Today was another relatively quiet day. It started with a Super Kiwi breakfast (Poached eggs, spinach, bacon and sausages on toasted crusty bread) and a passionfruit fruit shake at Puku Cafe – very yummy. Later on, I went back to the Army museum for a proper look around.
Saturday was, once again, assigned as a rest day. Not much to report then other than a long walk around town in the early evening while I tried to make a decision about where to have dinner. I nearly sat down at one of the street stalls but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it – I think what I’m lacking is nothing more than an accomplice. I eventually decided on a smart looking restaurant, which turned out to be a bit cheaper than it looked, and had a surprisingly tasty salad of lettuce, cucumber and tomato with a sour chilli & garlic dressing. My body definitely appreciated that brief nod to the concept of healthy eating though this was followed by another bowl of Pho, accompanied by another chilli incident, which was not so appreciated.
Later on, I dozed through the All Blacks giving England a rugby lesson on the TV.
This morning I woke to my alarm for the first time in a while, as I’d booked myself on a cooking course that started at 9am. It wasn’t far from my hotel but I still struggled to find it and ended up running into the teacher and my fellow students (there were only three of us) in the street at about 10 past. They’d clearly just given up on me but I was looking sufficiently harried and crucially, was carrying the brochure in my hand, so they were able to identify me as their missing student.
The first part of the course involved a trip to the market, which while it was interesting, wasn’t as educational as I’d hoped. Our teacher was happy to answer any questions we had, but he wasn’t offering up too many information without prompting. Anyway, after a lap of the market, we headed back to the restaurant to learn a few dishes. We started with the dessert, which was a very simple dish made of boiled and diced sweet potato, julienned ginger, water, cornflour and coconut cream. We made this first so that it had some time to set in the fridge and it was actually pretty good – certainly better than it sounds. Next was fresh spring rolls, which are really very simple to make. We then moved onto the main courses – steamed catfish with ginger and fried chicken with lime leaves, though they insist on calling limes lemons here, just to confuse everyone.
With a full stomach after enjoying the fruits of our labours, I headed back to the hotel for a little afternoon snooze.
Fairly well rested though feeling decidely average, I went out in search of Beer Minh’s for dinner – a recommendation from this rather good website. After walking the length of the street a couple of times, I finally found it and headed upstairs for a seat on the balcony, overlooking the busy crossroads below. Dinner, which was rather good, consisted of another sour fish soup, followed by beef with lemongrass and chilli, washed down with a 60c Halida beer. As this all settled in my stomach, I started to feel quite a bit better and so set off for a walk that inevitably ended up back at our favourite bar.
I nursed a couple of beers with Stuart, who was also pretty subdued, met a couple of friendly english guys and a young German guy doing social work in lieu of military service, had a couple of mojitos, then headed off with Michael, the Nigerian that actually runs the bar and assorted hangers-on, to Solace, a nightclub on a barge on the Red River. This was a pretty fun and chilled place. I got to practice some more German then met a friendly group of Seattle lads, a Portugese guy who’d lived in Macau for 12 years, and Alex, the Englishman I’d met the night before, and his Swedish side-kick Shell (they both work for Ericsson). After an hour or so, it was my turn on the pool table (Michael had very thoughtfully put my name up when we arrived). This was a large table which was remarkably flat, with a good cue, and I was in the zone. Won the first game against one of the local boys comfortably, then beat an Irish guy and it was starting to feel like those great nights at the uni bar, all those years ago. My next opponent was Sean, a smartly-dressed young Vietnamese guy with a broad aussie accent, who’d grown up two suburbs away from where I did. This game went down to the black and Sean prevailed, so my brief reign was at an end. It was great to know I’ve still got it though.
Today was the occasion of my final pay day from the empire of the Sun King. After a decent lie-in and a spot of BBC News (big news day!) I then spent a rather dull hour sorting out my financial affairs, before heading out again into the wonderful streets of the Old Quarter. First stop was the Puku cafe, a very chilled flashpacker hang-out. Apparently I also fall into the flashpacker category – I think it means someone that’s prepared to spend >$10 on a room and has a laptop. Unfortunately, there were so many people tapping away at their keyboards that the wi-fi router was struggling to cope and after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to upload some photos, I gave up and hit the streets again.
A 15 minute wander through the French quarter took me to Hoa Lo prison, originally built by the French to incarcerate and generally be very nasty to locals that opposed colonial rule. It was then used to hold American pilots shot down over north Vietnam during the ‘American War’, who nicknamed it the ‘Hanoi Hilton’. The inmates included Johnny McCain (or McJohn Cain as they call him at the prison museum). This was clearly a pretty grim place, complete with guillotine, though the museum goes to substantial, and frankly pretty amusing, lengths to portray how wonderfully well the Americans were treated. All of the photos appeared to centre on Christmas celebrations however, and I suspect they were all taken on the same day. Predictably, there were a number of Americans visiting the museum, including one guy wearing a wonderfully ironic t-shirt from New Hampshire with “LIVE FREE OR DIE” emblazoned on the front. I wonder if he is aware that Ho Chi Minh’s declaration of independence in 1945 was copied verbatim from the American document of the same name. As the saying goes, one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter…
Next stop, after a great bowl of Pho Bo (beef noodles in soup) was the Temple of Literature, a Confucian university, founded in 1070 (take that, Oxbridge!). This is in a beautiful garden setting and I got some good shots in the fading afternoon light.
I then found my way to Lenin Park (big statue of Vladimir – one of the few reminders that this is, in fact a Communist country – well technically, anyway). This is a lovely little park where young couples come to spend romantic time together, and for guys to come and kick the footy around.
It was now getting on for 5pm and I made my way up the side of the Citadel (now a military compound), past the ceremonial area that leads off to Uncle Ho’s mausoleum. He’s currently on his annual trip to Russia to be rebalmed, so I’ll be giving that a miss. The traffic was rally starting to build now, with a corresponding drop in air quality, so I headed back to visit my friends at Culi Cafe for a few quiet beers and some quality internet time. I finally succeeded in getting my photos up the pipe then set off for a lovely meal of fried spring rolls and a beef stir-fry with rice that was disappointingly bland. Naturally I asked for some chilli, and received in return, one thinly sliced red birds-eye chilli, which raised the temperature to sinus-clearing territory.
After recovering from this chilli incident with a scoop of caramel ice cream down by the lake, I somehow found my way back to Hair of the Dog for a couple more 2-4-1 mojitos. Made a few new friends, nearly won a couple of games of pool (starting to read the table a bit better now) and stayed out too late again. All good fun but.
Finally, I need to mention the wonderful weekend I spent in Malmö and Copenhagen with my buddies Kristina and Francesco back in October. Thanks for that guys (happy now, Kunz?).
Today was such an amazing day that I’m really not sure where to begin. I also want to avoid writing a few thousand words about it, which I easily could, as I’m sure no-one has the time (nor, I suspect, the level of interest) to keep up with my current volume of output already and I really should be doing other things. Though to be fair, enjoying a late afternoon beer that costs just under a dollar while tapping away in a quiet bar while watching an early Babylon 5 episode, isn’t such a bad thing. The traffic is actually so crazy at this time of day that it’s best to be in off the streets anyway.
But I digress. I think the best way to do this is to bust out the bullet points, so here goes:
- found a new hotel, down a lovely quiet laneway (with its own temple!), and got a very clean double room for $15
- finding the hotel involved my induction into the world of xe om (motor cycle taxis), which are a fantastic, though pretty risky, way to get around the city (I suspect there may be a clause in my travel insurance about these things). Lots of fun though.
- then found my way to the Culi Cafe, attracted by the offer of free Wi-Fi, and ended up sharing a table with seven people (5 English and 2 Aussies) who had just completed a trip together all the way from Bangkok. They were a lot of fun and were very impressed with my tiny little laptop. I was impressed with the tiny pizza one of them ordered.
- went for a wander and found the shoe street. $10 later I was the proud owner of a lovely pair of Nike sandals and my regret over not shelling out €70 five weeks ago at the Ecco shop in Mälmo became about 50 bucks worth of relief.
- next stop was Hoan Kiem Lake, which is the centre of the Old Quarter, and the lovely Ngoc San Temple which sits on a small island towards the north end. Hoan Liem means “lake of the restored sword”, an excalibur-esque fable which you can read more about here, if you’re interested.
- further wandering took me in to the French quarter where I quite unexpectantly stumbled across the rather imposing catholic cathedral.
- had lunch at a local Pho (beef noodle in soup) place next to the cathedral. There’s a new noodle in town!
- then back to the hotel for a bit of a rest and a spot of BBC World News, where I was very surprised to see my karaoke buddy from Brussels, Ben, doing a piece to camera about the EU economic rescue package. He was looking (and sounding) a lot sharper than when we did that especially awful rendition of Livin’ on a prayer those three short weeks ago.
- headed back out and found one of the little Bia Hoi places (literally some tiny plastic chairs and benches on the footpath serving freshly brewed pilsener-like beer), where I was served by a guy who I reckon, despite his claim to be 15, that he was more like 9 years old. Anyway, the beer was good despite the fact that he charged me double the going rate (40c instead of 20c, so no real cause for complaint there).
- went to a Vietnamese restaurant recommended in my Travelfish guide and enjoyed a great sour fish soup with a couple of thin pineapple pieces in the bottom, which worked surprisingly well. This was followed by a fabulous beef and rice dish, washed down by a Hanoi beer, with Mission Impossible 3 playing behind the bar.
- headed to Le Pub, where Wednesdays are $1 G&T days. Had five of these (they were pretty weak, unsurprisingly) and made two new Dutch friends – Bestian and Rolf.
- headed back to hair of the dog, where I met Stuart from Aberdeen, who is installing a new mobile network around nothern Vietnam, then headed upstairs for pool, where I met Valentine, the Romanian who owns the place, and then a whole bunch of other travellers, mostly Canadian, Irish, English and a token kiwi.
So, that’s clearly far too much detail, but I didn’t want to miss anything out (I’ve started carrying my notebook around and actually making notes as I go – can you tell?).
Anyway, quick summary of a great day:
- was ripped-off about 15 times, for a grand total of about $10, but I’m still smiling
- discovered a whole new exciting form of transportation
- made at least 18 new friends
Also, I just managed to get some photos back up the pipe. Look here.
Having packed most of my stuff up last night, including a minor cull of some unnecessary pack clutter, I was off early after finally having a solid night’s sleep. A short taxi ride took me to Kowloon station where I checked in my backpack and got my boarding pass, despite it being 6 hours before my flight. This is part of the deal when you catch the Airport Express train which is really good value at under HK$10 (£9). From the airport I then took another short taxi ride to Tung Chung, where I caught the gondola up the steep hills of Lantau Island, overlooking the airport. At the top of the gondola is a Buddhist monastery and an enormous Buddha statue, along with a thoroughly contrived tourist village (though with surprisingly good gelati, including pistacchio – it was the wrong side of lunch but it had been a while so I had to indulge).
I had been harbouring delusions about walking up to the top of Lantau Peak, but once I saw how steep it was, these were quickly forgotten. The track was signposted as ‘Happy Trail – Lantau Peak’, which I found puzzling. Perhaps it named by the local monks as the pain involved in hauling oneself up this very steep path was likely to lead to a spriritual awakening of some kind. That, or it was someone’s idea of a sadistic joke. Either way, it was now clear why the Lonely Planet suggested that this was a non-trivial exercise, best attempted after staying the night at the nearby guesthouse.
So, no mountains to be climbed today, just a leisurely ride back down the gondola and back to the airport.
I was going to talk about the flight but suffice to say that Vietnam Airlines delivered a pretty good service. Mind you, given what the flight cost, I should bloody well hope so. Unless something goes horribly wrong at some point, that will be the single most expensive part of the whole journey (yes even more than the flight from London). The primary complaint was that the inflight meal (remember those) was full of MSG, so I spent my first few hours in Vietnam with a dry mouth and a headache.
Anyway, then I was really in Asia. I had a feeling that Hong Kong was only just a warm-up, and that was a large part of the point (apart from the fact that I couldn’t get a Oneworld points flight direct from London to Hanoi). And I was right. From the moment I got into the minibus (leaves when it’s full) from the airport into town (US$2 or 25,000 Dong – thanks to Dr Sinclair, I got to pay the latter), everything was all suddenly so much more real.
I thought the air quality in Hong Kong was bad (and it is) but as we approached Hanoi, we (including Maria & Colin, the couple from Vancouver) started to worry. Despite the warm temperature, and partly based on our other friend Richard, the Bostonian, who has lived in Vietnam for about five years bigging it up – “if you think this is bad, wait ’til we get downtown”, we made a calculated decision to sweat over the alternative of having the windows open and the concentrated carbon monoxide intake that would result.
We all tried to forget about the moped that we passed with the cage of puppies on the back which I think we all knew, even before Richard made the point that “they’re not going to a pet shop”, was not full of happy thoughts. Anyway, if you haven’t experienced peak hour in Hanoi (by now it was 5pm), or perhaps Saigon (which, they tell me is orders of magnitude worse), it is something to behold. I think perpetual motion is probably the best way to describe it. Unadultered chaos is another phrase that springs to mind. Imagine thousands of mopeds streaming around the odd car/minibus with no apparent regard for anything other than their own relentless progress and with no discernible observance of any road rules.
About an hour later, we finally made it into ‘the Old Quarter’. At this point, Maria, Colin & I were on our own. We elected to walk the kilometre and a bit, past the lake, to where the hotels we were looking for, were located. As we were working off different guide books, we had slightly different destinations, though they turned out to be across the road from each other.
My chosen hotel turned out to be full, so I begrudgingly took a ‘single’ room across the road for US$21. This turned out to be about the size of my flat in London (no exaggeration but the bathroom was the size of the room I had In Hong Kong – technically it was a triple but I’m sure I could have squeezed in a dozen backpackers). It was very quiet and I figured it would do for one night (which was all they were offering anyway).
So, after a quick shower, I set off 40m down the road to the ‘Hair of the Dog’ bar. This had been mentioned in my (not-Lonely Planet) guidebook, so it was clearly a good place to start proceedings. Maria & Colin duly turned up about half way through my first beer (Ha Noi beer on special until 9pm at 10,000 Dong = ~US$0.65).
Shortly after, Chris (probably not his real name) appeared at my feet, pointing at the rubber sole on the front of my right shoe that was just starting to peel away, which even I hadn’t yet noticed. I then negotiated (or so I thought) to buy a small bottle of super glue from him for 16,000 Dong (US$1). What I had in fact bought however, was a complete shoe makeover. Though I suspect that the super glue on its own would have done just fine, Chris clearly had other ideas, getting out a large needle and thread to supplement the glue, and before I could say, “hang on, they’re gore-tex and I’m pretty sure I don’t want you to do that”, he was away. Then, just as we were discussing how silly my shoe will look with white stitching on the front, out came the black paint and the stitching was rendered invisible. That in itself would have been impressive, but Chris was far from finished, proceeding to give my shoe a thorough cleaning, with a toothbrush, no less (to be fair, they were pretty grotty). I was so pleased with the result that naturally I insisted that he had to clean the other shoe as well. So, for less than three bucks, we were entertained by Chris’s amazing shoe repair skills for a solid ten minutes, and I got a pair of shiny clean and good as new walking shoes as well.
After another beer we headed off to the fried fish place (it got a mention in both LP & their ‘other’ guidebook so it must be good). We managed to avoid the three closely-named impersonators next door, and found our way upstairs to the real deal. This place is a real one-trick pony (grilled fish with spring onion, coriander and dill served in a frypan sitting on a little pot full of really hot coals – a total nightmare for any health and safety lawyer) but that’s what we were expecting. Though we concluded that they were milking their fame for all it was worth (though we were eating within five minutes of walking in), it was a unique dish, and we were in and out within 45 minutes, surprisingly satisfied (though ready for perhaps another beer).
We duly returned to ‘Hair of the Dog’ where it was by now 2-4-1 cocktails. We therefore ordered two pairs of Mojitos sans ice (at Colin’s very sensible suggestion), which came with real sugar cane, which caused me to reminisce about driving up the north coast when we were kids and Dad would always insist on stopping off to pinch some cane for us to suck on. We then made friends with a Finnish couple, who’d just done the full Trans-Mongolian from Helsinki. They were pretty cool and we shared a couple of beers before an abortive attempt to head off to a karaoke bar. As it was now midnight, it seemed a good time to call it a night so I went back to my enormous hotel room and watched two episodes of Friends, before turning in.
Hanoi photos coming as soon as Flickr wants to let me upload them…
After a better, but still less than ideal night’s sleep, I had a leisurely start this morning, beginning with pancakes at the restaurant which will not be named. I then headed over to Central and got the Fast Ferry out to Cheung Chau, a little island to the west of Hong Kong Island. While I’m sure it gets pretty busy on a weekend, this Monday lunchtime, I pretty much had the place to myself, which was great. On an impulse, I hired a bike and set off to roughly follow the walking tour around the island from the Lonely Planet.
This took me along the promenade, through some of the tiny little streets (no cars on this island), past a cool little temple which faced out onto a basketball court, and then across to the other side of the island where there is a lovely beach, to which I later returned for a very satisfying swim and to do a little more work on my still as yet embryonic tan. My tour continued along to the northern end of the island, along a pedestrian/cycle path through some lovely quiet leafy residential areas and then through the island cemetary, set amongst the trees in a beautifully peaceful spot looking out over the channel.
Having reached the end of the island, I trundled down the other side, back to the village, and after my little swim, I sat down at one of the many seafood restaurants along the promenade (this was a fishing village after all) and ordered some lunch. This consisted of deep-fried squid with salt & chilli, which was lovely and fresh, and for the main course I had ordered fried crayfish with chilli & garlic. This lead to some confusion on the part of the waitress as I think this dish fell under the (you sure you want that, white boy?) category. She even went to the trouble of bringing out a live one to show me, to ensure that I hadn’t ordered the wrong thing. I wasn’t really sure what I’d ordered but it was definitely a crustacean, so I gave her the thumbs up. This resulted in a plate piled high in these little creatures (they’re similar to a Balmain Bug though smaller), and a pair of scissors, and I was duly given a brief tutorial on how to go about eating them. Admittedly, they were a lot of work and their shells were hard and spiky, but the flesh tasted somewhere on the prawn – lobster scale so I was happy. I sat and slowly finished off my beer in the warm afternoon and then wandered back to the ferry terminal for a dozy journey back into town.
I decided to go to Macau today and though I didn’t get the early start I had wanted, I managed to sneak on to an 11.30 ferry. Sitting behind me were a group of old hippies, who are clearly of some importance, as they had half a dozen camera crews and photographers in tow. Judging by their t-shirts, they are democracy protestors, with one of them referring directly to the June 1989 crackdown in Beijing, and another portrarying that iconic image of a man blocking the progress of a tank. I later chanced upon the demonstration that these guys had come to lead, which was smallish, though noisy enough, outside Government House, while a reasonable police presence diverted traffic around them. It was all really rather relaxed, and the cops certainly didn’t care about me getting up close for some photos, which I found a little surprising. Clearly, things are very different out here in the Special Administrative Regions (ie HK & Macau), than they are on the mainland.
Macau is really rather an odd place. This was enhanced by a dense haze hanging over the city, which raised the humidity level and made any photographs that included the sky somewhat problematic. Unlike Hong Kong, which bulldozed nearly everything old some time ago, there are lots of old Portugese buildings dotted around the place which gives the place a quite unique character.
Having found my way to the main square, I set off on the walking tour recommended by my guidebook. This took me up the hill, past a yellow and green church to the old fortified Jesuit college on the top of the hill. This provided a great view back over the city and especially of the bizarre, lotus-shaped gold Lisboa Casino building, which looms in the background.
Next stop was the ruins of the early 17th century Church of St Paul, of which only the facade remains, before a long wander through meandering streets filled with shops selling local delicacies, including portugese egg tarts, small nutty biscuits and a jerky-like sweet form of preserved pork and other meats. My tour took me down to the A-Ma temple, where I rested my weary feet under the trees in the surprisingly peaceful little park next to the temple, before setting off, back around the waterfront towards the city. It was here that I encountered the demonstration, and as it was now past 5pm, I thought it would be a good time to make my escape. I (eventually found a cab to take me back to the ferry terminal (for all of £2) and walked straight onto a ferry as it was about to depart. Unfortunately, I still had 40 Macaun Patacas on me which will have to go into the exotic currency collection as they don’t accept them anywhere in Hong Kong. I was a bit silly to have got them in the first place as the HK dollar is accepted everywhere in Macau (even on the public buses), but never mind- they’ll be a souvenir of what was an intriguing but overall very relaxing daytrip.
Nursing a bit of a hangover, and clearly not as over the jetlag as I thought, saturday was quickly designated as a rest day and I proceeded to catch up some much needed sleep. I headed out later to the Temple Street night market area again for dinner and had fried oyster panacake, a plate-sized agglomeration of battered oysters, which tasted better than it sounds, or than it looked for that matter. Second course was beef and vegetables, which was a bit ordinary, but I was still pretty tired, so I headed back to the Mirador to have a reasonably early night. Naturally, having been asleep most of the day, I couldn’t get back to sleep until the early hours, but I did get through three chapters of my book – I’m trying to finish it before I leave on tuesday so that it’s once less thing to squeeze into my pack.
This morning started at a reasonably civilised hour, and after a tasty breakfast of pancakes at a certain international chain restaurant that shall remain unnamed (the 20 minutes of free Wi-Fi will probably have me back), I headed back to Mirador to discover that my trousers were ready. I’d asked the tailors downstairs to take them up a few inches for me and they did an excellent job, and they’ll be getting another pair to do shortly. The side benefit is that, now I’m a customer, they’re no longer hassling me to buy a suit. Well not every single time I walk past anyway. That just leaves the seven other suit/fake watch/guesthouse touts to get past each time I come or go from the building. Actually, they don’t bother me much and I usually just ignore them. I also suppose they serve as a gentle warm-up for the hassle I’m expecting later on in the trip.
I then headed over to Central on the MTR and took an exit at random. After wandering for a while, I jumped on one of the tiny double-decker trams which ply up and down the island. These are pretty cool but they do seem to put you right in the firing line of the exhaust pipes of all the buses and trucks that they share the road with. So, just like being on the London Underground then, only not so hot. On that note, I met a retired couple from Virginia later on in the day who were catching the same bus as I was. Once we got on, she remarked on the quality of the air-conditioning, which started me thinking. As the bus was exactly the same design as a London bus, I’m wondering which part of installing air-conditioning on their buses Transport for London is having the most difficulty with? Presumably the bit about it not being hot enough in London. Well it was only 25 degrees here today…
But a lovely 25 degrees it was. I explored Central a bit more, went up the Mid-Levels escalator, and found my way to Lan Kwai Fong, which is a restaurant and pub area that I shall be returning to later, to see if I can make some new friends. I then headed out to the ‘burbs on the MTR to pick up the bus out to Shek O, which the Lonely Planet assured me was one of the best beaches on the island. They weren’t wrong.
Having purchased a new pair of thongs (I ditched the ‘VB – Boony Army’ pair in London as they weren’t really the image I was wanting to portray), I laid down on the beach and got my first dose of quality Vitamin D in some time (since July 2007 in Ostia, outside Rome, in fact), After a while I headed in for a swim – the water was warm and there was a some good surf – I even got dumped a couple of times which was fun. Feeling quite invigorated, I ate an enormous plate of noodles with seafood and vegetables, washed down with an ice cold Tsingtao beer, before heading off on the bus towards Stanley, two bays to the southeast. This journey required a bus change at an isolated intersection, but the wait was only two minutes before a mini-bus, nearly full of expat schoolkids on their way home, pulled up. The ten minute journey down to Stanley was a bit of a white knuckle experience as the driver screamed around bend after bend, but it was over soon enough.
Stanley is something of an expat enclave. It’s surrounded by posh residential complexes and the promenade boasts two english pubs, an american bar and an italian/french restaurant. The bay is dominated by the reconstructed Murrary House, fornerly the officer’s quarters, which was dismantled in 1982 to make way for the new Bank of China tower in downtown Central. It was then rebuilt in 2001, but, so the story goes, the numbering on all the stone blocks had worn away while they were in storage, so the process was far from straightforward. Six Ionic columns now stand in a row next to the building, as the builders were unable to figure out where they belonged.
After a rather good italian ice cream (banana and caramel, as she was out of pistachio), I headed back up to the bus station to contunue my journey around the island. While waiting for the number 73 bus to appear, I met the aforementioned american couple. Our journey around to the rather oddly-named Aberdeen took us past Repulse Bay, an exclusive resort town, and past Ocean Park, the original amusement park (before Disney arrived), which boasts an impressive gondola that I was keen to ride on. It was getting late though and I was unwilling to pay the full price of admission, so I let that opportunity pass and stayed on the bus into Aberdeen.
Aberdeen is a fishing port with an impressive collection of junks and related craft cluttering up its harbour (not nearly as impressive as it used to be, Lonely Planet assures me). It also boasts some of the most densely populated land on the planet, though I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of or not. After a quick wander along the waterfront, I jumped on a bus heading around the west of the island to Central, thereby completing my circumnavigation. The western end of the island is pretty unremarkable and is largely devoted to large, not terribly fancy looking, housing complexes.
It being Friday night, and feeling almost over the jetlag, I decided to head out on the town. First stop was an irish pub where I got talking to a Canadian expat who worked in the wine importing business. After a couple of beers, his mate (an aussie) showed up and we set off soon afterwards with a couple of Israeli travellers, who themselves had only just met, in tow. We stopped briefly at another irish pub, which was largely empty, due in no small part to the dreadful english DJ, who was doing his bit for the authenticity of the place by wearing an irish rugby jumper. We then headed over to Lan Kwai Fong on the island, which was heaving with lots of friendly people drinking in the street. I then made some new friends, one of whom was a kiwi who was in his last week as a single man, and an aussie, with whom I had a mutual friend. I spent so long talking to this new group that the other mob wandered off, and though I made a half-hearted attempt to find them a bit later, that was the last I saw of them. So I tagged along with the new group for a couple more hours of bar hopping.
Hong Kong is clearly a fun town to party in. The drinks though, are ridiculously expensive (even more so than Copenhagen). HK$65 (nearly £6) will get you but one pint of beer, though we were drinking international brands at expat-oriented bars. I expect that the local beers at local bars are a lot more reasonably priced. One consolation is that taxis here are correspondingly cheap – the 15 minute taxi ride from TST to Lan Kwai Fong cost only HK$70, including the harbour tunnel toll. You can barely get to the end of your street for that sort of money in a london cab.