The fog rolls in

The fog rolls in, and there it stays

The fog rolls in

The flight from Sydney to Hong Kong lasted three films, four episodes of The Big Bang Theory, two meals and several gin and tonics. It had been the longest flight of my trip so far that I had been awake for. The flights from Los Angeles to Auckland and Buenos Aires to Mexico City had both been longer but had been night flights and with the help of a couple of sleeping tablets and gin I had slept through them both.  In the nearly nine months of travelling so far I had had no success in being seated next to any gays (as far as I knew) or been seated in a section of the plane being looked after by a gay trolley dolly. I’d not been able to flirt my way to any upgrades either, not that I had ever been good at that sort of thing. The only time I had ever managed anything like that was on a very short flight from Aberdeen to Gatwick. During the 40-minute flight I had got through four G&T’s because the steward serving them was cute and we had made a lot of eye contact. He told me in a text the next day that the crew on that flight had been checking out all the passengers as we boarded and that I had been unanimously voted “Bob” – Best on board. We dated for a year.

My hosts in Hong Kong were Brian and his boyfriend. Brian and I used to work for the same company before I had quit. We had met when he moved over from the Los Angeles office to work in London. He had put me in touch with Matt who had been one of my LA gays and after his move to Hong Kong he told me I was more than welcome to stay with them once my travels brought me there. He had been pencilled into my itinerary for over a year but we had only finalised the details a few days before my arrival. He had explained that they would both be at work when I arrived so he would leave a key with the security guard at their building. He gave me detailed directions on how to get from the airport to central Hong Kong and where to tell the taxi driver to go, including a phonetic pronunciation of the address in Cantonese in case my driver didn’t speak much English. He told me roughly what the taxi should cost too. It made my arrival stress free which given I was a little tired and was probably 10% gin was a good thing.

I cleared immigration, collected my case and got the train into Hong Kong. There was a queue for the taxis but it moved pretty quickly. I found the piece of paper I had jotted down Brian’s address and showed it to the driver. Thankfully I didn’t need to attempt the phonetic Cantonese version.  The traffic was very heavy and progress was very slow. The driver asked if I was ok with him taking the mountain road as it was probably going to be quicker. I had no idea where Brian’s place was in relation to where we were so I said “sure, why not”. A few minutes later we had turned off the main road and were heading upwards. The mountain road turned out to be the road up to Victoria Peak. As we neared the top the road was busy with coaches, many parked up as groups of people milled around on tours. They had not chosen a great day for it as the city was shrouded in fog. It was impossible to make out any of the buildings but the fog was lit up in a rainbow of colours.

And there it stays

I arrived at the rather cutely named Wendy Apartments where I would be staying for the next few days and found Brian’s building. As per his instructions a set of keys were waiting for me with the security guy on reception. I headed up to the apartment and let myself in. There was a light on but I didn’t think anything of it. I lugged my case across the threshold, closed the door behind me and headed in to the apartment. The sight of someone sat at the dining table just in front of me scared the crap out of me. It was Brian’s boyfriend who I had only met once before. I momentarily forgot his name, so opened with a safe “Hello you!” and followed it up with a swift “I didn’t think anyone was going to be home”. As he showed me to what would be my room and made me feel welcome I racked my brain to remember his name. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something desserty.  A short while later Brian returned home. As we hugged Brian said “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to message you to say that Pavlo would be home”. Pavlo! That was it. 

The next morning I woke up early and found Brian and Pavlo already up and having breakfast.  They poured me a coffee and asked me about my plans for the day. I said that I didn’t have a set plan and would probably just have a wander around the centre for a while, get my bearings and soak up the atmosphere.  They both left for work and I took my time getting ready. Armed with a map, my iPod and wearing some comfortable shoes I set off for my day of wandering. The fog of the previous evening remained making a tourist trip up Victoria Peak rather pointless. Instead I contented myself with just wandering the busy, narrow streets taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the place. It was completely different to anywhere I had been on my travels so far. As I passed a Bank of China I noticed a large queue outside. It snaked across the path and I had to navigate a way through the queue. I suddenly felt very self-conscious about how English I must have sounded as I said “Pardon me please”.

My wandering brought me into the centre of the city and to the Bank of China main building.  The queue outside it was unbelievable. It wrapped around the building a couple of times, up over a bridge and round a corner. It must have been a couple of miles long.  It had me perplexed. Thankfully I randomly bumped into Pavlo who was on his way to the gym in his lunch break and he explained that a new 100 dollar note had been released to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the bank and people were queueing up to buy them as the new money was considered to be lucky. I decided against joining the queue. Instead I filled my day visiting the Hong Kong Gardens, walking round the harbour and embarrassing myself at lunch by my complete lack of language skills which meant I ordered by doing an impression of a chicken and then pointing towards the big plate of noodles on the next table.

“The fog rolls in, and there it stays”
Lyrics from Entering Grey Gardens from the musical Grey Gardens