Cafe con Giorgio Armani
When visiting Milan one must stop at least once by the Armani megalopolis that is his flagship store, cafe, restaurant, another restaurant, club, hotel, spa, theme park, water park, movie theater, farm, nuclear research facility, space shuttle launching pad, race track, football stadium, symposium, palace and petting zoo. (The truth in that sentence stopped somewhere around “hotel”)
So Jenni and I did, and had coffee and cocktails at his new cafe that just opened. All sorts of beautiful people walked in and even dressed somewhat nicely I felt like I had been cleaning horse stables all day or something. Quite a few old guys with small dogs and fur coats. Then in walks a man in black velvet with perfectly combed, bleach white hair. I whisper to Jenni “I think that’s Giorgio Armani himself” She refused to believe me but he was walking around and as he was, every employee was jumping. Finally this 6’3″ blonde used-t0-be-model gets up and says “Buona sera Sr. Armani.”
Damn – we were having coffee with Giorgio Armani. I could have reached out and touched his exquisite velvet…whatever you call what he was wearing. But I did not. Story doesn’t end there.
I go upstairs in the bathroom, and as I’m washing my hands, guess who comes out of the bathroom and washes his hands next to me?
Emilio Estevez! The Mighty Ducks man himself!
No, really, it was Giorgio Armani. So I said good evening and ran out before he could force me into a modeling contract or something absurd.
Jenni was there, she’ll tell you. She was the one who called the fashionista’s name. She was like “Giorgioooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
True story.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh….Milano!
My passport is almost a full ten years old, and needs to be renewed in 2011. About 8 years ago, I also washed it. Yeah, I know I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I washed it. So it’s a bit frayed and, as I discovered in Istanbul, the part near the picture is actually starting to come apart. The kindly border patrol agent (Round ‘em up, as fast as you can, with one truck, or this country’s gonna be way too big!) at the airport wouldn’t let me pass for about 15 minutes because he didn’t trust it. Several supervisors were called over, all of whom looked at him like he was an idiot because my passport’s only been stamped about 15 times in the past few weeks.
My favorite part was when he asked me – “Where are you from in the States?”
Me – “Chicago”
Him – “But you’re going to Milan. Why are you going to Milan?”
You’re right buddy, because everyone leaving Istanbul should be going immediately home. Ya’ jerk.
Then, on the plane, I get up to use the bathroom, and one of the two lavatories has been marked “occupied” for almost 20 minutes. There was a very long line to use the facilities so I counted. I knocked on the door to no answer, so I start thinking there’s a terrorist on board putting together some sort of bomb! After several attempts to ask the stewardesses what was going on, one finally spoke enough English to tell me the bathroom was out of order.
Needless to say, after being taken for a ride several times, I was so happy to land in Milan. Almost immediately I started smiling again and felt better. There’s just something in the air over here…
I found my apartment very easily, got settled in, and met my roommate Abby when she showed up. Per Facebook, I immediately bought several bottles of wine and started enjoying the fruits of the land.
Despite the dollar being worth about 1 Euro cent, wine is still super cheap over here. So too are Belgian Ales. My favorite beer, Chimay Blue, costs about $9 in the US. It costs 1 Euro 50 cents over here. Fantastic.
Apertivo
Milan so far has been cold and rainy, so I haven’t gotten too many shots of things outdoors. Which means I’ve spent my time indoors, usually in bars or restaurants. And usually at apertivo, one of the greatest things ever invented.
Basically you pay for your drinks and get an unlimited amount of buffet style food from about 6 to about 9. The more crowded the place, the earlier it tends to end for some reason. The buffet isn’t going to have the best pastas, but the pizzas and contorni (sides, veggies, etc) are always good. You won’t find meats either. But you will get incredibly full for the price of a few beers, which is nice. Apertivo has been about a four to five times weekly occurrence.
Tall Italians
Quick side note here – there is an unusual species of people here, one I am not used to. This idea of the “tall Italian.” We’re talking ladies about 5’11, 6 feet and guys 6’2″, 6’3″. Very interesting – at Easter mass in Tropea in 2003 I was the tallest person in the building by at least a foot. Tropea is in the very south of Italy, FYI. Up here it’s different – I don’t stand out at all.
The Food
I mean come on, that’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it? This is supposed to be a food blog and I’m in ITALY for Pete’s sake! We practically invented food!
Speaking of the invention of food, let’s dispel with a little food myth right off the bat. The Chinese did not teach the Italians how to make pasta. Please. Let’s take a look at this from several angles shall we?
1 – The myth says Marco Polo went to China and brought back recipes for making noodles. However Italian cookbooks predating his visit to China contain recipes that call for pasta. So chronologically that’s a big fail.
2 – Let’s look at noodle construction. While certain similarities do exist for the most part Chinese noodles look and taste nothing like Italian pastas. I like Chinese food and noodles, but they’re not the same. So on texture, appearance, and taste large differences exist.
3 – Rice noodles. Both cultures use rice extensively and yet the Chinese make rice noodles and the Italians make…not rice noodles. Why didn’t this technique transfer over? I don’t know. Probably because the Italians already had their system figured out.
Points 2 and 3 are more or less observational but point 1 can be fact-checked, so if you disagree go do that…
Now. Where were we?
Ah yes, we were making a poor man’s Bolognese sauce and sneaking sips from that big magnum of wine you see in the background.
Instead of taking the full three or so hours I caramelized some onions, browned some ground beef and pork, and simmered with some tomato sauce for about 30-45 minutes. Then topped with some fresh ground pepper and freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano and served over bucatini pasta.
Here’s my fellow Booth student and newly acquired sous-chef Toshi working some cheese magic over a beautiful spread:
When all was said and done, we laid it down like this:
I mean, picture kinda says it all. That’s about how we’ll be doing it from here on out. Much more of that to come. Spaghetti Carbonara is on deck – Toshi wants to learn how to cook a bunch of different Italian foods so we’ll be working our way through some traditional dishes here.
After my Italy for the gourmet traveler book showed up, I had a list of places to check out in Milan. By far my favorite so far (and, will probably remain for the time I’m here) is Gastronomia Peck. It’s a specialty food store selling all different kinds of cheese, meats, steaks, seafoods, chocolate, tea, oils, coffee and on and on. They won’t let you take pictures, but at the cafe upstairs there are no such rules. So here you go:
Prosciutto e Mozzarella
Lasagna Bolognese
Due cappuccini.
Peck is an absolute must-go and will be re-featured here. I will give a much more descriptive run-down of the food after one or two more visits.
In the interest of time I’m going to stop here for now. In the meantime since these events have taken place, I went snowboarding in the Alps, ran into Giorgio Armani himself, made spaghetti carbonara, gone inside the Duomo, and may have set up an interview with an MD from one of the Italian banks. So that’s what we’ve got to look forward to.
But now I’m heading off to Modena, Parma, Bologna, and Mantua. Back in a week!
Ciao tutti!
$138.00 for a beer in Istanbul?!?!?!
We’ll get to that little traveler’s mishap in a moment, but before I do let’s talk Turk for a few minutes. After being stared at wherever I went for two and a half weeks straight, it was somewhat refreshing to be mistaken for one of the locals again. From the flight into Istanbul people approached me in Turkish more than in English, only to be somewhat shocked I didn’t speak Turkish and wasn’t from there. Not a bad start. Got into my hotel around 2:30 in the morning and passed out – I had 48 hours in Istanbul and wanted to make the most of it. Next morning, up at 8:00 and greeted by – downpour. Sheets of rain. After a rather long sigh, I got dressed and went to the 7th floor where my hotel served a delicious breakfast buffet. Now, I’m a huge fan of pho, and enjoyed the soups in Hong Kong for breakfast, but sometimes you just want coffee and a pastry. Or in my case, coffee and about 25 pastries, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, yogurt, honey, and feta cheese sprinkled with paprika and chili pepper. So I enjoyed the cold breakfast and gazed out at the city and the sea as the rain gradually lifted. It was still overcast but at least I could walk around and do the touristy thing. Quick endorsement here: I usually abhor looking like a tourist and when in Italy refuse to carry a guidebook or large map. I’d rather wander around than admit I’m not supposed to be there. However with such a short time frame and so much to see in Istanbul, I picked up Rick Steeve’s guide and was blown away. It’s got much more on art and history and less on where to sleep and eat. The mosques and museums were what I expected, but his tour of the Grand Bazaar was amazing – and so as much as it kills me I’d have to recommend his book if you’d like a more in-depth tour of whatever city you’re visiting. Now that a part of me has died, let’s continue. First stop : The Blue Mosque. Never been in a mosque before so that was interesting. I have been in a large number of religious houses of worship and as ridiculous as this sounds, it takes a lot now for me to be really impressed. Did get a decent shot of the outside, despite the rain, from a back street -
Afterward I wandered around some more on my way to the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts. Saw a few smaller mosques, including one that claimed to have a piece of the tablet upon which Abraham had written down instructions from God. Three pieces, actually. Played with some features on the Canon S90, which I can’t say enough good things about. Here are a few random street shots for you visual people out there – 
Next up was the art museum, which had lots of pieces from the Ottoman Empire, Islamic history, and Turkish history. Full of furniture for some reason. One of my favorites was this piece: 
The inscription reads: “You are only at the beginning of your journey.” So…I got that going for me.
Lunch was a quick kabob of a mix of lamb and beef accompanied by some lentil “meat”balls. My food pics from Istanbul are lackluster – my apologies. And by lackluster I mostly mean just lacking.
On to Hagia Sophia. Revisiting my previous statement about churches, my jaw literally dropped when I stepped inside. I didn’t take any pictures because you should go see it for yourself. It’s pretty amazing.
Perhaps my favorite part is the mosaic of Empress Zoe and two other guys. One of the other guys is Jesus, so that’s pretty standard. The other is her husband. However if you look closer, you see the inscriptions above the head of her husband looks like it’s been erased. Story goes she had one husband, couldn’t produce a male heir, he “dies”, she marries again, guy croaks again, she marries yet a third time. So instead of changing this massive mosaic she just erases dude’s name and keeps re-doing it! You may not agree with it, but you gotta respect it. Keep it real Empress Zoe. Keep it real.
Now it was time to relax and do a bit of shopping. I knew that heading to Milan was going to be disastrous for my bank account. A funny thing was happening as I traveled around the world. In Vietnam it was 18,000 VND to the dollar. Then in Hong Kong it was $7HK to $1USD. Now in Istanbul it was about $1.50 TL to the dollar. Upon arriving in Milan it would be about 0.69 Euro per $USD. I was getting poorer as I traveled around the globe. So I had to take advantage of some purchasing power, right? And it turns out my favorite jeans company is a Turkish company. Jeans that sell for $100 in the US were selling for $50 in Turkey. And they have a huge flagship store on Istiklal street. Istiklal street is the main street in the New District, where people are just milling about, shopping, eating, and drinking. And that is how I ended up in an Irish pub in Istanbul speaking Italian.
I’m halfway through the 5th season of Lost, the greatest and most confusing show ever written in the history of TV. In this season they are presented with an opportunity to go back in time and kill the bad guy in the show, thereby erasing most of what has caused them misery over the previous four seasons. However, as far as I am in the season now – they cannot. They have to save his life. They are unable to remove the demons that put them where they are now. As I sat in the Irish bar in Istanbul listening to people speak Italian (not only am I worldly, I am alliterative as well) I couldn’t help but think of the parallels. When certain things happen and you can’t see the good at the time, you never know where you’ll end up six months, a year later. I sat there with a huge dumb grin on my face. Life will do its worst and somehow manage to bring out the best. As I left the bar it was pouring rain, just pouring. Everyone was running home. I walked, the two miles to my hotel. Over the Galata Bridge, where only fishermen were out, hoping to secure the last little bit of food before they went in for the night. So I stayed and watched them do their thing for a bit – knowing I was the only tourist dumb enough to stand in the rain and watch fisherman reel in empty rods. I laughed again, thinking about the possibility of going back in time and removing some of the negatives I’ve encountered, and how doing that would not put me here, now in this incredible circumstance. Everything bad that had happened was a lesson or an opportunity.
Unfortunately it was a lesson I apparently had to learn again, the following night.
After touring Topkapi Palace and the infamous Harem, and the Grand Bazaar, and the Spice Market, I needed a quick nap. I was so tired from two straight weeks of travel that I almost fell down in the Spice Market. After my nap I decided I was going to grab a quick dinner and then call it a very early night. On my way out of the hotel I almost bumped into two Turkish guys who, once again, assumed I was Turkish too. After discovering I wasn’t, one suggested we go for a beer. I said, what the hell, I’m traveling, may not be here again, let’s do this. One beer, under the bridge where about 20 or so seafood restaurants are. After this one beer I informed them I needed food cause I was getting very hungry. The ringleader of this two-man clan suggests we go to Taksim square where we can get street food, which I what I wanted. At this point something started going off in my mind, but I decided I was just being overly cautious and somewhat prejudiced, so I pushed it away and tried to convince myself it was fine. But they were slightly too friendly too quickly.
After a less-than-satisfying kabob sandwich we start looking for this bar that plays Turkish music for “one beer, then we go.” Yeah, right. They say it’s right around the square, but then all of a sudden they announce we need to take a cab. Warning sign number 3, if you include the fact that they tried to pay for my food. Beer is one thing. But food is just weird.
I get in this cab, and the cab ride turns into something way too long to have walked, or to be considered “close” to the square at all. Warning sign number 4. But convincing myself I was being stupid, and it was fine, I go in this busted-looking place called “Bar Club.” Um….yeah. I know, I know. At this point this looks like my fault.
When we walk downstairs yet another warning sign hits – the bar is empty save for what can only be walruses that escaped from the local zoo dancing onstage. Upon closer inspection they were actually females so it was both reassuring and frightening at the same time. I lost whatever remaining sense of humor I had right then and there. Not only was I all hooker’ed-out by this point, but you don’t say “hey let’s go listen to music” and by “music” you really mean “to a brothel.” Not cool guys, not cool. I can’t say enough negative things about the bar itself or the inhabitants of said bar. It looked like it was straight out of a 70′s adult flick and smelled like it hadn’t been cleaned since it was opened.
Sure enough, after we order a beer, two girls come over. There are three of us, so I sort of wonder why only two come over. Then I realize. Couches have a weight limit. Three wouldn’t have fit. The girl who sits between me and one of the other guys introduces herself and asks if she can have a drink. I point to the other guy and say “He’s buying, ask him.” She tries to chit-chat and I am about as rude as can be. The Candy Bar in Cambodia wasn’t exactly my thing, but even Brandy can attest to this – the girls there were at least funny. Also cute, but cute or not I’m not really into professionals. And the girls in Istanbul could have eaten the girls in Cambodia for appetizers and still been hungry. Anyway I digress. She she asks me where I am from, I say the US (mistake on my part – we’re all rich, right?) and she tells me where she’s from. I can’t make this up.
Khazakstan.
I almost spit my beer out. She asks “You know this place? Not many people do?” I said “anyone who’s seen Borat knows this place! Let me guess, you are sixth best prostitute in Khazakstan?” She didn’t get it. So, despite what happens next, I met a real-life prostitute from Khazakstan.
Halfway through my beer I turn to idiot #1 and say I’m out after this beer. They can stay but I’m getting my coat and going. They’re chain smoking cigarettes like they think global warming is a good thing and I’m just super annoyed at this point. Then the bill comes.
He turns to me and says, we can split this, yes? I’m thinking 40, 50 bucks? 3 beers and 4 glasses of wine. My beers twice that size the night before were about $3 a pop.
No.
670 YTL and at about a 1.4 exchange rate that’s $479.00. For 3 beers and 4 glasses of wine.
I almost completely lost my mind. I start yelling at the two guys and that’s when things got ugly. Immediately five gigantic Turkish guys in black suits, black shirts, and black ties come over. One puts his hand on my shoulder and asks what the problem is.
“What’s the problem? These guys are a*holes, that’s what the problem is. I had one beer and you want me to pay almost $200?”
“Well it needs to be paid.”
“I’m a STUDENT, do you know what that means??? It means I don’t have this kind of money, I don’t care what you think about Americans!”
The two guys talk amongst themselves in Turkish (never a good sign) and one turns to me. “I pay 470 and you pay 200?”
“200? I had ONE BEER!”
“Yes but your girl…”
“MY GIRL? SHE WAS NOT MY GIRL!!!!”
At this point the “bouncers” make it clear that I’m upsetting them and that I need to calm down.
Deciding that tonight is not, in fact, a good night to die, I acquiesce and hand him my credit card. “We don’t accept cards.” Of course not you back-water degenerate meathead. Why would you? (that was purely an internal monologue).
One of the bouncers escorts me to the nearest ATM, I take out 200 YTL and slap it down when I get back inside. They count it, I said “we’re good?” and the head meathead says “We’re good.” I run upstairs faster than I ever ran in high school and bolted for a cab. The two guys I came with are running after me, trying to get me to stop. Knowing full well I will attack them if I slow down, I keep going toward my cab. As I get in, I do turn around and yell out a string of profanity that would make Clark Griswald mighty proud, then immediately tell the cab to get the heck out of there.
I checked my bank account later, and it amounted to $138.00. $138.00 in extortion, to get away with my life. Those two guys were obviously connected to the bar, and knew as soon as I said I was American that they were gonna take me to this brothel type place. Tell you what guys, you wanna make some real money, get some real girls! I wouldn’t have paid but other suckers will.
So incredibly mad at the time, looking back it is a pretty good story. I was genuinely scared when those bouncers/mob guys whatever they were came over and put their hand on my shoulder. That crossed some comfort lines. I can say with absolutely certainty I have never paid more for one beer.
At the end of it all, it’s just one more successful interaction between Muslims and Christians, I guess…
Now, please excuse me, as I’m safely in Milan and there is much vino to be had, pastas to be sampled, and pizzas to savor.
A domani…
Stupid Price for Smart Laptop!
So there’s been a few “lost in translation” moments while in Asia, and I figured it deserved a short post with some pictures to accompany.
The first in Vietnam was a billboard proclaiming:
Stupid Price for Smart Laptop!
Then in Cambodia – a billboard company advertising itself by saying:
Expose Yourself Outdoors!
These weren’t so much lost in translation as just funny:
I tried to edit the SARS one but it was giving me problems – it was officially titled with SARS in the file name and the authorities in HK wouldn’t let me upload it! Whoops…
Scenes from the Temple Night Market – funny signs and shirts -
My love my angle? Hmmmm….
Not to be confused with “No money no honey!”
Lots of possibilities for the top one, but the “buffalo” one is pretty clear….
The monkey is pointing at you, Octomom!
Have a great day!
Nova Roma (or Hong Kong)
This must be what the future will be like, someday, in America. Trains are clean and almost noise-less. Streets are clean. Cars run on garbage and….okay something like that. They do make toy trains out of solid lead and mercury still so it’s not perfect yet. The best analogy I can come up with is that Hong Kong in 2010 is probably what New York would have looked like in the 1920′s if, in the 1920′s, we possessed the same level of technology we do today. That’s just my best guess. I have no idea. But there’s an opulence here not often matched in the US with the exception of some parts of Vegas and maybe a few others. Here, it is ubiquitous. Down every street is another watch store selling $5,000 US watches, or handmade Italian leather bags, and, wait, there’s yet another Ferragamo store. (Although, to be fair, just while switching planes in the Tokyo Narita airport, I saw two Ferragamo stores. Within 400 yards of each other.)
I am probably most jealous of the train system here. It’s dorky but I don’t buy $5,000 watches every day. Or ever. I ride the train every day back home. The stations are well-lit, super clean, they don’t smell, and there are doors separating you from the tracks. This keeps the grime from the train out of the station. Novel concept, I know. Doors. Whudathunkit? The cars themselves are nicer, and they’ve done away with doors in the middle of the cars so it looks like one giant tube careening through the city at warp speed. (I guess you add some doors, you lose some doors…) Really a well-designed, convenient and clean system.
Super clean, right? I guess if you have all sorts of animal-related flu running around you’ve got to be careful.
Hong Kong itself is divided into two major parts, more or less. Hong Kong proper, which is the island, and Kowloon, which is on but not part of the mainland. I’m staying in Kowloon, and I actually appreciate this side more. Hong Kong proper feels a bit too sterile, a bit too clean, and almost contrived at parts. Kowloon is a bit more real and I think provides a bit more culture. But this is just my been-here-for-two-days-don’t-speak-the-language-so-what-do-I-know opinion. Take it for what it’s worth.
My trip here started with a bump to Business Class – and – being suspicious, I demanded to know why. They said “No reason, but we can put you back in coach if you like.” No thank you! I will fly business class, if you insist Mr. United person. I think it might have been the “I’m not carrying an I.E.D.” upgrade special, who knows? Quick travel note : security actually wasn’t that bad. I think the deepest darkest pits of hell are reserved for TSA operatives and their sniveling governmental counterparts, so it takes a lot for me to admit that. I guess technically they weren’t USA-based but it was a US airline and the US does like to bully around…
Flight got in on time, and I promptly took an hour nap. I’d been up since 3:30 and was a bit tired. Now where I took the nap was interesting – I checked into the Lee Guest House as recommended by Lonely Planet only to discover it was in the Fook Kiu Mansion. I am not making this up. The Fook Kiu mansion. I had to reread it a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
It was Wednesday, and most of the museums in HK are free on Wednesday. I grabbed a quick bowl of braised brisket, water spinach, and noodles in soup, and visited the HK Museum of Art, the Museum of Space, walked along the pier in Kowloon, visited the Avenue of Stars, and watched sunset over the harbor.
Also got a few good shots once sun went down….
The building with all the triangles is an I.M. Pei-designed building that houses the new Bank of China HQ. There’s a public viewing gallery located on the 43rd floor (also free) but it was pretty overcast on the 31st when I visited.
Most of the 31st was spent hunting for food – some of which I found, most of which I didn’t. I did find Kau Kee (21 Gough street, Sheung Wan) that was listed in T&L 30 Dishes worth traveling for. It was an honorable mention in the “Under $5″ section but deserves a place in the top 30 I think. They serve little soup bowl of four different kinds of noodle and about six or so different kinds of meat. I’m not entirely sure – I was given 30 seconds to look at the menu. I ate two – one was a plain braised beef brisket with rice noodles in a traditional broth. The second was a curried braised beef brisket with tendon, egg noodles, and a thicker broth. You’ll notice the use of braised meats here – yet another reason why I love this country. Braising is the best way to cook meat IMO and damn near everything here is braised. Wonderful. Anyway Kau Kee has a huge line out the door so it’s hard to miss. They sit you at a table with a bunch of other people and since I was alone, I ate with six Chinese men and two women, all over 45 years old. They just stared me for like 20 minutes wondering what the hell I was doing in their beloved noodle shop. The wait and the stares were worth it. Hands down some of the best soup I’ve ever had. Up there with Pho, for sure. I don’t have a picture because I was too nervous to take one…
And of course, I saw the fireworks over the harbor. They shot them off of 2 IFC which was actually pretty cool to see. The display itself wasn’t that big (and in America we know bigger means better) but I guess the logistics of firing rockets off the sides of a glass building sort of impose some limits to what you can actually do?
Fireworks off the building…
Friday, the 1st, was pretty low key. After hearing much ado about this movie, I went to see Avatar in 3-D and all I can say is WOW. Go see it in IMAX 3-D. It was that incredible. The theatre was located in “one of the poshest shopping malls in Hong Kong” according to one of the websites I looked at. It was actually an enjoyable mall to visit, which was weird. Usually I find malls incredibly annoying, filled with dirty rude teenagers and out-of-towners not realizing they’re overpaying for whatever they’re buying. (Guilty on this last count for this particular mall.) But Festival Walk had an ice rink built in and so I sat and watched little kids practice eventually win gold medals or else! The theatre itself was sort of amusing – it had signs everywhere saying “Outside food and beverage (EXCEPT STARBUCKS) forbidden!” (Caps theirs) I guess Starbucks is doing pretty well over here…
I ate at a little cheap place called mi2Cool – a Japanese place through and through. I got these little fried dumplings for about $3US. Not bad for cheap mall food -
After a hard day of shopping, I decided to spend the night…shopping. The Temple Street Night Market was one of my favorite things about Hong Kong. It’s hard not to smile just wandering around – crowds are everywhere, street stall-type restaurants spill out into the streets and the smells waft over the booths, drawing you in. If you can spare the time, wait in one of the insane lines for the two or three most popular restaurants. One was Four Seasons Rice, another was called Hing Kee restaurant. Although Hing Kee seemed to be a restaurant in about 12 different buildings – it confused me a bit. The market itself sells every kind of good imaginable from flashlights to leather goods to ironic t-shirts of Che or Chairman Mao to paintings to lighters to underwear to jewelry to socks to…and so on. (PG – 13 warning) There was even a particular strip selling all manner of weird sex toys including something called an inflatable anus. I have no idea what one does with that…
After the market I walked down to the Peninsula Hotel where the Felix bar on the 28th floor looks out over the harbor. While the view was great, and the bar itself was nice, the bathroom steals the show. Philippe Starck designed the men’s room to give you a very unique experience. I think he designed it with 55 year old white male corporate execs in mind who spend their days pissing on the little people because, frankly, you get the feeling you’re doing just that when you’re at one of his urinals.
So the black thing is the urinal and yes, that’s a window looking out over Kowloon. I was watching people go about their jobs in their offices right across the street. For those of us who don’t spend our days pissing on people below us, it gives a good approximation of what it’s like to be The Man. I quite enjoyed it. <there’s no ironic emoticon to go here..> I kind of want one in my house, sans window. Or maybe with window, who knows.
I’m currently at the airport, waiting for my flight to take me to Istanbul. I probably won’t post there because I only have two days and somehow I feel like your life will be just fine if I don’t post for a bit. I will have another one coming out soon that I’ve time-delayed to post so if you in fact won’t be fine, you’ll have a short note to keep you company.
Next time I write I will have traveled about 2/3 of the way around the world.
A domani…
