In the Mental Oriental (jez)

Have a guess where I am! (And hence the utter lack of postage). Sorry to all that I haven’t been posting very regularly, but I have been gallivanting all around the Orient (well, perhaps not gallivanting) and I now write from a shocking computer with a stuck keyboard which has a habit of STICKing on sHIFt and sometimes the wwwwwwww key jams. Apart from that, hey, it’s got a screen, it’s got a keyboard, and an apparent link between the two, so hey that’s about as far as my computer knowledge goes anyway so hey, I don’t care!

We started out in Hong Kong. (Well, actually, I started on flight QF029, in half-embryonic position, with a truly ignorant man in front of me who decided that the inclined position was an ideal way to spend the entire trip, meaning that my knees were resting somewhere around my ears). I uncoiled and jumped straight onto the airport train with my mother and my sister and began to take in the mixture between industrial port, forested, jaggy hills and Soviet-style tenements that define the outside of Hong Kong. The brand-new train that runs from the brand-new airport through the damp and, in a way, anonymous industrial outskirts is a perfect summary of the city; an incredible, intoxicating melange of east meets west, of poverty meets technology, of the everyday fusing with the glamorous. Of the mundane fusing with the magical.

Last time I was in Hong Kong in 2005, on my way out from China, I stayed in the mystical ChungKing Mansions, on Nathan Rd, the main drag in Hong Kong. Let me put this straight; to call it ChungKing Mansions is like referring to CocaCola Health Drink, or Paris Hilton: The Thinking Man’s Crumpet; ChungKing is to mansions as Nicole Kidman is to Tom Cruise; the two just do not go together. The only connecting factor is that ChungKing (run by the Indians, frequented by the Nigerians, policed by the locals) is BIG. It is truly enormous. The best approximation is to say that it is without doubt the worst, dingiest, seediest, most ill-concieved, dangerously executed, interestingly inhabited, and, above all, cheapest, building on the planet. Naturally, I love it. (Don’t tell Kim).

Most cities are defined by one sense or another. Melbourne, for example, is most definetely a taste-city; the locals boast about the gastronomy to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen (and I, for example, will feed anyone who says that Sydney does a better latte straight through my work coffee-grinder). Sydney, with all of its visual landmarks, is most definetely a sight-city, but Hong Kong is, without doubt, a city which is best navigated by your nose. The smells can range from the enchanting and aromatic to the slightly nauseating (you know when you are standing on top of the sewer, or when you are near a particularly offputting treat the Cantonese seem to love), but above all, the smells are wonderfully rich and powerful and treat you to city life on the ground floor of Hong Kong. To all those who have visited there before with a cold; sorry.

There are two highlights that I’m going to mention here; (I call them my Missing-Kim-Diversions); Mak’s Dumpling Kitchen, and the Chinese Art Gallery. The first, Mak’s Dumpling Kitchen, is worth mentioning simply for its gastronomical qualities. Mak (surrounded by a staffing consisting completely of old men) proudly announced to us that his dumplings were voted Best in Hong Kong; it would come as no surprise if he was actually telling the truth. The second, the art gallery, was by far the more profound, and, at $10HK per person, a total bargain (about $1.60 each). The range of artwork was both amazing, and, in a way, depressing, as it reminded me of just how much China did lose in its own Cultural Revolution, as masses rushed to destroy thousands of years of ancient history before it either incriminated or polluted them. The artwork ranged from Ming Dynasty pottery (in a way, China’s own renaissance) to early paintings and beautiful works thousands of years old, depicting the ancient China that we never knew. Unfortunately the experience was soured somewhat by a bullying and arrogant (unfortunately there is no other word) American woman who felt that it was necessary to establish superiority over the assistants in the giftshop in order to be given proper service. She was an embarassment to the west; I apologised in Mandarin, and we left.

I’ll save China for later; I want sleep! Mind you, before I finish off, I apologise for the corniness of the title, but admit that I had quite a few ideas going through my mind at the time; My Sister’s for Rental in The Oriental; Get Bent in the Orient; Sick in the Diner whilst Eating in China; Infections (yeast) whilst in the Far East… the list goes on.

Happy studying; and happy Easter!
jez