Hong Kong -- Vacuums and Titty Bars

Well the highlight of the week was Bob's arrival on Friday.

He arrived on time from Los Angeles and we've pretty much spent the weekend unpacking and completing the process of setting up house here. Bob looks great. He's lost some weight packing up the house in NJ and hitting the gym. I will take photos and post them soon.

Bob was happy with the apartment and so we headed to PriceRight, IKEA, Apita and Wing On, the big department stores to purchase final things for the house like floor rugs, lamps and the extraneous stuff you never thing twice about until you actually need it.  You know, a basket to hold onions and garlic, a trivet for hot pots, wooden tongs for the toaster (never use a metal knife or a fork, kids ...).

Statues on Hollywood Road (AKA Antique Road), Mid-Levels

We even got a vacuum cleaner, though one so small, we were concerned it wouldn't have any power (we were pleasantly surprised: it sucked. But in a good way). It was on sale for HK$580, which is about US$80, and I thought it was a steal. Anyway, the sales assistants laughed and remarked amongst themselves as Bob and I went back and forth over the color. Basically black but with a purple faceplate, Bob was adamant: "I hate the color."

"Dude, it's a vacuum cleaner. It's going to spend most of its time in the closet."

"Yes," chimed in our sales assistant, a smartly dressed, compact woman in her 50s. "You're not going to wear it."

Hong Kongers have a wonderful sense of humor. I helped one of our production assistants pick up a box from the local post office last week. Virginia Lau had spent a year in Japan as part of her studies (she majored in foreign policy) and when she returned to Hong Kong she left some things behind. The institute she worked kindly boxed up her belonging and shipped them home. However, the box weighed about 50 lbs. (Virginia probably weighs about 75 lbs., she's tiny.)

"Is it heavy?" Virginia asked the postal clerk.

"Is he carrying it?" He replied, motioning in my direction.

"Yes."

"Then it's not heavy."

Musican on Queen's Way pedestrian overpass, Central

The first weekend I was here, I went on a walk to explore the city and to buy a pair of running shoes. As these things happen, in my last-minute packing frenzy I forgot to pack a pair in my suitcase and my back-up pair were already boxed up to be shipped separately.

I headed west on Kings Road, away from my hotel, because on my cab ride in from the airport, I had seen a sign for a shopping center and figured it couldn't be too far away.

As I walked, however, I saw a man come out of what looked like a gym. Tall, in his late-20s/early-30s, he was wearing a track suit and a pair of new-looking Nikes. I caught up with him, introduced myself in (very) broken Chinglish and he barked: "Where are you from?"

"I'm from the U.S. ..."

"I lived there for awhile. In Houston. I hated it. It was all titty bars."

"Oh ... OK " I stammered. "Sorry to hear that ..."

"Do you like Hong Kong?"

"Well, I've only been here a day ..."

"Wow! Fresh off boat. HAHAHAHA!!!"

"Yeah, pretty much ..."

"Come I show you," he motioned me to follow him, further west on King's Road, then south up into a maze of tiny streets with sports shops, DVD stores, pharmacies, butchers and walk-in hot pot restaurants, all the while peppering me with questions and pouring bile on the U.S.

"I hated America," he said, as he speedily led me through the streets, stopping only to recommend,  than warn me away from, a DVD store that had the latest titles from America, but were all "shitty quality." He had been studying engineering and lived in Houston for about three years before deciding to come home. He told me to remember the DVD store.

"When you get homesick, it's good. You have a TV? Get one. When you get homesick, you can get DVD here."

We stopped on front of what appeared to be sporting apparel store, its emphasis on tennis, but the window was stocked with running shoes and cross-trainers all wrapped in cellophane.

"Buy them here. Don't go the the shopping mall, they will rip you off ..."

"Hey,"  I said, offering my hand. "Thank you so much. I appreciate the help. My name's Anthony ..."

"That's not important," he said, turning on his heel. "I'll never see you again ..."

And he was gone.

Business sign on Hennessy Road, Wan Chai