate.

To lighten the mood a little, here are some photos from my recent light capturing endeavours.

A couple sitting on the beach at the end of the street here, looking out on to HK.

The IFC 1 tower. In a terribly ponsy shot. This, trully is AR(se)T. I think a new movement should be pioneered called AR(se)T, where all shots are taken in such a manner, and worse.


Fishing boats in the harbour behind the typhoon shelter along the causeway to Sai Wan on Cheung Chau.
I love the fishing boats here, they're like giant Japanese Spider crabs.

As always if you want to see a larger copy of the images, please double click on them.

4th December ‘06 Hong Kong

Other People’s Stories

I - Mike’s Shoe Tale

Travelling back and forth between CC & HK I frequently meet a chap called Mike, who is an actor, director, and to make a living, a teacher.

He came out here over twenty years ago to join an English language theatre co.

He’s got some great stories, and perhaps my favourite involves an instant of mistranslation.

It was told to him by a friend, who, if my memory serves me right, had been in the police force here.

If you’re of western origin and you want to join the HK police force, you have to take a X week long immersion course in Cantonese, where you speak nothing but, well, Cantonese.

At this chap’s passing out parade the gentleman who was assessing the graduates on parade was an Anglophile by origin, and supposedly spoke good Cantonese, as he was high up in the force.

So, the Hi Heid Yin is wandering about lording it over the graduates, flicking the odd lapel and so on.

He comes past a young lady, and then he stops, stares down at her shoes and says very loudly, so that the whole audience of families, dignitaries and so on, can hear:

“My dear lady your shoe is dirty”.

At least that’s what he thought he said.

What with the tonal differences in certain words here, one sound can mean many things, with slight tonal variations, making it mean other things.

What he actually said was:

“My dear lady your [exceptionally offensive word for a lady’s front bottom, favoured by Derek & Clive, that sounds a lot like King Kanute] is dirty”

Oh dear.

II – Sean & Bonnie’s Old Man Tale

Sean and Bonnie (who run the company) were working in Berlin earlier in the year, and one night they went looking for some food, and were told by a restaurant, which was full, that the bar around the corner did good food.

So they went along to the bar.

Sitting down at a table, Bonnie picked up a place mat and looked at it for a moment. There was a face on it that she recognised.

A craggedy faced old Chinese man.

She showed it to Sean and they figured out that it was an old chap from Cheung Chau who they frequently see wandering around, and indeed, who we saw last night, whilst currying.

This fellow is an old loner, who only has one arm and a really interesting, craggy face.

It turned out that the owner of the bar had been in HK for one day, on his way back from somewhere else, and decided to take a trip to CC, when he espied the gentleman on the ferry. He surreptitiously took a couple of snaps of the old man from a low level.

And now the image of the old man’s face is the brand image of the café, it adorns the front of the shop, it’s on their coasters and bottles of Vodka.

Of course the bar owner didn’t ask the old man’s permission, so he is totally unaware, that on another continent, there is a bar festooned with his visage.

How very, very odd.

Just imagine that it was you…

It reminds me of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, when Arthur Dent finds a huge statue of himself on a far distant planet, after a dispute with a tea making machine.

Don't really have very much to say at the moment, just enjoying a day off. Reading, walking, swimming in the sea, eating curry, the usual.

I did think that it was vital that I share this image though... Especially for Mr G Fagan...



Please note that the flavour is "Chickenator"...

Oh dear.

Hong Kong 1st December 06

I don't really have much to say today, so I thought I'd put up some photos of Cheung Chau and other things. If you want to see a bigger image of them, double click on them and they'll open up in a new window.

This is a wee ginger cat that lives in the shop beside the B&B. It's really friendly and loves sitting in that cardboard box.

This is a rocky outcrop from a bay I discovered round the other side of the island.

And this is a tune what I wrote for the show.