Achieving Happiness

There’s a blog I’ve stumbled upon that’s titled HongKongphooey (sorry, I don’t link things here), and mainly it’s a long, hilarious and seemingly endless rant about how the writer hates Hong Kong, it’s weather, its inhabitants, the transportation system, the money - heck, almost everything. I’m under the impression that the guy has no choice but to stay because his work is here; but given the chance, he’d pack his bags in a jiffy.

But not before spray-painting with obscene graffiti all the walls surrounding the Hong Kong executive government offices.

Anyways. I don’t hate Hong Kong; but I’m not insane about it, either. I love the order and efficiency of the transport system and the technology and art that have evidently one into the architecture of the corporate buildings; but the coldness and rudeness of the Chinese here..unfuckingbelievable.

I think that the freezing weather here is further exacerbated by the anti-social attitude and public conduct of the people here. They rush to and fro, never apologizing when they bump into you; they don’t stand up and give their seats on the MTR to old ladies. There’s an atmosphere of …apathy and antipathy. It’s like they loathe each other,  loathe  foreigners, loathe the world. Not that I’ve really experienced any racial discrimination, but hell, these people don’t seem to know how to smile or laugh. At the grocery, say at ParkandSave or Wellcome, the women have expressions of creeping hopelessness on their faces as they choose between decaf instant crystals or decaf coffee fine powdered. When they converse to each other in public places, they  look and sound like they’re arguing. It worse with the men: they always appear to be on the brink of brawling and tearing off then stuffing each other’s neckties down each other’s throats. 

They look constipated. It’s the relentless worrying and hurrying and meaningless scramble for money, money, money.

—–

My first (and so far only) experience with Hong Kong friendliness was last night when I went with my friend Chi to downtown Central to look for CDs. We were passing through an alley when we came across a man selling CDs from a carton box. He was about 5′6 and lanky; and he had a shock of messy hair. He wore Elvis Costello glasses and white, high-topped Chucks with his red hoodie sweater.

Chi and I skimmed through the titles and after a minute unearthed two albums by Jeff Buckley and the Doves.

To my surprise, while Chi and I were pondering over how the hell Jeff Buckley drowned ("Pare, drugs yun. Malamang bangag…" "Siguro lasing. Matindi hang-over…"), theguy pipes up.

"So what’s your favorite Buckley song?"

Hands downand unanimous - Last Goodbye.

Chi and the man (I think he was about 35) went on to talk about good ol’ sainted Jeff, I looked at the man and saw how animated his face had gotten. How comfortable and even happy he looked talking to us. His hands weilded an invisible baton, conducting the notes to a once-popular but still well-loved new-wave beat. He went on to explain things about his "business."

"Very unstable. Sometimes I come here Tuesdays and Wednesdays; sometimes I’m also here on Thursdays and Fridays, usually from 9:30-11:30pm."

He was an unlicensed street vendor, but his goods were original and new. The cellophane shrink wrap was still intact on the disk boxes. I think he got them off from friends and contacts from the big CD stores. Bottom-prices: what would ordinarily have a sticker printed $125-$150, he sold for $50-$70.

Music. Unites people - even those from the grouchier races.

More later…

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 25th, 2006 at 7:35 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.