As
I sit here at a public computer, I
think I would go insane without the encouragements my parents and
teachers gave me
when I was a child. I
hear the more recent voice of a friend in Shenzhen who said to me rather ruefully, Shenzhen is a man's town.
To escape
an X-rating, we'll skip over why
Shenzhen is a man's town.
Yes,
so I eagerly seek out Hong Kong only
to hear two pudgy balck-suited businessmen discussing a sixteen year
old girl with a
smug, proprietorial tone as they
exit from the Marco Polo Hotel, myself trailing a little too closely
behind them.
These
are Hong Kong men, suave, modest in
outward appearance, lacking South Asia swagger, and yet repellent to me
with their assumption
that any one is for hire, any women
can be bought and sold like a package of sirlion from the local
supermarket.
Am
I taking a risk now for speaking out
my own true thoughts? A small mad rambling voice can be left alone in
Internet time and space to cry out This is wrong, That is right.
Last
night again, another man wore up all
the people at the hotel by singing in the middle of the night, a crude
song with the
word F-----g all over the lyrics,
there was no joy in his music, only hatred of women.
His
voice woke us all first, and I
thought as I lay frightened in my bed, that it was a Chinese Canadian or
Chinese American,
because the voice had no accent.
We
began getting up, walking the
corridors of the Mirador Mansions, and discovered a soggy middleaged
white man with a
hook nose, not smelling of alcohol
at all, staring in a hazy crazy way at females. My first thought was
some type
of pharmaceuticals, some type of
crazy drug.
***
As
my mother used to say in praise of
Chinese, They keep their problems to themselves. She clearly thought
this was a valuable
selling point.
Hong
Kong goes own promoting herself as
the most beautiful tourist site for thousands of miles around, and I
fall into her deceptions
and dreams. The thousands of
tourists who find her too crowded, too expensive, are not given much
voice, and with such
overcrowding there may be no more
room for fresh voices anyway.
I arrived here on
Tuesday
It
was easy crossing at the border,
due to the new border speed-ups,
though the hour of bus travel, the forty-five minutes of walking over
the border, the KCR
and then the subway, this never
takes less than a few hours.
I
went straight to do computer work,
always neglecting Hong Kong friends,
both new and old, because of the enormous catch-up time.
I suffered slow
downloading in Hong
Kong too, though had a big thrill when my travel photos uploaded into Webshots.
I was impressed
by the quality of air
in Hong Kong, and wrote what I love about it:
French perfume
gasoline on the
water
air conditioning
ocean breezes
coffee
dried fish dried
fish and more dried
fish
I
went to Delifrance for dinner and
avoided buying clothes in Wan Chai,
which took effort. At the hotel I met a Czech artist, extraordinarily
talented,
and with a fascinating job; he
restores antique art especially wall paintings in churches and the homes
of the wealthy.
He had been visiting
his Czech girlfriend,
studying Mandarin in Taiwan. He praised the friendliness of the Chinese, though noted It is not individualistic.
He
showed me his amazing portfolio including
his perfectly rendered paintings,
which would have looked like photographs except for the surfaces which
seemed to have passed
through either a flood or a fire,
full of technical competence and some mystery.
I
told him how I had hung 300 paper
doll dresses on dozens of Montreal
clothes lines. The Montreal Laundry Lines Installation, also done a few
years ago
in Hong Kong. He was suitably
impressed, and apologized unexpectedly for not being contemporary enough.
I told him I did
paintings on canvas
as well, with oils and acrylics.
He
seemed to be shocked as I was on
my first visit by the lack of
ancient architecture in Hong Kong, since it does tout itself as one of
the greatest World Cities
to have ever come down the turnpike.
My
first trip here I wandered all over Western looking
for ancient Chinese houses, like I
viewed in story books as a child. I thought if I walked far and wide
enough my path
would cross with something more
picturesque. Nothing happened.
In China, I said,
some of the cities
now don't even have buildings fifty or a hundred years old.
The
prices too, he now turned
to the complaint of many travellers.
The
city that this artist comes from
is Prague, a famous city for art, antiquity and architecture. He
showed me a gallery invitation for Old Bailey street for Thursday
night, and we decided to go to
meet the Chinese artist, whose
painting of a mansion lawn with Chinese and white high society evoked a
colonial past.
I
wonder what they are paying him, I
said, and we discussed the economics
of the art world, and then he left to walk around, and I went to sleep.
The
next day it was more of the same,
computers and Delifrance, and then
back to the hotel, where I met a business woman from South Africa.
Depressed,
she said of the
Hong Kong Chinese. the Chinese
where I live are very lively, always animated and gesticulating and
chattering, so I
was surprised by her novel
perception.
Celebrities
arriving here and staying in 5 star
hotels, feted by their hosts,
flatter the city by calling it lively, vibrant, electric. If I took
taxis everywhere,
I'd find more strength; just walking
on the streets when you bump into others constantly is tiring.
My
first perceptions of the Hong Kong
Chinese were not flattering as I saw
them as pushy and money-minded. I then came to like them a great deal,
with their
urbanity and worn sophistication.
Depressed?
They are self-enclosed and
accepting, holding local secrets
tightly to their chests, as every now then I will snap awake here,
reading in the newspapers
that Hong Kong men routinely kill
themselves when they fail at business, or hearing a reported from a Hong
Kong feminist centre
that errant husbands wishing to take
second wives may ask the first wife to spare herself of the shame of
divorce by killing
herself.
Yes, no wonder the
Chinese laugh at
our stupidity.
It
is the stupidity of lingering White
Racism, so insulated that it takes
no umbrage at being called a White Devil or Foreign Demon, the gallant
magnamosity of the
White British who came here to make
pots of money and take a China Doll on the side.
A
bright middle-aged French man was
captivated by the feisty black
businesswoman and her off-the-wall insights, she wore brillaint red
which contrasted wonderfully
with her halo of black ringlets, and
a sarong skirt with a red daisy pattern that I complimented her on.
We
discussed Emotions and the various
races. The Chinese favour control, I
said, and I think it is bad form to show emotions such as sorrow,
anger, and fear.
Emotions? Without emotions
we would be just like the animals, she said.
I
laughed, Maybe the Chinese think The
Whites and The Blacks are closer to
Animals, because we show too many emotions on the surface!
The black woman
complained too about
Hong Kong prices.
Thursday
Thursday I was tiring
of endless website
cleansing and editing.
After
breakfast at Delifrance, I walked
up Nathan Road to The Jade Market,
stopping to peruse the computer books at a large bookstore across from
Kowloon Park.
I
hit paydirt as a clothes shopper when
I found a street stall outside of
The Jade Market selling exquisite designer linen and silk garments,
hundreds of pieces jammed
together.
I
bought a seafoam green cotton sweater
and strech blue denim shorts 2
clothes for 15 HK, or 10HK per item. I then passed these to the owners
while I burrowed
through the carts. I got a blue
cotton sweater I am wearing now; a style I love.
It
looks as the cotton threads
have been hand-knitted together, a
raw, bulky, comfortable look, and unlike wool sweaters these tops never
pile.
Next
I bought black heavy silk shapeless
slacks with a half elastic
waistband, these are good travel pants, though possibly a little too
shapeless. I bought
a dark blue silk T-shirt, also a
dull sheenless silk.
I
bought a watermelon linen coat-jacket;
this jacket had raglan sleeves, was
very loose, and came to just above the knees, not exactly a coat nor a
jacket either which
is why I think of it as a
coat-jacket.
Then
I forced myself to bypass a long
hooded black knit sweater-coat as it
was too bulky to pack and carry, and went into The Jade Market.
Since
my white crystal beads had been
lost or stolen, lost possibly as
they may have fallen off and down the side of a bunk bed where I was
staying at a trusted
friend's home, I needed new
Spiritual Protection Beads.
I
knew I really needed rose quartz,
though I wanted the dark red
carnelian beads the most, so I bought the carnelian beads. I had a long
talk with the stall
owners.
The
owners are very helpful to me and
I recommend this stall, you enter
The Jade Market, and turn left a stall or two at the first main
avenue. The
merchants own vast amounts of
hanging semi-precious beads in all sizes.
We
discussed the Amber Problem in Poland.
Were you aware there was an Amber
Problem in Poland? This is why I love Hong Kong. The merchants are up
on the
latest news.
I
sat on a little wood stool, full of
curiosity, as the owners explained
to me the Polish government was closing the Amber Mines. Still, the
thin strand
did not look appetizing, as I like a
lot of jewels for my dollar, though the light shining through them was
impressive.
I
expressed interesd in the Black Tourmaline
strands to ward off demonic
influences still afflicting the Spiritual Journey. He had two sizes,
itsy and jumbo.
The jumbo were affordable.
I
ended up leaving with my carnelian
necklace, they even put a clasp on
for free. I told them as I left that Carnelian was big in Ancient
Egypt, something
they did not know themselves.
I
weakened as I passed the street stall
and bought a short beige linen
jacket that I will wear forever, it has a Suzy Parker or Audrey Hepburn
look to it, from a
Fifties Hollywood movie, when men
were men, and women were women, and Hong Kong was still a cheap place to
buy Asian antiques
and personal freedom.
I was so tired at the end of the day
I skipped the Art Show on Old Bailey street, much to my regret.
And
then the viciously angry White Man
waking up the hotel in the middle of
the night, the air around staining itself with his irrational rage.
Friday
Behind
me now at the computer room
I hear an Indian businessman,
saying, my main market was Japan, and he has a phone hooked up to his
computer; I have never
seen this before, it is
fascinating.
He is complaining about business conditions.
In 1993 - 1994, it started going down, down, down.....
Two
prevailing moods overhang this week;
my reunion with my family members in
British Columbia, and the impending America - Iraq tensions.
Today
as I walked out of the hotel,
I passed the news stand and saw that
China and Russia opposed the USA about the attack on Iraq. This
situation is still
ominous, and the next month will be
the real tester.
Again, I try to work with my travel
photos.
