nwoT eikgnoH Hongkie Town

Inspired by my trip to Paris, I decided I want to start making my own bread. I was thinking that one of those electronic bread makers would be the way to go. I looked at several sites, including Amazon, and came away with the opinion that a Japanese brand called Zojirushi is the Cadillac of bread bakers.

Zojirushi does have an HK web site - and all they have on that site is rice cookers and water bottles. Undeterred, I went to Sogo in CWB and went to the Zojirushi section, where sure enough, all they had were rice cookers and water bottles. In the general appliance section, they had two bread bakers - Kenwood and "Princess," whatever tf that is.

Next, the National shop in Wanchai, since Panasonic's bread makers seem well regarded. Nope, no bread makers. They suggest I try Fortress. Now that's interesting. So they're saying if I want to bake my own bread and not give my money to Li Ka-Shing's Park 'n Slop, I can buy a bread maker - from Li Ka-Shing.

I can mail order from Amazon (but will probably need to add on a voltage converter, and it's a 700 watt unit that will run for hours, which means a big momma converter) or wait for my next trip to Tokyo (but no English instruction manual, I'm sure). Or roll my own, since my flat has an oven - electric, but then again, the bread makers are all electric. I can't go to Olivers or City Super every time I need some dough, can I? There's GREAT food hall in Pacific Place - oh, that's Li Ka-Shing too. Great.

To me it just says that HKers are not interested in good bread.

Another food thing on my mind is this quote from that article on Gordon Ramsay that I linked to a few days ago. It so perfectly describes the eating habits of so many Brits I know.

The simple good ingredients were there: why weren’t people using them? Why did they seek out the substandard, the industrial, and the unhealthy: prawn cocktail crisps, say, or fish fingers with Birds Eye peas (a “traditional” Sunday supper), or a “spag bol,” that horrific canned imitation of a classic Bolognese pasta?

The implicit complaint—that the English don’t care what they put in their mouths—was evident in how it got there: by scooping up most of what was on your plate and eating it in one bite. Using your knife, you crushed what you could onto the back of your fork, one item after the other, your starches (like that perennial favorite chips and mash), your green-gray veg, a modest protein, calculatedly overcooked, unless it was fish, in which case it was just outright obliterated, and then—bang!—into the mouth, fork upside down.

“I really don’t know what English food is,” Ramsay told me. “Spotted dick? Toad-in-the-hole? Curry is the national dish, and people still fry Mars bars for dinner.”

Noted on both Download Squad and Gadling. Go to Google Maps, select Get Directions, enter start address in the U.S. and end address in Europe. You get driving directions to Boston, followed by the instruction "Swim across the Atlantic Ocean (3,462 mi)" and then driving directions from Le Havre to your destination. See step 27 in this set of directions from Paris, Texas to Paris, France.

Yesterday an extremely painful massage from an extremely strong woman got my back almost back into shape. This morning an extremely annoying email from T got me all bent out of shape again.

Got a very annoying email also from some travel web site operator, who told me that if I placed a link to his commercial web site, he would place a link to mine. I should drive traffic to his site in return for a link? When I didn't respond to his email after a week, he sent another email warning me that my link was about to be removed from his site. GFYS.

Music I've been listening to the past coupla weeks: new albums from Bebel Gilberto, Beirut, Besnard Lakes, Dexys (well, an album of radio sessions and outtakes), Drive By Truckers, Duke Special, Fall Out Boy, The Good The Bad & The Queen, Hours, Kings of Leon, LCD Soundsystem, Modest Mouse, Neil Young (Live at Massey Hall 1971), Of Montreal, Metheny Mehldau (Quartet), Ry Cooder, Timbaland, Van Der Graaf Generator, Wilco.

How many of the above will reside on the iPod after another month is still open to question. Have already deleted Air's Pocket Symphony, but Arcade Fire is gonna be on there for some time to come.

For me, the biggest surprise in the above batch would have to be Kings of Leon. I never really got their appeal in the past but the extended opening track (Knocked Up) on the new album (Because of the Times) is a definite keeper.

Normally I wouldn't comment on reviews written by other local reviewers. Everyone can make mistakes from time to time, and Buddha knows I make enough for an army of Pitchfork writers. But I was really stumped by the review of the latest Modest Mouse (We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank) in the current issue of HK Magazine. Their reviewer gives it a poor review, says that "their time has passed," and somehow completely fails to mention that Johnny Marr is now a full time member of the group.

While sales is of course no relation to quality, the fact that this album debuted on the Billboard charts in the US at number 1 (and it's their first number 1 album in a long career) likely says that their time has not quite passed yet. I think I prefer the review over at A.V. Club where they say, "another terrific set from a band that couldn't make something dull even if drowning were the only other option."

Seen on a wall in Mumbai. They love him the whole world over.


I've been in fairly constant pain since returning from Mumbai. Actually, that's not true, some of it started while in Paris, joined by other aches since getting home. I've got a variety of pills which are doing an intermittent job on all this. I know it needs to run its course and within a few days things should be back to what is normal for me. As Mr. Petty sang, the waiting is the hardest part.

Last night, pain be damned, I decided to hit the bars for the first time since returning home. The first few hours were spent in Laguna, which started out empty, picked up around 8 or so, and started emptying out after 10. I really shouldn't be drinking with what I'm taking, but I kept the number of drinks low. Nevertheless, the combination led to some probably erratic choices.

Around 10, went over to Neptune. With the 7s about to start, by 11 PM it was the most crowded I'd ever seen (at least since the last 7s). Even though I managed to find a place to stand by the bar, with a friend I hadn't seen in many months, I had people leaning into me from all sides - some I didn't mind, some not so much.

The place continued to fill up and both the alcohol and painkillers wore off at about the same time. After standing on my feet for an hour and a half, even walking was a chore. I had one nervous moment but eventually made it into a taxi and home before midnight.

I was up before 5 AM and actually got dressed and thought about going out again. My back had other ideas, so I've just been sitting in front of the PC doing a little bit of work and a big bit of nothing.

Anyway, here are some photos from Mumbai. This is all suburban stuff, far away from the city center. These shots were all taken from a speeding car (well, as fast as he could go in that traffic) and with the windows closed (protection from noise, heat and dust). I suppose one could say that they present a very negative, one-sided view of the place but this is what we were seeing every day.

Watching the DVD for "This Film Is Not Yet Rated," there was a trailer for a documentary called Cowboy del Amour. 72% at Rotten Tomatoes.

Apparently it's the story of a 60 year old guy in New Mexico who fixes up American men with Mexican wives. Qualifications for the wives include being younger than 38 and weighing less than 130 pounds. Qualifications for men? The ability to pay the $3,000 fee. He's been doing this for 15 years and apparently quite successful.

Quote from one of the satisfied customers in the film - "I had me an American wife for 17 years. She spoke perfect English. I never did understand a single thing she said."

Now, while some of you may choose not to believe this, I'm not one of those men who thinks "Caucasian women bad, Asian women good." Having to deal with both a Caucasian ex-wife and an Asian ex-wife, well ....

But different people see things in different ways. And I think that's really well illustrated by quotes from different reviews of the same film:

The Los Angeles Times said: It gently sheds light on the ways in which people seek new terrain in love when their familiar surroundings let them down.

Andrew Sarris says: one of the sweetest, funniest and most enjoyable nonfiction films you are likely to see this year.

And yet, The New York Post said: you don't need to be a Harvard-educated psychiatrist to realize that the bunch of them are dirty old men who treat women as commodities.

Who's right and who's wrong? Probably all of them (I haven't seen the movie yet).

As far as "This Film is Not Yet Rated," if this is the sort of thing you care about, the movie will seriously piss you off. Everyone else will tune out long before it's over.

As far as treating women like commodities, believe it or not, I haven't had a night out in the three days I've been back. Not from lack of desire, mind you, just other things.

Have been feeling a bit ambivalent about blogging the past couple of days but I suspect that's just a combination of malaise and jetlag. Have not offloaded the Mumbai pics from the camera yet; haven't done much of anything.

My flight out of Mumbai was scheduled for 5:20 AM Sunday morning. This means staying up all night, leaving the hotel at 3 AM, and then almost literally fighting one's way through the airport.

Even at 3 AM, there are hordes of people outside the airport trying to help you with your luggage - not to rip you off (well, probably some) but for tips. This is their "job." Some even have phony ID tags around their necks to make them look official.

The worst part was the security check right before the gate. There were two lines for three gates and at 4:30 AM both lines stretched all the way back through the terminal. As our flight time was approaching, a CX representative came and gathered all of the people for the flight still online and brought us to the head of the line. Once there, an armed soldier refused to let us jump the line. He started yelling at the CX guy. I figured this was happening because this is the only time in his life that the guy gets to show some semblance of authority and he was gonna use it! What is both sad and amusing is that I suspect this is a nightly occurrence. And sure enough, eventually someone else came and talked to that soldier and we were allowed to pass.

Since it was a short haul flight (4 hours to Bangkok), the plane was not equipped with the kind of business class seats that go relatively flat. With all the hubbub around the meal service, I was finally able to grab two hours of sleep before being woken for the Bangkok landing.

An hour and a half on the ground - and we're not allowed to leave the plane. Two and a half hours to HK, couldn't sleep at all.

So on Saturday night, such as it was, a total of two hours sleep. Sunday, I was asleep by 7 PM and up at 2 AM. Monday I was asleep by 6 PM and awake by 1 AM. This is not a good thing. At this rate it will take me a week to get back in the time zone, even though the last time zone I visited was just 2-1/2 hours off.

I contemplated going out to the bars. As a matter of fact, it's 3:15 AM now and I'm thinking about hitting a bar. Not so much for female companionship as for a few drinks to knock me out and let me have a few unconscious hours while it's still dark out. And a massage wouldn't hurt (especially because right now my back does hurt).

Yeah, I know. Bitch bitch bitch. Moan moan moan. Whine whine whine.

Incidentally, my mother has never gone to Paris because she doesn't like the way the French treat Israel. I have never gone to Israel because I don't like the way the Jews treat Palestinians. But I've gone to China - I suppose the difference is that in China they treat everyone bad regardless of race or creed?

This is a brilliant article by Bill Buford about Gordon Ramsay. He coaxes a fairly shocking revelation out of Ramsay. Does one really need to be that evil to attain success?

Here is a piece by Frank Bruni explaining why you shouldn't eat out on Mondays. It's similar to something Bourdain wrote, though Bruni seems okay with dining out on Friday and Saturday nights. I've often wondered how true this is in Asia ... at least for the so-called fine dining establishments. God knows I'd never go to a sushi place on a Sunday but is a Saturday okay?

Here's an article in Travel+Leisure on their selection of the best new restaurants of 2007. It includes two in HK: Pierre at the Mandarin Oriental (dinner for 2 US$260) and Lung King Heen at the Four Seasons (lunch for 2 US$100). Interesting how even an article like this manages to be political:

Still, not even the astounding desserts (try the "passion du citron," composed of multicolored lemon Jell-O sticks, meringue, and limoncello) can diminish the heartbreak of peering out at the harbor and seeing the ghost of the old Star Ferry terminal, a beloved city landmark now shut down (and relocated) by the callous city authorities. So much for progress.

Yes, I'm thinking about food because I haven't eaten anything since lunch.

And, yes, the recent "election" has been much on my mind. I always tell myself that it doesn't matter to =me= because even if this was a democracy, I wouldn't be able to vote (though I would in theory have that, if it's available, in another 17 months or so). I've said it before - the incompetencies and lunacies of the HK government, so inept that it seems almost a basic requirement for service, pale next to the utter disgust I feel for those people currently in charge of the US and As. In a low IQ contest, it's not clear if Bush or Tsang would win. Watching Tsang on TV, dripping in sweat, pretending that he won something other than a boot-licking contest, I am filled with revulsion. But here in HK, they demolish a ferry terminal; they destroy cultural icons; our lives are debased but at least they go on. They lie but they don't torture or kill.

Today is one of those days when, during my conscious moments, I've had this internal debate on why I remain in HK, why I don't go somewhere else. And the answer is, for all my issues with HK, I still can't think of any place else I'd rather be.

But then again, there's a whole lotta places I ain't been to yet.




create your own visited countries map

4:15 AM now. Should I get to the Bridge bar early or should I watch the last episode of Rome?

I am so fucking tired today.

As mentioned, our Friday started off with our hosts driving us off to Film City, the 300 acre location where many Bollywood films are shot. It's the Indian equivalent of Cinecitta. We thought we'd be seeing some soundstages or production facilities.

Instead we were taken to a new enclave on the lot, a film school that was established about a year ago, and were taken on a tour of that facility and shown a short film about its short history. And we suspect our hosts weren't given the full story as to our background, as I think they were simply told the name of our company and not our positions within said company. The end of the two hour "tour" was a bit embarassing for both sides.

Our meetings finished up around 6 PM and we crawled through the insane traffic, reaching the hotel around 8. I just went up to my room and instantly fell asleep. Woke up around 10 when my friends called to see if I wanted dinner. After dinner, the plan was to kill time in the hotel's disco until my co-workers had to leave for the airport. But I went back to my room, again instantly asleep.

So now it's Saturday. My flight is at 5:20 AM on Sunday morning, for fuck's sake. I don't feel like walking around the city; I've done that before. I don't feel like going shopping; my bags are completely full and probably overweight already. I'm not a sit-by-the-pool person; especially on my own. So that means I'm basically going to sit in my room for the next 12 hours, some reading, watching TV, being brain dead, till it's time to head to the airport. Yes, travel is so glamorous.

In the meantime, some other Paris photos. Some Mumbai photos in the next post, probably.


The window of the Paul patisserie on Champs D'Elysees. Yes, everything tasted as good as it looked.


The Arc De Triomphe. Several jokes come to mind, about how they only have one, haven't built another in a long time, etc, etc ...



These are some of the only naked women I've seen in the past three weeks. (Others included works of art in the Louvre and pictures in girlie magazines that I flipped through in the CDG airport.)





Apparently Stephen Colbert is really big in France. They have statues of him everywhere. This is from his younger hippy days.


This is a very bad boy. He didn't finish all his wine with his breakfast. So now he has to stand in this glass box all day while school children throw pastries at him.


If my mastery of the French language is correct, this is the Parliamentary Assembly of the Phony French. (Sorry, I did say I was tired.)


How fitting that on the corner of a street called "Rue Du Dragon" there's a shop selling Asian fashions. (Get the pun? Fashions, fitting? Ahahahahaha.)(I'm so tired.)


The famous cafe Les Deux Magots, which in English translates as The Two Maggots, I think. (I did say I was tired, right?) Apparently it used to be called The Frog and Peach. In the 1930s, Jean Paul Sartre and Moe Howard of the 3 Stooges used to sit there all day. Moe would smack Jean Paul in the face with pies and Jean Paul would cry and ask, "what does this mean?" Every morning the staff would see them coming down the street, Jean Paul poking Moe in the eyes, and they'd say, "oh my god, here come those two maggots again." When Moe moved from Paris to Hollywood to make surrealistic documentaries about class struggle, Jean Paul pined away from loneliness. The bar was renamed for these two titans of modern thought.

(Please, no one needs to comment that magots in French really means dime store Indians or tse tse flies. I'm very happy with my interpretation.)



P.S. #1 - On looking at this post, one of the "targeted ads" appearing alongside is a job site saying that 4,000 Indians are needed for jobs in Paris. Spooky.

P.S. #2 - I know I have at least one or two French readers from time to time. No offense meant! Just jokes! Je t'aime! Moi non plus!

Paris photos, part 1.







The real tourist attraction, outside Notre Dame:







Oi! It's da Mona Lisas! Honey, where's my telescope?


Venus de Buttcrack



So the reason I'm in Mumbai is that my company is outsourcing a fair amount of its IT support to an Indian company. Five of us have arrived to get an on-site status update and show support for the more-than-50 working on our behalf.

Yesterday, after a 10 hour workday, we had some of the most amazing tandoori I'd ever had. The lamb just fell off the bone it was so tender and the king prawns were to die for. The place had a huge, glassed-in kitchen. I pressed against the glass to watch the cooks working away. They all gave thumbs up on my "I do all my own stunts" t-shirt. The evening went rapidly downhill after that as my fellow travelers and I set out in search of some entertainment.

We went to Juhu Beach, checked out the JW Marriott, where the disco is only open to couples and hotel guests. The two other bars there were dead. Someone recommended a nearby spot called Rockbottom and, yes, it was hitting Rockbottom. Perhaps a dozen people in the place. We were promised it would get busy later. It took about 10 minutes for a pimp to hit on me but I didn't like what he had on offer. My friends left after another 30 minutes but I stayed behind. I spotted one girl standing by herself and went over to talk with her. She said she was a sculptress. I asked if she was famous and she said several of her pieces had been purchased by Bollywood stars. When her drink ran out and I offered to buy her another one, she refused. At this point, we were almost the only people left there, so I took the cue and left myself.

Jumped into one of those tuk-tuk rickshaws, speeding through the streets, me standing up on the side of it, yelling and barking at people on the street. My friends meanwhile had been taken to the kind of dance club that's supposed to be illegal here now. They described it as "weird."

Back to our hotel, to the hotel disco, which was busy. And strange. I wasn't allowed to go onto the dancefloor, "no stag allowed." One friend hit on every woman in the bar and got shot down each time. Finally around 2 AM, savagely drunk, I asked the bartender if all the women there were normal or if any were working. "Well, yes, most of them will go to work in the morning." "But are any working NOW?" "Some - but you'll have to work that out for yourself."

At three, the lights came on and the music stopped. A security guard came up and asked me to leave. I insisted I was going to be the last person out of there. Two other guards joined him, one with biceps bigger than my head. "There's too many stairs, carry me out!" They looked around nervously and whatever rational part of my head was left told me there was no reason to give these guys such a hard time and I left.

So I got back to my room at 3:15 AM but I was wide awake at 7. I don't get hangovers but I was pretty wretched during today's 10 hour streak of meetings.

Tonight was dinner at the compound where the CEO's office is located. The DJ was cranking out Bollywood hits and it took just seconds for the entire group to be dancing on the lawn. Mostly men with men, women with women. I told them if they wanted me to dance they had to ask the DJ to play Chaiya Chaiya, and it felt like he came up with a 20 minute remix version. But I got out there, balls to the wall. Most of the questions that I got from the group were of the how do you like India, how do you like Indian food, have you seen Indian movies variety, and a few people curious about the course of my career.

Following dinner, straight back to the hotel, right to sleep, but up again after an hour and having a hard time getting back to sleep, hence this extended post.

Tomorrow morning we'll be getting a tour of Mumbai's Film City, the studio where most of the Bollywood films are shot, followed by another six hours of meetings.

Saturday I'm on my own, though one of the guys has tentatively offered to take me around for the day. I might have scared him off by telling that what I most want to find is a tattoo shop - some India ink might be nice.

For now, gonna try to get back to sleep.

Sunday night, did not go to Pigalle or anything like that. Walked around a bit along Concorde, no idea why, it was dead there. Finally about 10 PM found the Metro and went back to Odeon. Came out of the train and it started pouring. Ducked into a cafe and had onion soup, beef bourgignon, half bottle of boreaux, amazing bread, and by the time I finished the rain had stopped and I walked back to the hotel. The waiter spoke good English and told me that he'd lived in Korea for a few months - "no good bread, no good croissants!"

Monday morning, metro to Arc De Triomphe. Then walked down Champs D'Elysees. Passed this wonderful looking bakery called "Paul" and stopped in for a croissant. By the time I hit FDR boulevard I was hungry and discovered a cafe in the same Paul chain, so had a sandwich on the most amazing baguette and a chocolate tart.

Refreshed, kept on walking, down to the Grand Palais, across the Seine to the Assemblee National, then down Boulevard St Germain and finally back to my hotel. I think it's the most walking I've done in 2 years.

The nice thing about the trip is that I leave wanting more, which I think is always the best way to leave. I'll come back, hopefully with better weather, more time to spend in the museums and checking out shops.

I want to write more about Paris, the look and feel of the city. Perhaps once I get home I'll upload some photos and put some thoughts down. One thing that struck me was how they have not filled up the central city with high rises or new developments or massive amounts of neon advertising. I know this is probably the result of zoning laws yet it also seems to say, "we built it right already, no need to redo it," and just makes Hong Kong seem the poorer. Yes, I know, HK does not have 1,000 years of history and centuries-old buildings to preserve. But they're not preserving anything for future generations either.

Another thing is how the entire stretch of the Seine in the central city is all given over to public access - parks, piers, places to walk, sit, enjoy. Monuments, statues, gardens, art everywhere. It's beyond nice.

I found the Paris Metro initially a bit more daunting than mass transit in other cities - it took me almost a day to understand how the lines were labelled and numbered, how to get from place to place. My two day Metro pass was a great investment. But then again, my morning marathon walk was great, seeing the city at surface level instead of underground, seeing how different areas connected, watching people, tourists and locals.

Lastly, the famous snobbery of Parisians was not evident to me at all. Perhaps because I tried speaking what little French I know and remained unfailingly polite, people were polite and helpful to me. I think a big part of it is something that's second nature to me by now - when I travel somewhere, I don't expect it to be like where I came from. I keep my eyes and ears open, observe the local style, and try to do things the same way. I showed respect to everyone and was treated with respect.

The flight from London to Paris was delayed and then we circled over London for 15 minutes before landing. The flight to India was delayed by an hour, something about a problem de-icing the wings. And on arrival in Mumbai, we had to circle for half an hour because the airport was "busy" and they were doing "work" on one of the runways. So all in all, an hour and a half late. Turns out there were two other people from my company on the flight but didn't discover this until after landing.

I have a free afternoon and going to spend it by the pool. Tonight if we go out I've got the names of several bars in Bandar to check out. Tomorrow back to work - 3 days of 12 hour sessions coming up. I have a column due for BC and no idea what to write about yet. I have a free day here on Saturday, then my return flight leaves at 5:20 AM Sunday morning. The flight stops in Bangkok and I would love to get off the plane and spend several days there, but I'm already anxious to be home.

I fully expect that Sunday night I'll be in Wanchai.

Until then, the internet connection at this hotel is seriously slow, 128 kbps, really only suitable for email. I'm a week behind in reading blogs and not really expecting much to happen the rest of the week worth blogging about.

But after being bored and feeling crappy in both New York and Los Angeles, and expecting more of the same in Mumbai, being in Paris for the first time was even better than I expected, and it's yet another trip that will remain with me for a long time.

Started this morning at the Eiffel Tower. Cold and raining, the winds were howling on the top floor. Between the ticket and elevator queues, it probably took me an hour to get up there. Fog meant that visibility was limited and so I didn't stay long, but it took me another half hour to get downstairs.

A hot dog (on a crusty baguette) and a hot chocolate for warmth, then a slow boatride down the Seine till I reached Notre Dame. Walked around there then gradually walked to the Louvre, stopping along the way in an inviting looking bistro for a croque monsieur and a brief chance to rest my legs.

By the time I made it to the Louvre, my legs were already about to give out. An hour of walking around was all I could manage. I watched the throngs gathering around the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo, but I was too tired to view much more.

Resting now. Perhaps tonight I will try to experience the sleaze of Pigalle. Or maybe just stay nearby for dinner and an early night? Tomorrow I believe I will go to the Arc D'Triomphe and the Champs d'Elysees before I have to head to India.

Perhaps I'll upload some snaps later in the week.

So, up Friday morning at 6, at work at 7:30, finished before noon. An afternoon of shopping in L.A. - some shoes, Amoeba, Book Soup - what is it about an indie bookstore that I love so much? After filling up with so much stuff from Barnes & Nobles, there was just so much more interesting stuff to discover at Book Soup.

Airport. LAX. Upgraded from business to first class! BA's first class isn't quite as luxe as Cathay's, but it don't exactly suck either. Meg Ryan is sitting in the row behind me, studying a script. She smiles at me at one point. Would she let me touch her breast? Probably not.

Touchdown at Heathrow. Here my troubles begin. First, the landing itself. One of those deals where they come in, get about 50 yards from the ground, then power up and ascend as fast as they can. Comfortable feeling, eh? Seems we were supposed to land after someone else took off, only he hadn't quite taken off yet. 30 minutes in the sky to circle around and wait our turn before touchdown.

Then ... I have two carry on bags. But at Heathrow you can only have one. Why didn't they tell me that in L.A.? I have to go through immigration, take the train to another terminal, check one bag, go through immigration again. Luckily (?) my Paris flight is delayed but after all that running I'm drenched in sweat and pissed off.

Arrival in Paris. Taxi to my hotel. It's after 9 PM Saturday, I'm tired, pissed off, and thinking about just flipping around on the TV and going to sleep. But fuck dat shit, I'm in Paris! First time! Every minute counts. Sleep when I'm dead.

So I unpack and hit the streets, walking around St Germain. The shops, the old buildings, the church, the cafes. Nice. After an hour I select a place called Restaurant Vagenende.

See, one of the motivating factors for me to finally come here was an episode of Anthony Bourdain's show called "Why the French don't suck." He doesn't go to Michelin starred joints, he goes to corner cafes, bistros, brasseries. I watched the whole thing drooling.

(Yeah, okay, so there's also the art and the architecture and the fashion. Plus for me my love of the films of Truffaut and Godard and Renoir - ads up all over town for a new movie starring Audrey Tatou, Ensemble something, nice poster.)

So Vagenende turns out to be the perfect choice. More than 100 years old, it's all tile and wood and mirrors and brass and stained glass. This place looks like the picture I have in my mind, my fantasy French bistro. And a display of fresh oysters in the window certainly doesn't hurt. Saturday night, 10 PM, the place is packed but no line, so I get a table within 5 minutes.

5 minutes more and I get three plates and baskets of amazing breads. The kind of stuff they probably take for granted here but that maybe only 4 places in HK sell. Crusty baguettes. Beautiful sour dough. Some plain, some little sliced, toasted bits. Then of course I have to try those oysters in the window. And a steak, flambe de boeuf in a wine and peppercorn sauce. The steak is charred crusty on the outside, yet on the inside it's like they merely waved in the direction of heat. And steak frites, also perfect. You ever stop to think that maybe in France they do the best "French Fries"? I never thought about it but of course now it seems so obvious.

And a half bottle of Bordeaux, which slides down so smoothly I'm almost sorry I don't get an entire bottle. And despite Paris's reputation, the waiters were friendly, the people at other tables (all locals, I only heard French being spoken here) were all friendly, it was relaxed and comfortable. If I lived here, I'd be hitting places like this every night. It doesn't hurt that I can remember more of my high school French than I realized. Far from fluent, I can still be polite, can read the menu and order, can find my way around.

For my first meal in Paris, I got exactly what I dreamed of. A simple meal, done to perfection. For me it was remarkable yet for the people who live here, this is the standard bill of fare I suppose. They can do it this good every night and barely even think about it.

Of course, all this goodness doesn't come so cheap. Dinner for one - oysters, steak, half bottle of wine, almost 60 euros. But it's taken me 52 years to get here, I don't know when I'm getting here again, I ain't gonna cheap out.

Stroll slowly back to my hotel. Looking in shop windows. Looking at people. I know this is really a trite thing to say but, I really fucking like it here. Can I say that I "get it" after just a couple of hours on the ground? Why for so many people for so long this place has been the end-all and be-all? Yeah I kind of think I do.

Tomorrow all the sightseeing stuffs but for now, with the bordeaux settling in, I should be asleep soon.

Until then, watching Law and Order dubbed into French ...

I know I will leave here after two days wanting to come back. I'd love to bring T here. Go around the city with her. Show her the sights, teach her what little I know about the food. Sit in some corner bar and drink wine and watch people go by. I don't know how she'd react to it, don't even know how difficult it would be to get a visa for her to come here. But as one of my friends once put it, she's a star, she really does shine sometimes, and she'd be a star here too. And it would be great to watch that, to make it happen, to share it with her.

Our meetings this week are being held in the conference facilities of the Renaissance Hotel, adjacent to the Hollywood & Highland mall. Today we are using the ballrooms, which are outside of the hotel. The service area (coffee, tea, snacks, etc.) is set up outside of the ballroom, which is literally outside and in direct sunlight.

This morning, my boss's boss started his presentation. He of course chose the time honored route of beginning with a joke. He got halfway through the joke (something about "karry-oke") when the big boss jumped on stage and said there was an emergency. Said emergency was that we were supposed to get smoothies during the break, they had been delivered, and they were melting in the sun, so we had to take our break NOW. And we did.

Normally I would be quite upset about IT getting the short end of the stick, as it often does in our company. However, in this case, I'm quite willing to make an exception.

Following the break, my boss's boss started up again, and started the same joke again. Only he was the only one who thought it was funny - it was actually some quite insulting remarks about the karaoke ability of some others in the company. I don't know why he thought this was a good way to start off in front of about 300 people. The big boss actually interrupted again, saying that there was no time for jokes and please get to the presentation.

Witnessing this was almost worth the entire otherwise boring trip. And for the next 24 hours, it remains downhill. I have 9 hours to kill tomorrow between the end of our sessions and my flight - another trip to Amoeba definitely, maybe a movie (Zodiac, most likely). Then an overnight flight of 9 hours or so, another flight of about an hour, and I'll be in Paris. Hopefully things will pick up at that point.

BTW, I realize I have no idea how to get from the airport to the hotel. I've got a lot of luggage in tow and want minimum hassles - taxi? Pardonez moi, monsieur, je suis une stupide Americain, vous takez moi to mon hotele? Ou est les hookers? Mercy buckets. (Does one tip taxi drivers in France? Merde.)

Coming into New York City ....




In front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre:




The elephants at Hollywood & Highland Mall:


The Hollywood Sign:


El Capitan Theatre and adjacent building used by Jimmy Kimmel Show:


Look how this iPod ad dominates the landscape, day and night:




Evanescence soundcheck for Jimmy Kimmel:

Gradually more in the time zone. Watched Ocean's 13 last night. Both director Steven Soderburgh and producer Jerry Weintraub were there and gave brief introductions before the film started.

Today there was a bit of a technology fair set up. I was interested to check out the Sony E-Reader and despite seeing some lukewarm reviews elsewhere I was quite impressed with it. The first drawback is I was told that it will only accept proprietary content purchased from their online store - I can't put my own PDF or TXT files into it. Second drawback is the price - $350. At $200 I might have seriously considered it. And a year from now there will probably be a dozen similar products on the market selling for around that price, so I'll wait.

Also on display was a new "download to burn" movie service, which will be going into beta in the spring and looking at a possible US launch this summer. Basically you can get at the movies in this store one of three ways - 1) pay 3 or 4 bucks to "rent" the movie, you download it and the file becomes unviewable after you've watched it or after a set period of time. 2) You can download the movie to keep for a higher price, only viewable on your PC. 3) You can download and burn it, but the DRM means you can only burn it using a specific blank disc and on a specific type of burner. The demo guy admitted that their encryption could be broken just like the DRM on iTunes - once you've burned the DVD, it will play on any DVD drive, so it can then be ripped. On the other hand, this is a legal way to download movies at DVD resolution. I think it's a step in the right direction. Can they compete against iTunes? Time will tell.

Oh, also, I finally got to try the Nintendo Wii. Damn, it's really fun! And easy. I tried the bowling game and really got into it, started getting strikes within minutes. I already own the XBOX 360 and PS3, am I going to end up buying this one too?

This afternoon I'm in my hotel room. Air con is off and window is open because Evanescence is playing live in the parking lot a block away, doing a sound check in advance of their appearance on the Jimmy Kimmel show tonight. Not really familiar with their stuff outside of one or two of their singles, but they sound pretty good. Maybe upload some snaps a bit later on.

In my tale of Neverending Stupidity, I only remembered today that a woman I know, someone who used to work in our Philippines branch, someone I almost had something with (I think) is now living in L.A. Even though I'm gone in two days, I decided to call her this morning. After she said hello, she asked for my number and said she would call me back. That was about 7 hours ago. So I suppose calling her five days ago when I first got here wouldn't have made any difference ....

Christ. Up at 6 AM, work at 7 AM. Everyone is overjoyed with the performance of 300. Apparently we were hoping for a $30 million opening weekend and instead it topped $70 million.

One of the presentations this morning included trailers for some major 2007 releases, video "greetings" from Will Smith, Steve Carell and Zack Snyder, and some rough footage from 2008 releases. Big surprise was that some of this stuff was presented in person by Joel Silver (who presented trailers from his upcoming productions and some "pre-visualization" animated storyboards for the Wachowski Brothers' Speed Racer, which promises to look as unique as Matrix did in its time if nothing else) and Spike Jonze (who screened some rough footage from Where The Wild Things Are, minus dialog and digital FX).

Dinner tonight was on the set of Studio 60. But we "paid" for this by sitting through 10 hours of presentations, and that's just the first day of this week long thing. Tomorrow night's "reward" will be a screening of Oceans 13.

One other thing I wanted to note is that on Sunday, I drove by the Laugh Factory and their signboard had a mention of Richard Jeni. I couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, but returned to the hotel, checked the news and found that he died, a probable suicide, at the age of 49. Jeni was a popular stand-up comedian in the US. Originally from Brooklyn, he did real New York wiseass humor, and his specials on cable TV always got great ratings. I liked his stuff a lot and was quite sad to read this news.

The rest of my week will be intensely busy. Blogging will be light or nil.

TV now. Sleep soon.

A bit more in the time zone, in no small part because of the switch to Daylight Savings Time. (And who is the genius who decided to change the date for the switch, fucking up millions of time-based computer systems around the world?)

Last night, drinks and dinner at Ca Del Sole, an Italian restaurant that's one of my usual stopping off points here, not sure if it's in Toluca Lake or Studio City. A bit of a celeb hangout, I suppose, due to its proximity to Warner and Universal, excellent food, great wine list, great list of single malt whiskeys, beautiful garden where one can smoke.

As I was the one who was driving and still a bit jetlagged, I decided to steer clear of that great wine and whiskey list. I started off the evening with a double espresso (I'm not a coffee fan but, wow, that did wake me up). After a couple of hours sitting in the garden talking, we moved inside for warmth and dinner. I had scallops wrapped in pancetta with grilled fennel and lobster ravioli. Yum (though to be honest the sauce and plating on the ravioli were disappointing).

Unfortunately all of the talk centered around the massive problems in our company. I really don't see a light at the end of the tunnel either, because I don't see any desire from management to change the destructive course we're on. I think I already mentioned that in my department alone, there have been four major resignations within the past month. The company is bleeding. Morale is non-existent. Critical projects are failing. Communication from the top as to goals and vision is also not there. And there are too many examples of the Peter Principle (people promoted to their level of incompetence) and too much flailing around wasting time on things that are not our core business.

I've now been at this job far longer than any other job in my career. As another senior executive put it to me a couple of months ago, "Why do I stay? I stay because I love this company and its products. I just hate everyone I work with." And in my case, I do get to stay in Asia, I get a more than fair salary, and in all honesty I'm not working that hard. Which is also a reason for sadness - there is so much that I would like to do for this company that I'm simply not allowed to do. So many things that are needed and that are obtainable and yet we won't ever have. Not to mention the lack of recognition for the things that I have been able to accomplish.

Anyway, finally having something to do and friends to hang out with, I managed to stay up almost till 11. And then slept till around 7. It's Sunday and a sunny day in L.A. and I have to work this afternoon (yet another example of the thoughtlessly destructive way in which this company is managed). Should I finish early enough, I might head over to Pasadena or Santa Monica for some walking around, more shopping, some food.

I won't be home for another two weeks and at this point all I really want is a night out in Wanchai.

I think I'd like to go
back home
And take it easy
There's a woman that
I'd like to get to know
Living there

Everybody seems to wonder
What it's like down here
I gotta get away
from this day-to-day
running around,
Everybody knows
this is nowhere.

Everybody, everybody knows
Everybody knows.

Every time I think about
back home
It's cool and breezy
I wish that I could be there
right now
Just passing time.

Everybody seems to wonder
What it's like down here
I gotta get away
from this day-to-day
running around,
Everybody knows
this is nowhere.

Everybody, everybody knows
Everybody knows.

Being somewhat touristy even though I've been here many times before.

Since I was up at 4:30 AM, by 7:30 I was hungry and went to Mel's Drive-In.

Waited a bit then drove down the The Grove, L.A.'s glitzy sort-of-outdoors shopping mall. Did not spot any celebs but more beautiful women than I could shake a stick at (yes, yes, I know). At the Apple Store, I tried out the Bose Quiet Comfort 3 headphones. I was surprised at how comfortable the over-the-ear design is and realized it would probably suit me better when wearing glasses. But can I justify spending $350 for headphones when I already have the Quiet Comfort 2's and the top-of-the-line Shure buds as well?

Then quickly dropped a couple of hundred at Barnes & Nobles, including a quite naughty book on sex clubs in Japan. Coupla novels, guide book for Paris, David Mamet's Bambi vs Godzilla, Kurt (Spy Magazine) Andersen's Heyday, Christopher Moore's You Suck: A Love Story (no, it's about vampires apparently). Did not get Springsteen on Tour, a newish photo book with words by Dave Marsh - hadn't even heard of it previously - or a dozen other books that looked intriguing for varying reasons. But with all the crap I'm buying, I may get to the point of packing up a box and mailing this stuff home rather than schlep it through Paris and Mumbai.

Then over to the Hollywood and Highland mall. It's part of the re-gentrification of Hollywood Blvd, but somehow I preferred the out-and-out sleaze of the 90s to this. As I stared at the two giant elephants on pedestals, I wonder how many other people there understood the significance of them?

(They are replicas of the ones used in the movie Intolerance, a 1917 silent film by D.W. Griffith. Griffith invented most of what we understand as "film language" today but was accused of being a racist after his landmark film Birth of a Nation glorified the KKK. Intolerance was his attempt to make up for that. It told four separate tales of intolerance at various points in history, cross-cutting between them (a first). The movie is a fitting symbol for Hollywood because it was, I believe, the first film to go massively over budget during production and because it flopped at the box office.)

Had lunch at a place there called Dip, which, as it turns out, is owned by Ken Davitian.

Fortunately, no hairy naked men attempted to sit on my face while I was eating. Wouldn't that have been special?

Then into the Virgin mega-store, which seems focused on selling everything except music these days. Lots of clothing, lots of DVDs, lots of audio accessories, a section for the Zune (yuck yuck yuck), crappy CD selection.

I'm really at the point of looking for a massage joint or strip club tonight.

I lay in bed last night flipping the channels on the TV and realized that I was falling asleep. So I rolled out of bed and rolled into Amoeba records. While I hadn't spent any advance time thinking about what I might actually go looking for, it took me only an hour to fill up a basket with $200 worth of stuff. An odd assortment - cheap things from the "new arrivals" row, couple of things from the "new releases" section, stuff I can't find too easily in HK or things that I'd considered borderline and were cheap enough here to push me over the edge. Amoeba gets lots of promo copies, and while they're not selling 'em as cheap as I think they should, they are generally cheaper.

Rickie Lee Jones (the 3 CD retrospective, not her new Jesus-y thing), the Hold Steady (maybe if I look at a lyric sheet I'll understand why people like 'em, still sounds like Joe Grushecky & the Iron City Houserockers to me), David Blue, Rhythms Del Mundo (some Buena Vista Social Club folks jamming with U2, Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys, etc), Julian Cope (2 Cd reissue of Jehovahkill), Monk & Coltrane (2 CD "complete Riverside recordings), Johnny Cash at San Quentin 2 CD + 1 DVD box and the Robert Plant box set. My big disappointment is that they don't seem to have the expanded reissue of Soft Machine's Third.

Then, unable to locate my list of which strip mall sushi bars are supposed to be edible, I stumble into a place called New York Pizza and Pasta for a slice of 'za that didn't really taste very New York.

Back to the hotel, back to the bed, flipping channels, asleep at 10, awake at 4:30. Not good.

Thanks to those who left some Paris recommendations. All noted, will try as many as possible.

In L.A. now. From what appeared to be a 10 mbps line at my mother's place to what seems to be a 384 kbps line at the hotel. And the TV does not have A/V inputs, so no way to hook in my PMP to watch stuff on it while in bed. I am less than happy.

Good view from the room though. Can see the El Capitan theater and the Capitol building. Would be able to see the Hollywood sign if the TV Guide building wasn't blocking the view. Maybe take a couple of snaps later on.

Air travel in the US is so frigging unpleasant. Starting from the fact that I was flying first class on American, and when I checked in, they informed me that my bags were overweight. Well, they weren't overweight on CX. I informed them that I'm on an around-the-world ticket and they still charged me 25 bucks.

I guess most of you already know this but for those who don't ... if you're traveling economy, you can buy food or drinks - you would even have to pay $2 for water. On the LaGuardia to Dallas run, the food served in first class was notably inferior to what one would get on CX economy. The Dallas to Burbank leg improved somewhat, a real salad and vaguely okay food. AA's staff on the planes were consistently pleasant though, I'll give them that.

And one other thing I never knew ... sitting in the front row, I could hear some of the talk in the cockpit. Each time the plane landed, I could hear someone inside counting down altitude during the final 50 feet. Weird. The cockpit is so small that when the co-pilot needed to use the toilet, the navigator had to come out to make room for him to pass.

So Friday night in Hollywood. No idea what I'm gonna do yet. Sleep early? Shoot over to Amoeba now? Strip club?

Meanwhile, yet another resignation in my department today. That makes four major departures in the past month. MoralE across the board is lower than I would have thought possible. Perhaps this evening would be better spent if I polish up my own CV.

Last thing for now ... one family member I spent time with in NY aside from my mother is a cousin. His first book is coming out in June. Hardcover from a major publisher. Practicing: A Musician's Return to Music. "The remarkable odyssey of a classical guitar prodigy who abandons his beloved instrument in defeat at the age of twenty-five, but comes back to it years later with a new kind of passion."

Three days into the trip and not even remotely in the time zone yet. Last night fell asleep at 9:45 and up this morning at 3:30. At least I know I won't need to worry about being awake on time to leave for the airport at 7 AM. Heading to Los Angeles today for one week. Saturday will be spent at Amoeba Records and Book Soup. Monday through Friday next week will be a series of 12 hour meetings each day with the same 230 people.

The following weekend's destination is set: Paris. Never been there, so I'm quite excited. Am even schlepping the DSLR along on this trip instead of the pocket point 'n shoot so that hopefully I will come away with some quality snapshots.

I made my first trip to London in 1972, following my freshman year in college, stayed for three weeks (and in those three weeks we saw about 75 bands play live - highlights included Bowie doing Ziggy at the Rainbow; outdoor concert with Yes, Mahavishnu Orchestra and Gary Wright; three day folk festival that included the Strawbs, Sandy Denny, Al Stewart, Pentangle, Stefan Grossman; mark 2 of Renaissance debuting for free in the backroom of a pub).

Went with a friend from school. I tried suggesting to that friend that we should do a weekend in Paris or Amsterdam, on the basis that both were so close and who knew when we might have another chance. He refused to go and also refused to give me the reason until the last day of our trip. I didn't strike off on my own since I thought that we were traveling together and it wouldn't be a nice thing to just leave him. When I found out his reason for not wanting to go - that since neither of us spoke French or Dutch, he was too afraid that we would get taken advantage of in those places - I never spoke to him again.

I finally made it to Amsterdam in 1992. Six museums, a live sex show, real Heineken, nice ganja and my first two hookers - all in three days. And now, 35 years since that first time in London, I will finally get to Paris. The two years of French that I took in high school, 36 years ago, will come in handy if I can remember any of it. "Je suis une stupid Americain." I have two nights and roughly a day and a half to experience one of the Great Cities of the World. I figure I will have time to run through the Louvre and gaze at the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Arc d'Triomphe, Rive Gauche, etc.

I am also hoping for three or four inspiring meals - focusing in on bistros and simple, basic foods rather than trying to do Michelin-starred joints alone. This inspired by an episode of Anthony Bourdain's show, the one called "Why the French Don't Suck," which focused on bistros and cafes and markets and the basic stuff just looked amazing. And I hope to be stuffing my face with proper French pastries and breads. And cheese. And wine. I'm staying near St Germain Du Pres and the Latin Quarter - any specific recommendations would be appreciated.

Not much going on, just responding to some recent comments.

Jonny, it would be my mom, me, T and two dogs in the apartment. You could say I'm fostering a George Segal/Where's Poppa? fantasy that since my mom is very old and has gotten quite small, perhaps one morning I'll wake up to find the dogs have eaten her.

No, seriously, whatever. She didn't like either of my two wives, I have zero expectation that she would like T, if T and I are to be together that long.

Article in the NY Times today on Chinese girls adopted by Jewish families in New York now getting bat mitzvahed. The first few paragraphs detail the life of a girl born Fu Qian, now saddled with the handle Cecilia Nealon-Shapiro. Which reminds me of the time when my second wife and I were about to get married and she told me she had no intention of taking my last name because it was ridiculously long and no one could pronounce it and I told her I couldn't blame her a bit. When we were married and eating at the same Cantonese restaurant four nights a week and the staff were all calling me Mr. Yam, I felt no need to correct them.

(Oh, wait, Ms. Nealon-Shapiro's story gets even better. The reason for her hyphenated last name is because she was adopted by a lesbian couple.)

Anything and everything else, I have decades of practice and thousands of dollars in psychiatry bills that add up to making me an expert in tuning my mother out. And if she were to make the move, which I don't really think she'll do, I suspect we'd end up in a house somewhere around Sai Kung rather than stay in a flat in Mid Levels. But this is all way too speculative.

My mind is more concerned with a long conversation I had tonight with a friend who was a very senior exec at my company who left two months ago. Today the trades had the announcement of his new job, an equally senior position at a very exciting indie distribution company which unfortunately (for me) does not conduct any operations in Asia. As I watch my current company on the decline in too many ways, I am coming to the unfortunate realization that while I once would have preferred to stay with them until some mythical time in the future when I can retire, it is possible this could be my final year with them.

God damn, TV in America sucks. My mom has one of those digital 500+ channel set-ups. She's got no idea what's on because she doesn't know how to push the button to get the onscreen guide. I do, and what I see is that of those 500 channels, perhaps 400 of them are showing nothing but re-runs (and mostly CSI). There's an entire channel devoted to nothing but re-runs of 30 year old game shows.

Televised news has become so frighteningly bad that it has almost descended to HK standards. Tonight at 6 PM the local news' first story was of two teenagers killed when their car hit a tree somewhere out in backwoods NJ. Presumably this was the lead story because they had some nice photos, I have no idea what news value this would have to a metropolitan area with over 10 million people.

Meanwhile, one of the national news nightly broadcasts took several of their allotted 22 minutes per night to run a "feature" story on how people who have better health have happier lives. Tomorrow night - why people who don't die live longer than those who die.

And people wonder why so many choose to get their news from the Daily Show and the Colbert Report?

Ah well, one more day in frigid NYC.

Following the 15 hour 40 minute flight, I disembarked at JFK to find that at mid-day it was -8 degrees C. Holy fuck, that's cold. I know I lived here for about 40 years, but I've been gone for a dozen years, and I just can't cope with this kind of weather any more.

At the baggage claim, ran into a friend of mine from Shanghai who'd arrived in New York at the same time (different flight).

How cold was it? So cold that when I exited the terminal, I did not stand outside for a smoke. My driver told me to take my time, and I told him never mind, it was too cold for me to stand outside and smoke!

Today there is a chance of snow. Clearly I will not be going out much during my three days here.

The one positive thing from this weather is that I have been trying for two years to convince my mother to move to HK, and yesterday was the first time she was actually open to discussing the idea.

I don't know where my head is at. I continue to do stupid stuff.

Today an ATM machine swallowed my Visa card. I keep track of my PIN numbers in a secure file but I must have forgotten to update the file. So I tried what the file told me was the current number. Then I tried what the file told me was the old number. Then I tried using the same number as my ATM card. On that third wrong attempt, the ATM machine quite naturally ate my card.

I got home and called HSBC. (Yes, more fool me, I bank with them.) I was connected to someone who spoke good English but for some reason didn't bother to listen to anything I told him. I told him that the machine swallowed my card and that I was leaving in the morning for a 3 week business trip. He told me that I could retrieve my card from the branch in 3 to 4 business days.

It took me three attempts to get him to understand that I was leaving in the morning for a 3 week business trip. Seems simple enough and I always try to speak s-l-o-w-l-y and distinctly.

Next he asked me if I could remember which machine took my card. "Yes, it was an HSBC ATM machine on the corner of Pedder Street and Queens Road Central." "Was that an HSBC machine or another bank's machine?" I was definitely entering Bob & Ray territory at this point.

I then asked him if a new card could be delivered to me in the U.S. while I'm on the trip. Again, it took several attempts for me to get my message across. And the answer, unsurprisingly, was no, they could not do that. Why not? They advertise about how freaking global they are. Where is the global service when I need it? Apparently it would take them more than three weeks to prepare a card and send it to the U.S.

So I then asked about having a card prepared now so that it would be ready for pick-up on my return. He suggested that I should wait till I return and then call and ask for a card to be prepared. I told him at that point it would take a week and I didn't want to wait an extra week, I wanted the card ready as soon as I returned. Two tries got the message through.

He asked me where I wanted to pick up the new card. "Cityplaza." "Pacific Place?" "No, Cityplaza." (Do the two even sound remotely alike?) "????" "Taikoo Shing! Cityplaza!" "Oh, Cityplaza?"

Not that I want to shill for American fucking Express, but my recollection is that if you lose your Amex card, they'll deliver a new one to you within days or possibly even hours almost anywhere in the world.

As stupid as I feel for screwing up my Visa card (and actually I don't really need it on the trip, I have lots of other plastic and the corporate Amex will be the main card to get a workout), at least I'm not as stupid as some of the anonymous commenters here. I'd be tempted to think that it was left by the person writing the Fuck! blog, a new-ish blog from an expat woman in China who is pissed off that she can't find a date., except that blog is better written. (To the other anon commenter, Nha Trang can be found at 88-90 Wellington Street, ten or twenty yards before the escalator - no reservations, no credit cards, and a sizable line outside at peak times, but I think they're well worth it.)

Last, a few new good (to me, anyway) blogs that I'll get around to putting in my blogroll one o' these days.

Ich Bin Ein Beijinger - Other bloggers have been tripping over themselves to say good things about this one. I checked it out and, yes, it is that good. Kaiser Kuo, born in NY, started the first heavy metal band in China, now working for Oglivy, still playing music, a very good writer.

Learning Cantonese - Very entertaining and some of the best writing on the titular subject I've come across.

Golden Rock - News and articles on the entertainment scene in Japan, Korea and HK.

Sensible Walrus - Not entirely sure what to make of this one yet. Nicely written, for some odd reason it reminds me of a couple years back when a couple of local guys were blogging about their Shenzhen sauna activities, until (for one of them at least) a local love appeared on his horizon.

Well, I have to wake up in about 4 hours to head to the airport, guess I should try to get a little sleep before I sit on a plane for 15 and 1/2 hours.

Have been busy tonight doing trip preparation stuff - loading the newest tunes and updating playlists on the iPod, loading movies onto the Archos, making a packing list, getting some columns written.

iriverter is a nice freeware program that did a good job of ripping DVDs directly into AVI files. And Magic Disc, also freeware, seems to be doing the job of setting up a virtual CD-ROM drive and making image files of my game CDs, meaning that I won't need to bring along the DVD-R drive and associated cables.

Once I had Magic Disc working on my desktop, I went to load it on my laptop. Except ... the laptop is not in my bag. Is it really possible that I left it in the office on Friday? That I need to make a special trip into the office on Monday just to get it? "Doh!" doesn't begin to say how I feel.

Have not done much of anything else all weekend. Saturday night, we had a drink at Joe Banana, dinner at Thai Hut, couple more drinks at Chinatown, finishing off the night at Neptune (at T's request, not mine).

Actually, as we arrived in Wanchai, turning the corner onto Jaffe from Fenwick, we were greeted with the sight of a pack of Filipinos headed towards Fenwick. The two women in the lead were wearing almost less than the bare minimum of clothing, even T exclaimed "Wow!"

We chose both JB's and Chinatown because we could have street views while we sat. I watched the never-ending stream of hookers flowing into the bars. From a purely aesthetic point of view, very few of them are really pretty - most are relying on a combination of beer goggles and yellow fever. All complain that there are too many women in Wanchai now, that it's too hard for them to make money. And yet they keep on coming, in what seems like greater numbers every month.

Generally they walk in pairs, holding on to each other tightly, almost as if for moral support. It's almost as if these women didn't enjoy flying to a foreign country and sleeping with men three times their weight and older than their father in order to put food on the table for their kids. (Yes, I know, the metaphorical pot calling the kettle black.) That thought remained in my head in Neptune as I watched some 20-something girl dancing good enough for TV partnering with some 50-something guy who clearly took his dancing lessons from the movie Hitch (and needs to watch it one more time).

Today, all we did was go out for dinner, to Nha Trang. T had never been there before and I don't know why it took me so long to think to bring her there. For the price, this place simply cannot be beat. We had the fried soft shell crab roll, some sea bass and then I was gonna go for a beef dish but the waitress insisted we had to try one of the specials, Vietnamese style rock cornish hen. I couldn't recall the last time I'd had one so went for it and, wow, was I glad I did. They used some sort of spice rub on it that included lemongrass. I started in one it with chopsticks and spoon but very soon I was just tearing it apart with my bare hands, shoving it into my face as fast as I could. At some point, T noticed that almost everyone else was getting pho. I explained to her what it was and we got an order for takeaway.

Yeah, I know, exciting stuff. And it's only gonna get worse. Well, stay tuned compadres, late March early April could be interesting times.

Still focused more on my upcoming three week trip than anything else. Especially in trying to decide where to spend my two nights in Europe. Suggestions so far have included Amsterdam, Barcelo