This is, I feel, not the kind of thing to be left unshared.
Monday, April 7
The rugged landscape of Lamma Island
It's not exactly Kilimanjaro, but I went off the main path on the island for a bit of an explore on Sunday. It's much quieter without the weekend crowds, and it's nice to watch the Brown Kites wheeling about (too far away for my camera to catch, alas).
Did I mention we have a massive wind turbine, by the way? It's still quieter than the main power station, in fact. If you click on the second picture to embigulate it, you can see the turbine on the horizon.
Tuesday, April 1
Taking a hike
Physical exercise. Good Lord.
The entire ELT department was forced to go to a country club in Tuen Mun on Friday, March 28th, for a day-long teambuilding extravaganza (Design got a trip to Macao by helicopter!) -- this was less awful than I expected, in fact. But it was still moderately awful.
In the evening, I mooched around and had dinner, then met up with my Irish mate R at the Old China Hand in Wanchai, which was full of yahoos in town for the Sevens (both the OCH and Wanchai, that is). I miraculously acquired a table, which we later gracefully ceded a portion of to a lady from the Scottish borders so that she'd have elbow room to eat her pub food. At one point while R was in the toilet, she told me my Irish accent was less pronounced than his. Tempted as I was to go for some form of pretence, I instead simply explained why that was.
The plan for hiking continued--I stayed over at R's flat in North Point, and in the morning we had breakfast (noodles with spam and egg, mmmmmm) then walked to Quarry Bay, briefly stopping off so I could show R the location of the "secret bookshop" in a book distribution office at Taikoo Shing.
We had selected two easy, Level 1, stages of the Hong Kong Trail -- Stages 6 & 7 -- from the Serious Hiker's Guide to Hong Kong or something to that effect. What we didn't realise was that to get to the beginning of Stage 6 of said trail from Quarry Bay, one must climb a reasonab
ly steep incline, Mount Parker Road, for about 45 minutes. (At left, a very rough delineation of our route. Click for enlargening.)
We also forgot to bring water, an elementary mistake, foolishly assuming that here, like on the mainland, there would be at least some small refreshment stalls if not constantly badgering vendors of water and knick-knacks. We were wrong. There would not in fact be anywhere to buy water for another 14 kilometres.
There wasn't too much climbing after that, and we walked down the other side of Hong Kong Island's central ridge of hills along the edge of Tai Tam Reservoir and along to Tai Tam Bay itself. Most of the route is concreted, but the nicest parts were those on a twisting bare-earth path, where one has to be more careful of tripping on roots and rocks but is surrounded more convincingly by countryside. The contrast with urban Hong Kong is startling, and it's often hard to believe you're on the same island. Particularly so for R, who lives in one of the busiest parts of the city.
About three hours and a bit later, we arrived at a small village, passing what's said to be the only remaining agricultural land on HK Island en route. There we drank a can of Pocari and two bottles of water each and watched middle class types fiddling with Hobie catamarans on the beach. A twenty-something Cantonese couple at the next table talked loudly and dimly on such topics as names ('I like the name Sophie so much I will call my baby that even if it's a boy') and celebrities ('Barbie and Ken split up? So is she single now or what?').
At a further along table, two English expats of the familiar gruff, bullet-headed type discussed money and enterprise in a thoroughly cliched way, then surprised us by striking up conversation with the proprietor in fluent Cantonese as they settled the bill.
We left and managed to get lost in a village consisting of half a dozen buildings. It was a location for unexpected linguistic ability, and an old Chinese woman addressed us in perfect English, correctly surmising that we were looking for the way to the bus stop. 'Up the steps,' she told us and pointed the way.
Ah. The steps. 750 steps, in fact, winding up the mountain side. The trail itself may be easy, but getting to and from it certainly isn't. I can say with certainty that this was the hardest part of the hike. Mercifully, a minibus to Shau Kei Wan MTR station pulled up just as we reached the top of the steps, and before you could wheeze 'thank God for that' we were back in the crowds and hubbub of the north side of the Island, which was quite the culture shock.
I didn't get too sunburnt, which is nice. But if you're going to take the same walk, bring water, seriously.
Physical exercise. Good Lord.
The entire ELT department was forced to go to a country club in Tuen Mun on Friday, March 28th, for a day-long teambuilding extravaganza (Design got a trip to Macao by helicopter!) -- this was less awful than I expected, in fact. But it was still moderately awful.
In the evening, I mooched around and had dinner, then met up with my Irish mate R at the Old China Hand in Wanchai, which was full of yahoos in town for the Sevens (both the OCH and Wanchai, that is). I miraculously acquired a table, which we later gracefully ceded a portion of to a lady from the Scottish borders so that she'd have elbow room to eat her pub food. At one point while R was in the toilet, she told me my Irish accent was less pronounced than his. Tempted as I was to go for some form of pretence, I instead simply explained why that was.
The plan for hiking continued--I stayed over at R's flat in North Point, and in the morning we had breakfast (noodles with spam and egg, mmmmmm) then walked to Quarry Bay, briefly stopping off so I could show R the location of the "secret bookshop" in a book distribution office at Taikoo Shing.
We had selected two easy, Level 1, stages of the Hong Kong Trail -- Stages 6 & 7 -- from the Serious Hiker's Guide to Hong Kong or something to that effect. What we didn't realise was that to get to the beginning of Stage 6 of said trail from Quarry Bay, one must climb a reasonab
ly steep incline, Mount Parker Road, for about 45 minutes. (At left, a very rough delineation of our route. Click for enlargening.)We also forgot to bring water, an elementary mistake, foolishly assuming that here, like on the mainland, there would be at least some small refreshment stalls if not constantly badgering vendors of water and knick-knacks. We were wrong. There would not in fact be anywhere to buy water for another 14 kilometres.
There wasn't too much climbing after that, and we walked down the other side of Hong Kong Island's central ridge of hills along the edge of Tai Tam Reservoir and along to Tai Tam Bay itself. Most of the route is concreted, but the nicest parts were those on a twisting bare-earth path, where one has to be more careful of tripping on roots and rocks but is surrounded more convincingly by countryside. The contrast with urban Hong Kong is startling, and it's often hard to believe you're on the same island. Particularly so for R, who lives in one of the busiest parts of the city.
About three hours and a bit later, we arrived at a small village, passing what's said to be the only remaining agricultural land on HK Island en route. There we drank a can of Pocari and two bottles of water each and watched middle class types fiddling with Hobie catamarans on the beach. A twenty-something Cantonese couple at the next table talked loudly and dimly on such topics as names ('I like the name Sophie so much I will call my baby that even if it's a boy') and celebrities ('Barbie and Ken split up? So is she single now or what?').
At a further along table, two English expats of the familiar gruff, bullet-headed type discussed money and enterprise in a thoroughly cliched way, then surprised us by striking up conversation with the proprietor in fluent Cantonese as they settled the bill.
We left and managed to get lost in a village consisting of half a dozen buildings. It was a location for unexpected linguistic ability, and an old Chinese woman addressed us in perfect English, correctly surmising that we were looking for the way to the bus stop. 'Up the steps,' she told us and pointed the way.
Ah. The steps. 750 steps, in fact, winding up the mountain side. The trail itself may be easy, but getting to and from it certainly isn't. I can say with certainty that this was the hardest part of the hike. Mercifully, a minibus to Shau Kei Wan MTR station pulled up just as we reached the top of the steps, and before you could wheeze 'thank God for that' we were back in the crowds and hubbub of the north side of the Island, which was quite the culture shock.
I didn't get too sunburnt, which is nice. But if you're going to take the same walk, bring water, seriously.
Wednesday, March 19
I am off to Jakarta this afternoon. Now, I was only there three weeks ago, but since that was to spend a Saturday afternoon and the whole Sunday sitting listening to a pre-marriage course in a language I don't speak in order to get a you-can-get-married-now certificate*, it wasn't exactly quality time. I gather the weather in Jakarta is mostly thunderous and precipitating heavily, so if anything we will be forced to spend time together. It being Holy Week, mind you, we'll also be in church a lot.
Despite the fact my flight doesn't go till about 4pm, I availed myself of the In-town Check-in service at Central this morning on the way to work. Now all I need to is turn up to the airport on time and, ideally, remember to buy some Easter eggs.
I recorded a new song recently. See what you think.
* technical term
Despite the fact my flight doesn't go till about 4pm, I availed myself of the In-town Check-in service at Central this morning on the way to work. Now all I need to is turn up to the airport on time and, ideally, remember to buy some Easter eggs.
I recorded a new song recently. See what you think.
* technical term
Friday, February 15
Getting about
A rehash of the good old "where have you been" map, but this time I filled it in according to languages I speak well enough to read the paper. (I restricted myself to official languages.)
So below is a map of the countries where I speak the lingo. What I surmise from this is that I should learn Spanish. And possibly Russian. Maybe Arabic.
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
A rehash of the good old "where have you been" map, but this time I filled it in according to languages I speak well enough to read the paper. (I restricted myself to official languages.)
So below is a map of the countries where I speak the lingo. What I surmise from this is that I should learn Spanish. And possibly Russian. Maybe Arabic.
create your own visited country map
or check our Venice travel guide
Monday, February 11
Return to Son of Grindstone
Back to work after a four-day weekend for the New Year. (Happy Year of the Rat everyone, incidentally.)
Work is reasonably tedious, partly because I've been seconded off the storybooks and onto mock exams for the HKCEE, which isn't quite as interesting.
I didn't do much with my holiday but catch up with sleep. Luckily, my Christmas presents from home arrived on the 6th of February, just before the holiday. Although slightly miffed that CK got more than I did, it did mean I was able to enjoy over the weekend the Apocalyptica DVD my brother got me (as well as an Esprit scarf, which would normally be a terrible gift for someone in HK but with the current cold spell has been very useful), as well as the film Strings and an I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue double CD from Mum.
Strings came with a gift tag describing it as "bizarrely beautiful", which is pretty well spot-on. It's "the world's first integrated string-puppet feature film", set in a fantasy land where everyone is a marionette with strings that reach up to the sky. The story is perhaps a little generic in outline -- and the ending weak -- but it has some breathtaking set pieces, and the overall product is amazing. The opening scene sets the tone well: an aging king commits suicide by cutting his own head-string, without which the marionettes die.
Acquire and view this film if at all possible.
.
Back to work after a four-day weekend for the New Year. (Happy Year of the Rat everyone, incidentally.)
Work is reasonably tedious, partly because I've been seconded off the storybooks and onto mock exams for the HKCEE, which isn't quite as interesting.
I didn't do much with my holiday but catch up with sleep. Luckily, my Christmas presents from home arrived on the 6th of February, just before the holiday. Although slightly miffed that CK got more than I did, it did mean I was able to enjoy over the weekend the Apocalyptica DVD my brother got me (as well as an Esprit scarf, which would normally be a terrible gift for someone in HK but with the current cold spell has been very useful), as well as the film Strings and an I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue double CD from Mum.
Strings came with a gift tag describing it as "bizarrely beautiful", which is pretty well spot-on. It's "the world's first integrated string-puppet feature film", set in a fantasy land where everyone is a marionette with strings that reach up to the sky. The story is perhaps a little generic in outline -- and the ending weak -- but it has some breathtaking set pieces, and the overall product is amazing. The opening scene sets the tone well: an aging king commits suicide by cutting his own head-string, without which the marionettes die.
Acquire and view this film if at all possible.
.
Sunday, February 3
More Tales of the Fighting Mongooses
So, I've managed to win a couple of races, but my first attempt a "deathrace" didn't go so well. In fact, my driver ended up dead, although she did still earn me $570 for coming in 10th.
Basically, if you're in some kind of post-apocalyptic motor racing event where every has machine guns mounted on the bonnets of their cars, do not take the early lead.
.
So, I've managed to win a couple of races, but my first attempt a "deathrace" didn't go so well. In fact, my driver ended up dead, although she did still earn me $570 for coming in 10th.
Basically, if you're in some kind of post-apocalyptic motor racing event where every has machine guns mounted on the bonnets of their cars, do not take the early lead.
.
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