in the mood for hong kong

My ninth tenth trip to Hong Kong and possibly the coldest one ever at 13 deg C, due mostly to my own negligence in checking the weather report and packing super light. I made up for it by purchasing two scarves.


Me and the bathrobe in the very swank hotel room, which unfortunately had a haunted TV which kept switching on and off against my wishes half the night, despite the technician's checks and assurance that it was "no scary, no scary". I changed to another room the next day.


Persistent drizzle in Central did not deter me from heading to the H&M mothership. I didn't bother with the over-rated roast goose at Yung Kee and the frankly lacklustre noodles at Tsui Wah (both just up the road).


Just a few steps away was the swish entrance of Shanghai Tang and facing this was one of the many rabbit hole-like entrances leading to the MTR station.


Hidden in a wet market in Wanchai, behind huge red metal doors, was modern art gallery Ooi Botos. There was no sign outside, of course, just a discreet buzzer.


It didn't seem right to take photos of the art, so I shot the spiral stairs instead.


Next door was a poorly-lit gaming centre with grimy boys in a world of their own.


Stalls right at the doorstep of the gallery, with fruit glistening in the rain. Wet market, indeed.


Classified, where I had possibly the best cheese in my life ever. The cheese may or may not have been called madara, excessive wine has addled my memory.


The uber cool droog lights at the wine and cheese place. Totally DIY-able, I say with great confidence.


Waiting at Causeway Bay. Long exposure gone on too long without tripod, but I like. So there.


Low Price Shop. The name said it all.


Peered futilely, as I always do, into the apartments while riding the Midlands Escalator in hope of catching Christopher Doyle's pad from Chungking Express, which, incidentally, I rewatched on the plane back home, eschewing current blockbusters to fall in love with Tony all over again.


What you don't see is the drink seller just out of the right side of the frame pretending not to observe me trying to get the shot -- darned manual focus! -- before the uncle moved away.


My fave noodles in the world. I had two bowls this time. You can see the very petite rice bowls they are served in, so I wasn't being excessive. Or at least that was how I justified it.


Wandering around Causeway Bay in -- this is a recurring theme -- the drizzle.


In a not-entirely-successful bid to shop less, I set aside time to visit a couple of indie bookstores. The first one I trudged to, Mackie's Study, had closed down. I climbed those stairs for nothing.


The second one, After School, was locked, even though I saw someone at the window. It just wasn't meant to be.


Energy completely sapped after just four days there. I would like to sleep for a week, but alas, neglected work beckons.

P.S. The best and worst part about shooting film? The nail-biting finger-crossing part where I send a roll in for developing not knowing if I had completely, devastatingly, ruined an entire trip's worth of photos by absent-mindedly opening the back of the camera before rewinding and then discovering I did not lug around a piece of heavy metal for four days for nothing and that I must have done something good and my karma is at an all-time high because there are even a couple of shots which nailed the focus.