Macau

I went to Macau yesterday (Saturday -- it is Sunday morning already in this part of the world). I'll be Picasaing my pictures when I have time, but one image in the meantime:


As you can see, it is a nice mix of Portuguese (those black and white stones in patterns lining the plaza are very characteristically Portuguese, as are the buildings in the background) and Chinese. The downtown area has a touch of Hong Kong commercialism about it (lots of Rolex stores) but also lots of bakeries selling Portuguese egg tarts and other familiar dishes. I had some classic dishes (caldo verde, acorda de mariscos) that were as good as you get in Lisbon -- and pretty much as bland. And I had one local specialty, gallinha africana ("African chicken") which was a nicely spiced coconut curry, showing the spiciness that Portuguese in Portugal associate with the colonies.

Plus a nice bottle of Vinho Verde to cool off from the heat, and it was quite a pleasant day.

The Hidden Nightlife of Hong Kong

Hong Kong is a city with some of the most modern physical infrastructure in the world. The social infrastructure – not so much. Gay life is much more underground than in North America or Europe: while Parisian gay cafes spill out into well-trafficked streets, Hong Kong’s open onto side stairs and back alleys.

Thankfully, Anthony and Pei’s friend K. took some time to show me the hot spots. It was a Tuesday night, and they weren’t hot, but since he was flying off to Singapore the next day, he said he at least wanted to allow me to return on my own.

And so, after a week of work and drinks with colleagues at the historic Foreign Correspondents Club, I bid them adieu, a bit mysteriously, and set off down a street called Hollywood Road in search of some fun.

I had been told that the boys started gathering at a bar called Volume shortly after 10. In fact, they start gathering there shortly after 11. Volume is a smallish bar, about the size of Barrage in New York, whose address is 80 Hollywood Road but which actually fronts on one of the side “streets” built of stairs that run down the mountainside just off the main road.

After a slow start, it got crowded, and what a crowd. Previous trips to Asia have left me convinced that most Asian countries export the cute ones and keep the ugly ones home. But this crowd was as hot and friendly as any group Pei will introduce you to on an L.A. dance floor. Several guys came up to me to introduce themselves and their friends – and did so just to be friendly, not to hook up. It wasn’t like I was the only American or the only white guy in the place; I’d estimate the crowd was about 25% Caucasian. But I was a new face, and that seemed to count for something.

One of the groups that I met was headed to Propaganda, the venerable gay disco, and invited me to come along. Propaganda had been closed for renovations the last time I was in Hong Kong and I was eager to see it.

You enter it through an unmarked door in a tiny back alley (cover: US$20 including one drink), and it doesn’t immediately look any better from the inside. It consists of two rooms. The larger, about the size of one of the floors at Therapy, is a lounge with some interesting Art Deco detail. The smaller room contains a bar and the dance floor, which is a kidney-shaped wading pool – not filled with water, but tiled as if it could be – in a room that’s only half the size of Cielo. For you non-New Yorkers, that’s *small*. If the dance floor could hold more than 75 people at a time, I’d be amazed.

So I started out not inclined to like it. But the crowd was as hot and friendly as the one at Volume (and included many of the same faces), and the music was just up my alley: happy vocal house with plenty of piano hooks. And it got even better: the DJ (whose name was Ricky, my new friends said), spinning from vinyl no less, did a full uptrip to a happy current circuit set (including that “Keep dreamin’, keep, keep dreamin’” song that was The Song of The Summer on Fire Island this year), and then a downtrip.

It wasn’t a full-on morning set but it was at least a plotted descent to 10,000 feet, similar to Manny’s ending at the Saint’s New Year’s party last year. As I realized what was happening, I was glad I hadn’t hooked up with anyone, because a decent downtrip is much harder to find these days than sex. Aside from a handful of circuit hits I hadn’t recognized much of the music, but toward the end he played remixes of “Where Love Lives” and “Sweet Dreams Are Made of This” that I hadn’t heard before, dropping them in just as I was thinking that a few more classics would have made this set perfect for Ascension.

I left at 4:30a, with the party dwindling (it closes at 5) but satisfied that in China, at least, the ancient arts still survive.

Lucky Numbers

In many buildings in Hong Kong, the floors are erratically numbered. Here's the elevator in my office building:

There's no 13th floor because 13 is an unlucky number to Westerners, and 14 is unlucky to the Chinese. No one knows why there's no 15th floor, unless maybe the CIA is using it ...

Those Scary Pedestrians

I loved this sign:

A Model Election?

There's an election coming up in Hong Kong next month and the subway is festooned with ads for it:


Cute, huh? Of course Hong Kong isn't actually a democracy: wasn't under the British, still isn't under the Chinese. You don't see many ads for actual candidates or setting out actual election issues, because the Legislative Council is a relatively powerless body and Beijing makes sure none of the candidates stray too far from political orthodoxy on big issues like China's role here. And I guess the more meaningless the election, the more need for chirpy please-vote ads.

So with the choices limited as they are, if I were a Hong Kong citizen, I'd definitely be voting for the guy in the middle ...

Olympic Fever

Hong Kong is about as far from Beijing as Miami is from New York. If the Olympics were ever to be held in New York, I doubt you'd see Miamians getting too excited about it. But here, there was quite a lot of excitement.

On the Kowloon waterfront they set up an Olympic torch and bedecked the art museum with Olympic rings:


A model of the Water Cube near the old Kowloon clock tower:




And everywhere, giant sponsor billboards and outdoor TV screens showing the action live (this screen, one of the smaller ones, is directly beneath the blue awning):



At one Starbucks, there was a whiteboard that they kept updating with the numbers of medals one by Chinese and Hong Kong athletes. And that brings up a big change I've noticed since Joey and I were here before: people seem to identify much more with China now than they used to. I don't know if it's the Olympics or just increasing comfort with Chinese rule (when we were here before, it was just a couple years after the British handover). But T-shirts and whatnot proclaiming "CHINA" are now all the rage here.

The Best Meal of my Trip -- in Times Square

I had the best meal of my trip so far today, and it wasn't in Paris.

There have been memorable meals already in Paris, to be sure, especially the ethereally spiced honey-glazed duck breast I had on one of my pre-move visits, and the crayfish salad at the little bistro around the corner from my apartment.

But on the whole, Paris food has been a bit unsatisfying -- not because there's anything wrong with it, but because French food in New York has gotten so much better in the last few years that it now rivals at least the run-of-the-mill bistro cuisine of Paris. (I haven't visited any Michelin-starred places yet, to be sure. I will. Stay tuned.)

Not so in Hong Kong, where I arrived yesterday for a week's visit to the Asian office of my company. Today I went with a friend for dim sum -- in an impossibly elegant place on the tenth floor of a ritzy shopping center called, yes, Times Square:


And I have to say, this was the best dim sum I've ever had. By far. Better than the dim sum Joey and I had last time we were here. Better than the dim sum Pei, David and Anthony took me to in Los Angeles, which still stands as the best I've had in the United States.

With two minor exceptions, every dish I had here was exactly the same as the dim sum you get in New York: the steamed shrimp dumplings, the beef balls, the meat wrapped in broad noodles, the turnip cakes, and so on. And yet it was completely different: fresher, less greasy, lighter, tastier. It's like the difference between plastic-wrapped Swiss cheese from the deli and real Emmenthal. Subtle, but unmistakable.

Worth the trip.

I'm Here!

I'm here! And it is really true what they say about Paris in August -- the place is deserted. Here's my subway train at rush hour:


I've gotten a seat on the subway each trip so far, to or from work. When I was here in June and July it was packed to the ceiling. And it was hotter then, too.

I arrived just in time to face a big deadline at work and haven't actually seen much of the city except for the subway so far. Although if you go out of the office, down to the nearest main avenue and use a long telephoto lens, you can see one landmark:




Again, that's with a LONG lens. In reality the Arc de Triomphe, from this vantage point, looks about as big as your thumbnail, held at arm's length.

I have, of course, seen my own immediate neighborhood, and here are some views. This is the street leading up from the subway station, which is one of the main streets of the gay part of the Marais:


Turn right at the next corner, then two blocks and left, and you see my apartment building:




In between, there is a terrific bakery, a not-very-impressive grocery and half a dozen restaurants, which I haven't tried yet. And a bunch of stores, all of which are closed for the month of August.

Ah, the European life.

Practice Shots

I've never owned a digital camera before, so I need to make sure I can take and post pictures. Otherwise, what's the point of having a blog?









OK, I guess I'm ready for my trip ...

Getting Started

This blog is intended as a way for me to keep my friends up to date about my experiences in Paris. This is just a test posting -- real stuff to come starting in 2 weeks or so ...