Don't be surprised when we attract attention said Sue, They don't see a lot of gweilos in this part of Hong Kong. We sat at a table nearest to a kitchen and ordered noodles for three. An eager lady from the adjacent stall came over and offered translation services. Despite her offer, we had no need as Sue is fluent in beginner Cantonese. Tea in a steaming jug with a Fosters logo was plonked on the table. I don't know about you two, but I need a beer, I injected, ordering a tallie of Tsingtao. Better get two!
We were on the third floor of the Sham Shui Po market, near the end of the MTR* Tsuen Wan line on Kowloon. Below us, Chinese women were selecting live chickens for tonight's meal. Rows of cages holding economically priced birds quivered in anticipation. Once selected, the dealer held the chook up for inspection. Watch this! said Sue, Sometimes the purchaser will stick her finger up the chickens bum to see whether there is an unlaid egg inside before rejecting it. Not this time! Satisfied, the woman paid for the mid-priced $85** selection and was handed a numbered blue tag. A similar tag was attached to the bird's wing and its' neck was slit! Come back shortly and your bird will be plucked. No chance, indicated the anxious purchaser, You might swap chickens on me. I'll wait!
Presented with the bill for $65, I noted the beer cost $40. Bargain! As we left the largest restaurant***, two inquisitive young women came across and asked us where we were from. Replying Australia, one of them said to Kim You use chopsticks better than me!
Descending an odorous lift we headed off for a textile market Sue had once visited. I know it's under the overpass, she said hopefully. Heading off towards the distant overpass, we passed by a roadside stall selling bras. No knickers, only bras! Despite numerous sorties down teeming streets and through the jade market, we were stumped. Can I have another Wet One?, please Sue, I pleaded dispensing with the sodden one in my hand. That's your last, She responded. There's a mailman, Sue gasped, He's sure to know where it is!
Passing the Precious Blood Hospital for the third time, we had to admit that mailman doesn't know his postal codes or what's inside them!. I think it's down here. Success! Plunging into the market, we squeezed through stalls overflowing with rolls of fabrics and fasteners. Electric fans stirred the air as we marvelled at the fortitude of young couples searching for that elusive wedding textile. Do you think they sell Wet Ones?
Searching unsuccessfully for a street sign that approximated Sue's map and directions to the MTR, we came upon shop after shop selling swatches. Not watches, but swatches of fabric. Thousands of them, No millions! Maybe I can find some paisley, I pondered, my mind set on getting some shirts made before we left. Look there's a sign pointing to the MTR station. Unfortunately it was on the other side of a busy road divided by pedestrian preventing barriers. Despite our close proximity to the historical Sham Shui Po police station, we made a dash for it, squeezing through the equally historic barrier.
Our train for Central was leaving in one minute indicated the sign as we approached the doors. It looks a bit crowded, Let's wait for the next one. It will be along in another minute. The MTR has just topped my Top 5 Metros!
*MTR Mass Transit Railway
**All amounts are in HK dollars, currently 8 to the Aussie
*** So called because the size of its license plate. This type of restaurant is called dai pai dong literally meaning restaurant with a big license plate!
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Como
No, You don't want to go to Varesi, Lake Como is a much better choice. Mildred and George were seasoned travellers, having been to Australia eleven times. We loved Canberra, they assured us as they rose from their breakfast table. Como it is then!
Via Milan's metro, we arrived at Centrale. Two tickets to Lake Como Pour favoure, we asked the lady. Non, non, Upstairs, upstairs! Of course you can't get to Como by metro, we knew that much, but we didn't know you couldn't get tickets downstairs. Approaching the long line of Italians seeking tickets for regional and international destinations, I noticed a number of people were obtaining bigliettos from automatic machines nearby. Make sure you get return tickets, Diane had advised us, You may not be able to get tickets back to Milan from Como. A helpful local pressed the buttons for me as I looked on somewhat bewildered. Put notes in there. Some people are quite enterprising. All you have to do is stand around the Stazzione until a bewildered tourist turns up, and you help him for the gratuity of the price of a cup of coffee. Gratize mille!
In Italian railway stations you may not smoke within the halls and restaurants, however, once you have reached the platform, feel free to light up. Arriving and departing passengers gasp with relief upon reaching Area Fumatori! With the prospect of a 45 minute trip ahead of them, half a dozen desperates on platform 14 were intently dragging on sustaining fags.
Our 16 service to Como, terminating in Zurich, ran north through industrial suburbs followed by ascending forested lands beginning to change colour. Arriving, we walked through parks to Piazza Volta where we had views of the lake. A multicultural line of prospective passengers inspected the pricelist for the ferryride as we made our way towards the boat ~ Fifteen euros for a return trip to Bellagio. Seems reasonable. No, that fare is old, sixty euros for two return, and you will have to wait for the next service in one hour. I checked to see if his name was Benito. Even with the favourable exchange rate, seventy one dollars for a ferry ride is a bit steep!. Bellagio's elegant lakeside promenades and cafes will have to miss out on our patronage.
Fuming, we sat at a nearby cafe and replotted our day. Despite an occasional whiff of the nearby drains, we enjoyed a round of drinks as we watched vessels pass by George Clooney's nifty wooden hulled motorboat. Being too early for lunch, we passed on the cafe's menu and set off in the direction of the funicular, rated by Trip Advisor as the third most desirable of Como's attractions. The shade of the funicular terminal was welcoming as we paid our fare of five euros for the seven minute service running eighteen hours a day. Modern air-conditioned funicular cars run up the kilometre long track to Brunate, where the population swells in summer with tourists renting accommodation with views over Lake Como, some 500 metres below.
Alighting into the summer heat, we wandered about the mountain piazza that includes a funicular museum displaying previous steam and electrical driven mechanisms. Both of which would have fascinated Alessandro Volta who lived in Brunate for a short period. We thought Como would be cooler than Milano, but it is just as uncomfortable with an extremely humid atmosphere. Lunchtime had arrived and we took a table at a cafe with views across the lake and heavily populated surrounding mountain communes. The menu offered a range of local dishes including fresh lake carp, however I remained true to my quest to sample every pasta Italy has to offer, and settled for a truffle and porcini ravioli.
Beautiful children's boutiques and a 300 year old apothecary caught our attention as we made our way back towards the stazzione. Travel tip: For some reason (luxury tax?), pharmaceuticals and health products in Italy are poisonously expensive with deodorants costing 10 euros, Neurophen 8 euros and sunblock 14. I advise you to buy adequate supplies before you leave. Buses to Belaggio were filling as we entered the railway station bar where an icy round of Aperol and Prosecca cocktails refreshed us while we cooled our heels waiting for the 18.17 service back to Milano Centrale.
As the express bus to Malpensa Airport passed close to Porta Garibaldi, we noticed that windows that had earlier proclaimed Soldi ~ Discount 50% now featured New Collection 2013! The ride to Malpensa was swift with the crowded bus entertained by an elderly passenger who treated us all to his mobile conversation with his brickie. Snow capped mountains could be seen in the distance as the bus entered the autostrada gates to the airport. Nearby, fields of corn were ripe for harvesting in the record summer heat.
Via Milan's metro, we arrived at Centrale. Two tickets to Lake Como Pour favoure, we asked the lady. Non, non, Upstairs, upstairs! Of course you can't get to Como by metro, we knew that much, but we didn't know you couldn't get tickets downstairs. Approaching the long line of Italians seeking tickets for regional and international destinations, I noticed a number of people were obtaining bigliettos from automatic machines nearby. Make sure you get return tickets, Diane had advised us, You may not be able to get tickets back to Milan from Como. A helpful local pressed the buttons for me as I looked on somewhat bewildered. Put notes in there. Some people are quite enterprising. All you have to do is stand around the Stazzione until a bewildered tourist turns up, and you help him for the gratuity of the price of a cup of coffee. Gratize mille!
In Italian railway stations you may not smoke within the halls and restaurants, however, once you have reached the platform, feel free to light up. Arriving and departing passengers gasp with relief upon reaching Area Fumatori! With the prospect of a 45 minute trip ahead of them, half a dozen desperates on platform 14 were intently dragging on sustaining fags.
Our 16 service to Como, terminating in Zurich, ran north through industrial suburbs followed by ascending forested lands beginning to change colour. Arriving, we walked through parks to Piazza Volta where we had views of the lake. A multicultural line of prospective passengers inspected the pricelist for the ferryride as we made our way towards the boat ~ Fifteen euros for a return trip to Bellagio. Seems reasonable. No, that fare is old, sixty euros for two return, and you will have to wait for the next service in one hour. I checked to see if his name was Benito. Even with the favourable exchange rate, seventy one dollars for a ferry ride is a bit steep!. Bellagio's elegant lakeside promenades and cafes will have to miss out on our patronage.
Fuming, we sat at a nearby cafe and replotted our day. Despite an occasional whiff of the nearby drains, we enjoyed a round of drinks as we watched vessels pass by George Clooney's nifty wooden hulled motorboat. Being too early for lunch, we passed on the cafe's menu and set off in the direction of the funicular, rated by Trip Advisor as the third most desirable of Como's attractions. The shade of the funicular terminal was welcoming as we paid our fare of five euros for the seven minute service running eighteen hours a day. Modern air-conditioned funicular cars run up the kilometre long track to Brunate, where the population swells in summer with tourists renting accommodation with views over Lake Como, some 500 metres below.
Alighting into the summer heat, we wandered about the mountain piazza that includes a funicular museum displaying previous steam and electrical driven mechanisms. Both of which would have fascinated Alessandro Volta who lived in Brunate for a short period. We thought Como would be cooler than Milano, but it is just as uncomfortable with an extremely humid atmosphere. Lunchtime had arrived and we took a table at a cafe with views across the lake and heavily populated surrounding mountain communes. The menu offered a range of local dishes including fresh lake carp, however I remained true to my quest to sample every pasta Italy has to offer, and settled for a truffle and porcini ravioli.
Beautiful children's boutiques and a 300 year old apothecary caught our attention as we made our way back towards the stazzione. Travel tip: For some reason (luxury tax?), pharmaceuticals and health products in Italy are poisonously expensive with deodorants costing 10 euros, Neurophen 8 euros and sunblock 14. I advise you to buy adequate supplies before you leave. Buses to Belaggio were filling as we entered the railway station bar where an icy round of Aperol and Prosecca cocktails refreshed us while we cooled our heels waiting for the 18.17 service back to Milano Centrale.
As the express bus to Malpensa Airport passed close to Porta Garibaldi, we noticed that windows that had earlier proclaimed Soldi ~ Discount 50% now featured New Collection 2013! The ride to Malpensa was swift with the crowded bus entertained by an elderly passenger who treated us all to his mobile conversation with his brickie. Snow capped mountains could be seen in the distance as the bus entered the autostrada gates to the airport. Nearby, fields of corn were ripe for harvesting in the record summer heat.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Milano
The door to our first class compartment slid open: Bigliettos, per favoure! The elderly women opposite ostentatiously removed an envelope embossed with Hotel Ritz from her bag. Withdrawing her ticket, she handed it to the conductor. Her message was clear ~ despite hard times some of us still have standards. We were ninety minutes from Milan, Italy's industrial, commercial and financial heart.
Our destination, Milano Centrale, modelled after Washington's Union Station, has had an interesting past. Due to an Italian economic crisis during WWI, construction proceeded very slowly, and the project, simple initially, kept changing becoming more and more complex and majestic. When Benito Mussolini became Prime Minister, he decided the station would represent the power of the fascist regime with a facade 200 metres wide and a vault 72 metres high. Today Centrale has no definite architectural style, but is a blend of many different schools including Art Deco, and is adorned with numerous sculptures. It dominates Piazza Duca d’Aosta, has 24 platforms and each day about 330,000 passengers use the station. Kim and I were but two that Giovedi.
Finding the way to your accommodation in a new city is a dilemma. It can be achieved by taxi, by public transport or by walking unfamiliar streets in search of an unseen building. Having previously opted for the latter in Lucca and Monterosso, in a Milan summer air-conditioned taxi was the only option. Sure you may be taken on a route far from direct, costing mucho euros, however this has not been our experience with fares including luggage averaging 10 euros. We soon entered the cool Zurigo Hotel located close to the city centre with the Doumo a ten minute walk away and the nearest metro station even closer.
Our first impression of Milan was not auspicious, with closed shops and deserted evening streets, however it was summer holidays. Feeling peckish, we enquired of somewhere nearby to eat. The concierge immediately produced a card promoting the nearby Manhattan ~ maybe it's a family favourite of his, maybe not. Tiring, we opted for his suggestion that surprisingly proved reasonable value and was not a complete tourist trap. A table of Japanese wearing bibs illustrated with crustacea prints were laughing uncomfortably as we left.
A great nights sleep was followed by breakfast taken in a section of a streetside coffee bar ~ a somewhat meagre offering compared to those previously enjoyed in Lucca and Cinque Terra. We slowly ambled up Via Mazzini in the direction of Piazza del Duomo past closed shops and mens' clubs promising a good time, if not now. Crowds of tourists had converged on the Piazza, photographing everything that moved. A guide put down his flag and commenced handing out entry passes to a bunch of American baby-boomers resplendent in their matching white runners and tour polo shirts. Long lines snaked towards the Gothic bronze doors of the cathedral where guards ensured decorum of dress was maintained. Not that that worried the depiction of San Bartolomeo Flayed, who carried his skin!
Seeking respite from the sun, Kim and I walked across the Piazza to Milans' ornate Neo-Renaissance shopping arcade Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Inaugurated in 1877, it is a haven for visitors attracted to its stylish shops, cafes and restaurants. The crowded galleria floor is in the shape of a cross with an octagonal centre adorned with mosaics focussed on the crest of the House of Savoy. The massive glass dome and arcade roofs permit sunshine to illuminate the prestige stores of Prada, Louise Vuitton and Yves St Laurent. One can only imagine the fee McDonalds paid to gain their prominent position. Directly beneath the dome, a Franciscan friar assisted a couple of youngsters take an uninterrupted photo of the crest by engaging a couple of patrolling carabineri in conversation. Give James a ring, he will be finished work by now said Kim as we sought shade in front of AC Milans' fans shop. Can't talk Dad, We're at the footy and the Raiders are up twelve nil.
Wandering outside, we bought some more postcards and walked over to an impressive statue of Leonardo da Vinci surmounting a quartet of lesser genii. A vintage tram advertising Shrek the Musical rumbled past Teatro alla Scala in harmony with our stomachs. Walking up Via Dante post some retail therapy, we noticed police cars parked outside bistro Caffe Milano. If it's good enough for Carabineri.......... Risotto slightly al dente, that's how they do it, with vongole and tiny squid secreted within tomato-kissed waves of arborio grains. Yum, yum! We finished with sambuccas of the freshest variety housed in Krosno glasses, the perfect accompaniment to coffee and dolci. Departing, it would appear our waiter is hoping for a call from La Scala, serenading late-lunchers like us.
Hauling bags of soldes booty (up to 60% off), we headed in the direction of Corso Italia and our room at the Zurigo. Outwitting an orange tram en route to Fontana, we plunged into the air conditioned interior of Milan's cavernous Zara store. Laden down, I trailed Kim through various departments, conscious of the diminishing effect of my eau de cologne. I may have mentioned it's very hot! Respite was reached in our hotel room, more than adequate with a bath with shower. Cable tele, however, was again a mishmash of Italian gameshows, business channels and Republican Fox News. Trying on her two new pairs of shoes, Kim suggested a light dinner would suffice.
At the Football English Pub, you could order pints of Guinness and Tennants in addition to a selection of pizzas named after footballers. The Becker, Lineker and Pele looked promising but I couldn't go past the Osgood, named after Chelseas' dribbling genius of the 70's ~ most pizza parlours call it the Caprese. Lombardian walls were decorated with English memorabilia shipped in by the container load including banners, scarves and mud encrusted football boots. Obviously quarantine restrictions don't apply to the beautiful game. We sat at a table near a framed display of the 1973 home match between traditional rivals Derby County and Leeds United. Alongside the program cover and team lineups was a black and white cobwebbed Derby clacker signed by wee Archie Gemmill.
Streetlights illuminated the classic portals of Touring Club Italiano as we rounded the corner of Corso Italia leading to our hotel. Not making plans, but we may visit Como tomorrow. It's probably cooler by the lake.
Our destination, Milano Centrale, modelled after Washington's Union Station, has had an interesting past. Due to an Italian economic crisis during WWI, construction proceeded very slowly, and the project, simple initially, kept changing becoming more and more complex and majestic. When Benito Mussolini became Prime Minister, he decided the station would represent the power of the fascist regime with a facade 200 metres wide and a vault 72 metres high. Today Centrale has no definite architectural style, but is a blend of many different schools including Art Deco, and is adorned with numerous sculptures. It dominates Piazza Duca d’Aosta, has 24 platforms and each day about 330,000 passengers use the station. Kim and I were but two that Giovedi.
Finding the way to your accommodation in a new city is a dilemma. It can be achieved by taxi, by public transport or by walking unfamiliar streets in search of an unseen building. Having previously opted for the latter in Lucca and Monterosso, in a Milan summer air-conditioned taxi was the only option. Sure you may be taken on a route far from direct, costing mucho euros, however this has not been our experience with fares including luggage averaging 10 euros. We soon entered the cool Zurigo Hotel located close to the city centre with the Doumo a ten minute walk away and the nearest metro station even closer.
Our first impression of Milan was not auspicious, with closed shops and deserted evening streets, however it was summer holidays. Feeling peckish, we enquired of somewhere nearby to eat. The concierge immediately produced a card promoting the nearby Manhattan ~ maybe it's a family favourite of his, maybe not. Tiring, we opted for his suggestion that surprisingly proved reasonable value and was not a complete tourist trap. A table of Japanese wearing bibs illustrated with crustacea prints were laughing uncomfortably as we left.
A great nights sleep was followed by breakfast taken in a section of a streetside coffee bar ~ a somewhat meagre offering compared to those previously enjoyed in Lucca and Cinque Terra. We slowly ambled up Via Mazzini in the direction of Piazza del Duomo past closed shops and mens' clubs promising a good time, if not now. Crowds of tourists had converged on the Piazza, photographing everything that moved. A guide put down his flag and commenced handing out entry passes to a bunch of American baby-boomers resplendent in their matching white runners and tour polo shirts. Long lines snaked towards the Gothic bronze doors of the cathedral where guards ensured decorum of dress was maintained. Not that that worried the depiction of San Bartolomeo Flayed, who carried his skin!
Seeking respite from the sun, Kim and I walked across the Piazza to Milans' ornate Neo-Renaissance shopping arcade Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Inaugurated in 1877, it is a haven for visitors attracted to its stylish shops, cafes and restaurants. The crowded galleria floor is in the shape of a cross with an octagonal centre adorned with mosaics focussed on the crest of the House of Savoy. The massive glass dome and arcade roofs permit sunshine to illuminate the prestige stores of Prada, Louise Vuitton and Yves St Laurent. One can only imagine the fee McDonalds paid to gain their prominent position. Directly beneath the dome, a Franciscan friar assisted a couple of youngsters take an uninterrupted photo of the crest by engaging a couple of patrolling carabineri in conversation. Give James a ring, he will be finished work by now said Kim as we sought shade in front of AC Milans' fans shop. Can't talk Dad, We're at the footy and the Raiders are up twelve nil.
Wandering outside, we bought some more postcards and walked over to an impressive statue of Leonardo da Vinci surmounting a quartet of lesser genii. A vintage tram advertising Shrek the Musical rumbled past Teatro alla Scala in harmony with our stomachs. Walking up Via Dante post some retail therapy, we noticed police cars parked outside bistro Caffe Milano. If it's good enough for Carabineri.......... Risotto slightly al dente, that's how they do it, with vongole and tiny squid secreted within tomato-kissed waves of arborio grains. Yum, yum! We finished with sambuccas of the freshest variety housed in Krosno glasses, the perfect accompaniment to coffee and dolci. Departing, it would appear our waiter is hoping for a call from La Scala, serenading late-lunchers like us.
Hauling bags of soldes booty (up to 60% off), we headed in the direction of Corso Italia and our room at the Zurigo. Outwitting an orange tram en route to Fontana, we plunged into the air conditioned interior of Milan's cavernous Zara store. Laden down, I trailed Kim through various departments, conscious of the diminishing effect of my eau de cologne. I may have mentioned it's very hot! Respite was reached in our hotel room, more than adequate with a bath with shower. Cable tele, however, was again a mishmash of Italian gameshows, business channels and Republican Fox News. Trying on her two new pairs of shoes, Kim suggested a light dinner would suffice.
At the Football English Pub, you could order pints of Guinness and Tennants in addition to a selection of pizzas named after footballers. The Becker, Lineker and Pele looked promising but I couldn't go past the Osgood, named after Chelseas' dribbling genius of the 70's ~ most pizza parlours call it the Caprese. Lombardian walls were decorated with English memorabilia shipped in by the container load including banners, scarves and mud encrusted football boots. Obviously quarantine restrictions don't apply to the beautiful game. We sat at a table near a framed display of the 1973 home match between traditional rivals Derby County and Leeds United. Alongside the program cover and team lineups was a black and white cobwebbed Derby clacker signed by wee Archie Gemmill.
Streetlights illuminated the classic portals of Touring Club Italiano as we rounded the corner of Corso Italia leading to our hotel. Not making plans, but we may visit Como tomorrow. It's probably cooler by the lake.
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