Chumu-Chunking Express

It's past midnight. We just finished an obligatory trek up to Victoria Peak via the tram, the ding-ding tram, and a bus on the way down. We went along with our friend B. and her two kids after Xiao Long Baos at the Din Tai Fung. Up at the peak, We congratulated ourselves for the toursity effort with a 22oz Stella Artois each and spent an hour drinking with a panoramic view of the city by the window. I. sleeps on my shoulder.

As soon as we were back in our Causeway Bay hotel at Pennington St., I go down again to get more booze. I'm on the lookout for cheaper beer, as the prices at Victoria Peak and Disneyland had been criminal. During this trip, we've dined at two Michelin star restaurants. In this midnight walk, I spot a hole in the wall and point a picture of a dimsum. The old man, alone at the counter, didn't speak any english but gestured there's no more but gave me a plate of something anyway. I hold my money in my open palm and he takes how much its worth.

I found a supposedly-famous Danish Bakery and it was closed. I peek through the window and in the dark - a baker wearing a sando is mixing the dough as early as 1am.

I remember Chunking Express.  It "depcited a paradox... even though the characters live in densely packed Hong Kong, they are mostly lonely and live in their own inner worlds." I keep walking.

The 7-11's still busy at this time of day, and I get 500ml cans of Stella Artois at about HK$16. A relief after paying almost HK$99 for 22oz earlier at the peak. I try some of the local chips. Back at the hotel, the pleasant staff greet me good night. Chillout music pipes in at the elevator, giving the hotel an urban, contemporary feel. There is an aromatic scent of wood, halogen lights glowing against the black walls and mirrors.  I have my beer and chips by the bed, world cup on the TV along with watching my wife and son sleep in a part of the city that always sells and never seems to get tired. It's like slipping back in this cozy space inside me, lodged in some inner world, in some other country. Only this time, I'm certainly not lonely.