I wake up with the chilly Hong Kong fog creeping in from the open window. Our bed, a pull out couch, overlooks the South China Sea.
We get into the HK airport yesterday at 9am, which means we leave HCMC at 6am. Preferring partying to sleeping, I bust out my most awesome moves at the most popular gaysian and ladyboy club in Saigon, Q, in the basement of the Opera House, with my bestie who moved to Asia a few years ago. My preeminent dances include baking a cake, the lawnmower, the grass sprinkler, picking up loose change, and there’s nothing on tv.
Chicks get done up to sit at a sidewalk bar and be accompanied by their GBFs: lashes, nails, extensions, blowouts, all these treatments are so cheap in Vietnam and hard to resist. And the style on the boys leads me to believe they bought their shirts at a Uniqlo, ten polo shirts for 100,000 Vietnamese Dong sale. They look like little boy band members with their waxed brows, seconds away from breaking out in synchronized dance.
Brian choses sleep instead of oontz oontz music, in the Hotel Continental room I book across from the Opera House. It’s truly an abomination of a Saigon Grande Dame, with years of history. The lighting and decor are horrendous, the furniture is a conjugal jail cell flavored disaster. The avocado colored minibar fridge reminds me of something you’d see in the USSR.
Everything begs for an upgrade that would send the hotel into 2011. I’m sure the line is a mile long to give this faded glory a makeover. George Aquino, please save this place.
Another thing I learn from this trip: Don’t allow communists to design. They can’t be trusted. The style politburo needs a lot of work to make it work.
The HK airport has a few people organizing the luggage coming down the carousel, straightening the handles on suitcases to line up. This ensures ease in lifting off the conveyor belt. What is this ridiculous level of convenience?
It’s good to be back in a fully modern place that gives NYC a serious contender for most convenient, developed, and civilized city - even with the loogie hocking. Frankly it kicks NYC’s ass. Even the skyline here gives you that nostalgic feeling when you head out to the equivalent of Brooklyn, like the NYC skyline when you approach from Jersey.
Last night we wander around Wan Chai. Hit the unnervingly claustrophobic Computer Center and then walk a bit to stumble across a Spanish tapas place. Kind of cute to walk in and be greeted with a weak, Buenos Noches, from the Asians that work there. They lack the spicy Latin emoción I’m used to.
We head under the bridge for the famous Under Bridge Spicy Crab that HK is known for. The entire block is taken over by the typhoon crab craze, with multiple restaurants. It started as one dive joint and slowly took over the street like a delicious crabby virus. The mounds of deep fried garlic that is spooned over everything are intensely spicy and good.
Our beers are refilled by a San Miguel girl who goes from table to table in white go go boots and a cheerleader outfit. This is probably the sluttiest kit I’ve seen in HK, although I’m sure I haven’t seen the sluttiest. At one point we look for go go boots and she disappeared. We guess that she’s taking a smoke break with her friends the Absolut girl and the Marlboro girl.
After dinner, shit gets real. The plan is to first pick up pirated goods, and then who knows where the night takes us. Sadly the DVD shop has been replaced by a noodle joint, which we briefly consider trying. Instead we get segoe: mango and sweet soup desserts, with mochis, coconut milk and black rice all mixed in. Hard to find dessert only spots in NYC. I think the bubble tea places should start serving it.
We roll ourselves down a flight of stairs and into a basement foot massage place decorated to look like a Balinesian spa. The great indulgence of a foot massage after a meal is borderline hedonistically gross, and also so relaxing and typically Asian that I just go with it. Their favorite foot massage place was raided and since closed.
Today we put the top down on the car, and check out the fishing village of Sai Kung. The variety of seafood is bonkers, and also bonkers is the amount of dressed up dogs. We’re talking bows, parkas with shearling, studded leather jackets. The dogs are done up more than Vietnamese girls going to a sidewalk bar. The area is a little more in the country, with a national park nearby for the over accessorized dogs to trot around in.
Tomorrow marks my last day in HK. I want to avoid malls (nearly impossible here) and get my eat on. Dim sum breakfast, back to the JW Marriott noodle bar for lunch, fancy trendy Chinese spot Bo for dinner. And a few other treats along the way. Really going to miss being here.
