Honk Kong and I cannot sleep.
3:00 am and I can't help wonder what the fuck I'm doing in this strange city half way around the world from home. I can't help but think about what Pascal said about travel and staying home and what Elizabeth Bishop said about what Pascal said.
I got in Saturday night at 9:00 after a relatively painless flight. That first night I went to sleep around midnight and woke up at 8:00 am. I thought I had avoided the side effects of jet lag. But last night I didn't go to sleep until 4:30 am. I think my body got left behind somewhere, it seems to be on London or Paris time (maybe it'll catch up (if I go to sleep now, that'll mean my body's made it to Moscow)).
I don't know what's wrong with me. Jet lag and lack of sleep make me feel really ugly; maybe it has to do with the weather, which (in a word) sucks. It's the rainy season now, so everyday is 95° F and raining. I go outside and immediately start to sweat, like the proverbial pig (pigs don't sweat … but the tourists do).
This afternoon I walked down Queen's Road Central to a tailor recommended by the hotel concierge, to get a suit made (it’s what one does in Hong Kong), and the tailor kept on saying "Oh, big man! Big man!" as he took the measurements, chuckling and saying "Oh much fabric, much fabric." Yes, thank you, I'd almost forgotten I am a big fat tourist. This does not seem like a good tactic to use with a new customer. But I shut up and let him finish the measurements. Then I walked up to the Botanical Gardens, by the time I got there my shirt was soaked through, dripping wet. Nobody else was sweating, just me. So I went back to the hotel to cool off and change my shirt, turned on the TV to vege (not much on those seven channels: Channel 1 - Japanese cartoons dubbed into Cantonese and subtitled in Mandarin (with those scary Asian cartoon characters with huge saucer eyes); Channel 2 - MTV; Channel 3 - Chinese sitcoms in Cantonese with Mandarin subtitles; Channel 4 - "Sesame Street" in English with Mandarin subtitles; Channel 5 - BBC, a snooker match; Channel 6 - "Oprah" in English (no subtitles); and Channel 7 - a Hong Kong version of "Jeopardy." I opt of snooker, which isn't really a spectator sport. Later I schlepped up to the Peak, the highest point on the island, (took the tram up) to see the view but by the time I got up there it was raining and foggy and hot, and all I could see was clouds (and my shirt was all sweaty again).
3:40 am Why am I here? I just turned on the radio and there was Hawaiian music playing. I open the windows, hear that it's raining again, and all the mirrors in the room fog up from the humidity. Why did I come? The friend I am visiting has had to fly to Beijing on short notice. His wife works, so I'm here by myself, me and six million Asians (I definitely stick out (I'm the pale, blond, and decidedly pudgy one)). I don't feel connected to anything here (why should I?), but I don't feel particularly connected to where I live in Boston. Jet-lag induced insomnia triggers thoughts on what am I doing with my life? I'm thirty and have done nothing with myself. So I flee and travel, looking for something, some experience that will change me, inspire me, make me whole, but I travel weighed down (literally) with myself, with my loneliness of this far away city. So how can I find anything? Why do I rush to see the sun the other way around when I'll never be able to see myself?
I'm not feeling myself, or I am feeling too much myself, maybe I have a case of traveler's tummy, the water here is not good, the locals boil all theirs, all the sewage is pumped directly into the harbor where hepatitis and TB run rampant (last night for dinner I had sea slug (which is politely called “Sea Cucumber”) and water melon (yummy)). For my morning meal (I didn't have breakfast, just an early lunch) I had a lobster bisque and a Caesar's salad (which I didn't eat -- it was disgusting).
4:00 am The four o'clock news just came on the radio and the lead story is a report that women's voices have gotten lower over the past 50 years (and researchers are saying that it is caused in part by the feminist movement (it's a weird world)).
I think it's time to close the windows and turn the air conditioning back on, the walls are now sweating and all the wallpaper is drooping. I’ll probably be charged for the damage.
In my mind I plan out my next week alone in this city: I'm going to hit the Lit Shing Kung Temple and the Man Mo Temple (pray to Man, god of literature, and Mo, god of war fought injustice and oppression), and maybe Flagstaff House Museum of Tea (yeeha). And perhaps the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank Building (which I passed today on the way back from the tailor ("Big man, lots of fabric!")) which looks like it's made out of legos, has this weird lighting system with lasers to direct sunlight into the atrium, and rumor has it the whole building can be taken apart, so come 1997 it can be shipped back to the UK. And it is supposed to be the most expensive building in the world).
4:30 am I get bored and decided to explore the hotel. The swimming pool was deserted, nice lightening though out over the harbor (maybe we'll get a typhoon before I leave), checked out the health club (closed), the shops on the mezzanine (all closed), and the tennis courts (closed). Hell, I haven't even got to the mini bar in my room yet! If I was the drinking type I could've drunken myself into oblivion by now.
5:15 am I don't even feel like sleeping. That king size bed is too big to get into by myself. In the bedside table there is a Gideon's Bible (who would've guessed) and a book called The Teaching of Buddha. In the chapter entitled “Causation," it goes into the Fourfold Noble Truth, "The world is full of suffering. Birth is suffering, old age is suffering, sickness and death are sufferings." My kind of philosophy. It goes on to say, "The cause of human suffering is undoubtedly found in the thirst of the physical body and in the illusions of worldly passion." Well, my body is certainly thirsty (time to hit that mini bar (a Coke for me cause I'm scared of life and myself)). Now if only I could follow the discipline of the Nobel Eightfold Path (which apparently is like entering a dark room with a light in the hand). Maybe I should see if there's anything on TV.
Just before 6:00 am Yes indeed there was something on TV, who would've guessed? There was a special on Rudolf Hess and some conspiracy theory that he didn't die in Spandau (that someone switched places with him back in '41 (sure)). Also on, and watched simultaneously, was this great movie called "City Hunter," a Hong Kong action film starring Jackie Chan. Really great. It parodied: James Bond movies (Dr. No), Kung Fu movies (Bruce Lee), action movies, Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers, Rambo, Jerry Lewis, Charlie Chaplin, gymnastics, skate boarding, and video games (a great scene where the characters become video game characters (Street Fighters II)). And all of this in actual fight sequences. Truly marvelous (but perhaps I enjoyed it cause I am a bit punch drunk myself). The last line of the movie was: "Being unconscious is great!" A true statement (on many levels).
6:45 am Showered, shaved, and dressed and the first one in the coffee shop for breakfast (toast, cheese and tea). I've decided my body's not in any time zone particularly. I don't know, but I think today might be a long day.
I'll probably go to Beijing on Thursday, meet my friend there if possible; see the Forbidden City, blow a couple hundred more bucks (I figure I've, I might as well see the mainland (this of course assumes I can get a visa in time)). On the PA system here in the coffee shop, the song "YMCA" is playing (Muzak version), what is with this world?
Well the check just came ($HK 110.00 (which is about $13.50, my toast and cheese is a bargain)) and I am out of here.
The day has officially begun, I'll go back to the room to write delirious, sleep-deprived post cards, get wired on tea and feel like Hell all day. I already feel hot and I haven't gone near a door, a bad sign.
