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…dancing with the devil in the city of angels…

Tag Archives: Hong Kong

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: A Flight of Fancy

15 Friday Jul 2011

Posted by Bangkokbois in Dancing With the Devil, I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy

≈ 2 Comments

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Hong Kong

Asian Male Bulge

“Where we go?”

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, was making his normal morning query, trying to find out what I had planned for the day. But I didn’t. Have anything planned, that is. Normally, I have trips I need to make to various areas around Bangkok for business. Those had all been accomplished on this visit already. Often I have some place in town I want to see and experience, a site on my ever growing list that I have not yet had a chance to check out. And though that was still a long list, nothing on it was of great interest at the moment. Stalling for time, I jokingly replied, “Hong Kong.”

Noom made a scoffing noise and gave me a lifted eyebrow that would make The Rock proud. He wasn’t buying it. And ya know what? Sometimes the boy just needs to be put in his place. Ten minutes on-line, then I grabbed my camera bag, a wallet full of cash, and told him, “Let’s go.”

The look of skepticism remained, even as we headed out to the airport by taxi. Checking in, it became a look of disbelief. Ticket in hand, with his name and our destination on it, his look changed and he started giggling over how crazy Farangs can be. But then panic ensued.

“But I no pack!” he wailed.

“No problemo, clothes cheap in Kowloon. We’ll buy what we need,” I assured him. The idea of a new outfit or two calmed his nerves. And he started having me take pictures of him waiting for the plane, getting on the plane, sitting on the plane . . . Noom’s typical photographic repertoire.

Fortunately I’d been to Hong Kong before. Many times. So there was no need to do advance research. I’d booked our flights and a night at the Ramada in Kowloon in the few minutes between the idea of going popped into my head and us popping into a taxi for the airport. What we’d do when we got there was still in question. But with four hours of flying, and three hours of Noom asking what we were going to do there, I had plenty of time to consider what would be the most fun for him during our short trip.

Noom is curious about other countries and has a list of places he wants to visit. Hong Kong was one of them (though he hadn’t a clue as to what he wanted to see or do once there). At the same time, like most Thais, he deeply believes no country could possibly compete with his own. So it wasn’t surprising that after landing and hopping onto Hong Kong’s MTR, he quickly dismissed the system with, “We have same in Bangkok.” Which really meant Bangkok’s BTS was superior. In his view.

Nude Asian Male

The hotel was ritzy enough to meet with his approval; the tiny room cramped enough to earn a negative comment. Especially when I told him how much the night’s lodging cost. But the hotel mattered little, he’d been alive checking out all the stores lining the streets when we made the short walk from the station to our hotel. Not yet done with fucking with him, I kicked back on the bed. He paced for a while, trying to hold it in, thought about how best to broach the subject, and finally tried, “What time store close?”

I looked at my watch, frowned, and said, “Oops! Six o’clock! We missed it. They are all closed now.”

His eyes got wide until he remembered who he was dealing with. Ignoring my comment, he got to the point, “Come. We go.”

Noom enjoyed our short shopping spree. I enjoyed watching him try to calculate Hong Kong dollars into U.S. dollars into Thai baht. He found a few shirts, some pants, and the other things he needed, thrilled with the purchase but not with the price, “Cheapah in Bangkok.” And I knew being able to find more fault with Hong Kong just made his trip that much more enjoyable for him.

After a quick trip back to the room to drop of our bags, shower, and change, we headed off toward the water, stopping at a small Japanese restaurant on the way where a couple of cooks the size of Moby Dick were hacking at raw fish, employing knives with a speed and efficiency that would have made Jack the Ripper envious.

nude asian male

Noom was content with following my lead, trusting that I’d show him the sights. Smart boy. I led him to the waterfront and to the Avenue of the Stars. He was greatly impressed with Bruce Lee’s statue and, once I pointed out the stars’ plaques imbedded in the promenade – many autographed and with hand prints – he quickly moved from one to the next, hunting each down, shaking his head at the unknowns and smiling with pleasure at the famous. Jackie Chan was a favorite. Jet Li, not so much. Of course telling him about the Symphony of Lights show would have been no fun. But when the PA system started up and the music began to blare, his head jerked up and he stared looking around trying to figure out what was up. When the first lights began their play he gasped. And then spent the next 15 minutes with his eyes riveted to the scene, repeating over and over, “Beautiful!”

When the show was over, I dismissed the production with, “I’ve seen better in Bangkok.”

Noom laughed, knowing he’d been busted.

A quick MTR ride brought us to Jordan station and the Temple Street Market. The night market at Temple Street has always been a favorite of mine. And Noom loves to shop. But what makes Temple Street so cool isn’t the goods for sale, which are pretty much standard touri fare, but the huge number of fortune tellers who set up shop on the outskirts of the market. I led him to the same fortune teller I’ve been visiting for years, one of the originals whose bird pecks out your fortune. Noom was impressed, but wouldn’t share what his fortune foretold. Bad juju to do so, I guess.

A long walk back to the hotel, with many stores still open along the way, Noom decided to try for some payback, offering a continual litany of “Open. Open. Open.” as we walked by each. I let the boy have his fun while considering that out of all the options of things to do the next day, several of which he’d be thrilled with, I could always take him to a museum instead. The smile on my face must have clued him into my thoughts. He stopped, gave me a big hug, and finished our walk home in silence.

asian male bulge

So where do you take a Thai bar boy on his first trip to Hong Kong when you only have one day to see the sights? You may make that decision based on his age. Noom’s is, uh, advanced. But that would be a mistake. Because Thais, when it comes to having fun, are quite childlike in their preference of venue. So the next morning we bypassed Victoria Peak and the tram ride to the top, ignored the shopping pleasure of riding the Central-Mid-Levels escalator, didn’t bother to head out to Repulse Bay and Aberdeen Harbor for a taste of local boat life and a sampan ride, and passed on the ride out to the Stanley Market to haggle over the price of trinkets. Instead, we took the Star Ferry over to Hong Kong (for the experience), hopped on the MTR once again, and unbeknownst to him headed for the quintessential Hong Kong experience: Disneyland. And it was the right choice.

The joy displayed on Noom’s face before we’d even purchased tickets was a sight to behold. Once inside I thought he’d have a coronary he was so excited. Our fist stop – my idea – was on Main street to buy Noom a pair of Mickey Mouse ears with his name embroidered on them (yup, I was still fucking with him). He wore them, with a big smile, all day. I shoulda known. But I still had my fun: that was the first time I’d ever seen him not only shopping but making a purchase where he was impatient and wanted to leave. Mickey, his friends, and the rides were calling.

Noom carefully studied his map and brochure, laying out a plan of attack and then revising it when I pointed out there were specific times for some of the things and events he wanted to see. We dispensed with Main Street fairly quickly; no Disney characters to be seen, no rides of any note. I figured Tommorowland with Space Mountain would be the major draw. Wrong. I forgot I was with a three-year-old. We headed directly to Fantasyland instead.

So we flew on Dumbo, rode mystical beasts with Cinderella, got slightly nauseated spinning about on the Mad Hatter’s tea cups, and then got in line for The Golden Mickey’s show. Afterward we did the Small World ride and I cringed in horror that Noom would be singing that damn song the rest of the day. The tune is annoying enough, Noom’s loud, but off-key singing voice would only make it worse. Fortunately, the world was small enough, or at least that land was, that it was a close step into the Fantasy Gardens where Noom got to meet several Disney Characters, which wiped the gratingly repetitive song out of his consciousness.

naked asian man

I know Noom realized those were people dressed up as Mickey and Donald. I know he knew they were not real. But when I suggested skipping the meet and greet because the lines were so long, he wasn’t having any of it. So I waited with him patiently. And when it was his turn for some one-on-one time with the big mouse, I stood there with a silly shit eating grin on my face, just like every other parent watching his kid’s turn with Mickey. Those pictures are priceless.

We circled back later in the day to catch the 3D Mickey’s Philhar Magic show which was pretty cool; I’ve always liked Donald Duck They have little things in the chairs that spray scents and drops of water at you to go along with the movie. But our next stop on Noom’s magical journey was Frontierland.

The Jungle River Cruise is a popular attraction and they have three lines, each separate for a different language. Noom paused for a bit, huffed, “No Thai!’ and settled for the English version of the ride. He would have enjoyed it more but kept checking his watch not wanting to miss the next showing of the Festival of the Lion King, a spectacular based on one of his all time favorite movies. He loved it. I loved being in an air-conditioned theater once again. Then it was another mad dash for the parade (with Noom clapping madly as each float whizzed by), a quick stop for food (with food selection not based on the dish but rather on the character the dish was named after), yet another stop to peruse souvenirs (evidently when you visit Disneyland you need to buy a souvenir from each of the lands within the park) and then we finally headed to Tommorowland which offered the few rides I would enjoy.

The day we visited the weather was a bit hot, but decent, and the crowds were minimal. So we seldom had to wait more than 15 minutes to get onto any of the rides. Even then, the Asian technique of standing in line for a bit before trying to cut in front of everyone else was quite prevalent. The park even has employees on hand whose sole job is to keep the locals in line. You can bring Mickey to Asia, but American line forming habits are a different story.

naked asian hunk

I’m fairly certain we went on every possible ride, even the boring Disneyland Railroad train ride. Noom did not want to miss a thing. Fortunately the park is on the small side and it was doable in one day. We finished off with a overpriced dinner and then caught the lightshow and fireworks display in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle with Noom’s face lit up in ecstacy once again. Laden down with bags of trinkets, mementos for Noom and souvenirs for his barmates, we made a mad dash back to the hotel and then out to the airport to catch our flight back to Bangkok.

On our flight home, I was ready for a nap. Noom, still wearing his Mickey Mouse ears, needed to revisit his Disneyland adventure, playing through the photos on his camera again and again, and nudging me back awake when I drifted off so that I wouldn’t miss any of the memories.

The next morning when Noom woke up he stretched out and with a big smile on his face offered his usual morning greeting, “Where we go?”

I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and rolled back over to drift off into sleep once again.

Noom rolled over, slipped on his Mickey Mouse ears and started quietly singing It’s a Small World.

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Flipping Out At The Hong Kong Bank

02 Monday May 2011

Posted by Bangkokbois in Hong Kong, Travel Tales from Beyond Thailand

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Hong Kong

HSBC

Hong Kong's HSBC Building: a gathering of moola and maids.

I admit, when I’m travelling to a new place I dig out the guide books and scour the internet for things to do and see. As well as things to avoid. Generally, if a place is listed in the majority of guide books, I avoid it; it’s hard to get a taste of the local culture surrounded by a few hundred of your fellow touri. I’ve learned that if you can’t avoid a major attraction, by going during off hours instead there’s a better chance you’ll not be lost in the crowd. Better yet, strike off on your own and find something most visitors never get to see or experience. Or hear.

A case in point, Sundays in Hong Kong. Lots to see and do in Hong Kong and the guide books can do a great job of filling your days. However, the most memorable moment I spent in the island colony was partially by happenstance, and partially due to my traveling with my friend Dave who had lived in Hong Kong in his teens and gone to school there.

We’d already spent several days visiting his old haunts, and finding new bars to while away the night well into the early morning hours. Dave’s idea of foreign travel is to taste the local color from the bottom of a shot glass. A great travelling companion. For some strange reason, Sunday morning we were up, out of bed, and looking for something to do. Having yet not had the chance, I wanted to ride the Star Ferry (we were staying on the Kowloon side; in my opinion a much better choice than the Hong Kong side for both color and shopping). Dave wasn’t all that keen on the idea at first, but then broke into a smile and agreed.

The ride over wasn’t the thrill I’d hoped for. Just another form of mass transportation when you get down to it. But upon disembarking Dave took the lead saying, “Come on, there’s something you have to see”.

OK, first he said, “See I told you so,” in reference to the uneventful boat ride, but that’s Dave . . . and a different tale.

We headed inland and within a block the still of the morning was replaced by a susurrus of foreign tongues causing me to stop for a moment and look about, puzzled by the waft of noise. Dave grinned and urged me onward. And the noise grew louder with every few steps until we rounded the corner into a cacophony of female voices and a sea of brown-skinned bodies stretching across the plaza.

amahs hong kong sundays

Sunday in the Park with Amahs

Welcome to the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC) building on Sunday mornings. This famous building in Central boasts an enormous open parking structure at its base and is surrounded by a parklike plaza on the water side. Its designer probably never envisioned the use of his creation as it is on Sundays when thousands of Filipina amahs gather together to socialize on their single day off from work each week.

Not an exaggeration, there are thousands of young Filipino women gathered here on Sundays, and they seem to all be talking at once. Their voices echo through the cavernous parking lot which amplifies the din to a level seldom heard outside of an Ozzy Osbourne concert. The noise has a physical impact on you it is so pervasive . . . not a suggested trip if you’re suffering from a hangover from the night before!

The young Filipino women gather in groups, their lilting voices a pleasant change from the Cantonese you normally hear in Hong Kong. A chance to visit, a little taste of home, they spend the day gossiping, eating dishes from their home country, playing cards, or taking a nap. The only other group of any size evident across the plaza were white-shirted gangs of Mormon missionaries proselytizing their little hearts out as the do all over the world.

My first of many trips to Hong Kong. The shopping was great, the food delicious, the bars too numerous to remember (though the one we got eighty-sixed from stands out), and my most lingering memory is thanks largely to a country I’ve still yet to visit.

Speaking The Language Of The Foreign White Devil

07 Thursday Apr 2011

Posted by Bangkokbois in Hong Kong, Travel Tales from Beyond Thailand

≈ Comments Off on Speaking The Language Of The Foreign White Devil

Tags

Hong Kong, Stupid Tourist Tricks, Transportation

hong kong taxi

Cabbin' in a foreign land is always an interesting experience.

When I visit relatives back east, they comment on my Californian accent. Right. I speak as announcers do on TV, the proper way; their accent is the abomination. But I digress . . .

So in a foreign land, it’s not just the different language that can be a barrier, but your accent as well as their’s. Case in point, a minor translation problem on my first trip to Hong Kong. I kinda cheated on that first trip by taking my friend Dave with me. He spent his formative years there, graduating from high school from The Hong Kong International School. So he was familiar with the island and its people and I was set for an exotic trip complete with local guide. Dave was out to impress, but ran afoul of his plans almost from the minute we landed.

Off the plane, through customs and out into the sultry night . . . sultry is probably an understatement. The humidity was so oppressive it had a physical presence, the weight of the air unbearable. The line for taxis was relatively short and within a few minutes we hopped into a cab. Dave gave the driver our destination. “Ramada Hotel,” he ordered in an imperial voice. ( No attempt at local slang, but then though he is Hawaiian, in China he qualifies as Caucasian and he was dealing with a local Chinese. I guess that whole colonial master thing was ingrained in him from having once lived in the colony).

Down the highway the cabbie flew as only an Asian cab driver can. While totally disregarding rules of the road and any other driver stupid enough to try and share the road with him, our driver chattered away to his dispatcher via radio for a few minutes before turning to Dave and questioning, “Ramada?”

Uh, oh. Now I knew the Ramada couldn’t be some unknown dive as we were being put up by a large corporation who’d flown us to Hong Kong to look at a new type of carpeting that they’d installed at the airport. Yep, free trip. Way cool. The cabbie’s confusion didn’t bother Dave, who I guess figured further information was all that was needed and replied (in that same voice), “Kowloon”.

Wow! Quick exit off the freeway and off we shot back the way we’d just come. Guess the ‘Kowloon’ info was important. More chattering over the radio with his dispatcher. Then a timid and unsure query, “Ramada?” as he looked once again at Dave as though some instantaneous spark of comprehension would strike.

No such luck, so instead he tried repeating the word as a mantra while piling down the road, “Ramada . . . Ramada . . . Ramada”.

Dave tends to have a short fuse. By now it ignited. And as many English speaking folk do when confronted with someone who doesn’t speak their language, he tried again only repeating himself louder, “RAMADA!”

Dave is 6’ 4”, weighs over 250 lbs. and has a real scary, snarly look on his face when displeased. Our driver, no Bruce Lee, probably weighed in a bit over 90 lbs. and immediately began jabbering with his dispatcher again, probably alerting him to his impending doom at the hand of this crazy white devil.

So he’s busy babbling to his dispatcher, occasionally repeating the word ‘Ramada” while Dave is practically yelling the same word at the top of his lungs and we’re zipping past other cars on our way to God knows where . . . though probably not our hotel. Then, after some more incomprehensible prattle from the radio, our cabbie gets a look of celestial blessings on his face and says, “Ah! Ra Ma Da!”

Quick freeway exit, two lefts, and we pull up in front of our hotel, the Kowloon Ramada, better known as the Ra Ma Da. Happy cabbie; he’s still alive. Happy me, after 15 hours of flying I see a bed in sight. And a pissed off Dave, who assumes I now think he’s a total ingrate and stooge when it comes to being a tour guide of the colony. Hey, but he introduced me to the Temple Street Market and its fortune tellers, as well as numerous pubs and bars, so I’d still give him two thumbs up for showing me the local sights.

Bartering For Trouble At Hong Kong Street Markets

28 Monday Mar 2011

Posted by Bangkokbois in Hong Kong, Travel Tales from Beyond Thailand

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Hong Kong, Markets & Shopping, Money Matters

Temple Street Market

Temple Street Market Fortune Teller

There are two things I enjoy most while travelling in foreign lands: soaking up local color and shopping. And there’s no place better to do both than a street market in Asia. Finding street markets not heavily trafficked by touri is ideal. Following the advice of guide books usually means higher prices and far too many white faces. But sometimes good street markets are listed in the guide books and you can not avoid going with the touri flow. A good example is my favorite market in Hong Kong; the Temple Street Night Market, replete with food stalls, pirated CD’s and DVD’s, knock-offs of every major clothing design house, and electronics of ever imaginable sort.

More than just a market, Temple Street has a unique atmosphere that makes it a must-do for Hong Kong visitors. Fortune tellers huddle by gas-lit lamps next to local chess masters. Street singers perform Cantonese opera. Tables and chairs from stalls selling local delicacies overflow into this street that was named after a nearby temple honoring the goddess Tin Hau. And great bargains abound.

At night, the street becomes a fairyland of consumerism. Some stalls are humble, no more than a piece of cardboard on the ground, protecting a pile of beads from the sweating concrete. Some are elaborate, piled high with gleaming electronics. And the Yau Ma Tei end of the street features an echelon of palmists, physiognomists, and a fortune-teller whose trained birds select slips of paper to predict the future, your destiny by avian prestidigitation.

Officially the Temple Street Market is open from 2 pm, but it really gets going after dark. I kind of get the impression that post 9 pm is best. The market extends for half a dozen blocks, you need to pay attention to avoid getting run over in the cross streets. Or hang for a bit and watch some other unsuspecting touri get hit. It’s usually quite busy, bustling even, until quite late. The latest I’ve been there was around 11:30 pm, stalls and nearby shops were just starting to pack up for the night.

Hong Kong Temple Street Market

Trinkets @ Temple Street

Of course, as at all street markets in Asia, bartering is a must. At least if you don’t want to overpay for the cheap goods you buy. Which brings us to this tale and brings my friend Ann back into the journey. Ann, her friend Char, and I had been in Bangkok and decided to take a few days out to see the sights of Hong Kong. Now Ann, on her first trip to Thailand, had really gotten into bartering at the street markets of Bangkok. It’s good fun and everyone, both seller and customer alike, are out for enjoyment (besides making a buck or getting something for a song). Typically, in Bangkok, the asking price is way over inflated, you offer a ridiculously low price in return, the merchant tells you about her sick grandma, you plead poverty . . . and it goes back and forth until a bargain is struck. Everyone is happy and everyone has a good time in negotiating the deal.

Not so in Hong Kong. As Ann discovered. We visited Temple Street to see the sights, and for Ann to purchase a calculator (great tool for shopping in a place where English may not be spoken . . . like Hong Kong . . . for once being a British Colony it’s down right amazing how many of the natives don’t speak English). A new friend we made in Bangkok, typical of a Thai, borrowed hers and never returned it. After visiting several stalls and trying them out, she found the calculator of her dreams. “How much?” she asked the vendor.

“100 HK Dollars!” was his curt reply. (Hong Kong Chinese don’t hold Americans in high regard to begin with, and a woman??? Ha!)

Ann smiled and quickly came back with her Bangkok based offer, “10 HK Dollars!”

Yikes!

“Fuck You!, Fuck YOU!” he shouted, face contorted in rage.

The look on Ann’s face was priceless (mmmmm, may be a MasterCard ad in there). She backed quickly away from the stall, totally bewildered. He’d offered her the calculator at about US$12.00. She’d countered at a price slightly over a buck. It probably would have sold for about 80 HK dollars, or ten dollars U.S. In Bangkok, this would have been a fine beginning exchange. In Hong Kong, however, they have a bit more reverence for money. She would have known this if she’d checked her Frommers. Maybe those guide books have a use after all!

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Sawatdee and welcome to the new and improved Bangkokbois Gay Thailand Blog! Okay, so it’s not necessarily improved, just hosted on a new site. And it’s not just about Thailand, though that still is the main focus. And it’s not all gay either, unless you’re not and then you’ll think it’s pretty damn gay I’m sure. All of the penis might tip you off. Which means if you are not of the required legal age to be looking at penis other than your own, you should leave. And go tell your parental units they suck at their job.

But it is a blog and one out of three ain’t bad. Besides, Bangkokbois Pretty Gay Mostly About Thailand Blog For People Of Legal Age is just too wordy. But so is Dancing With The Devil In The City Of Angels, which is really the title of this blog.

As cool of a title as that is, Google just ain’t sharp enough to figure out that means this blog is mostly about Thailand. And pretty damn gay to boot. The penis part even Google figured out. Which is a good thing. ‘Cuz Bangkokbois Pretty Gay Mostly About Thailand With Lots Of Penis Blog For People Of Legal Age, I think, was taken by someone else.

Move along, there’s nothing to see here folks; pay no attention to that man behind the curtain:

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