Hong Kong

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!