ok so, Hong Kong was good (Part 2)

I slid my fankled feet into a pair of flip flops and covered this monstrosity with a very long dress. What the hay! We dined at 'Dong' before heading down to the Peninsula Hotel to partake of a few champagne cocktails in the Felix bar. The place was uber-cool with amazing views across the harbour to Hong Kong Island.

On day 2, I tried my hand at haggling (though enjoyed more success when I communicated verbally). I went into a shop just off Nathan Road to get a memory stick for my camera. The over-zealous sales assistant told me I had "lovely temples". "Excuse me?" came my rather shocked response. "Your temples," he tried again, "are lovely. Beautiful temples. Very big." I was about to get up and leave when it dawned on me that he meant 'dimples'. "Aahh dimples!" I smiled back, "yes, thank you."

The dimples got me in trouble later that day when I made my perpetual mistake of smiling and saying hello to the wrong person, who then followed us around for about an hour and sat two rows behind us on the Star Ferry back to Kowloon.

High tea at the Peninsula Hotel was a wonderful treat. It was very old school with the waiting staff in colonial style uniforms. We partook of a lovely pot of Afternoon Tea and several fancies. My feet thanked me privately for the rest.

Day 3 was full-on and whatever love-fest my feet and I engaged in the previous day was gone. We visited the Bank of China tower, caught the tram up to the Peak, took a sangpang ride at Aberdeen Harbour. It was all very authentic and traditional, apart from the fact that the fisherman spent the majority of the time on his mobile phone. We caught the bus to the ferry terminal, took a tram to a temple, trampled along the world's longest sky-walk and stopped in at the museum of tea; where I learned about the ancient art of tea-making and Steve Irwin's unfortunate death (I was going to use the word 'untimely' but then I remembered the things this man used to do with crocodiles and snakes - strewth!). After some very authentic cusine (crispy fried duck - skin only? I'll pass on that thanks.) I actually hobbled back to the hotel. My feet had become so swollen that my sandals had cut into the skin leaving a sore, and very red, welt that ran half way around my foot. I looked like I'd escpaed from a chain gang. To make matters worse, the extreme humidity had resulted in not only a shocker of a demi-wave, but some thigh-chafing - aow, aow, aow.

Next up:

We play ping pong in Bangkok
& Break the bank at Vertigo.

ok so, Hong Kong was good

Part 1

On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.

Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).

At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.

Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.

I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.

In Part Two

How will our heroine cope with fankles?

Why are the Hong Kongers so fascinated with her 'temples'?

and will she get a decent cup of tea?

Stay tuned!