CNY Part 6: one repulsive bay, one fantastic district, and Hong Kong goes Mexican.

(Note to reader: check out the massive update to parts 3-5 that sort of just happened on a whim today. That earlier stuff is gold.)

And the flurry of fun didn't stop. This post will be a lot shorter (thankfully, I know, you begrudging reader), and hopefully more succinct. I'll get right to it.

Noah and Matt were up-and-getters this day, and set out for the annual New Years' horse races in Sha Tin. Preferring sleep, Ainhi, Brooke, and I decided to make a haphazard trip to Stanley again, just to see what's there. Yeah, the ultimate in tentative plans of action.

We took the train to Central, and then found a bus that went to Stanley. Looking over the map, we noticed an important landmark that we hadn't devoted a lot of time: Repulse Bay. Only pictured was what seemed to be a Buddhist temple.

Yeah, why not.

It was that kind of day.

Except that we forgot that we had actually seen this from Stanley before, as we turned the corner around Victoria Peak on the bus... To a beach.

Oh yes.

To quote myself earlier when I was talking to one particular person in my life: "I got to go to the beach. The sun was shining without haze and pollution for the first time in over a week, kids were playing pretend games in the sand, people were tanning while the warmth actually retained itself. I had the opportunity to take off my shoes and socks, roll up the sleeves of my jeans, and feel the sand between my toes for the perfect therapy of the afternoon, and walk across the beach with the other two. Leisurely, happily."

The sand literally tickled my toes. I had apparently been wearing shoes for that long. The sun soaked everything with a bit of whimsy. Languid, almost, but still with the phosphorescence of the warm day. 

The three of us walked the duration of the long beach. Because it wasn't swimming season, few people were here, and a lot of European families (meaning speedo-clad, middle-aged men) dotted the off-tan sand.


It was snowing at home. I laughed to myself a little as the three of us made our way down to the temple, with even better views of the bay.

 "Repulse Bay" was coined in the British era, hilariously, where the Hong Kong and British navy successfully fended off attack, or "repulsed" a Japanese invasion. Now, it's just ironic, and gladly so.


We took a look at the temple, only to find the greatest juxtaposition of sights in my young life. 

That is a high-rise, metal and glass, way-too-curved-to-be-standing-up apartment complex overlooking the run-down temple. And look where the cameras are pointing.


This is Hong Kong, in one picture.

Eventually, we caught the bus to Stanley and labored through the street market again (and haggling to no avail -- 10 years ago, this was where you got a deal. Now it's just a famous tour attraction and a cash trap; go to Mong Kok East for the real deals).

Eventually returning back to Central via bus... We all of a sudden realized that we were in the heart of downtown, and it was eatin' time. We had heard from others and guidebooks that SoHo, the eclectic international neighborhood near here, was excellent for dining, and looking for a bit of nostalgia to munch on, we headed to the "mid-level escalators", which are literally a series of high-rise pedestrian bridges over the city that have escalators and moving sidewalks the whole route.

And when we got there, our jaws dropped.

Best. District. Ever.

Next to the Italian eatery there was a burger joint which was next to a French place which was next to a Nepalese place which bordered the Irish pub which was next to a Greek place... You get the idea. Some were pricey, but deals were there. There was a bar that we could see from the escalators... And in high definition, you could see an NBA game playing on ESPN. No joke.

Walking around, we took it all in. There were a commotion of dialects and languages being tossed around as people of all sorts of races hopped from place to place. Here, Hong Kong was truly international.

My stomach's internal "good food radar went berserk as we crossed one of the streets. I heeded that call... And stumbled into... una restauranta Mexicana. Taco Loco (though not the chain) invited us with the candid aromas of salsa and dozens of satisfied customers inside, all smiling as they gorged themselves on tortilla-covered grub, salsas, and margaritas.

I looked at the menu. Affordable. Potentially delicious (reading the word "guacamole" made my appetite swoon like a twitterpated boy band enthusiast). Authentic.

For the second night in a row, we feasted.

We were happy. And you know what? Our happiness made us happy. Pleasant. Today was perfectly easy. For once, we weren't a massive group of definite tourists. And for a second, we were back home at our local lugar de comida Mexicana. Not exactly cultural immersion in its fullest, but it was a night to remember as the discovery of my new favorite district in the city. Expect to hear "SoHo" a few more times this semester.

CNY Part 5: the chaos that never was, and sushi's happiest hour.

The fireworks had ceased. And all were satiated for their thirst for airborne, partially inflamed thrills.

But now, there was a massive problem of logistics.

How do you get over 200,000 people out of one bay, all going the same direction?

The Hong Kong Police knew how to handle this one: let them take the streets. And what a sight it was. In fact, I was awestruck by that display, but this spectacle, where all of the viewers were given free reign to walk down Nathan Road, the largest road in Hong Kong, was astonishing. If there's anything comparable, it would be a riot. But it wasn't. There was no ill will. Just masses upon masses of people. Controlled chaos, meet oxymoronic irony: I not only witnessed it, but fully participated.

By the MTR. No chance.

We had no idea where we were going. All we knew was that we loved it. The feeling was something like a mellow adrenaline: it was a rush, it was exciting, but we weren't exactly going crazy. All was still... perfectly copacetic. As if we walked down the middle of the road en masse any old afternoon. The chatter of the spectacle was dulcet, heightened in its lack of industrious car sounds. Just. The sounds of the crowd in no particular hurry, but still moving at alarming rates. Mellifluous, the sound really was.

Matt noticed a building in the horizon, and, whipping out his trusty iPhone, suggested we feast, since we hadn't really done so yet, and restaurants now being open. His suggestion: sushi. Not just any sushi, though. Authentic sushi bar sushi, but at half price. At 10:30 pm.

At Sushi One in Kowloon, it was sushi happy hour, and everyone strangely agreed to this principle. Following the crowd before taking our exit onto a sidewalk, the journey reached its resting place. Cooing farewell to our riot-that-wasn't, we followed an escalator to a bizarrely white marble floor of some building, with a line already in its fledgling stages for other potential diners.

At the strike of 10:30 and the happiest hour (and a half, technically) of all for our soon-to-be-filled stomachs, we took our slot in a strangely intimate booth at this strangely posh sushi bar. The walls were black, but reflective, with polished metals and shining beads abounding.

Wasn't kidding. This is a reflection.

We used the menu for its pictures, and pencil-ordered a smorgasbord of delectable bites. Well, I was told we were. I only suggested a tempura shrimp, and then eventually eased up and ordered more (especially when I found out there was a minimum payment).

That was a great decision.

Salmon, not my favorite. But my favorite was on the far side... Tempura fried soft shell crab. The Louisianan in me smiled greatly. Soy sauce was a startlingly nice accent, and the crab was fried to a perfect, flaky crisp. Not an abrasive crunch to be found.

Salmon/shrimp and avocado of some kind. It had a fancy name, but it was rockin'.

I was never too fond of American sushi, but here in its rightful continent of origin (and actually next to a sea that would allow for fresh catches), it was all good. I didn't have one bad piece of fish.

Sorry Jaim, and sorry Johnson family for having to witness these shots.

In America, we would have spent hundreds of dollars on all of the sushi we ate. But instead, as a group of 5, we spent a total of HK$661 (which should have been over $1,000), meaning about US$17 per person. It was the new year. Everyone was pleasantly jovial. Still copacetic. We may have just been blips upon the millions of other blips in this tumultuous city with all-too-many things happening, but we couldn't have asked for anything more than good friends, good company, and a helluva lot of good fish.

Hey, we get a feast every once in a while, too.

CNY Part 4: The sky explodes; amusement ensues.

For the briefest moment, there was darkness. Silence. Absence.

Lights disappeared, music shut off, the crowd, high into the 6 figures in dense clusters, abated their noise. The skyline sat there in an all-too-eerie calm before the proverbial storm. We knew it was coming; heck, we had waited anxiously for the arrival for sheer hours. And the halting silence we had waited for still caught us by surprise.

And then the sky erupted. Effulgent bursts of fire, soaring over the skyline, hit a nonexistent wall in the sky, and with the percussion of archaic war, seemed to shatter midair, incandescent spheres ablaze, shifting before our collective gazes.

Phosphorescent over us, the explosions brightened, increased in frequency, shapeshifted and masqueraded in front of us, cascading above and below and in front and behind us so that the remnant clouds of smoke blocked the lights of the city, gasping for attention. Smoke clouds gleamed neon green, an amazing side effect of the buildings' laser show happening in its midst, battling for real estate in the sky and the attention of our eyes. And, with a tremendous crescendo, ebullient waves upon waves of color fled the scene, gracefully arching over the harbor, meshing the experience into the fullest sensual overload.  We were overwhelmed, we were awe-inspired, we were without words to describe anything close to the obscenely luminous, all-too-intense, yet wrenchingly beautiful explosions around us, only able to stammer one thought.

"Wow."

And with a last gasp, the spectacle ceased, leaving the skyline in a haze. Then, for the first time in twenty minutes, we blinked, we exhaled, and we smiled.

Luckily, I also held up my cell phone during the experience, so you can get the slightest sampling of the world I could never create that danced in front of me. Again, excuse the horrid pixelation.

CNY Part 3: Rainbow bunnies, power ranger cops, and GaGa impersonators... Must be the new year.

TO BE COMPLETED AT A LATER DATE. In the meantime, watch pretty videos of fireworks (see above).

The year of the rabbit was upon us... And we really didn't know what that meant, since a good portion of the holiday up until this point is supposed to be kept behind closed doors to family for purposes of celebrating the holiday in an intimate environment. Now that I've lived here for over a month, I can say with full certainty that I know why this holiday lasts for this long: "intimate" and "meaningful" are terms here that don't exist at all in the other 350 or so days that don't comprise the Chinese New Year.

The point of all of this, though, is that, though we chose to stay home for the New Lunar Year, we really haven't done much in the way of traditional celebrations for varying reasons. Luckily for us, the decently-attended New Year's parade would be happening in the evening, so we settled for meeting in TST to get spots some 4 hours before the parade.

Which brought us to another issue, upon arrival. All canteens on campus were closed, all food markets closed, and all tight-knit restaurants in holes in buildings long closed for family purposes. What could ever be the solution?

Oh. McDonald's was open.

That's right. Topping off our layman's feast from yesterday were some McNuggets, undercooked "potatoes", and a watered-down Sprite. It was abysmal; it was delicious. I'm pretty sure that I'm going to have a McDonald's-themed post here, because the case study of this place is beyond phenomenal.

Doddling a bit around the pier, we walked right into the thick of the parade preparations, including some inflatables (nothing that rivals Thanksgiving in NYC, but it's a parade staple, even here), bands practicing, and of course, way too many people to fathom enjoying the pre-parade merriment. A gallimaufry of personas... Families, grandparents with younger kids, single families, dating-but-not-really-comfortable-with-it-yet high schoolers who have a rare day off from studies. Everyone. A delightful cross section of everyone in Hong Kong, which is rare to capture in the informally segmented city.

Yes, the grimly serious marching band director here was wearing a white tiger... hat.

Noticing that the person to available sidewalk ration was growing at a heightened pace, we quit our dilly-dallying and looked for real estate along the parade route, hoping to score some prime standing spots. We took a good open space right at the front of a sidewalk, bolstered by nothing but a metal guard rail. The police were just starting to get here to begin preparations for the performance area just ahead of us (what great luck).

We were fascinated by the police here, whom drove futuristic motorcycles, and garbed themselves with Power Ranger-esque uniforms.

No, they weren't that muscular, and yes, if they didn't wear shirts under their yellow "armor", their midriffs would be exposed. Strange things run for "serious" here.

Oh, did I mention that the parade won't begin for another 3 hours?

Yeah, I'm fast forwarding through this part. In those 3 hours, we sat against the cross rail, we joked and talked too loudly, we forced people behind us to leave us because we talked too loudly, and we watched small maintenance crews begin to assemble an observation deck, wiring for an external music system, and marveled as the roads cleared and people clogged down the street, the apparent "prime viewing area" of the parade. We miss a lot of memos here with the language barrier and all.

But that's life, and we still had front row seats.

Not seats. But you get the point, incorporeal reader.

By this point, the crowd around us had steadily formed, disallowing us of any free movements or weight shifts. We were literally trapped against the fence.

Some of the more kid-participant acts were allowed rehearsal time about an hour before the show. Apparently, in order to participate in a parade in Hong Kong and be under the age of 10, you have to give away any and all shreds of dignity.

Read: you have to dance in the rainbow bunny horde.

Nowhere near intimidating enough for a gang, way too organized to be a throng, and way too creepy to be a crew.

Perhaps "cult" is the closest thing for this assemblage of bloodthirsty adorable Asian children in colored suits wearing bunny suits. Masculinity was permanently scarred, but I'm pretty sure the slashing of the American ego is one of those things that supposed to occur.

Speaking of loss of American things. Personal space. That whole concept doesn't really exist, and is exacerbated when people of all disciplines cluster together for festivals. A lady behind Brooke and I, perhaps disgruntled with her circumstances (being behind rowdy, loud, and tall Americans, mostly), decided to unleash a horrid bout of attempts to slide into the inch and a half space between Brooke's shoes and mine. Needless to say, we learned the drill, and promptly sealed up that inch. Law of Firsties upholds, and this slightly older local wasn't going to spoil it.

But she sure tried, whether or not she knew it. When the rainbow cult of bunny-eared doom (I'm getting there with the epithet) arrived, some made-for-Sesame-Street singsong jingle went over the airwaves, prompting her to start hopping up and down... Like a rabbit... Or something. Which, from the lack of personal space, did well to brush up against Brooke and I's backsides. Charming, yes. And when the kids walked by us briefly, she decided that Brooke's head was perfect to rest her elbow on to take stable pictures. She was a little bonkers.

So of course, Brooke and I began the passive aggressive counterattack:
Step 1: Lean forward on the railing. Occupy as much space as possible.
Step 2: Force weight back a little. Pray that she reclines backward.
Step 3: Slowly rise upward and scoot back, hoping she gets the picture.

It took five tries, but she did. Only to be next to Ainhi for the rest of the parade. Oops.

And, with that obstruction gone, it's as if the parade finally began for us. Captions free of charge.

Again, the standards for acceptable. Some kind of weird cartoon thing. I hope.

Terrifying robotic bunnies, with strange, somewhat bemused themes.

After being American and yelling "GUNG HEY FAT CHOI!" ("Happy New Year" in Cantonese, though one could infer that wasn't really our intentions with the heckling) to the ignorant radio hosts walking around with freebies until they recognized us, we were given our first red envelopes, the traditional gift to (single) children from elders for CNY. Usually filled with cash, our freebies were coupons. In Cantonese. Nevertheless, we were happy enough with the personal satisfaction of having the envelopes. And namely, others not having them.

Some kind of good luck charm? One of the 3 real balloons there... Which, due to the disproportionate amount of floats to balloons, made at least 4 rounds around the route for some visual potpourri. They didn't quite fool us.

Jealous? No? Well, that's alright.

Cathay Pacific Airways = Macy's for this parade. Except I bet Macy's didn't start off the shebang with a chorus of dancing flight attendants. Oh yeah. Only the best for Hong Kong.

Rub your eyes. Then again. Yep, you are still seeing a whole gang (yes, appropriate here) of Lady GaGa impersonators, who choreographed a nifty number to one of her songs. Yes, even the Asians go nuts for our eccentric, salacious diva.

("Who wouldn't, Jeff?") I know, right.

More kids doing adorable things in gaudy attire.

Motifs.

The Hong Kong Jockey Club. "Because what is New Years without a little gambling?"... Yeah, this is foreshadowing. Stay posted. Oh wait, I guess that's what I should be doing.

Oh, did I forget to mention the synchronized, galloping jockey dancers? There were those, too.

Japanese.

Small children in food suits. To promote the various governmental organizations whose responsibility is to market the regular consumption of fruit, vegetables, and fish. Because it takes a billboard for everything, including healthy living, to be noticed.

Mickey does Hong Kong.

The parade finally ended with some sort of traditional dance, involving lions climbing a pole in pursuit of some goal, and of course, a long, winding dragon, in pursuit of some sort of ball leading to some sort of virtue. Very visually pleasing, and a great, traditional end to a parade that, in all honesty, completely burnt us out.

And with that, the Year of the Rabbit was thrust upon us, bringing prosperity, and a much happier outlook than the now expired Year of the Tiger. With prosperity in our veins, and the night ours, we did the thing any rightful Citizen of the World would do.

Grabbed a late dinner at McDonalds.

CNY Part 2: Dinner with family.

After our fun last night, and with essentially the entirety of the city shutting down by noonish the next day, we decided to again follow the customs of everyone else in Hong Kong, and have a family dinner.

The fact that we didn't have any semblance of food, blood/legal relations, nor pools of money to spend on an extravagant feast should probably have been an obstacle, but instead, we rallied together and decided to cook it, potluck style.

And due to our relative lack of Asian cooking styles, it was more about whatever you could fashion into a meal and call it "a meal" over having fancy cuisine. What fits that? Spaghetti. A spaghetti dinner it was. Before executing this, though, we needed supplies. So in the morning, before the last of the commercialized stores closed for the holiday, we rushed into the grocery stores and even the open air markets.

Where else but Tai Po Market?

(The correct answer to this is "pretty much anywhere, Jeff". But this is my story, and it's my favorite district in town because it's so authentic.)

Ainhi and Noah were making the pasta, sauce, and chicken together. Amy was doing dessert. I finally decided at some point to make a fruit salad from whatever looked good at the fruit market. Brooke provided the beverages.

After the shopping bonanza, we separated briefly to prepare our dishes, and then reconvene for dinner.

For me, this only meant one thing: chopping fruit. cubing fruit, peeling fruit, and sampling fruit. In all, I prepared a fruit salad with fresh pears, apples, kiwis, white grapes, and strawberries. Then, I poured a little 7-Up over it for sweetness, and then a pseudo-Greek dressing of yogurt and honey for dipping.

Basically, everything was delicious. In a sense, it's what everyone else was having for their family dinners: food from home.

Spaghetti with a real tomato sauce (Ainhi labored through peeling ten tomatoes. Just for the sauce. That was awesome.)

The garlic bread. Real garlic and butter on bread, made in a toaster oven. It was by far the star of the show, and a brief taste of home.

And, finally progressing as a group from gaining our bearings in Hong Kong to living in Hong Kong as real people in this place, and the coping associated with this transition, what better to have at times in a pseudo-dream world than a pseudo-family when it all of a sudden isn't a dream anymore.

CNY Part 1: The masses convulge.

A figurative TON of information is to be added, here; this shouldn't be a surprise, either. The week or so has been abuzz with festivities all relating to the beginning of the New Lunar Year. And to welcome the Year of the Rabbit, our group decided to stay in town over our week-ish long break and see what the city had to offer. This details our Wednesday night, spent at the Hong Kong New Years Fest.

Basically, this part of the New Years is equitable to the bonanza and somewhat stale rush that occurs in the few days before Christmas: if you haven't gotten gifts yet for loved ones (or ones you're forced to love, maybe), you come to ridiculous street markets like this one to buy horrid trinkets and New Years-themed toys and gizmos at overpriced, but high demand value. Such things include, but are not limited to: blinking rabbit ears, pillows with strange sayings on them (one being the "Like" button on Facebook...), balloons, treat-like food that's available at any other market, ridiculous lights and toys, and some best of all, rabbit-themed clothes. Of any kind.

But the real insight to this part of the day, which was essentially the final day that local shopkeepers would do business before shutting their stores down for the next few days as everyone spends time with their family (and don't go outside, thus, the revenue wouldn't exceed variable costs for opening for the day, so it isn't efficient to stay open anyway -- the same thing happens with clubs around 2 am, apparently, so they push you out). With so many people all not doing anything in particular, they all congregate in this place.

So what's the significance? Oh, it's that close to every person on the Asian continent might have been crammed into this park in Kowloon. The theme of way too many people in way too small of a space will certainly become a motif to this week. Just see the photos, and realize that it was like this for the entirety of a downtown city park, and even spilling out of it by the time we left.

Just think about it. The park was beyond capacity. The park. Ridiculous.

With crowds upon crowds of people not being able to move freely to shops and go against the current of walkers, and all products pretty much looking the same... How would each of these stalls hope to reach out to all customers in the area?

Of course, by reaching for the stars. It's the Hong Kong way. Signs and displays were held on sticks over the mobs, allowing anyone to see what the thoughtful shopkeeps had in their particular designation amidst the hubbub. Even then, though, it's hard to fully concentrate on all of the sounds when tons of shopkeepers have items raised over you, other attendants with megaphones screaming things in Cantonese (which by this point, I have just tuned out, as it's not exactly the prettiest sounds a human can make), and the quadrillion conversations being echoed across by the populace, all fading into nothing as I can only focus on the one old lady trying to push herself through me by pressing against my back.

It makes me laugh.

The locals think it's weird when people like me laugh.

Really, who wouldn't laugh at things like this? Playboy puns abounded for this particular New Year. Good move by some... For others, it was a bit of a stretch.

After we pushed our ways out, and with time to spare, we first... breathed non-recycled air for the first time in a long while. Following this, we walked around the district, primarily residential, until we stumbled into a small park in between a huge complex of high rises, complete with a lighted, festive fountain.

At the park, we saw two young boys playing with some sort of slingshot toy, wherein you had a helicopter-esque piece of plastic, and shot it straight upward into the air, to watch it twirl down in a heap of light.

Our good friend Noah, always eager to try things, went over to the small boys and asked them if he could have a go. 

His first attempt? Hit his own wrist, and it crumpled to the ground. More determined not to be made a fool, he aimed extra far upward his second attempt, and sent the helicopter flying high into the air... only to land in the middle of the fountain.

The boy was shellshocked. He looked like he was trying to hold back disappointment when Noah started stammering his sorries, but really, it was just as much a look of confusion and disbelief at what that white kid had just done to his toy, and what this meant. Noah was beyond apologetic, and decided to reimburse him with HK$10 and one American dollar.

"What, if I was that age, I thought it would be cool to have foreign money!"

Yeah, Noah. Yeah.

As I sat there on the brick ground, laughter echoing between the cluster of facsimile high rises on all sides of us, it hit me that this was just another day. Another day for this kid (though maybe one he will always remember with scorn, fostering a sense of pseudo-racism at white people who take New Years toys) as he occupied one of those identical windows amidst the carbon copies of windows and carbon copies of buildings to the series of rooms he's always known and loved, with that same park to wake up to and play in the morning. 

Us? We're going back to our hostels for the night, checking off another day in our calendars and a pat on the back for a job well done in a foreign country, and one more night of sleep closer to being back to where we belong.

But that kid. He belongs at this place. Home is this place. Place among similar places, but other subtleties that allow him to differentiate his life from others. Many others. Perhaps too many for us Americans to conceive. Property in the sense of a yard and a picket fence? That's not a goal here. That's a pipe dream.

Relativity makes me laugh sometimes.