The return of House music

Festivaaaal! I have been deprived of good house music in NYC. Deprived. Here are a few reasons why: popularity of Hip Hop (which I loath), my sheer lack of talent when it comes to wooing bouncers to get me into clubs and, finally, I got a little boring and looked forward much more to nights in front of movies T downloaded than spraining my ankles on the cobblestones of the MeatPacking district. These days are over.

Went out with T and a friend of his, V, for a couple of drinks last night. We got back at 4am -and that was early. The places were heaving with house music, and not just any old house music, but Ibiza style stuff, the kind of thing that you can't but help dance to. And everyone was dancing and talking and drinking fantastic cocktails with names like Juicy Nipple.. We went to Tazmania Ballroom for drinks and then to Drop to dance. Best DJ ever. T spent most of the night befriending men and inviting them to drinks, in return for precious cigs. He seems ok now.

Chore of the day: Buy flat shoes to dance in. In my dreams. If I had any money I would do that..but I don't. So it's high heels or flipflops. Bouncers don't care anyway.

The perm years

When people told me this place was humid, they weren't joking. Outside, the humidity gets up to 90%, which is sort of like being in a Turkish bath. So you can just imagine what this does to a girl's hair. Now, I have wavy hair at the best of times, but in other, dryer, cities, I could just blowdry it in the morning and then it would remain obediently straight for the rest of the day, or until I washed it again. Ha! Fat chance my hair is ever ever going to behave again - what a disaster!

My dear friend HHi in New York warned me before I came, and advised that I should get the brazilian hair straightening treatment done in order to artificially pin my hair down. She did this before she went to Columbia for a conference and her hair looked like something from a shampoo ad. Needless to say, I didn't listen to her. I pride myself in being a low maintenance, low frills kind of person, and stay clear of most beauty treatments unless they're absolutely necessary and I think that my chances of integrating into everyday society will be dampened by not doing them. But she was right. Dead right.

The first day I went out, I just dried my hair as per usual (not much brushing, not much attention paid etc) and went to meet a friend at a swanky roofbar on top of the IFC called Red. I was quite enjoying myself, and working my way through my second glass of wine, and feeling quite 'en vogue', when the waitress came by and innocently said "Oh, you look just like Mariah Carey." The horror! That was it. Because I knew at that moment, that she wasn't referring to the 'new fashionista, big boobs, small waist' Mariah Carey. I knew that she was referring to the perm years. So, I went home a little dejected and pulled out my dusty hair straightener, stuck on a double adapter (it's from the US) and now use it not once, but twice a day! Twice!

My new best friend

Not only do I spend about twelve times as long to get ready in the morning/evening. I have also turned into one of those girls who is endlessly preening herself and checking herself in lift mirrors to see if she looks presentable. I never thought the day would come where it would be me standing in front of the bathroom mirror of a nightclub tirelessly touching myself up and looking at myself from various angles - battling the frizz. I must say, I'm not enjoying this. Maybe a wig is in order...

These girls at Roxy might be on to something

Paradise in a not-so-remote spot

Hong Kong is so close to nature, yet it's so easy to forget it's there. The other day I was walking round Central, the originally named centre of the financial district, and had the most terribly sore feet - the humidity here seems to give you blisters from even the tamest of shoes (aka my loyal flip flops). As I'd already gone into two coffee shops to recover from endless hours of flat hunting, I decided to venture 5 minutes from the roaring traffic into Hong Kong Park.

Hong Kong Park

Now, at first glance, the park is nothing to write home about. But, upon sitting still on a bench in the Tai-Chi quarter, which seems to be a popular siesta spot, given the people sitting/leaning around me; an unconscious backpacker, what looked like a banker (given his pink shirt, crisply ironed suit trousers and incredibly pointy shoes), and a snoozing granny, I noticed that I was surrounded by birds. And these were no ordinary birds - parakeets, green parrots, budgie type things, midnight blue pigeons with white spots on their heads.. you name it, every tropical bird was there. Even those white ones with the yellow hairdo that walk up and down the branch sideways. I've only actually seen those birds in cages and noted how they do that odd walk, like they're making sure not to fall. Well they do the same in the wild. There's also an aviary, but I gave that a miss.

Carp and Birds

The other paradise next door is Lamma Island. Half an hour ferry from Central and you're suddenly on what looks like a Greek island. I have to admit that we went at night, and so all I can say is that it looked like a Greek island in the dark. It was so nice to get away, though, and it made me realise how little time we take to really take a break - even if it's for a minute.

I've noticed that the Hong Kong locals are always taking small breaks - sleeping on the bus, rolling their shoulders while driving, doing Tai-Chi on their terraces (I have a full view of our ancient neighbour every morning as she does her morning rituals)... I've left that long behind, and think that checking my emails on my phone is a break - wrong!

The neighbour's morning routine

So, now when I'm feeling frazzled, I'm going to try and sit still for 15 seconds, close my eyes and think of nothing... shouldn't be too hard!

I hear you can get into trouble for pulling pics from the web, so thank you http://members.shaw.ca/alanjstewart/taichi.html for the tai-chi pic!

The trials and tribulations of flat hunting

T and I have always enjoyed living in "the other" barrio, far from where the guidebooks recommend newly arrived foreigners to live in. In New York, we steered clear from the West Village. And in London, my only whiff of Kensington was when I went to see the changing of the guards. Not actually sure if that's in Kensington at all actually. So, why would we now want to live slap bang in the most obviously popular spot in Hong Kong, SOHO? Of course, this is South Of Hollywood Road, not to be confused with all those other Sohos you might have heard of.

As I still don't actually have a real job, my occupation the past two weeks has been to find us a place to live in. I started broad, thinking that we would probably want to live somewhere that has a large local community and vibe, but also a couple of Euro coffee shops and restaurants to recover in. But, soon enough, I found myself zoning in on Soho, which is so full of expats it looks like cricket season. This goes fundamentally against my principles, but it's close to T's work (he has a real job), it doesn't feel like you're walking into crowds of fans leaving a football match when you step outside, and that whole walking up and down escalators thing gives the area quite a Neverneverland feel to it.

Can I say that looking for a flat in Hong Kong is not easy. Not only is it not easy for all the obvious reasons, i.e. most flats look directly into the neighbour's bums, they are all designed by the same one-eyed architect who confuses closets for rooms, low ceilings and green stainless steel motifs on the windows are extremely popular, and finally, they're really really really expensive, oh, and miniscule. But, worst of all, there is ..um.. a teensy veensy bit of a problem with clarity on the actual specs of the apt. So, you go into an apt and the broker tells you it's 800 square feet. You then take out the measuring tape, because you see that you can't actually swing a cat in there, and realise that it's only 500 square feet... hhmmmm .. how did that happen. Well, the wonderful thing about flat size in Hong Kong, is that it includes the stairs, the lift and the entrance way! Yip, so the fact that the porter has a bigger space to sit in downstairs, will make your apartment bigger, more spacious and easier to fit a double bed in!

Room with a view

The other problem is that landlords get "offended". They get offended if you ask too low a price, so much so that they're capable of stopping all negotiations if they deem your offer to be too low. Of course, I've come to realise, that they will always be offended, as they expect whities to pay a good deal more than locals anyway. What I'm not sure about is whether it's the landlords getting offended, or whether this is an old wives' tale that brokers make up to scare us into coughing up.

However, I have seen some nice places ( J Residence for one - which we're not moving into because it feels like the W Hotel), and we're currently in the process of trying to close a deal on a pad as we speak. I don't want to say too much in case it all falls through - which it might as we're currently dealing with an "offended" landlady and a broker who can't get her story straight..... wish me luck.

Arriving and getting connected

I landed in Hong Kong for the rest of the foreseeable future 2 weeks ago, only to find that everything anybody ever said about Hong Kong is, well, a little unfounded. Here I was expecting hordes of people, bicycles riding in all sorts of directions and cramped high rises as far as the eye could see. Well, instead, I find myself on a beautiful island with much more greenery, less people and better food than I could ever have expected.

Mind you, coming from New York, I suppose my tolerance for cramped spaces, humidity and aggressive traffic is pretty high.

The first two weeks have been a somewhat hit and miss attempt at settling in. First of all, I needed a phone. I moved over with an iPhone that is practically married to AT&T and has some sort of "till death do us part" clause in the small print. So, I had to "jailbreak it". Now, just to clarify, the only two phones I've ever owned are an ancient Nokia (which I treat at a relic and used to proudly lend to people who came to visit from abroad and needed a local SIM card) and this iPhone. So I am no pro. However, several geoexpat forums later, I managed to get some chap on the 4th floor of a computer/phone/repair centre in Wan Chai to facilitate a divorce. The experience was a little hairy. My darling phone, which I am quite attached to, as it introduced me to email-on-the-go and has a much needed gps, was whisked away from the shop by a man wrapped in what looked like a plastic tent and a helmet. I smiled sheepishly at the shop owner as I sat and watched him take apart some other iPhone and carefully put it together with new parts, spray paint and lighter fuel. At that moment I wondered what my iPhone would look like when it would be returned by the man in plastic. 4 hours later, my phone came back, and, believe it or not, it was alive! It works perfectly, with the exception of the gps.... which is a small problem, given my sense of orientation. I think it still has an American heart, so it's struggling to adapt to its new location..

Location unknown

Might I say, however, that I survived for a good week without a phone, and I still managed to stay in touch with people as I wondered the city. How? SmartTone shops. Yes, these ubiquitous outlets all proudly show off their fantastic wireless usb sticks, which you are free to try. Read 'free to send emails to friends and family who are wondering where-on-earth-you-are-and-why-haven't-we-heard-from-you.' They are also good spots to shelter from the rain, which seems to bucket down every couple of hours or so.

Of course, the real reason why I needed a phone, was I could email everyone I know in town and arrange to meet for lunch etc. I then quickly realised that people actually like to talk to you in order to arrange anything. Talk on the phone? Haven't done that in a while. This is going to be a change.