Name – “balut”
What it really is – boiled duck foetus
Location – Samantha’s house, Manila, Philippines

Name – “balut”
What it really is – boiled duck foetus
Location – Samantha’s house, Manila, Philippines

Peter Andre and Jordan’s Christmas song – one of the worst things I have ever heard.
Over this long hot summer it was tempting to think that coming to this city would be a universally positive thing for any ‘foreigner’, but as the autumn term arrived so did two new teachers from Australia who showed us that there are some people who should really never travel. They were a married couple from Australia in their early twenties. On the first day they arrived in their company apartment. It wasn’t good enough for her so she cried until they moved her to a better place.
The next day they left one of the most luxurious and expensive flats in the city and came out to lunch with all the other teachers. The food was put in the middle of the table and shared, as usual. She was freaked out by this and wouldn’t eat anything at all, describing the practice as “feral”. Eventually she agreed to eat a bowl of rice, so long as it was just hers. He at least tried some vegetables. Afterwards I took them to the “wet market” for some reason. He got a phonecall while we were walking around and I could hear him spitting the words “absolutely disgusting” down the receiver from a good ten yards away.
The next two weeks they never for a second stopped complaining. The food was “feral”, the people were “feral”, the entire city was “feral”. She especially had no qualms at all at ignorantly criticising everything about China, often so tactlessly that she offended most of the Chinese people she met. Though I didn’t particularly warm to her husband I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him – every second she wasn’t complaining she spent her energies bullying him and generally ordering him about in an openly contemptuous way.
After they had been here a week or so we had the official pre-term staff lunch. Once again we helped ourselves from dishes in the middle of the table while she sat there fuming. By now everyone knew that she would want a bowl of rice to herself, so one was brought. She picked up the red vinegar, thinking it was soy sauce, doused the rice in it, took one taste and pushed it away. Instead of getting another bowl she left (with her husband trailing behind her) and spent the next two days complaining about the food to anyone who would listen. By this point it wasn’t really worth pointing out that if she had just asked for her own meal she would’ve been given one.
Then they announced they were leaving. I met them in the entrance to the school the day before they went. They were beaming with joy. She went off to annoy the reception staff and I stayed to chat to him.
“So I heard you’re going.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait.”
“You’re be glad to be going home, then?”
“Yeah, so happy to be leaving this dump.”
I don’t think the city is a dump. I love it here. Even in a good mood he couldn’t help but be generally offensive.
Then they went. Nobody was very sorry.
The mouse I am using has buttons on the side that press the ‘back’ and ‘forward’ keys in internet explorer for me.
This is not an innovation, it is unbelievably fucking annoying.
Misleading Chinese name – “field chicken”
What they really are – frogs. Lots of frogs.
Location – Cheers restaurant

I am very impressed with Hong Kong. The island itself seems to be one of mankind’s success stories. It’s modern but attractive, busy but not too hectic and seems generally to be about 20 years ahead of the UK. Public transport is faultless and inexpensive, there are little TV screens next to your table in fast food restaurants, the skyscrapers along the skyline put on a co-ordinated lightshow every night and there’s even a covered escalator so you don’t have to walk up the hill. It seems laughable that people were concerned about everyone moving to the UK when the place was handed back to China – in comparison we’re a backwater slum. The only negative I can think of is the prices. I paid the equivalent of four quid for a pint of beer last night and I’d baulk at that even in London. Still, the island and the hostel are highly recommended.
Across the straight Kowloon is a different story entirely. It’s hectic, backward and ugly, especially Nathan Road. Whoever didn’t design Manila didn’t bother here either. The epicentre is a place called Chungking Mansions. Here is an unfairly flattering photo of it.

Looking at this building you would think that it’s a run down tower block ready for demolition instead of the home of 4000 people, 90 “guesthouses” and near a thousand shops and businesses including, unfortunately, the only place in Hong Kong to buy trans-Siberian rail tickets. I’m not going there again. this article pretty much sums up my experience.
I also went to Lantau, the much less developed island to the west, to ride on the new cablecar across the top of the mountains to the giant bronze buddha. It was an overpriced artificial tourist trap, but as far as overpriced artificial tourist traps go it’s about the best there is. Met a cute girl on it too. The buddha was pretty decent too.

I’ve run out of money now so I suppose I have to go home.
Last day of September and the first day of the week-long national holiday. I was planning to go to Brent & Samantha’s wedding in the Philipines, but that didn’t work out. Then I was going to try visiting Adam in Thailand, but I think he’s probably not there, or at least not answering his emails. In the end I decided to go to Hong Kong. It’s just next-door and I should really see it properly before I go. Boat leaves on Monday.
In the meantime feeling a bit wiped. I should really eat more fruit.