Hong Kong Story

Don’t know why, but it seems that when it comes to massages, spa treatments and any sort of body embellishments, travelling to Hong Kong equals heaven. Not only does the quality of the service excel, but – very importantly – the prices are affordable. That explains why many of us tired, jetlagged Europeans recently arrived on our 5 day business trips, end up looking better than before our flight took off from Heathrow. It’s the magic touch of the HK beauticians.

And this time around, I was not let down. My third trip to HK started like the other previous ones: get on the plane, watch some movie (saw star-packed Bobby), chit chat with the person next to you if they’re nice (she was) and hope to get some sleep in (I hardly did).

The next morning comes with a treat in store. We jump in the cab to go to Central, which is a shopper’s ultimate destination. I am not a keen shopper (it was the mortgage or the clothes…) but I was dead set on at least working with (or against) what nature’s given me. So picture this: a super crowded super narrow market street. Nothing like the welcoming wide aisles of the Istanbul Bazar, for example.

Suddenly you hear a lady in the crowd asking “Manicure for HK$70?” (that’s £5) and the next thing you know, you are entering this council tower- type building, going up the stairs to what may very well be someone’s flat. But there is a good feeling, so what if it’s not The Sanctuary?

Well, there were no incense sticks and waterfalls sounds, but boy were we in for a surprise! As we were going up the stairs to what traditionally should be a tranquil place to sit down and be pampered, we were greeted with a Madonna wannabe belting out I’m Crazy for You on the karaoke machine. They had a karaoke machine in the waiting room, complete with glass disco ball and all.

The place was a flat in which they had turned the tiny entrance hall into an entertainment centre: karaoke, internet connection they had it all. For a second there I contemplated leaving. There is a good reason why I didn’t choose singing as a career and a morning “I Will Survive” sesh was not on my agenda. But I was re-assured I did not have to sing if I did not want to, although they did encourage us to follow the example of a 5 year old who did not shy away from declaring the she, indeed, Will Survive.

I wish I’d taken a photo of the place. Most people working in there were from the Phillippines, so when a Philippino pop song came on, the nostalgia overwhelmed them and you should have heard the collective humming and tapping while they were painting those nails, rubbing those feet and applying the perm solutions….

Surreal! But great fun. I am going to take the idea back to my local manicure place. The ladies there are Korean, maybe they won’t think I’ve lost my mind. Maybe they’ve been to Hong Kong themselves. South London, get ready for this.

A non-Shakespearian Heroine in Stratford

This weekend Amore and I took a spontaneous trip to Stratford-upon-Avon. This is in line with our getting-to-know-England-better plan. Also, with 3 degrees Celsius extra on our doorstep (this weekend’s Sunday Times illustrated article on global warming is not for the faint-hearted), we said to ourselves maybe it’s time we did our bit and cut down on those tempting cheap weekend flights to the sunnier sides of Europe. What the heck… We live in England and when somebody mentions High Wycombe we still think they are talking about Scotland…

So, we got on the train at Marylebone Station, one of London’s oldest and most charming, my personal favourite (have you seen their florists?). Two hours later we are in Shakespeare memorabilia heaven: there are souvenir shops, statues of characters from his plays, a tour of the haunted house that once belonged to the man who inspired Falstaff (the Bard’s brother in law).

There are, of course, the theatres, the lovely country pubs, the beautiful riverside walks and the overall olde worlde charm that sold England to me in the first place, all those years ago. We had a fantastic day and I recommend it to anyone who wants to get away from the hustle and bustle of London at the weekend. Not a place for longer than two days, methinks.

The day is also memorable for the sight I’m about to describe. As someone else was commenting, it’s got to be one of the strangest sights I’ve ever seen. As we were walking along the river enjoying the sunshine and eavesdropping on a tour guide, we saw this elderly lady coming from the opposite direction. When I say elderly I mean proper elderly, early 80’s at least, with a hunched back, snow white hair, a scarf and a long pink raincoat. Like any of our grandmothers, only older. She suddenly stopped, looked around her and decided on putting her large black bag by this big tree on the riverbank. Nothing strange about her yet. She wanted to have a rest. Well, here’s where I was wrong. I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen, the lady leant her bags against the tree, put herself in position and took off for a jog!! Up and down in a leisurely manner, stopping to draw her breath and then off she went again… I had never ever seen anything like this before. She was so fit, so the opposite of what you’d expect from a 80 something year old lady quietly shuffling along the river. She went on like this for at least half an hour while Amore and me were sipping our Stella’s at what we were told was the best known pub in the world (The Black Swan, also known as The Dirty Duck). She then stopped and dutifully did her stretching after which she recuperated her bag and went away. I can tell you that she made a lasting impression on a wide open air audience. She was our non-Shakespearian centre stage lady. She did make me smile. Amore thought she was not all there and felt sorry for her (How would you feel if your granny took off like that in the park?); I thought she was an eccentric fitness fan. Good on her.

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Let’s just say it was enough to make me reconsider the extent of my weekly exercise routine (three times a week walk from Farringdon to Elephant and Castle).

So here’s to you, the jogger in a pink raincoat in Stratford. You made the trip less about Shakespeare and therefore less predictable. Have you considered the marathon?

A Very Brief History of Dating

I start this post from the basics: Wikipedia’s definition of dating. It does actually re-direct you to courtship, which gives the concept a somewhat more vintage feel, but it defines it in a nutshell thus serving as a good trampoline for this post.

Courtship is the process of selecting and attracting another for an intimate relationship such as love, sex, commitment, living together, marriage, and having children, or any combination of these. Courtship may last days, months, or even years, but some lovers skip courting altogether as in cases of love at first sight or arranged marriage.
Many couples stop courting or going out after they have chosen to remain together, or after they have married, or after they have children. Those that do still may still call these outings “dates”.

My intention here is to depart from the standard boy-meets-girl scenario and talk about a particular form of dating. One that has become an intrinsec part of the overall getting together game (mating game would have sounded a bit too much out of an Attenborough show about friendly penguins).

You will have guessed by now that this is going to be a post about online dating. Hmmmm… There is enough material here for a novel, an encyclopedia even. Or – why not – a manual on the evolution of the dynamics of relationships. Volume 2007.

Seeing that I have called this post the way I have, let’s rewind back to 1998. A dear friend of mine is telling me she is going to meet up with a guy off the internet. On paper/e-mail he sounded fab: good job, decent age when you’d expect a man to be past the times of exploring avenues ever so new. The photo ain’t that bad either so what do I say? ” Are you sure about this? What if he’s a psycho?”

Now, I am going to be frank and admit to a higher than usual degree of paranoia. Where it comes from, it beats me, probably from some childhood experience, as is the case with everything that is not right in your life. Let’s blame it on the parents…

In my defense, though, in those times, meeting up with a faceless individual whose only relationship with you is based on typing sounded a bit crazy. She herself agreed thus keeping the way she met her now husband under wraps with many of their friends and family. The “now husband” bit reveals that particular story was a success. As she then put it to me: how is it different from meeting a guy in a bar? Well, eerrrgh, I don’t know how….You see them first, true, but that doesn’t mean they can’t turn into a monster of boredom or the drunkard from hell. Always looking on the bright side, me.

Roll on almost a decade later and if you’re single and have not given online dating a try, you are wasting your time. At least that is the case in my circle of friends. Many have tried it out.

Conversations amongst young and old rate www.match.com higher than www.meetic.com, whilst the newer discovery www.mysinglefriend.com is winning many over through the endorsement of the always pregnant, TV tough cookie Sarah Beeny. On her site, you basically big up your friend “without their knowledge” they are then chuffed at the surprise of it all (ha!), upload some witty comment themselves and before they know it, the virtual doors of your singlehood are crashed down by eager suitors. Hallelujah! Ladies and gentlemen, where does that happen in real life, if you are not Eva Herzigova or George Clooney?

There are even specialised religion-oriented sites where you can make sure you avoid unwanted outsiders and stick to your own. No extra comment on this one. You know who you are…

And I am pretty sure that a bit of time in my hands would yield a variety of dating websites catering for the pickiest amongst us.

My friends’ experience with online dating stretches across a broad range:

* some met their current spouses on the internet

* others have had to go through a lot of strange characters to get to a decent partner material.

* there are of course those who were asked if they liked setting fire to things which I’d rate as rather alarming. They had this conversation on date numero uno and a second date followed! Why??

* there have been trans-continental liasions as well as trans-generational ( call me a skeptic but who buys the 62 year old guy and the 24 year old girl story….not me, not you and certainly not him)

* there have also been cases of “is he ever going to make the next step??” series of dates when eventually the said dates were classified as a waste of time; in this online dating business people are serious and not inclined to waste time with niceties; Get to the point: unless mentioned otherwise, you are not there to find another male friend…

In my case the jury is still out debating as to where I stand on this issue. On the fence would be the answer at the moment. Would I try it if I were single? Probably. Would I look forward to the experience? Probably not. I’d be petrified.

The over analyzer in me has a few issues with this modern way to meet your match:

* although I myself would be involved in the process, I could not help thinking: “What’s wrong with him? Why is he here, if he is so perfect?”

* I would then wonder how I’d fare against the other 500 women he met that month

* So I’d end up paying ridiculous money to make myself look fab, thus letting myself in for a big and unforgiving fall should a second date occur ( spend the same money again now that I’m in or let him see the real me? Would not call this a win/win situation.)

* Also, very importantly, what if we don’t like each other? Do I stand up and go home? Or, worse, would I have to continue dining on my own should he up and leave?

I guess we can all conclude that I should stick to more traditional ways. I said it before, I met Amore in a bar in Shoreditch and that will do me fine.

But I am intrigued by how fast times have moved. Is internet dating a good thing to humanity? Clearly it is, for many. Virtual matchmaking is fastly replacing any other kind of happiness accommodating third party.

GSOH, LOL, :0), :0(, XX, watch out for the new language of love….

To be continued…..