Canada #5 - Edmonton

Bussing to Edmonton. Fairly standard, though I did spend the first leg of the journey on Greyhound Express. 

Leather seats. 

More legroom. 

Free wifi. 

Oh Greyhound, you shouldn't have! Oh, I transfer in two hours? Then spend 22 hours in a normal bus? Oh. Thanks Greyhound. 

I think I was just bus teased. It put me in a really foul mood for the entire trip. We passed through one town called Kamloops, and no joke, the only thing advertised on the tourist television was a local funeral home. 

"Welcome to Kamloops, you'll be dying to leave! We're serious, call this number."

Also in Kamloops I brought the most depressed sandwich I've ever eaten. It was about $8. And consisted of a soggy bun, one slice of ham, one Kraft cheese square and a single tomato slice. I wanted to euthanise it. 

Anyway, Edmonton. I'm pretty sure the map was not properly set up. I think it was literally mirror flipped. I kept walking the wrong direction, even when landmarks were in view. So, I spent a day hideously lost and wandering around the suburbs until a kindly tobacconist pointed me in the right direction. Fuck, I sound like a Dickens novel. 

I was situated in the trendy hipster part of town, a street that just consisted of indie record shops and hip food shops. Had an excellent burrito and Vietnamese sub (which I didn't know was a thing), then toured places selling pot paraphernalia and second hand book stores. Apparently it had history, but all the bronze plaques were covered over by local band posters. 

Being more adventurous, I also visited the local legislature, where a very earnest tour guide showed me every inch of the marble Romanesque building. Interesting mix of colonial past, First Nation coexistence (to a point) and British royal intervention. I also shook the hand of the opposing party, the Wild Roses, in a lift. It was one of those kind of days. 

From every tourist website and poster around the area, no visit was complete without a visit to West Edmonton Mall. Braving the transit system, I made my way out to the behemoth. It's the kind of place where I wanted to slap the designers and shout "FUCKING DECIDE". There were almost 800 shops. And two pools. And an indoor beach. And a lagoon complete with pirate ship. And a kid's adventure land. And a cinema. And a mini golf course. And a full restaurant and bar strip. And a bloody fairground with roller coasters.

Again, FUCKING DECIDE. Or, alternatively, go home mall, you are drunk. The place was bewildering, but there was an excellent Disney store and enough cycle shops to keep me occupied. Additionally, an fantastic frozen yogurt bar. It was an experience to window shop H&M, then turn a corner and stumble onto people in trunks splashing in a full length pool. Then walk over a pirate ship to get to HMV. Quite the place. 

Unfortunately, Edmonton didn't have that much to offer after that. Just a fairly average city with cookie cutter malls and chains. Nice walks up and down the river, when the map wasn't trying to lead me astray. It just didn't have the cultural and architectural swagger of Vancouver or the tranquil beauty of Victoria. 

So, I left with nary a backwards glance. Onwards to Winnipeg. 

Canada #4 - Victoria

Victoria, a small city perched on the edge of an island. About two hours from Vancouver by the deceptively named ferry. You can buy iPads from the vending machines and drop a few hundred dollars on silk blouses. Quite a ferry. 

They say everyone who is rich enough to leave Ontario goes to Vancouver. I'm not sure who goes to Victoria then, since I could have happily dropped my food budget for the day on a frozen yoghurt. The city was beautiful, surrounded by the sea with distant mountaintops breaking the horizon. It was quite a vista taking the bus from the ferryport, with rolling hills bordering glittering bodies of water. 

I picked a good time to visit - temperatures that reached into the mid twenties, but not many tourists cluttering up the place. Best of both worlds. It appeared that every other shop was an independent coffee store and bakery, which suited me fine. It was a nice break from Tim Hortons, as I endeavoured to sample pastries and muffins from a two mile radius. Apart from that, there was a small downtown area that was mainly a generic mall surrounded by tourist trap shops. These sold a bizarre mix of pop culture memes and First Nation artwork. Ever want to hear Grumpy Cat complain about elk? Yours, for only $19.99. 

Though I want to live in Vancouver one day, eating apples in a highrise apartment and spitting pips on the commoners, Victoria seems the perfect place to retire to. I don't think I viewed anyone doing something more stressful than raise an arm for a refill. Vancouver was packed with runners, selfishly hogging the road as they quash heart disease. Victoria was more of a casual walk along the seafront, before stopping in for a fresh squeezed orange juice. A definite gear change from Vancouver, dodging joggers in tight clothing, to weaving around grandmothers pottering about in their Sunday Best. 

So, the food was fantastic. Mornings consisted of muffins from the local cafe, and dinner was an excellent cultural blend. Whether it was the Mexican food truck for enchiladas or noodles from Chinatown, being able to look up from my gluttony to see a landscape so beautiful it could be a Windows stock background was amazing. With the large Asian immigrant population, the availability of stir fries was beyond anything I could have wished for. 

Apart from culinary snobbery, there were also some excellent museums. The mix of green parkland, lakes, sea and mountains create a fascinating diversity of fauna, which was represented in the national history museum. The exhibits on First Nation culture were both beautiful and chilling, going hand in hand with the history of colonial expansion. 

It was a shame to leave, though my arteries didn't protest. As a final fuck you to my cardiovascular system, I picked up a chocolate banana muffin and waited for the bus. This was of course the perfect time for an energetic fellow on the comedown from methadone to start up a conversation. We chatted about his brother, his bitch of an ex wife, his son in London and the book he wrote. And of course the very nature of love and reason for existence. Well, I say we chatted. He talked and I tried to avoid eye contact. 

Though, apparently I saved some other poor soul from his attention. This soul belonged to Jesse, a bass player from the Vancouver band Sleuth. Jesse made for an excellent travelling companion as discussions on video games, music theory and the nature of academia became the backdrop for a few hours on the bus, ferry, bus again and the Vancouver sky train. Shame I missed his gig the evening after, but I had a date with destiny. 

Which by that, I mean of course a bus to Edmonton. 

Canada #3 - Vancouver

Vancouver, where to begin? Possibly one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited. The place is a miracle of diversity, with a bustling downtown district, national park, miles of beaches and a vista of the mountains all within convenient walking distance. And to top it off, incredible food and shopping. I want to live here. Might have to start selling organs to get here though. Bids of a kidney start at one high rise apartment, takers?

My time here was a blur of meandering downtown, window shopping and completely failing to blend in to crowds of the yolo generation bedecked in branded footwear. That said, the downtown area loved my Game of Thrones shirt. I had smiles, exclamations of joy and even a rocker throwing up the horns in glee. Probably a good thing I wasn't wearing a Greyjoy shirt, otherwise I'd likely have been shanked. 

I took a walking tour around Stanley Park, an area of astounding natural beauty. I even learnt a new exercise regime - apparently, walking slowly around and drinking Starbucks counts as a work out if one wears Lulu Lemon. I call it the YiPPE (Yoga Pants, Ponder, Entitlement) regime. 

Another hard day of walking around an area of woodland, taking photos and posing in a hollow tree. Apparently that's a thing. I returned for seem excellent food in the downtown area, before strolling to Gastown. 

It's a historic (for N. America) part of the city featuring a large steam powered clock and an old fashioned feel. Additionally, some of the best coffee I've ever tasted, in a place filled with thirty-somethings in powersuits, furiously jabbing at tablet devices. Lovely area though, loved the architecture. And the pizza, forged in the flames of a homemade wood fired oven.

Whilst thumbing through a hip free paper I found in a bin, I found the local events happening that week. After a few pages of comedians from that show everyone loves and indie bands moodily glaring at me from fringes, something caught my eye. Apparently the 8th International Vancouver Burlesque Festival was performing at a local theatre. Eager to participate in the local culture, I booked tickets at the gloriously vaudeville local theatre. 

This turned into one of the most enjoyable evenings out I've experienced. And it was an experience. Being MC'd by a rapping dancer in a ball gown, the night spiralled from classical burlesque with feather dances, to an interpretative dance of "The Wanted" by a banker and her dancing monkey, an intriguing take on the costume from "The Fifth Element", 60s go-go dancers, cannibals dragging a screaming man off stage, a broken clockwork prostitute dumped, literally, by a Russian mobster, relationship advice, with the evening capped off by a dancer portraying an overdose of meth followed by a group bow. I'm not sure what to make of what I just saw, but I think I love burlesque now. 

Followed by all this excitement, I enjoyed an excellent shawarma and hockey play off lesson in a Persian restaurant, relaxed in the beautiful Vancouver library and ate pastries in every bakery that caught my eye. Vancouver is a place of extremes. One second you're enjoying espresso and small talking with shop assistants, then you're stepping over puddles you hope are water and touring scuzzy sex shops. Not the Ann Summers type places, but the actual skid row establishments one associates with dystopian films like Blade Runner. On a Friday night, I walked down a street of clubs where glamorous girls in 10 inch heels teetered out of Ferraris and stretch limos, to a street of live peep shows and prostitutes on the street corner. And my iPod hadn't even shuffled.  

Vancouver. Amazing city, it's a shame to leave. Vibrant culture, great museums and the perfect place to visit. I definitely want to return, with a much fatter wallet, and attempt to take afternoon tea in every cafe in the city. Which should only take a couple of lifetimes. Onward to Victoria, and even more fantastic Asian food. 

Canada #2 - Train to Vancouver

Now, trains. Not the most exciting of prospects, but by golly trains are the way to travel. Decent leg room, air conditioning and less enforced physical contact. The train to Vancouver would take about two and a bit days, travelling through Jasper and the Rockies. After stocking up on drink crystals and bread - essentials to any journey, I believed I was ready. 

I was probably correct to bus to Saskatoon and take the train for the remainder. I've never seen a place as flat as mid-Canada. It's actually terrifying in its flatness. The journey by train was totally different though, with epic cliffs, views over tranquil lakes and more mountains than you can shake a stick at. It was humbling to make my way through them, being looked over by these craggy behemoths. With the viewing carriage - a coach with a viewing blister bolted on, it made for a spectacular ride. 

It's a little hard to describe the views. It looks like a stock Windows desktop background. It looks photoshopped. Just miles of unmarked beauty, like a snapshot of a bygone era. I wouldn't be too surprised to see dinosaurs roaming around if I'm honest. After the noisy and cramped bus, the quiet running train and open spaces acted as a beautiful dichotomy. 

I even saw some moose, which has basically been the highlight of my life. Big Fuckers, moose. According to the driver's frantic announcements, there were also bears, which caused a flurry of iPhones, but they escaped my notice. Apart from that it was just stunning scenery until Jasper, a tiny town nestled in the mountains. 

Almost absurdly picturesque, with cabin-like shops on the backdrop of towering mountains. Course, all these shops were Starbucks and Subways, but still a beautiful town. I found an independent bakery, and brought one of the best chai lattes and apple turnovers of my life. After piling back on the train, a guitarist named Jordan Raycroft began playing in the food carriage, and somehow I became the official photographer for the mini-gig. These things happen sometimes. 

The night passed, and I awoke to the onboard employee poking fun at my sleeping position. In all fairness, cramming my frame against the chair in a comfortable enough position to sleep probably was pretty laughable. It was another day of lying back, reading, podcasting and watching the peaks roll by. It's a hard life, travelling. 

Canada #1 - Bus to Saskatoon

So, turns out Canada is big. As in really big, some could say massive. I thought the train to London was long, but when I spend a few days in a bus, and not leave the fucking province, North America just seems selfish. Let the Europeans have another crack at an empire - you Canadians have thousands of miles being useless, just sat there, looking breathtaking and embodying the might of glacial forces. I found myself looking at an undisturbed swathe of natural beauty and thinking, "know what this needs? Fields of tea and a Union Flag". But, by the time I dug my red jacket and rifle out of the carry-on, the feeling had passed. 

So, bussing across an entire fucking continent. Great idea in theory, saved a lot of cash compared to flying, but fuck me sideways - I forgot how much I missed beds and showers. And being able to fully extend my legs. The scenery was beautiful, with craggy mountains and lakes masquerading as errant seas, with the occasional deer or bird mocking me with their elbow space. 

However, it was a shock, when buying a bus ticket from Peterborough to Saskatoon, one imagines they are on the bus from said place of origin to said destination. Canada is different though, with transfers every few hours, and refuelling stops at 2am. Nothing better than being turfed out of your seat at the wee hours of the morning, grab your book and have to find a different bus. It's fun seeing all the varied types of passengers a Greyhound attracts. There was the student who dropped out of university on the very last term, apparently in defiance of the upper classes. Or the person who was a bit too happy to find a beer store open at midnight. There was the people who valiantly try to strike up conversations, and the ones who stubbornly cling to misanthropy. Or the oxymoronic career travellers, who really should let an apartment for more than a month. They might find regular showers benefit them. 

The culinary range one finds on a bus trip is unlike anything a sane person would ever enjoy. When only one food purveyor is open, a chipotle fried chicken burger is the perfect foodstuff for an early morning snack. Other times, a muffin is a perfectly viable dinner. My mind has been broadened. 

Still, I got to Saskatoon in decent time, finding a Tim Horten's knockoff and enjoyed a bagel and hot chocolate. Seems primary colours are in short supply in Saskatoon. Ah well, I was determined to enjoy this cultural exchange.

 

Saskatoon has a pretty standard colonial past. People are lied to, arrive at a damp marshland, scare off the natives and promptly set about making huts out of mud. I learned all this whilst a lovely and earnest young woman showed me around Saskatoon's history centre, situated in a basement. I learned a lot - the people of Saskatoon really fucking love bridges. Even when they fall down four times, they still build them. All credit to them. Personally, I'd have invested in something with a little less concrete. 

After this, a walking tour of the riverfront. Actually a beautiful walk, with pelicans - apparently a normal thing over here - bridges and marshland as far as the eye could see. After finishing though, this left me with six hours to spare before my train, and Saskatoon had played its last hand in the tourist deck. So I sat in a Subway and read before getting on the bus to the station. 

So, one city down. And about four days since the last shower. Tally-ho. 

The Final Blog - Thai Experience

So, my travels (with a Trilby) are over. Or to put it another way, my tour of countries that drive on the left are over. I was gone from January 17th to June 4th. That's a fair while.
 
I'm now back in England, enjoying her welcoming embrace of constant rain and xenophobia. And to be honest, I don't have any regrets. The best part of five months is a long time. I achieved a lot. I taught at a college, village school and orphanage. I learned passable Thai. I bungee jumped. Attended a cookery course. Completed seventy hours of massage tuition. Saw a lot of the world. Met some great people. Enjoyed Songkran. Was nearly shot. Twice. Considering most gap years boil down to "I went here and got drunk", that's not half bad.
 
For those considering a gap year in Thailand, Thai Experience is truly excellent. Last year I was very confused about whether or not to trust a small company, as I'd heard next to nothing about it. If you're searching, you can trust them absolutely. They're an excellent company, with lots of experience and very supportive for your needs. The Thai tuition is wonderful, and Nong Khai is a beautiful place which feels like a piece of true Thailand.
 
In my self-inflated blogger opinion, Thailand was an incredible country to spend my few months. Chiangmai was beautiful, a bustling place with a charming mix of old tradition and new business. I'll try to erase Bangkok from my memory. I'm sure there are some beautiful parts of the city, but what I saw just left a bad taste in my mouth.
 
I fell in love with Thai culture and language. Both are complex, but astounding. The people are wonderful, and more welcoming than any I've met. The students were very hard working and you could easily see their will to work and drive for success. I wish them all the best.
 
What made me a little sad was the amount of Westernisation in their culture. Materialism overtaking Buddhism, jeans and a shirt and generic brands dominating the market stalls. The obsession with pale skin frankly sickened me, especially seeing girls literally dousing themselves in chalk to appear whiter. I just felt that Western culture is not that great. Though, I can't blame them. Seeing the Hollywood image of fast cars and every other person is a doctor whilst having more disposable income than a minor country is an attractive proposition. I just wish they'd try to ignore the exploitation, short term profits over long term stability and blatant misogyny. And if that works, I'd also like to stop the tide, and then maybe declare peace in the Middle East. I don't ask for much.
 
Moving countries, Hong Kong was magnificent. An incredible combination of China and colonial power. It's also nice to see an ex-British colony that's an amazing success, rather than our other ex colonies, which we've spent the past two hundred years ignoring. Though, I feel that with more time and (a lot) more money, I could have had vastly different experience. That Dim Sum shop would be first on my list.

All in all, my gap year was brilliant. I did something out of the ordinary, and feel I actually achieved something. I’m not going to go all cliché and state I’ve found myself and made a positive impact that’ll last for generations, but, I met some amazing people, helped in many different places and above all emerged a better person.

Yeah, that’ll do.
 

Hong Kong

I emerged, blinking into Hong Kong a few hours after I wrote the last blog. As I shouldered my bags and navigated the airport (no easy feat) and got on the bus to Kowloon. Then got thrown off the bus as I’d neglected to buy a ticket – they don’t accept cash. Turns out I’d missed the tiny 4x4ft box containing a crushed looking woman you buy tickets from. Silly me.

I found the correct stop and squeezed my way off the bus, walking up Argyle Street to find my hotel. Then walked back. Then walked up again. Then walked down before I found the minuscule plaque displaying _{“Sincere House”}. I dragged myself up the stairs to find my room, to find they didn’t accept cards. So I walked all the way back to a bank in an attempt to find an ATM, crossing various streets to find one. So, eventually, I had a room and had paid for it, and collapsed with the air-con on full blast.

I emerged later to pick up some noodles, and then returned. It had been a long day, I began at 6am in Bangkok, and had been travelling since then. The first night was spent just relaxing. The second day I decided to be more adventurous. I did a complete walking tour of Kowloon (for those that don’t know, Kowloon is the island above Hong Kong). It started with me walking up to the Flower Market, about three streets given to stalls and stalls of flowers, as well as a surprising amount of shops. 

Compared to the smell of exhaust, the market was heavenly. I toured around, wondering if this counts as an onset of middle age. If it’s not a garden centre, it’s ok, right?

See? Totally a street

From there I found a massive shopping mall, selling all types of batshit fashions. There was a mix that could be dubbed eclectic in the least, and four types of bananas at worst. It’s probably “ironic” or avant garde, but I’m pretty sure wearing a green gimp suit over skinny genes and a ripped top is grounds for being sectioned. After passing a scary amount of Asian hipsters (one of the funniest sights I’ve ever seen) I scarpered, as just being there made me want to buy heelies and perch a Trilby hat too small for me on the back of my head.

I began the long walk down to Shanghai Street, thankfully with less prostitutes and seedy dive bars than forty years ago, but still pretty dodgy.

Half of these are human body parts

I felt pretty sure wandering down the wrong alley would lead to me waking up in an ice bath missing a kidney. There was a decent amount of cookery shops sandwiched together, and some enjoyable crazy little shops here and there.

Yes, I do

At the end I found the Jade Market, a covered block literally crammed with stalls just selling jade – or green stone marketed at stupid tourists. There ranged everything from simple rings or bangles to carved dragons and Buddhas. I suppose someone with more gem knowledge than me could tell a genuine from a fake, but it just all looked like semi-transparent green rocks to me. 

Um, nice jade. Or green glass. Flip a coin

Still, it’s nice to see a little bit of old Hong Kong, angry old women and all. There was a massive grocery market nearby, selling all sorts of Chinese vegetables and spices to live meats. Like Thailand, live fish and seafood was kept in boxes, and eviscerated in front of you. There’s a perverse Schadenfreude in watching someone pick out a fish, before seeing it bludgeoned, skinned and diced whilst the butcher holds idle conversation. Still, you can’t get fresher.

Because I’m a genius, I’d decided to walk around the WHOLE FUCKING CITY in flip-flops, so by now my feet had given up and the gap between my first and second toes was beginning to ache. I’d also been out roughly eight hours, which is the equivalent to my Duke of Edinburgh Bronze. I grabbed a delicious lemon chicken at a nearby restaurant and spent the night Skyping. Though, in true Asian tradition, it was doused in sugar. 

The day after I toured the local markets, of which there are many in Kowloon. I began the day trying to find some Dim Sum, and on a recommendation checked out a place in North Kowloon. As I sat down, I noticed the customers. All in business suits and sporting very dignified beards. The women were all in tailored dresses and looked very haughty. As I looked at the menu, I realised I couldn’t  afford one dish. I’d stepped into a Michelin starred haunt of Hong Kong’s elite. Awkward. I told the confused waitress that I had an appointment, and scarpered before they charged me for breathing their oxygen. I instead chose porridge in a delicious little eatery round the corner from my hotel.

I started my tour at the dubiously named Ladies’ Market, which is actually quite tame. It’s a busy mix of cheap tourist goods and dodgy electrics. Though, there’s enough ladies’ clothing and lingerie to merit its title. It’s about three blocks long, and the street turns into little more than a rugby match as you battled past buyers. Though, being a literal head taller than most of the populace worked in my favour. I sauntered down the Golden Mile, unofficially (but accurately) dubbed the Neon Mile. It’s amazingly tacky, and I have it on good authority there’s a fine selection of strip clubs and dodgy hostess bars. My guide covers everything. There were enough little stalls around the area to keep my busy ‘til lunch, where upon I began tracking down larger game.

Hong Kong is the world’s best place to buy electronic goods. With no sales tax and a decent currency, you can grab some bargains. My prey was an iPad 2. From an English price of £400 (if you’re lucky) they were available at £305. You don’t need a degree in maths to understand that’s a deal. I’m not an idiot, unlike a lot of foreigners, I did not scavenge a deal in the markets. Buying from the tech markets is pretty damn stupid, as should be obvious. Though, tell that to the morons at the Ladies’ Market. My chosen store was “Broadway”, a large chain of respectable tech shops. Though, I was sidetracked by “Brink” on the display Xbox. I meant to see if it deserved the panning from every critic ever, and ended up passing half an hour there. It’s actually pretty fun. The parkour works great when you can drop behind an enemy, unload a clip into his back and spring away before his mates notice. Though, the AI is crap.

Anyway, I managed to track down a 32gig Wi-fi model, eventually. iPads seem to be carved from the wood of the true cross, considering how hard they are to find. Every shop I tried was sold out, which I cannot fathom. The most looked forward to and anticipated tech device of the year, in the biggest shopping district in one of the most famous cities in the world, and they didn’t have enough stock. That seems fucking brainless – why did every Game shop only buy ten copies of Halo: Reach on September 14^th? Oh wait, they didn’t. They brought stacks of them.

What angered me even more is how every shop had at least two iPads on display. To understand this, I’ve prepared a little role play:

Tech shop: hey look! We have iPads! Look how shiny they are, come buy one!

Me: that’s cool, can I buy one please?

Tech shop: no, of course you fucking can’t. We’re sold out, you brainless twat.

Me: when are you going to get some more delivered?

Tech shop: we don’t know, we haven’t organised that yet.

Me: can I at least buy the display copy?

Tech shop: fuck off, we need to advertise the fact we sell iPads

Top tip - circular logic works because circular logic works because circular logic works.

So, I have an iPad now. I love it. I could dedicate an entire blog to it. I also love how it smells and the feel of it curled up against me as I fall asleep...

Woah, moving on. Stream of consciousness ended.

That evening I ate a great little Dim Sum place I spotted whilst out walking. The food cost less than the black market price of a human lung, and was truly delicious. I partook of some steamed bread filled with BBQ pork, steamed prawn rolls and chicken and rice. All this and a bottle of water cost about HK$50 - £4.

The next day I decided to take a trip to Hong Kong city. On the hotel manager’s recommendation I journeyed to Repulse Bay and Stanley, the least imaginatively named town since “New York”. You aren’t trying, Imperial British Empire, the Aussies have some great ones! What about Tittybong, Humptybong, Gooloogong and Mount Buggery? (Yes, those are all real).

Great place, dull name

 Anyway, I caught the MTR (metro) to Hong Kong Admiralty station, and jumped on the bus to Repulse Bay, or near enough. I was dropped off a fair distance away, and walked the rest. 

Repulse Bay was unimaginably beautiful. Pure white sand, clear sea, stone pier and Chinese cargo liner in the distance – wait, ignore that. It was surprisingly deserted, considering it was 37^oC with burning sunshine. Once again, my GorillaPod proved its worth, and I snapped a few good pictures. It’s almost like having a real friend to hold the camera. 

After a nap on the pier for a few hours, I continued on to Stanley. Fuck it, Stanley is too boring. I arrived at DRAGONFIRE PEAK Plaza, a shopping centre being renovated, very noisily. I walked down to DRAGONFIRE PEAK pier, a serene wooden affair the other side of the cove from Repulse. I visited the seafront, picked up a 99 and toured the tourist trap cafes. Christ, that’s a lot for some fish & ships. The main attraction of DRAGONFIRE PEAK is the DRAGONFIRE PEAK market. It’s a relatively big market aimed at day-trippers, so plenty of tacky souvenirs and fake silk. Though, I picked up a fairly classy Hong Kong pin for my fairly classy Trilby.

On the way back I nabbed the front seat on a double-decker bus, the views were stunning especially when we crested a hill and the whole vista was unveiled, until it crashed (nerd joke). From there I took a quick lunch at a duck restaurant, and found out later it was actually a pretty famous place. I stumble upon the best places.

The day after I took a trip of central Hong Kong, starting at Admiralty and walking around, getting hopelessly and wonderfully lost. I traipsed through a variety of shopping malls, nearly tripped over the ferry port and generally took circular routes before I found the mid-level escalators. 

It’s a massive chain of escalators leading straight through the heart of Hong Kong and rising a significant height. You can get some great views, and feel faintly superior to the people on the street. I saw a whole mix of shops, traditional Chinese to pizza parlours.

I reluctantly left (if they went down as well as up, I’d have spent all day on them) and walked to the top of Hong Kong Botanical Gardens. The place was incredible incongruous, in the middle of a bustling city there’s a perfectly maintained park full of exotic birds and even some lemurs. I did a spot of people watching and napping on a park bench. I was quite tired, and spent about three hours there. There was a great view of the tallest buildings and a lovely fountain, I guess I’m simply amused. 

From there I journeyed to the Peak Tram, the oldest working tram in Hong Kong. It’s a gentle little ascent to the Peak, where you have the best view in Hong Kong. Also available is the chance to get the most overpriced steak, judging from the tacky cafes that have sprung up like mould or dry wall rot.

I waited an hour or so until dark (during which my iPod died) and took some photos. It was a nice way to spend an evening, but spending a few hours on a very high drop on my oddy-knocky just makes me feel like a potential suicide. 

So now we get to Thursday. I moseyed down the Golden Mile to find the Space Museum, which sounds like a fun way to spend an afternoon. After I arrived, and walked around the whole building trying to find an entry and entered, it was actually kinda fun. Lots of mad old beliefs about the world, my personal favourite was the belief the world stands on four elephants, on the back of a giant turtle, on a giant snake on an endless sea, which I’m pretty sure is a Terry Pratchett novel. The museum trumpeted their interactive elements, a jet-pack ride, space walking and hang-glider on every advert, yet when I got there the height limit was 5ft9 and the weight limit was 75kg. As I’m a 6ft3, 81kg guy, this wasn’t particularly useful. I’m not that freakishly tall.

The rest of the day I spent snooping round the culture hall and rest of south Kowloon. There are some great views of Hong Kong island to be had, and plenty of high class fashion shops. I had another dim-sum lunch and returned to my room late, before wandering around the darkened streets of Central Mong Kok, bathed in the glow of a thousand neon lights. After a chicken noodle soup (I felt nostalgic) I picked up a new delight to my taste buds, frozen yoghurt. Nicer than ice cream, and with some granola topping actually looked somewhat healthy. I’d definitely have it again some other night.

So, we come to my last day. I decided spend the morning and early afternoon on the ferry tours, and the rest of the day packing and skyping. Walking back to the shoreline near the space museum, I took a couple of ferries over the stretch. I wanted to see the famous (ish) Noonday Gun, only to discover that the whole coast was being renovated and it was out of bounds. After this I decided to take a tour, the Star Ferry bay excursion was excellent, roughly £8 for a good hour and a half sightsee.

The joy of it was that you could hop on and off at any time, the ticket lasted a whole day. Unfortunately I couldn’t make use of this, as I’d seen all of Hong Kong coast line already. So, with the prow to myself, I pulled up a chair, enjoyed the free drink with nibbles and put my feet up to enjoy the view. There was an automated voice, but it was inaudible over the engine, wind and sea. It was nice being back on the open waters, feeling the dip and crash of the waves, considering I holidayed in the Scilly Isles every year until I was thirteen, it was a very enjoyable time.

I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it, the smell of salt, that odd dry feeling in your hair and skin and the taste of salt on your lips. Pretty much the parts of my childhood I actually want to remember. We saw the whole spectrum of sights, the peak, office buildings and more experimental art houses on the shoreline. It’s a beautiful place, even if the “represents the bamboo, showing strength and flexibility” was a little pretentious for my liking.

So, my travels in Hong Kong have ended. It was a great week, the free visa was the icing on the cake. It’s nice to see a British colony that isn’t completely screwed up, after hearing of Africa’s Western exploitation and India’s decades of mistreatment, the successful and beautiful Hong Kong city was a welcome break. It was also nice to see English street names on plaques bolted to the wall, a sort of easing in to English culture before I return. It maybe a little hypocritical of me to denounce Bangkok then profess a love of Hong Kong, but Hong Kong still feels Chinese. Bangkok felt like a generic urban sprawl, but Hong Kong wears its heritage proudly on its sleeve, and I respect it for that. I think given some more time and a lot more money, I could enjoy myself even more. It’s definitely not a user friendly place, if it was a computer program it’d be Microsoft Access. The learning curve was steep, almost a brick wall, but once I’d learnt the local ways, I fell in love with its charm, unpredictable plus eclectic culture and total uniqueness. Definitely a place to come again in the future.




Food!

A nice chicken noodle soup - though not with the flavour of true Thai

Chinese tea with BBQ pork steamed rolls and sticky rice filled with chicken and mushroom

Excellent duck soup

Amazing Dim Sum - steamed rolls with shrimp, chicken and rice accompanied by BBQ pork bread rolls

Lemon chicken with rice