Cosima Underwater

… around my house, shot with a macro lens. Click on full screen mode to see all the tiny bits.

We are here. Where are you?

Listen to something jazzy and Brazilian while you view the slide show, will you? Not because this is Rio, no – far from it. But while I was trying not to breathe to get half decent night shots, a very lovely Brazilian singer and cello player were playing jazzy things in a nearby restaurant.

This is Hvar, one of the many lovely islands off the Croatian coasts. The funny thing was that it was full of Italian, French, and Spanish tourists. Don’t they have beaches a little closer to home?

For 999 Dirham (USD 272) per night you can stay at the Al Qasr, at the moment the premier hotel in Dubai. That’s a lot of money, but compared to other hotels in the same category in other places around the world it is a very good deal. The caveat is that the price above is the summer price, when Dubai truly is a desert and the temperature outside becomes unbearable.

We didn’t stay there, but we had lunch, looked around, and marveled at the architecture and interior design. It’s a perfect illusion of Arabian dreams.

With wind towers and exquisite stone masonry work…

marble and chandeliers…

a dining hall held up by palm columns…

more delicately carved stone masonry…

water channels with boats that ferry guests around the extensive grounds…

a sumptuous lounge with views to the ocean (they serve wonderful lemon-mint mocktails and mezze platters)…

and views to the next seven star hotel down the beach, the Burj Al Arab, managed by the same hotel group …

Now, back to the real world.

The first thing we noticed after leaving the airport terminal in Dubai was the heat. Fortunately you don’t sweat. Any moisture your body develops to cool itself immediately evaporates. It’s like stepping into a very hot oven. The scale inside our car read 52 degrees Celsius (126 Fahrenheit)… it stood in the shade.

The second thing I noticed was the “Ladies Greeters Area”, which was a bit of a disappointment because although I walked through very slowly I didn’t get one hello.

Dubai is a big construction site. Wherever you go, wherever you look, buildings are being built by a huge army of workers shipped in from Pakistan. These guys work day (120s Fahrenheit) and night (100s Fahrenheit), and if they don’t work, they sleep in container barracks at the edge of town.

The raised concrete rail in the middle of the street is for a Monorail line. Traffic is a bit of a nightmare here. There are frequent traffic jams and not much public transport, so the Monorail will make a difference.

Dubai’s population consists of more than 80% expatriates, and whether you live in barracks, ugly concrete blocks, or big villas depends on which country you were born in and what kind of education you received. Americans, Europeans, Middle Eastern people and the odd Asian live in landscaped areas with swimming pools. People from the Philippines, Thailand, Africa, and India live somewhere else. The former are here to sell their education to the highest bidder, the later are here to serve the former. All are here to make money.

If you were born in North America or Western Europe, never forget that you were merely fortunate to be born in the right place.

The picture below doesn’t show it very clearly, but half of the skyscrapers in the distance are in a state of construction too. The only industry that makes stuff in Dubai is the building industry. And if you are wondering who is paying for all this construction… you are, with every fill of your car’s gas tank.

Dubai itself doesn’t have any oil. The investment money is mainly coming from neighboring gulf states, and people from Europe and America hopping on the bandwagon.

Yesterday, we drove into the mountains. It was wonderful to see the desert, camels grazing, and the mountain ranges in the distance. On the way back into the city, we drove by huge industrial areas with factories producing building supplies and passed literally thousand of trucks transporting the stuff into Dubai City. It’s mind-boggling, it really is.

The wine was good…

the company even better…

and the cigars weren’t bad either… lol

Wine, tasty tit-bits, cigars… and suddenly we get the inspiration to do a Clint Eastwood / Don’t mess with us – shot!

Lecram, Rachel, Joy, and me got a Taste of the Tower District on the last day of my visit to Fresno. For fifteen bucks you can nibble and drink around the Tower District. If you ask me, it’s an ingenious way to get people to come, see, and come again. But boy, it was hot! I thought my body was used to heat, having lived in tropical heat for more than ten years and all, but I was melting. Please, dear Taste of the Tower Organizers, let it start one hour later next year.

The last stop was the “backyard” of Veni Vidi Vici, where we met with APJ. (Dr. Jones, invite her soon to one of your adventures, because chances like her only come once in a life time!)

Rachel agreed with me that men who know how to cook are keepers, and she loves Marlene Dietrich too.  She is my soul mate!!!

Clint Eastwood look-a-like… enjoying it all…

Afterwards, we went further down the road, and Joy exclaimed “Look, the nerds are giving away freebies too!!!” So,  we went inside and got an extra helping of glow sticks. To this day, I am not exactly sure what kind of shop it was (big LCD screens and very nice 17 year old boy behind the desk).

I have to admit that by that time the seven glasses of wine and one Mojito had done their magic. Luckily, the Tower District’s Velo-Cab-Driver came by and drove us through theTower District. He was faaaaaaast…

I switched the camera mode to night shot and got this lovely shot of the Tower Theatre…

He is the best driver in town!!!

The next day, Lecram drove me back to San Francisco, and I thought “F*beep*!!! This visit was much too short!!!”

I was telling the Fresnian princesses that Fresno (and especially the Tower District) reminded me of a friendly village, where you constantly bump into people you know. Joy replied that not Fresno is the village but Lecram, who knows so many people around town.

It was wonderful to tag along the Malay pirate. To be well fed, entertained, and generally spoiled rotten by him. Thank you very much, Lecram :)

And it was wonderful to meet you all in Fresno and spent time with you. A big thank you!

The highlight was the big “meat burning feast”, which not only had ample food and drink but also a special performance by Suicide Lounge. Two thirds of Suicide Lounge arrived early to help set everything up, and Nate even brought his new love, a shiny five-string bass guitar. Have you checked out Nate’s MySpace Page yet, and his website? He is a man of many talents. He plays the bass guitar and piano, acts, and draws. Tarkus of Darkness became a favorite of little man and me, and all sorts of stories roam through my head that involve a cute little dragon desperately trying to look scary.

Fresnian princesses, court jesters, knights and other merry folk were arriving in the late afternoon. Throughout the evening it became evident to me that I was the only one without any special artistic talents. I remember that RP (sitting next to me) asked me if I play any instruments. My lame reply was that I know how to operate my stereo… yawn.

One of the first bottles to be opened was the great Costco find “Gnarly Head”. It was very nice, strong flavored, not gnarly at all, with a hint of… je ne sais quoi… lol, oh boy.

Then we all went inside the pirate’s garage theater to listen to Suicide Lounge. Joy, Nate, and RP called it a rehearsal. The rehearsal blew me away. It was a wonderful experience to listen to them up and close. The mix of songs was perfect and very entertaining, and the three of them – each of them very talented – play so well together. They make it look very easy, and you can see and hear the fun they are having making music together.

If you haven’t done it yet, go to their MySpace page and listen to their rendition of Lush Life.

Meanwhile, at the back of the room, a cuddly seal was looking for company. I think Dr. Jones will get very envious, APJ ;D.

Nate and RP also gave a very funny version of Creep.

When the “official” program was finished, Joy sat down at the keyboard, playing and singing, and I managed to shoot the picture below. Doesn’t she look fabulous? I wish there would have been more light on her face, but instead of photoshopping, I thought I post it as is.

And of course, we had to do a group “Zonthar” shot… lol

It could turn into a web phenomena!!!

Sorry to keep you waiting for so long for the third part of the fairytale. Life caught up with me, and the photos have not magically reappeared… real life can be sooooo frustrating.

Luckily, I found copies of them in the recesses of my computer. Of course they had to be resized and uploaded once more.

So where were we? Aah yes, beautiful Fresnian princesses and other magical people…

The first princess the beanstalk met in Fresno was the wonderful Rachel, who had kept watch at the pirate’s den while he was away. She reminded me more of a faerie though. Beautiful, kind hearted, and with just the right amount of quirkiness. No photos of her yet, they will follow later.

Next a very famous movie star stopped by. You may know him from the Zonthar in the classics series.

Obviously, we had to shoot the next installment. With the washing in the background, which movie could it be? A gritty adaption of one of Brecht’s plays… Low-dive Jenny and Mack the Knife?

You may know this already, but let me point out the obvious, Fresno is hot in summer and this year it was already very hot in May. Perfect excuse to go to the neighborhood’s watering hole for rehydration. Where we interrupted Solitaire’s studies for her new role as the male (?!?) lead. She showed us her newly short-cut hair and very convincing machismo. Which is no small feat for a beautiful Fresnian princess.

They pour very stiff drinks at the watering hole. Which didn’t stop us from wandering on to the newly opened “English pub” to meet even more Fresnian princesses.

Well, it was an American version of an English pub, much bigger and with ample parking spaces right in front of the entrance. Which is ok with me. Who wants to drive around for hours to find parking? That would be much too much realism. I only have to nitpick a little. A “real” English pub always has a beer-soaked carpet, gone brown and musty. And that they had run out of the locally brewed “Cluster Fuggle Cream Ale” was a big disappointment too (But yes, APJ, it was great to say it!).

I got to meet two wonderful ladies, Joy and APJ, and they graciously oversaw that jet lag was beginning to hit me, and I was speaking in monosyllables. We were trying to do the Zonthar-look, and they are so much better at it than me.

The next day, the pirate got the Bonnie-and-Clyde car ready for a foray into the country-side.

The pirate wanted to show me enchanted nature, I was more interested in golden booty. Along the way, I was pointing out fruit-laden orange trees, ripe for the picking. The straight-laced pirate did not stop the car. Then came a post office, alone in the middle of nowhere. Dismissed as too small.

The river bed was full of gold… all sparkly. “Hooray!” I shouted. “We are rich!”

“Do you know how cold the water is?”

“Well, let me test it.”

Dismissed as too icy. Great spot to sell woolen socks to stupid tourists though.

On the way back we picked up groceries at the “Super Oriental” and the little shop across from it. “Super Oriental” puts any supermarket in Hong Kong to shame. They have a great selection of Asian foodstuffs, and because it is run by people from Laos or Vietnam, you find lots of things for Indochina dishes that are not commonly available in a Chinese supermarket. It was great fun to look around.

In the evening, the pirate spoiled me by taking me out for dinner to Veni Vidi Vici, where we met by chance Mustang and his sister-in-law. Mustang was sharing stories of his European travels, and they sounded a bit like Gulliver’s tales… lol.

We were also discussing if people in normal life are anything like their blog persona. Mustang thought that the woman in front of him was like Cosima. I think it’s also nice that people can share sides of them in their blogs that are not always obvious in daily life. Mustang does that with his blog, and I enjoy his posts very much.

Then my giant pork chop arrived, and I felt like a dwarf.

Not to be outdone, the Malay pirate had ordered half a cow.

After the beanstalk ate half of the giant pork chop and the pirate half of the steak, they looked at each other and had the same thought “No more!” … such loosers. They came, they saw, but they didn’t conquer.

The next day, Joy came and took us for a “Costco run” in preparation for the party later in the evening at the pirate’s den. Yes, Costco gave me culture shock… lol. I don’t think it would work in Hong Kong though. Where do you store “packs of twenty” in a tiny kitchen?

Then the pirate took us to his favorite Indian restaurant, which turned out to be inside an Indian convenience store. It’s a winning combination. While you wait for your meal, you can browse around the aisles for Indian spice mixes, sweets and snacks, and natural cosmetics and toiletries. We did that for a while, but then sat down and were captivated by Bollywood music videos that were playing on two TV screens. Our favorite was a very, very long music video by a girl group in skimpy Britney Spear’s school uniform outfits. They sang and danced around St. Petersburg for half an hour. Why they were in Russia remained a mystery.

In the next episode: A gnarly head, a cuddly seal, and other strange creatures.

Lecram says that I am a romantic idealist, always hoping for happy endings. Which is not true. I am actually an optimistic realist, that’s what I am, but I do hope for happy endings, and that’s why I am going to try my luck at telling a fairy tale…

Once upon a time, there was a one-inch-too-tall beanstalk with a hunched back. She boarded an overbooked fire bird with only three lavatories, one of them “out of order – sorry, for any inconvenience caused”. The crossed-legged beanstalk managed to hold on for eleven hours and forty minutes, an accomplishment of epic proportions.

She arrived in the land of the free … over the mountains, where the seven dwarfs dwell. The gate keeper asked her 1) why she had come (to cook, clean, and make beds at the 7 dwarfs’ house would have been the wrong answer), 2) if she planned to meet friends (yes), 3) looked at her suspiciously and asked to see her return ticket.

And then the beanstalk made a mistake. To the question: “Do you have any foodstuffs?” she answered “Just one apple”. That’s when she heard the tired bureaucracy of the gate keepers creak, sputter, and slowly get into gear. If you know your fairy tales, you know why they are suspicious of apples in the land over the mountains. The beanstalk had to write down “1 apple” on the blue form, which was put into a green plastic folder and given to gate keeper number two. Eventually… a small eternity later… gate keeper number five said “And by the way, we have to keep the apple”. It wasn’t poisoned, I swear. A sweet, juicy, perfectly rounded apple is now rotting in the bin at San Francisco airport, next to dried squid, porcini mushrooms, and French cheese.

So, that’s not even a happy start, but the apple smuggling one-inch-too-tall hunchback saw the funny side of it, and just gleed in anticipation to be able to blog about it one day.

Since this is a modern fairy tale, it also has a soundtrack. The lyrics are slightly creepy, that’s why the romantic idealist … eh, optimistic realist prefers the Spanish version, which she doesn’t understand.

And look, at the edge of the city on the seven mountains really stands a hotel by that name.
The beanstalk likes the city on the seven hills very much, maybe because in places it looks so similar to the land she is coming from.

When she rounded the corner, away from the “Old Shanghai” souvenir shops, it felt like home, because there was the loud, colorful chaos of hundreds of people shopping for seafood and leafy vegetables on much too narrow sidewalks.

The next day, the hunchback put on her Bond girl sunglasses and turned up at the subterranean coffee stand for a conspirative meeting with the seventh gnome, who turned out to be a Malay pirate in disguise. They measured each other with a short glance over their 007 sun glasses, and then set off to their dangerous mission.

They took the F-Line to an area with an abundance of rainbow flags, men with toned asses, and men’s knicker shops.

The hunchback liked the city even more, because she was born in a city with a gay mayor. And although he is not better or worse than non-gay mayors, his ass is at least something to look at, and maybe, one day, the rest of the land of the free will see the virtue of that. See, I am an optimistic realist to the core.

The Malay pirate had even more surprises up his sleeves. He brought the beanstalk to his Bonnie-and-Clyde car, and drove her to his wind-swept hide-out at the skeleton coast.

It even had a pool.

But his cover must have been blown, because the place was full of tourists, eager to spend weak Dollars.

So, this fairytale has a Malay pirate in disguise with evil grin…

… and a one-inch-too tall beanstalk, but where is the princess? She turned up the next morning together with her French prince. The Malay pirate had been commissioned to film her while she was speaking about her play about “falling in love and being dumped” (where is the romantic idealism… eh, optimistic realism in that ?!?!?). The French prince Julian doubled as signal man, motioning Mia to start walking along the side-walk and telling her story into a secret-agent wireless microphone. The French prince had to wave his hand four times, and passersby were clearly getting suspicious.

But eventually, his beautiful princess did turn up, and he didn’t even have to carry her glass coffin and get rid of the poisoned apple… the gate keepers did their job well.

I haven’t seen Mia’s play, and I don’t know if it has a sad or happy ending, but reality has a beautiful princess and her French prince, and young girls taking pictures of themselves with big, red hearts in the background, which validates romantic idealism, don’t you think?

Lecram promised me that I would appear in the credits as his third assistant, which makes me swell with pride…lol.

In the evening, the Malay pirate and his third assistant had a wonderful Indonesian dinner, and you can gauge for yourself who had more wine and took the blurrier picture. Although I think Lecram cheated by using the grainy mode. It got rid of all my wrinkles, so I am ok with the grainy mode.

We boarded the Bonnie-and-Clyde car and the Malay pirate promised to take me to the land of abundant fruits. On the way, his companions where cheering us on.

To be continued…

I had so much planned this weekend, but we were grounded in our flat as the first typhoon of the season skirted Hong Kong, and brought lots of rain. Luckily, winds weren’t that strong, and no one got seriously hurt.

We had two inches of standing water on our kitchen balcony though. The rain came in almost horizontally and the drain was blocked. To prevent damage to the Korean wonder machine, I mopped up three buckets of water. So, despite of being indoors all day, I had plenty of exercise.

I also sorted through and uploaded pictures from a stroll through Mong Kok last week. Mong Kok is said to be the most densely populated area on earth. It’s a wonderful mixture of old and new, touristy and original, and – yes – it is very busy, even on a weekday afternoon. There are lots of shoppers, tourists, and people living and working in the area squeezing by along sidewalks, markets, and outdoor restaurants. I hope it will always stay as lively as it is today. I think it would be a real shame if street life gets sanitized and moved into shopping malls.

I started in Sai Yeung Choi Street South, which is a shopping street closed to traffic that runs parallel to the more famous Nathan Road.

School had just finished.

Looking for takers.

Hungry shoppers.

Entrance to Ladies’ Market, which is a bit of a misnomer. Tourist Market would be more appropriate.

Recently built apartment high-rise. One is fine, but my fear is that the whole area will look like this in a few years.

This shop is helping to fuel one of Hongkongers’ greatest passions. It’s wonderful to walk through streets and back alleys, and suddenly hear the clicky-dee-clack of Majong tiles and people chatting.

The Ladies’ Market in Tung Choi Street.

Chongsams in all sizes.

If you want to get lots of offers for “Tailored suits” and “Rolex”, wear a Stars and Stripes visor like this lady did. My strategy was to hide behind her.

They are probably not the safest buildings around, but I love how Hongkongers extend their living space by encasing roof terraces and balconies. And then, when the roof terrace looks like a proper building floor, why not build another roof terrace on top of it, and then encase it, and then build another, and another… ? Looking at this building it’s hard to see were the original building stops, and the upward extensions begin.

Bamboo scaffolding being set up. I got vertigo from just watching.

You’ve got mail!

“Toothpick” buildings are another Hong Kong way to deal with lack of space. My guess is that the building in the middle has a footprint of under 400 square feet.

I felt so lucky to have found these old market buildings on Reclamation Street. I had never been to the area before. As I rounded the corner, on the opposite side of a very busy road, there they were, row upon row of wonderful market buildings, run-down but full of charm. I did a bit of research on the internet afterwards, and learned that the buildings predate the second world war, and are still used for a wholesale fruit market.

When I was there, I assumed that the old white building was a market building as well, although I asked myself why it had received special treatment. It’s shiny white walls gleamed in the dark. It’s in fact the oldest surviving cinema building in Hong Kong. The “Yaumati Theatre” was built in 1925, but sadly had to close its doors in 1998. According to Wikipedia, there are plans to reopen it has a theater for Cantonese opera.

The wholesale fruit market.

Afternoon faded into evening, and suddenly there was a corner of golden light in front of me.

It was a store for altars and religious figurines, all carefully wrapped in plastic, which made them look like apparitions.

Once in a while, I like to get lost, stroll around and discover new things. Well ok, you have to make a real effort to get lost in Hong Kong, because there are street signs everywhere, and signposts pointing to the next subway station, but I didn’t look at them, and just walked. And then I rounded a corner and saw the stall selling vibrators, and I knew I was in tourist territory again. Then another stall followed, selling Nepalese bags and jewelry, then another, selling stickers (five sheets for HK$10 with Spiderman, Transformers, and other superheros little man loves), and so it became impossible to continue to pretend to be lost, because this was clearly Temple Street, Hong Kong’s famous night market.

I ate a big plate full of greasy noodles to celebrate the end of my adventure. Yes, that really is a roll of toilet paper on the table. I suppose it does the job of wiping people’s mouths just as well.

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