A very Hong Kong weekend

Over the weekend I did two "very Hong Kong" things: I went to the Wan Chai computer center for the first time and I got my first foot massage (ever) from an old Chinese lady.

Wan Chai Surprise

I've been hearing about the Wan Chai computer center since I moved here a couple of years ago. I shied away since I thought the place would be well, to put it frankly, a bit dodgy. I had a mental picture of small cramped shops in a dilapidated building, with pushy salespeople practically intimidating you to buy the most expensive laptop in their shop. I also thought it would be a "locals only, please" kind of place. Where people didn't speak English just to exclude you.

So with this terrifying mental picture I dragged C. to Wan Chai. I figured I could use both the moral support and the Cantonese speaker.

It's funny now, but I can't even remember where I got the idea that the Wan Chai computer center was dodgy. The building is by no means dilapidated; and while the shops are side by side, it is not anymore crowded than say the old Vira Mall (but with better shops). The salespersons are friendly but not pushy. Everyone speaks (or attempts to speak) English. And when you tell them you're just browsing and just want to have a look around, they smile and do a "Price is Right" model gesture, showing off their wares.


Big Bucket Foot Massage

Saturday morning I got a call from J., one of my FFF (favorite Firm friends), who I thought was still on holiday somewhere in South East Asia (Laos, Cambodia, who knows?).

Out of breath, J. tells me he needs a hug (and a foot massage). He just spent a nightmarish 16 hours in the Bangkok airport. Thank goodness his dad sent over a plane to pick him up from a private airstrip outside Kanchanaburi.

"Yes, of course. Thank goodness", I say.

The way he said his "dad sent over a plane" to pick him up from state-of-emergency Bangkok was the same way I'd say my dad picked me up from swimming lessons. I'm sure some people after hearing such news would "play it cool" and not ask how one's father can arrange for a plane to whisk his son out of a private airstrip in rural Thailand.

I am not one of those people.

So later that day over tea and finger sandwiches, J., gives me a blow by blow narration of his holiday from hell. (This post is about the foot massage and I am getting there.) We capped off the lovely afternoon (fantastic weather in HK now) with a foot massage in Causeway Bay.

The foot massage was as expected, painful. Painful but in a good, stress relieving way. To start things off, you're made to soak your feet in this large wooden bucket filled with peppermint leaves (ooh, relaxing) and scalding water (ooh, second degree burns).

With the smallest and nimblest of hands your masseuse, will then methodically beat your feet to numbness and smile sweetly as you mouth the words, "Please God, make it stop".

Exactly sixty-five minutes later we step out into the chilly street and I feel great; my step lighter than before (probably because of the damaged nerve endings, but what the hey).