9) BRIGHT LIGHTS BIG CITY

The bus ride from the airport to the hotel was almost half the duration of the flight from Malaysia. There is congestion everywhere, even in the late hours of the evening on a weekday, and I wonder who is crazy enough to want to take a car anywhere. During those hours, I stare out the window at thousands upon thousands of apartment towers, each with hundreds of little windows, some with laundry hanging, plants, others illuminated with strings of christmas lights. It reminded me of an ant colony, with the people scurrying about, always seeming to be late, always needing to get something done.
It is cold, much colder than I ever imagined, (the coldest day of the year) and without heating in my hotel room, I shiver and head out for the main strip. It's past 10pm and the throngs are jostling me side to side. I am the only white woman on the streets, the only person not wearing a jacket with a fur collar, or a neon coloured parka. Even the dogs are clad in flannel jackets and matchig booties. I try on a few coats, the salesgirls all rush to me when I arrive. "Miss, you would look lovely in this . . ." they thrust coats, and handbags, and footwear, and anything in the store in a size large. Malaysia has increased it's clothing sizes, but Hong Kong has yet to follow suit. So I am the perfect target to unload end of season stock upon. "miss, for you a discount. You have Asian eyes, you must be a good person."
I buy a coat for the equivalent of $105 (Cdn).
The next morning, the cleaning woman provides me with a space heater, the little white box whirs and warms my toes as I type. I have decided to write a very long letter to the management of this hotel, as the staff, save the nice door man who is dressed like it is the height of the British Raj in India, have personality issues. Specifically, I object to them uttering "gwei lo" (white devil in Cantonese) to one another whenever I complain (no hot water, no large bath towels, broken heater).

I have also discovered one of the difficulties of traveling solo- picture taking. Despite the length of my arms, I can not coordinate both a non-stressed facial composure and my whole face in the same frame.