The sun rises in the east

and burns me right in my skin.

But it doesn't stop me from pulling on my sandals and walking the town.

Hong Kong fashion is in a class of its own. Neither classy nor boring, neither funky nor futuristic. It's eclectic and messy, chic and tacky. Several times, when I try to walk away from the brand names and the boutiques - I find myself in retro Japanese-like shops where excitable shop girls press several shapeless body sacks on me. I eventually gave in and bought a baggy, cyan t-shirt. The sales-girl recommended a yellow bra to go with it. I kindly pushed away her suggestions.

Waking up on a swelteringly hot Sunday, I walked down miles of narrow staircases towards the Cathedral, trying to pretend I was in Spain or Greece. But then a grilled iron gate pulls back and someone shouts out in Cantonese. And I'm back in Hong Kong.

On Sundays though, central Hong Kong turns upside down. As I walked towards the HSBC building, a sea stood before me.

HSBC building by weekday
Pinoy town by weekend

In Singapore, we have Orchard Road MRT. In Hong Kong, it's the HSBC void deck.


Trying to navigate your way through a field of Phillipino maids is extremely trying. They didn't just swarm the HSBC building, but all the surrounding roads as well. When I started following them, they led me to several hidden street markets, crouching between the sky scrapers - a gem of a find.

Hong Kong by day gets a little tiring. So I stopped at a Starbucks to catch up with my sanity.
I had Freakonomics to read, but I couldn't help staring mindlessly at the messy world outside. A Chinese identity screaming out between the Western icons that Hong Kong clearly adores. Maybe it felt a little too close for comfort. My thoughts bounced towards my starbucks coffee and my handbag decorated with Chinese coins.


I turned back to my frappucino and caught the looks the Hong Kongers were giving my clearly English book. The girl sitting across me pushed her nose deeper into her Chinese comic. It was alienating.

I looked across the road at the health shop I had walked into the day before. A British guy called Steve had greeted me with "Lei hou mah? (How are you?) Ngor ge chong man ma hai gum ho, lei oy sek mi yeh? (My cantonese isn't very good, what would you like to eat?)", I stared at him for awhile before saying, "Erm, I speak English. Only". I later admitted I was Malaysian and spoke Malay as well. Just like 0.07% of the population here.

Another night has come and it feels like Time Square, New York. Hong Kong style. I think I'll blog another day.