Hong Kong -- More stories about drinking, eating and hiking

I've been delinquent in my postings about our adventures in Hong Kong. Normally I would blame myself. But thanks to providence, I've got the perfect excuse:

I blame the Irish.

Yes, two weeks ago Bob and I went across to visit the Hong Kong Museum of History in Kowloon. It was great. I think I have some pictures. Hold on.

Below Bob confronts some of Hong Kong's public art in front of the Hong Kong Cultural Centre. Feeling somewhat diminished, he and all the critics agree: the city's public art veers towards the ugly.

Anyway, we wandered over to the history museum and it was awesome. When they say history, they mean it: the museum chronicles the island and portion of the mainland's evolution from prehistoric, even primordial times all the way to the present. We're going to go back for another visit. Anyway, more pretty pictures:

Cantonese opera. It takes a little getting used to, but the traditional costumes are magnificent.

Representations of the gods. These are giant floats that come out during traditional parades. Inspiring stuff.

 

And they're about 30-feet tall. Impressive. 

Later, we attempted to do the tourist thing and have high tea at the tres glamorous Peninsula Hotel, but there was line and, really, four tiers of poncey crust-free sandwiches and petit fours? I mean, we're gay. We can do that shit at home.  So we got the ferry back to Caprica City:

We arrived back in Central about 2:30 p.m. and Bob says, "let's go to the Mandarin Oriental. They've high tea and the penthouse bar is meant to be pretty impressive." So we wandered over to the Mandarin and decided to have a cocktail at The Captain's Bar.

While there we struck a conversation with one Maire Candy, an ex-pat Dubliner whose brother, Andy, was visiting with his wife, Geri. The couple were staying at the Mandarin. Maire's been in Hong Kong for 25 years, with her husband, Ian, who was a magistrate in the Hong Kong judiciary. Now retired, he teaches law.

Well, one thing led to another, there was champagne involved and dinner at a French boite in the Mid-Levels and before you know it, it was 3 a.m. Sunday morning. I think this picture kind of says it all. Slainte!

The following week was the St. David's Society of Hong Kong's annual ball and we were invited to come by Orla Thomas, the beautiful lass in the red sweater in the above picture. The pretty blond on Bob's left arm is Kayte Candy, one of Moira and Ian's daughters. Ian is the distinguished gentleman with the pint glass trying to strangle Fergal Power. (You had to be there. Really, it was awesome ... well, what I remember ... Grrr ...)

So last Saturday we attended the ball. It was a celebration of all things Welsh and lot of fun. Orla's married to Gareth Thomas, the society's president. A black-tie event, Bob and I barely passed muster, but they forgave us our black and dark-grey business suits.

Held at the Hong Kong Football Club, the Hong Kong Welsh Men's Choir performed as well as Welsh comedians Owen Money and Gareth Lloyd Davies. The event involved leek-eating, men dressed as druids, assorted men of Celtic background wearing kilts with the evening being capped off with Ireland beating England in the Six Nations Rugby match which we watched on a large projection screen TV.  I didn't take any pictures. I was, you know, busy.

Later in the week Larry Loh, CNNGo's Singapore City Editor, and his lovely lady, Angelia, invited the rest of the CNNGo staff to join them for dinner at one of Hong Kong's "private kitchen" restaurants. Larry's working here in the Kong for a few weeks. An unlicensed restaurant, the owners serve Szechuan food on the fifth floor of a rather ugly building in Lan Kwai Fong. Known as either Man Chou Szechuan or Manchurian Candidate (love that), the restaurant is basically a two-bedroom apartment. It's not fancy, but the food? Amazing.

We had about seven courses: beautiful roasted chicken served in smoked hot pepper and garlic paste (almost like chipotle or a mole sauce), cooked, but crisp zucchini served chilled in a rice wine chili flake vinaigrette (bright, refreshing), an eggplant and potato stew prepared in savory chicken broth, what appeared to be salt-baked prawns served buried in bowls of friend chili peppers, just to describe a few of the courses. Bob, not a fan of the heat, loved it. We are going back. We will become members of this private club.

I tried to take more pictures but staffers started heckling me with cries of "tourist!" So, that's all I got.

Well, later in the week, we joined Moira and Ian for dinner and they recommended Bob and I make the trek to Shek O, a seaside village on the east side of the Island. It was wonderful. Moira said it reminded her of the towns you see on the West Coast of Ireland, and she was right.

We had a late lunch at the Shek O Chinese and Thailand Seafood Restaurant. A green shrimp curry, mushrooms in oyster sauce, mixed seafood tom yum kai soup and pork fried rice.

 

There is a hike from Shek O north to Big Wave Bay, but we decided to explore the tiny village and wind our way up to the Shek O Headland. It's far from gentrified, but there seemed to be a large number of ex-pats living in the town, and some of the homes on the headland were extravagant. Still, this dilapidated building did remind me of the abandoned seaside towns in Ireland.

There was a temple in the town, not far from the main Shek O Road, but hidden among the houses and tiny mom and pop restaurants that, like all the local temples we've seen, was fragrant and precious and seemed to ache with local history. Bob wanted to go in an bang on the drum, which is part of the tradition when you're offering up prayers to your ancestors, but then thought it might seem rude. We will wait for a religious festival, or the anniversary of his late wife's death.

The beach at Shek O is really popular for Canto-Pop music video shoots, and while we were visiting there was a wedding photo shoot taking place. At first we thought it was a real wedding, but later we saw this couple in more traditional wedding garb on the shoreline getting photographed. But they posed for us gwai los no problem. Love the shoes on the "bride."

We walked up the headland and it was quiet, and though humid and in the 70s, a cool breeze came off the sea.

OK, I love this pic below of Bob. I just turned on the camera when we got to Shek O beach and it was the first thing I saw when I looked through the lens. "Hey, little buddy, how long are we on this desert island ..."

There are a lot of hawks on Hong Kong island. I can see them from my office window, on the 29th floor. They are graceful and impressive. Shek O headland was full of them.

In the distance you could see oil tankers and such, but close to the shore lone fishermen in small craft plied the waves.

It was a wonderful day out. We saw a part of the island that was tranquil and free of the hurly-burly of downtown Hong Kong, in Central where we live. A nice break.

Hong Kong continues to surprise us. I have fallen in love with its signage. I know, that sounds weird. But there is something always entertaining and to a certain degree, almost epic, even for something simple, like a restaurant sign:

It's just funny to me. And I know westerners just love Chinglish signs, but I've grown to have an appreciation of those signs that seem to go one better than native English speakers. See Exhibit A, below:

Plinth. They used "plinth." In a sign! And it was a plinth! After reading the sign I desperately looked around for erudite construction workers sipping tea, maybe a port, and reading Baudrillard. Alas, it was to no avail.

Still, there was this beauty. Exhibit B:

I love this sign. "Beware of the Threshold." Not since "Prepare for the Rapture," have I readied myself for something so full of portent.  Sure, the Chinglish in the user's guide for our dehumidifier could have got us killed had we not gone by the pictures, but when the native Chinese speakers nail an English phrase or epigram, they do it with style.

OK, one last gratuitous megalopolis of the future picture before Bob and I head off for dinner. The IFC2 building at night:

More later ...