Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Tour schedule 23

We're so organised with our Travelling Aunty! We've been beating her through the days now quicker than she can walk.

Here we are already at Day Something, taking the Kowloon-market tour! Yes, it may be one of those days when Travelling Aunty wishes she were dead. Either that, or had visited the elderly relative in Bangor instead of the energetic Grit in Hong Kong. Hurry up, Travelling Aunty! You must see Kowloon. Especially the old buttress covered in lichen.

Yes, that's it. And it only took an hour to get here! Heritage 1881! It's what Hong Kong can do. The rest of history is a thematic architectural pleasure enjoyment for your superior retail, leisure and relaxation experience. Cold, soulless, and dead. Enjoy this instead.

Never mind. Over to the flower market. Here you can be bashed about the head by an army of New Year shoppers waving sticks of gladioli and half a dozen pussy willow. Most of these shoppers can't see where they're going which makes those pussy willows as lethal as assault rifles when one pokes you in the eye.

This is some sort of law round here. Everyone must buy fresh flowers to celebrate Chinese New Year. Or else. And mandarin orange trees. You have to buy those too. Seriously, they are everywhere in all public places, often festooned with red envelopes. But I note that no one ever pinches the oranges! In Britain they wouldn't last a second. Those oranges would be off that tree and down the market stall quicker than you could blink. The Chinese must have invented some foul-tasting, off-putting ornamental variety.

Enough about that. Over to the bird market ...

and goldfish street for you-know-who to demonstrate her fantastic knowledge about bubble eyed goldfish. Don't ask for a photo. I have 3,000 of the ruddy things already. Anyway, time for a trawl through the markets of Mong Kok! My favourite stall is round here somewhere. The $5 sparkle stall. Those sparkly rings are real diamonds! That stallholder's an idiot selling real diamonds for $5. Don't tell him. I buy a few more every time I pass. I must be worth a fortune by now.

...time for a curry down the street opposite the refuse centre. I would show you a picture of that, but the only one I have is taken by Shark. It is of me, and I seem to be in a disarranged clothing state and drinking from a large glass of beer. That is how she will remember her dear mama, but I am not sure it is suitable for public display.

Anyway, we drag the Travelling Aunty through the Temple Street Night Market next, where we spend a good hour choosing a new titfer for Squirrel.

Then a long journey home to the island, where I am delighted to see that the man never fell off the ladder putting up the pier decorations for New Year.

Travelling Aunty is very quiet by now and looks a little dented. I'm sure she's looking forward with glee to Tour schedule 89. Either that, or considering that Bangor has quite a good deal going for it.


Nora said...

You are so funny. I love your self sarcasm. Nobody makes fun of you the way you do. yourself. I would love to be Traveling Aunty and experience it all. What a thrill it would be.

Rachel M. said...

well now I know what a titfer is!

sharon said...

Keep up the good work Grit. Reading this is almost as good as being there. Possibly better - no sore feet!