Continue to be

Air travel has become for most of us, a nuisance of a journey to undergo in order to reach our destination. The technicalities of air travel (physics and engineering) and the discourse (the amount of hours sat in one chair inside an airborne restaurant with it’s own atmosphere) remains for me, a pretty f*cking amazing thing (despite long haul being exhausting). I am writing, from these conditions as described. I think we sometimes forget how high we actually are and how fast we are going. Now at 31,500 ft going 463 mph. It this respect, what is outside the window is also vast and far. Of clouds or mountains or rivers, it’s hard to really get a sense of scale without much to compare with. I once did see another 747 jetting through the stratosphere in a similar direction. It was tiny.

I’ve been flying since I was pretty young. For example, once custom checked my nappy to see if my mum had smuggled some drugs into London. In my teens and early twenties I flew a fair amount once taking about 10 planes in a 11 months. It used to be really fun and amazing. But somewhere within those 10 planes, I started checking to see if my life jacket was underneath my seat, I couldn’t sleep anymore, the food started to taste weird, I drank apple juice instead of alcohol and I worried during take off and landing. It’s all settled over the last few fights I have been on. Ergo, I don’t check under my seat anymore, it’s a bit pointless.

But flying, is a privilege, no matter how much one doesn’t like it. Yes the air is dry and the food is crap but then, England on the ground is like that and, there ain’t no view.

It is said the world has gotten smaller. But it’s the scales have always been the same. We are small and it is HUGE. Next time you’re on a plane and look down at houses and monuments and rivers and mountains, think about it, we are- really small. Our ideas and egos may be big but we, are not.

Cities throughout the world are becoming more similar, although they still have local customs which are alien to each other. Try not to upset the locals. Support the local economy. Remember, you are a visitor to somebody’s home.

After having spent the last 7 weeks in Holland, Jerusalem and The West Bank, Beijing and Hong Kong I am on my way back to London. I am neither in a hurry to want to get back to London (despite work) or eager to stay in any of aforementioned countries.

People are like places. They have a good side and a not so good side, some parts are trying to be better and some parts are neglected. It can suit the night more or the day more. Some places are more down to earth and some are too urban to make much real sense. Some are more simple and others more complicated. Some places you like to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there. And like places, we can make negative judgements too quickly upon them.

I guess what I am trying to say was best expressed by Jodie Foster as Ellie as her character in the film, Contact,

“A vision of the universe that made it overwhelmingly clear just how tiny and insignificant -- and at the same time how rare and precious we all are. A vision... that tells us we belong to something greater than ourselves... that we're not – that none of us -- is alone. I wish I could share it. I wish everyone, if only for a moment -- could feel that sense of awe, and humility... and hope. That continues to be my wish.”

- J

British Broadcasting Chinese

Today at 5pm, a bus drove onto the pavement in Mong Kok and subsequently killed one person and injuring many others. The woman who sustained fatal injuries was 28. As you will see from the photos taken off a TV, the whole roof was sliced off, rather reminscent of 7/7. Mong Kok is the most densely frequented area in Hong Kong and Nathan Road, where it crashed, is the main road. I had missed it by about half an hour, just about the same amount of time i missed the July 7th bombings between Kings Cross and Russell Square. Even more eerily, it was heading to Sheung Shui, which was where i went after (but by metro). I checked the BBC news URL and it wasn't there. I guess they haven't woken up yet...







- J

The fires inside

Nearly every year in London, I go into town to see some tourist Mid Autumn festivities in Chinatown. Which mostly consists of stalls selling either food or crap or crap food (stall food). You get the occasional calligraphy writing and what not. I go I guess because it’s nice o see a bit of Chinese culture in the mainstream environment, even if it is spruced up for the tourists. But as I just so happen to be in Hong Kong for the festival (for the first time). Today I went to my grandma’s village for a meal. Actually it was more than a meal. The villagers gathered for a little show with singers cum comedians who were quite funny and racy actually, even though the audience had small children and elderly who were over 80 years old. They sang and danced with the locals in and around the tables and greeting people by hand. It was really fun and lively and I have never seen the village so alive despite coming here for over 20 years. They set two handmade ‘air balloons’ in the air with a trail of fore crackers. It’s an old tradition that isn’t practiced as much as it used to be. I had heard my mum talk about it but never thought I would see one. It was pretty grand. The thing just shot off the ground with a ball of fire inside and a trail of firecrackers going off. The fire goes out within a few minutes and it comes down. A little later, my gran was praying the moon and asked me to light a small pack of fire crackers. If you’ve never seen or heard one, they are loud, fast and pretty dangerous to handle. But they are great. She told me to throw it over when it’s lit. So I went towards the candle and lit it. It went off right after and I jumped and let go as it exploded in consecutive splutters in my hand. It scared the daylights out of me for a split second and I had what looked like gunpowder stains on my elbow and shirt. The ash settled on my 1938 Leica III. Me and my gran just stood there laughing are asses off.

My gran was born in 1924 which makes her 82. She was 14 when my Leica came into existence. It makes me happy to see her still full of verve and laughing. But it makes me sad that she won’t be around much longer. She is after all, the oldest and last member of that generation of my family. I want to come here every year for Mid Autumn Festival. Even if I have to light up my hand again to see my gran laugh.

- J

ps. The Mid Autumn Festival is actually derived from a love story.

Sleeping Man, Flying Rodent

It’s early October and it’s 30c out everyday. I met a friend for coffee and ice cream yesterday and we sat for a few hours. The aircon was on full blast as usual and by the time I was signing for my card my hands were shaking so much I nearly couldn’t write my own name.

I am writing from a small park in Tsuen Wan just outside where I am staying. It’s nice and peaceful despite the traffic of motor close by. Elderly men sit and fall asleep for hours here. They also do their daily exercises, arm stretching and swinging. But mostly, they sleep in the afternoon shade as this whole park is covered with a canopy of trees. I have had a few liquid deliveries from the birds above onto my Mac but nothing serious so far. This is living dangerously.

Last night my cousin Sandy found a cockroach in the bathroom. She sprayed it with repellent and claimed it was dead. About fifteen minutes later I heard a rustle under my pillow. When I flipped it over, the flying rodent seem alive and kicking to me. Dead my ass. But we got it in the end. The disgusting scary thing was 3 inches in length.

Didn’t get much sleep again. But that’s not because of the flying shit infested scary motherf**ker, it may be because the couch is too short. I have the option of the floor which is hard linoleum. I used to be able to sleep on that but I haven’t been able to this time around. Maybe it’s just the heat.

There is a great upmarket supermarket called City Super. You can get Heinz Baked Beans, Illy coffee (but it’s $90- £7 for 250g) and EVEN Varlhrona chocolate (which as far as I know you can only get in Selfridges and Harrods). I even brought my Baletti Expresso maker from there. I normally do bring my maker but didn’t this time and it’s cheaper to drink in. But I have been buying coffee outside too because of my lack of sleep, which is a bit retarded. I’m pretty sure that 10 years ago, they didn’t even have supermarkets (just markets) apart from Welcome (which is like Wilkinson, and not just because they both begin with W). In recent years though there has come Park N Shop which in Cantonese sounds like ‘Bitch’ if you change the last word to ‘woman’. In fact there is a place called ‘Mei Foo’ which sounds like ‘No Trousers’, another called, ‘So Uk’ and a clothes retail outlet called, ‘Wanko’.

McDonald’s never really made it big over here despite being the cheapest McDonald’s you can get in the world. This was largely due to the fact that you could get a bowl of noodles for less than a £1 (US$1.75) and the diverse cheap restaurant outlets and fierce competition. Subsequently, a set meal at McDonald’s cost about HK$24- which is about £1.25. A bowl of noodles still doesn’t cost much more than £1. I ate a bowl of noodles, a plate of greens and drank an old school green bottle of coke with lemon for less than £2 today. In your face Ronald.

Anyway, my lack of sleep is making me ramble. No mind shifting images of yet. But heres some signs and retro portents...

Relaxation for brick for a mobile phone generation.

Discount for rich wankers, as per usual.

The pen is mightier...

Hip bar, 30 years ago.

- J

New Territories, Old Territories

I love Hong Kong. It’s like home. And here at my cousin’s, Sandy, it’s my home in Hong Kong, has been for the best part of 10 years. I have come to HK about every 2 years for the last 10. It just worked out that way, not because I have a 2 year deadline. I used to stay at my grans village until it got crowded. Have stayed with my sister when she lived here but at most, I have stayed here. It’s like a studio council flat, a bit run down but I like it. They have been cleaning it up and it is under renovation (despite having been under for 2 years). Me and cousin sit a talk and drink beer and smoke. We used to go down and get more supplies from the Seven Eleven at midnight in shorts and slippers. We still do this to a degree but we are a tad more sedate and sensible these days. Sandy has switched from eating fast food crap or nothing at all to actually eating a meal for dinner. Typhoon Sandy has slowly turned into a light breeze. Afterall, she is mid thirties.

I get asked whether HK has changed much after the handover. I’m not here that much but it hasn’t changed that much. I know the media is a little more ‘controlled’ but that is about it. HK used to seem to me a fairly rude and hostile environment but now it’s quite comfortable. People seem to be more polite. More people speak English and a lot speak Mandarin (Potunghua). I still can’t read a menu but at least I can speak the language (more or less).

When I learn Mandarin, I will go back to Beijing, soon. It’s somewhere I have grown to like quite a lot despite the horrendous traffic and vastness of the city with vessels of highway like roads. The roads and the city at large is centred around The Forbidden City which is bang centre of Beijing. People still pick their nose in public (even old ladies) and spit everywhere but then you can have a bowl of handmade noodles or dinner for 70 pence and a cup of good coffee for £2. The 2008 Olympics are changing the city both in infrastructure and architecture on a rapid and vast scale. It’s Beijing’s coming out party and I think it will be grand.

My cousin Sandy isn’t actually a blood cousin. We aren’t even related. Her mother snuck over when she was young and my gran took care of her for a few months. That’s how we know each other. I saw her when I was 3 and then not again until I was 21 and we have been friends ever since. The friends I have here and the new friends I made in Beijing are like not friends, they are more family. Culture, blood lines and tradition runs deep despite how ‘western’ I am.

From left to right, Qiu Yue, me and Dong Hong in Beijing.

Clockwise from me, Sandy and Jovie in Hong Kong.

- J

中國人

Beijing street life was great to watch. Full of expression and life. Love it. Here is a small snippet of what's out there.





- J

ps. goes to show, we don't look all the same.