Showing posts with label Clueless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clueless. Show all posts

2025/08/23

Mickey Mouse Theme Song (Hong Kong)

This morning we woke to full sun. That might not seem important unless you're from Sydney. If you know, you know. Before I dive into the day that was, I need to tell you, dear reader, about last evening.

We dined at Avoca, the bar/restaurant within the hotel. By local restaurants standards it was not cheap, but the Surf and Turf for two was delightful. The steak was perfectly cooked, the clams were in a buttery sauce that deserved some sourdough to soak up the remnants, the red snapper was delicious with a crispy skin, the octopus, although a little over, had a tasty char and the Boston lobster was perfect. Boston lobster you ask? Another name for the American variety, it's like a huge maron. So very tasty. The French Chenin Blanc was the ideal accompaniment, especially after it warmed up a little.

The photo does not do the food justice.

We watched the crowds build along the waterfront as the sun began to dip below the towered horizon. It was still well before 8pm, the annointed time when the "light show" would commence. Every blog, every list of things to do in HK contained the Symphony of Lights as a 'must see'. I have travelled a bit in Asia, dear reader, and most of the major cities have natural light shows because of the way their buildings are illuminated. Neon was a god-send but LCD is next level. So, I was expecting something spectacular. Maybe not NYE fireworks in Sydney, but certainly eye-catching.

The view before the light show.

Um. Yeah, nah. We had to check our watches to ascertain that the 'spectacular' had commenced. Sure, there were changes to some of the buildings which now had their colours running up and down the façade. And yes, there were lasers atop two buildings, briefly, as part of the finale. However, I've seen better displays on a weeknight in provincial China. Jayne and I looked at each other in disbelief and laughed. Checked our watches again. Yep, it was over. Then the Ten Things I Hate About You jokes began about being "whelmed" or "underwhelmed". Definitely the latter. So glad we opted to stay and watch from the 38th floor in uncrowded, air conditioned comfort, with a wine in hand.

And so to today. Let's get the song title out of the way. It's still in my head. It's worse than being Rick Rolled. Anyway. Listen if you're brave enough https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4C_lUy58Rw

After chatting to one of our granddaughters because she wanted to know where we were, we eventually made it to the foyer to order an Uber. 9am is not a good time to use the elevators. Unless you really like being up close and personal with complete strangers. Sorry, I digress.

There is some interesting architecture.

Uber decided a pre-paid taxi would be a better option for us. Taxi ordered, another Aussie, a furniture importer from Perth, who was waiting for his Uber, explained the HK version of Uber/taxis and how it operates. We chatted until our respective cars arrived.

The drive to Garden Road on HK Island was around 30 minutes. Traffic here often appears non-existent and then suddenly you're locked in a bumper-to-bumper slow moving mass. We arrived and walked past the ticket booth courtesy of our pre-purchased tickets. Where are we going you ask? How rude of me, dear reader. We were off to Central and our aim was to ride the tram (funicular) up to the Peak and Sky Terrace 428; a landmark building on the HK skyline, providing unrivalled views of the HK vista. It is, apparently, 428 metres above sea level.

There were a few people milling around the turnstiles. It appeared they were having trouble scanning the QR code. Deftly, we stepped off our left foot, Latrell style, and went to the turnstile that was vacant. It was there we discovered that everyone had to wait. Inadvertently, we had taken the prime position. Nice. Particularly in an area not known for queue etiquette.

The signal was given. We scanned our QR codes and sprinted up the very steep ramp to the doors. Oh alright, maybe sprinting is a stretch, but we moved with much animation and certainly faster than anyone else that was at the turnstiles. The reward? The very front of the line for the first carriage of the funicular. Front row seats. Winner.

Waiting for the tram to return.

I'm not about to rank world engineering feats, but this is a seriously steep mountain. I understand the concept of climbing a mountain because it's there, but...but, why build a funicular track? I have ridden a few funicular (is that also plural?) in my time but the G-force on this one was significant.

Here it comes.

The advice from everyone is to sit on the right side of the carriage. The left side view is mostly wall. I mean, if you're into that kind of thing. I'm not judging, it's your choice.

The journey takes less than 15 minutes and there are some spectacular views - if you're on the right side of the carriage. Or right hand side to be specific. Then you are ejected onto the platform at the top of the tram line and move fluidly with all the other travellers towards many, many, many stores (did you know that iridology is the new astrology?) and distractions that are there for no other reason than to take your money. And you thought you were here for the view. So foolish.

Nice view. A pity about the music.

As we approached the shopfronts the fluidity of movement became less so although the terminal playing of the Mickey Mouse song continued from the tram into the mall. People stopped, stared, turned back, looked for friends, shouted for lost friends ... the memory is painful. It wasn't a difficult task. Move forward. And turn that bloody music off. M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E. Walt Disney has much to answer for. The music continued as did the proliferation of Disney characters: stickers on walls, floating balloons above us and statues to pose by. The tramway is obviously being used as a marketing ploy by HK Disneyland.

This arcade of stores was wrapped around a series of escalators that eventually carried you to the rooftop. Eventually. Finally. Hallelujah. Crowd angst then was amplified because the selfies were there; the family selfies - no not a family photo, six individual photos with the same background. FML. I do not like people. Or the groups that just had no notion of anyone but themselves, or if they did have an inkling, they didn't care. I could have justifiably murdered many people on the rooftop of Sky Terrace 428 and died a happy man. It would have been a community service. Cleansing the gene pool.

The view? Oh, yeah. It was OK. 360°. The highest point in HK. Whatever. Here are some pictures.

Looking away from HK mainland.

The Sky Terrace itself.

Disney characters everywhere. I'm not laughing.

We then set off in search of sustenance as we had not breakfasted. How hard would it be to find a cafe to enjoy a coffee and pastry in a major tourist destination on a crowded island? More difficult than I ever imagined, dear reader, as the majority of shops had not commenced operations for the day. The terrace complex opens at 10am but it seems the store holders observe HK etiquette which dictates early lunchtime is the appropriate moment to start fleecing tourists of their money. I shan't bore you with the details but we eventually found a 'bakery', procured something vaguely edible and headed back to a coffee shop we'd seen. The "Americano" in a paper cup was over $8AUD. Nope. And Americano? Don't get me started.

What goes up must come down. It's basic physics. Particularly for a funicular. Having had almost no-one invade my personal space for the last half hour, it was time to once again survive the frottage. Back to the funicular queue. The journey down is probably more challenging because the G-force is pressing onto the back of your head the whole time. It is an experience on a lot of levels and worth doing. Make sure you pre-purchase tickets and get there early. The crowd builds as the day grows older. When we walked past an hour or so later there was no space on the footpath outside the entrance.

The crowd before we went into HK Park.

Hong Kong Park is next door to the tramway and it boasts a huge walk-in aviary. You know I had to check it out, dear reader. Unfortunately the entrance was at the top of the aviary, many, many stairs away from where we were. Jayne opted for a bench in the shade and sent me off to climb the stairs.

The space is quite expansive with huge trees providing a shady canopy under the mesh roof. The inhabitants were all from the New Guinea/Indonesia area. I recognised Java Finches and some sort of lorikeet and that was about it. I could have spent hours in there had I the time and my larger lens and tripod. Next time.

Java Sparrow or Finch if you prefer.

A lorikeet. Do I have food on my beak?

It was now Dim Sum time and Jayne charted a course for Maxim's Palace, a highly recommended venue, to enjoy Dim Sum. Navigation in HK is not simple, either by road or footpath. There are numerous walkways one level up from the street because there are so few options to cross at street level. As we soon discovered. It was going to be a day where we didn't need to check our steps.

Much like The Man from Ironbark, we wandered here, we wandered there, until we were fit to drop and the Google maps said we had arrived at Maxim's. It appeared to the untrained eye to be a carpark. Then we spied an A4 laminated piece of paper that simply said Maxim's Palace with an arrow. We followed the arrow and ended up in City Hall via the back door. Still no real sign of the restaurant, so we ascended the flights of stairs. There is rarely just one.

On the top floor, we arrived at Maxim's Place and half the population of HK was already there, milling around the entrance to the restaurant; so much so, that we could barely squeeze onto the landing at the top of the stairs. There was a ticketing machine with no explanation as to how to procure a ticket or what the numbers meant. A nice Brit explained how to use the machine: you just punch in the number of people dining and it produces a ticket which is your place in the queue. Also on the machine was the number of people in front of you, depending on the size of your party. There were 39 couples waiting for a table before us. We bailed.

Back out on the streets, we reset the GPS for the Central Markets, a food destination. Had the heat and humidity affected us? Absolutely. We were tiring but once again faced the hordes on the elevated walkway to cover the 20 minutes to the Markets. And they were not what we expected. There were plenty of market-style stalls and huge number of places to buy food, but nowhere to sit and enjoy your purchase. It was a grab and go place.

A reminder of the British heritage.

Once again out onto the street. There were two choices: to the right, to what looked like a street market or to the left, up a street that potentially held places to eat. We went left and were rewarded by Homurice. Ok, not HK cuisine; it was Japanese, but as we paused outside, we were whisked inside by the tour de force lady in charge and seated before we could say anything. The place was packed and the turnover rapid. The food was good, the beer was better. Like Prince Planet, our energy levels were rising by the second.

Re-charged, we returned to the crowds and walked the short distance to the mid-level escalators, "the longest outdoor covered escalator in the world." No really. It was the first time I'd ever ridden an escalator to the end point, a travelator actually (there were no stairs involved), just to walk back down to where I started. For four hours of a morning, it operates from top to bottom and for the rest of the day until late in the evening, it carries people the other way, up to the top. Well, I've ticked that box, even though I didn't know there was a box to tick.

From there we body dodged through the people to the Central Ferry Pier, miraculously worked the ticket machine and walked straight onto an uncrowded ferry that departed within the minute. It was a pleasant ride back to the mainland and at $2.90HK each, much cheaper than the taxi.

From the ferry.

Also from the ferry.

It was mid afternoon as we disembarked and the heat, humidity and walking had taken their toll. Time to rehydrate in air conditioned comfort. Great in concept, but a lot of places don't open until 6pm. However, there was an Irish Pub, Delaney's, somewhere en route to our hotel. Challenge accepted. God bless Google maps and also Holafly for my e-sim and unlimited data.

Delaney's was not like Dante's descent into hell, although it was down some steep, dimly lit, narrow stairs. They opened out into any pub you've been to in Ireland. Complete with fireplace. A couple of Guinesses later, we felt refreshed enough to face the now blistering sun. The climb back up the stairs was like an ascent to hell. You felt the intensity of the heat increase with every step. The knowledge that our cool, air conditioned home was only a 10 minute walk away drew us forward.

It would require the skills of a tetris world champion to avoid the pedestrian traffic in this city. People step in front of you, they stop abruptly, push past, change directions without warning or slow down to look at their phones. Not to mention the ever present threat of losing an eye to an umbrella since avoiding the sun at all costs is a particularly female Asian preoccupation. I was seriously over it by this stage of the day. Just as we came to our street, someone stepped directly in front of me as we crossed the zebra crossing. So I swung my backpack as I turned to avoid them and pushed them onto the bonnet of the nearest car. Alright, I didn't, but I really wanted to and that's how the scene played out in my mind.

Back at the hotel, we relaxed and enjoyed afternoon drinks and waited without excitement or enthusiasm for the Symphony of Lights. It was the same underwhelming experience. Perhaps you need to be down by the water and listening to the accompanying music. Hopefully it's not from the Disney playlist,,,Yeah, nah.

Until tomorrow.




2020/01/12

Written in the water (Napier - Rotorua, New Zealand)

Yes dear reader I have made the supreme sacrifice and burned the midnight oil to ensure you have amusement at breakfast. Although one can't be too sure about what amuses these days. Apparently a couple of British royals are doing what all children (hopefully) do and are leaving the nest and this has caused media meltdown. Well from a Murdoch world perspective, which is both narrow and shallow, a bit like a bird bath. It has been tagged Megxit. Here I am, on holiday in NZ, laughing at the sub-editor's headline, thinking how funny it is to make fun of Harry's red hair. You know, like Ginger Meggs, Megxit ... oh, I see. Moving on.

And the title. Well, it's a 2015 song by Gin Wigmore. She's a Kiwi. Do it. Go for Google.

We were coffeed, packed, checked out and on the road before 9:30am. It's always good to allow extra time when malevolent spirits inhabit your GPS. And she did it again today, but more on that later.

Waipunga Falls
Our first scheduled stop was the Waipunga Falls. Jayne discovered this through Dr Google. The falls are, literally, in the middle of nowhere. Well, on the road between Napier and Taupo. They are not signposted. Go figure. We found nothing in the local tourist guide information and yet, they are quite spectacular as the picture shows. That said, we have found sign posting in the land of the great white cloud, well, dodgy. The signs are small and generally visible at the last minute.

Quite pleased with the sight of the Falls, we resumed the trip to Lake Taupo. Aside from changing radio stations every time the current signal waned, the main discussion was how to pronounce Taupo. Not that it was going to present as an issue. Jayne's pronunciation wasn't going to offend me.

The drive continued through landscape that could be mistaken for Canadian. Mountains. Green pines. The occasional snow-capped peak. Wide, shallow, fast moving rivers, meandering across stone beds. In fact New Zealand is very similar to Canada. It is just a smaller version of an outdoor recreation park. It's closer to home and the people here are genuinely nice. You can read that any way you like. But, no bears. Well, none that we saw. Plenty of dead possums though. Cheers to our Australian ancestors for importing another unwanted creature into an environment that couldn't cope with it.

Lake Taupo is a collapsed caldera. Just like Santorini, but without the climate, the charm, the food, the Greek people, the view ... maybe not so much like Santorini. It is pretty spectacular and a drawcard for tourists and Kiwis alike at this time of year. There were people swimming, not us, but they were out there, despite a snow-capped mountain in the background. Not to mention the para gliders, sailors, whatever. The lake is a playground and there are plenty of places to eat and drink and while away the day. 



Where there is smoke ...


While we were debating whether to alter the address in the devious GPS we passed a sign that directed us to the Craters of the Moon Geothermal Park. Fortuitously, that is where we wanted to go, so no GPS intervention required. It was closer to Taupo than I expected and was less whelming than I expected. Come on, work with me here, think 10 Things I hate About You, the movie. Although, in reviewing the photos, I may have been a tad harsh.




Not sure of the history of the area, I assumed a quarry at some point. Hence the crater link. The information on the net suggested a 90 minute walk. The signage on the way in stated a 60 minute walk, at the admission centre they said a 45 minute walk. It was like the incredible world of Benjamin Button. Anyway, we did it in 40 minutes, but didn't walk to the lookout. I mean, if you've seen one hole in ground spewing steam ... how did you think the next one would be different?


Plenty of steam but no mud.

There were differences. Some of the holes just puffed away quietly, some blew steam with significant force, think the Zazu and the Lion King. There was also a mud bubbling area, well there would have been except NZ is also in the  middle of a water shortage. Plenty of steam but the ground was dry.

Our next stop was almost literally across the road. Well, down the road and across the street, the Huka Falls. It's one of those awesome places where you can ride in a jet boat. Why? I have no idea. It is quite a popular tourist area and not from Taupo. Aside from the jet boats there were river cruises, helicopter flights, a golf driving range, a seriously high ropes course and lots fo other fun stuff on which to try to kill yourself.


As we say in Australia: yeah, nah. I was here strictly for the photos. And I'm still struggling to believe that these falls were created naturally. That looks a littler too much like a hydro channel. Coincidently, they do have a hydro electricity station on this river.

Jet boat bravado. Yay.















Following so much excitement, we set the GPS for Rotorua. She didn't disappoint. At the first major intersection I was reading the map on the screen. Turn left. The signage doesn't say Rotorua, but OK. As I swing into the roundabout I spot the Rotorua sign. I should have kept going straight ahead.

Safely in Rotorua, I check some maps. Our GPS, set for the quickest, most direct route, detoured us some 30 minutes and 25 km out of the regular driving route form Taupo to Rotorua. WTF? Anyway, it was an interesting and, at time beautiful, drive and we made it safely into Rotorua. Then unsurprisingly, we had to begin again to find our hotel after she dumped us in the middle of the street. "Your journey has ended". Well, no. And ultimately, that is for me to decide, not some piece of allegedly high-tech gear with an English accent and no road sense.

We checked in. Eventually. Jayne had already checked out restaurants and activities online. While enjoying our welcome drink, we organised dinner and tomorrow's fun. If I said that Jayne was about to do something she has never done before that would not be exaggeration. In fact one of our children didn't believe me. What are we doing?

Well,

until tomorrow