Self-portrait taken in the living room of our flat. The street construction is happening immediately below the windows pictured along the back wall. You can see our ity-bity, cute, two-person couch. My editing suite (i.e. Tim's desk that he kindly lends me during the day) is directly behind me, in front of the desk chair with the JP Morgan towel draped over it. Our wardrobes are also in the main room, as there is room for only a bed in the bedrooms! I really like the amount of light and breeze we get in our place. It is refreshing and homey despite its small size!
This bathroom wins the award for smallest toilet-shower-sink combo ever. You have to do a little dance around the toilet to close the bathroom door and also to rinse off when you are showering. The drain in the wall doesn't really work so our policy is water-on only while you rinse; when you suds up, you have to turn off the flow otherwise you'll end up with a flood! The sink, funny enough, gets more water on the floor than in the bowl. It is a hilarious set-up.
This is our bedroom, which is outfitted by IKEA sheets and a down comforter. I can't complain about the cheap and trendy household products, they look nice, but I do wish IKEA would build their stuff to last. Half of what we've bought there has broken already. The left frame of the picture is where the wall starts in our room, so we have about a foot and a half of space between our bed and the wall. It makes it interesting when they are two people in the room. You kinda get stuck in there!
Our kitchen. It is a boil-only operation at this point. You may be surprised to learn that this one is actually a lot bigger than most of the kitchens I saw when we were apartment hunting. It makes our kitchen back in our house in Bozeman look absolutely HUGE.- - - - - - - - -
I remember when we moved into our apartment, our Chinese roommate Tim told us that when showing the place to other foreigners who were looking for a room to rent (or "to let", as it's often called here), he always attempted to first calibrate their expectations. "People want something clean, quiet, and spacious," he told us. Laughing in short bursts, he gave us his reaction to their quest, "You can't find that in Hong Kong. Not possible."
Case in point, in terms of cleanliness, I must say that apartment hunting in this city was an adventure, complete with ventures up and down narrow, dingy, dark stairwells; peering though cracked panes of glass that remotely resembled bedroom windows, complete with dust-coated sills, and witnessing paint flaking off white walls, falling into stained kitchen sinks and coating floors with a layer of fine dust. To be honest, the whole ordeal, which was supplemented by shady property owners and rental agencies, bordered on horrific at a few select moments in time. Couple that with the hostel we stayed in our first five days here (that unfortunately for us, increasingly smelled of sewage in the evenings, perhaps due to the rising temperature), and you can imagine that we were pretty desperate to find a place, anything really, that was better than what we had.
But don't get me wrong. There are actually a ton of posh penthouses and high rise apartments complete with doormen and swimming pools for the super rich. Hong Kong's population demographic, at least in terms of economics and personal finances, seems to be extremely stratified. Overall the city seems devoid of the poorest of the poor...there are no bulging bellies on babies, no children in rags. But you do see street vendors making roasted chestnuts and waffles on mobile kitchen woks fueled by charcoal and open flames at all hours of the day (and night) on area street corners, along with thousands of Filipina domestic workers, who are employed as maids in this town, flooding parks and highway underpasses on Sundays (their only day off), coexisting right alongside all of this wealth.
Peter and I were talking about this phenomenon the other day and decided that if you're not exposed to excessive amounts of wealth in your daily life per se, you don't know really know what you're missing, and consequently don't desire to own such extravagant items. Well, at least we didn't. Transplant yourself to Hong Kong, and it's an entirely different matter altogether. High-level consumer consumption hits you like a ton of bricks. I'll get back to this in a second. But first, let's backtrack a moment to our life and home in Bozeman to put things into perspective.
In Montana, we live a fairly simple life. I'll give a few examples to illustrate: 1) Half of the plates in our house are mis-matched, a conglomeration of numerous roommates' kitchenware in conjunction with some hand-me-downs from my grandmother, mostly chipped and cracked, but they hold a high sentiment value. 2) We're a one-car family. Our vehicle of choice: a 21-year old truck, yup that's right, a 1988 Toyota 4Runner, black in color, but the bands of brown rust around the rims and bumpers seem to ever encroach on the doors and panels. Most of the time, I don't even drive it, and elect instead to walk or bike around town. It's a great, low-carbon footprint method of getting around, although it's nice to have the car available when we need it. The 4Runner is usually reserved for shuttling hoards of friends and piles of camping gear out of town for weekend rafting trips on the Yellowstone, or for making trips to the grocery store in the winter, when icy roads make biking with groceries hanging from bags on the handlebars a bit perilous. We also love to drive the 4Runner up into the mountains and park it next to some hot springs in the dead of winter, put the seats down, and camp out inside the car. It's become one of our favorite weekend dates. 3) Unlike most people in town, we don't own a TV. We don't own expensive ski equipment. Both Peter and I buy used clothing at the local trift store in town, "Sacks," which donates a percentage of its proceeds to a women's center in town that assists sexual assault victims.
Now fast forward to Hong Kong and our minimalist lifestyle has suddenly, and very blatantly, been challenged. There are Bentlys driving around our neighborhood. Walk to the nearest shopping mall and you'll find store after store filled with glistening watches, diamond studded necklaces, knee-high leather boots, ornate hand bags, and designer clothes. Names I only knew from magazines are plastered across skyscrapers: Giorgio Armani, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Prada. Suddenly we find ourselves wanting things we never wanted before. Is it a desire to fit in? Peer pressure? Angst over these huge and blatant disparities in wealth? A feeling of dismay at suddenly being relegated to the bottom end of the totem pole? Or perhaps just a pervasive feeling like we can't really participate in this little world here, since most of it's inaccessible to us?
Alright, I think I've exhausted the "clean" category and even managed to embark on a considerable tangent. So now back to Tim's statement of "clean, quiet, and spacious not being possible in HK." Example number two: quiet...or rather, the inability to find quiet in this bustling metropolis...while it had the appearance of being a sleepy little neighborhood on the Sunday afternoon when we first visited, King Street (where we live) and the surrounding grid soon exploded with machinery and noise. Street construction started outside our apartment just a few days after we moved in and still continues after almost 6 weeks of jack hammering though cement.
In additional to the construction, our neighborhood, while undergoing the process of gentrification, maintains a lively local clamor. You can find some nice wine shops, Asian restaurants boasting contemporary Vietnamese, Thai and Japanese food, and salons in the area, but it is the scattering of local shops that still really leave their mark on the place. Our neighborhood has a completely different feel from some of the expat hangouts we frequent downtown. Just around the corner from our building, for example, there is a little Chinese restaurant that I walk by every day on my way to the MTR (subway). Old men sit on red plastic stools and play cards all morning, and eat fish garnished with oil, peppers and chives at lunch. Come evening they are still sitting around talking over a few bowls of rice and steaming noodles. There are also a large amount of car repair garages and mechanics in our neighborhood. This seems to be the area where every single taxi driver in HK comes to get his vehicle serviced. So we definitely didn't get lucky in the quiet realm. You can escape up to the Peak or the surrounding mountains and beaches to hear the birds sing and to find some peace and quiet, but it doesn't really exist in our neighborhood. Be prepared to wake up at 6 or 7am to the sound of various mechanical operations, unless you're a sound sleeper, that is.
Last but not least, example number three: the notion of finding a spacious abode....well, just click on the IKEA website in Hong Kong and you'll find a whole section devoted to "Living in Small Spaces." In some ways it's been really good to come here and to realize that you don't need as much to get by and that the amount of space that most Americans have become accustomed to in their homes is really excessive in terms of how the majority of the world's population lives. I've learned this lesson before, but it is nice to be reminded, because every time I return to the States, I seem to slowly forget this notion over time. Here in Hong Kong, however, you really can't own, or aspire to own a ton of possessions because there simply isn't room to store them! I must admit I like the fact that I use up way less resources here in my daily existence. Speaking of using less resources, it's 2:30am, time to turn off the lights and head to bed.
More soon!
J















