Opposite ends of the spectrum

I started the day at dawn (thanks, jetlag) by going out onto the balcony and taking some pictures of the view.  Observe:






Tony and Elena live on the 14th floor of 14 MacDonnell Rd (or as we tell the cab drivers "MacDonnell dou, sap sei ho") in the Mid-levels section of Hong Kong.  You can see Charlie and Elena chatting in the early morning light in the living room:


We went for an early walk on Bowen Road, which is kind of a green belt for walkers and joggers, complete with exercise stations.  It was a bit strenuous for me in my out-of-shape, jet-lagged state but well worth it.  I was impressed with the size of these leaves (about a foot and a half in diameter):


The sunlit path:


Some city views along the way:




We walked for about 4 km and early on Charlie pointed out to me that the slopes were paved in order to prevent landslides, leaving little peeking holes for the trees:


An interesting statue on a stair banister:


This is one of a few pagodas we passed along the way.  This was called Quiet Land Pavilion:


A real walking stick!  He was about 3.5 inches long.  Elena saved him from certain death by moving him off of the path.  In response, he played stick:


Toward the end of our walk we arrived at the apartment building where Charlie's family lived during their first assignment to Hong Kong about 20 years ago:


Across the way were these housing complexes, which looked extra tall because they were on the very top of a hill.  This type of gigantic shiny building is not uncommon in the city:


Luckily, we took a taxi back over the 4 km distance that we walked.  Notice that the driver's seat is on the other side!  Also, people drive on the left here.


We headed back home and took a little break while Tony went to a meeting.  Elena showed us pictures of Hong Kong from 20 years ago and it is amazing how much it has changed.  I also had the opportunity to play around on Tony's harp.

When Tony returned, we went down to Graham Street Market, one of the last (and largest) wet street markets in Hong Kong.






This is the inside of a second-hand store.  There was cool stuff from floor to ceiling:


I expressed interest in a piece of decor I saw there so the woman running the shop gave me her sales pitch, half in Cantonese and half in almost unintelligible English.  As far as I could tell, owning it would cause many people (or perhaps good fortune?) to come into my home.  Her sentence ended with "more more more more more", so whatever it is, it will be abundant.  I decided to purchase the item and when I paid the woman she bowed low and told me it would be very good for my home.

A typical storefront in the market area.  Yes, I was just taking a picture of the snoozing kitty above the window.  I saw three cats today, all of them on rooftops and all of them orange like this one:


This is a typical produce stand: 


Most of them contained fruits and vegetables that you can get in the United States, but I spotted probably a dozen kinds of produce that I had never seen before.  Being a vegetarian, I had to wander through this market with a very open mind because there were dead animal carcasses everywhere.  Tony even pointed out a fish stand that was selling an endangered species of fish.

We passed a few dai pai dongs such as this one, although they are also becoming rare.  These are outdoor food stands where you can have a typical Chinese meal.


We were able to peek into the kitchen of this one.  To the right of the cook, there is an oval shaped gas-powered hunk of concrete with fire coming out of it, on top of which are two woks cooking up something that is probably delicious.  Charlie and I intend to find out soon.


We exited the market by way of the Central Mid-Levels escalators, the longest outdoor covered escalator system in the world.  This is only a short section of it:


When we returned home we got all dolled up to attend our first diplomatic "function", the 233rd Marine Corp Birthday Ball.  I know, I know, those of you who know me are asking "WTF?!"  The event was held at the ostentatious American Club in Stanley that requires yearly membership dues of around $100,000 USD.  This was the view from the outdoor patio:


Here we are looking fabulous, and at least for me, feeling fabulously out of place:






After some preliminary schmoozing, we were seated in a big hall where we were subject to some dull speeches for about an hour, watching marines march back and forth across the room with flags and then cut a large cake with a sword, and a celebratory DVD which I would summarize as being about "here's who we are kicking the shit out of because they kicked the shit of us because we kicked the shit out of them first (or were otherwise involved where we shouldn't have been)".  Any of you who know me can imagine that it was all I could do not to get up and walk out.

At least there's no proof that I was actually there:


Hey, at least they got my first name right.  But apparently Latino last names that start with "G" are as interchangeable as MariE and MariA.  This is not the first time I have been mistaken for a Gonzalez.  I have also been mistaken for a Gutierrez.

We were preparing to try and slow dance with the rest of the attendees but then Charlie started feeling ill.  So we escaped in a taxi driven by Mario Andretti, which did not help Charlie's nausea at all, but we managed to make it home without dying.

Good night, Hong Kong!