tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-256906222024-03-07T15:07:23.719+08:00Lost HorizonsThe Public Diaries of Almost No Interest WhatsoeverLukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.comBlogger226125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-8566572887503193792009-02-01T17:05:00.000+08:002009-02-01T17:07:03.663+08:00The Lost Generation<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/42E2fAWM6rA&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/42E2fAWM6rA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-1564337724729215772008-12-12T11:12:00.002+08:002008-12-12T11:18:29.263+08:00Went out for a smoke and got caught up in a demoOutside our office this morning there is a demonstration against all the banks, from what I can tell.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyA_AbnFTt-0d2pa5S05ujV8sLRrR3avo7ORd4QMwFc0EvITyq7Zw2GSzkKMlgIhg1f5jJSEMGV4KeF_QuAa6G0u7MS4SSS9PmJ-lEWdS_9KwQ8oZhailMRX9Y6lr43EeF0_wy/s1600-h/IMAGE_030.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyA_AbnFTt-0d2pa5S05ujV8sLRrR3avo7ORd4QMwFc0EvITyq7Zw2GSzkKMlgIhg1f5jJSEMGV4KeF_QuAa6G0u7MS4SSS9PmJ-lEWdS_9KwQ8oZhailMRX9Y6lr43EeF0_wy/s400/IMAGE_030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278737246045056354" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGUNkb-ZszxMy290PtKqmVGk4vC3b6c2J655RXZ4G18D6SGey0viYB8L1W3jxatIvA5d_PwPE6M__5uNVbcbQufEqX3C2V1DgG6lGKjThyphenhypheneiQiO9HW0LQpStUKfKak46PsEel/s1600-h/IMAGE_028.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGUNkb-ZszxMy290PtKqmVGk4vC3b6c2J655RXZ4G18D6SGey0viYB8L1W3jxatIvA5d_PwPE6M__5uNVbcbQufEqX3C2V1DgG6lGKjThyphenhypheneiQiO9HW0LQpStUKfKak46PsEel/s400/IMAGE_028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278737232440963602" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlB63ujvmCzv3D5jaSDE8PiOMBRSNARKT0uimA7xuMhYTZllTgVR3CR1f8Cl5euiNaSRn8cq5sga6sxu4Gw5vjtqHQIQ9rB7aLM5UTv-AQ7tQGZdHbsQL3q_H8nbo06ZgiNA57/s1600-h/IMAGE_025.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlB63ujvmCzv3D5jaSDE8PiOMBRSNARKT0uimA7xuMhYTZllTgVR3CR1f8Cl5euiNaSRn8cq5sga6sxu4Gw5vjtqHQIQ9rB7aLM5UTv-AQ7tQGZdHbsQL3q_H8nbo06ZgiNA57/s400/IMAGE_025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278737226318807138" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHNtpaMlVrpqHOLdm6pZjt7QRSsF_8ijn_ar125RN4SpeRrpVoTf4YG9nCo8Fb9TutDBqC3fiMB9H-FEUq8bBtIUpDqWtlB-E8IyI2iR9G0r2NKNuL08Vnc2_mTlPb-r0vJh8/s1600-h/IMAGE_029.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHNtpaMlVrpqHOLdm6pZjt7QRSsF_8ijn_ar125RN4SpeRrpVoTf4YG9nCo8Fb9TutDBqC3fiMB9H-FEUq8bBtIUpDqWtlB-E8IyI2iR9G0r2NKNuL08Vnc2_mTlPb-r0vJh8/s400/IMAGE_029.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278737242469675906" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCPoZtbV89i7s9KT7gJNq3VczGsaAZ72onUxsa3MXQn9iE7RWIpUL_IJR5M3R1NSnxIQye_I22C2-hmdohBW_if95_pIiwOWfTif_0aMHwFlzzE8KMuR7D6wYFWBwoSFEWSAZq/s1600-h/IMAGE_027.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCPoZtbV89i7s9KT7gJNq3VczGsaAZ72onUxsa3MXQn9iE7RWIpUL_IJR5M3R1NSnxIQye_I22C2-hmdohBW_if95_pIiwOWfTif_0aMHwFlzzE8KMuR7D6wYFWBwoSFEWSAZq/s400/IMAGE_027.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278737231994091970" /></a>Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-12724158196294270042008-12-09T09:12:00.002+08:002008-12-09T09:16:18.143+08:00An Assualt - post-scriptReturning to Central Station this morning, I noticed that the floor is really dirty. I am sure that it's not particularly more dirty than any other day of the week, but, shocking pink does tend to show the dirt up rather a lot.<br /><br />This can't be doing much good for Coach Leatherware's image, after all they promote themselves as a luxury leatherware company. In my opinion, they must be trying to promote the grunge look.<br /><br />Marketing campaign? Definitely a miss!Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-34336183037580672832008-12-08T10:53:00.002+08:002008-12-08T11:00:38.100+08:00An Assaulton my senses. My normal journey to work each morning, involves a trip mainly done on autopilot, where I just have to avoid colissions with various pedestrians, who seem to be expert at stepping into your path. Usually, I can complete this journey without to much effort on my brain, which can be left to its own devices.<br /><br />However, this morning as I descended into the bowels of Central station, I was greeted by a sea of vomit inducing fuschia. The blood red tiles of Central were still there, but the walls and floor had been taken over to promote Coach Leatherware.<br /><br />The floors were pink, and most of the walls were black and white apart from pictures of garish shocking ping handbags and purses. In this light everyone's skin took on the complexion of a blancmange.<br /><br />Fortunately, once I reached the station proper the colours returned to normal.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-86482364975731692672008-10-09T05:32:00.002+08:002008-10-09T05:34:33.285+08:00HolidayWith a financial tsunami rushing through the commercial world, what could be better than to take a short holiday and get away from it all? So that;s just what I am going to do. I am off to Phuket for a few days, so adios amigos.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-27869287211509297262008-09-25T05:58:00.003+08:002008-09-25T06:27:34.106+08:00Flight of the ValkyriesOK there I was in Singapore and due to fly back to Hong Kong. Knowing that there was a storm brewing, I checked the internet and was grateful to see that my flight was scheduled to depart on time, so I hussled my bootie out to the airport and checked in.<br />At 8.11 I received a text from Cathay saying my flight would depart at 10:15, and that the weather in Hong Kong was thunderstorms, 24-28C.<br />We boarded the flight on time, and got settled. The ground staff departed, they closed the doors and showed the safety video. Then the Pilot told us that our take off slot was in an hour and a half. Groans all around. Switched mobile phone back on, got out my lap top, had a beer, switched on the in flight entertainment, had another beer. At 11.02 I received a text from Cathay saying my flight would land at 14.02. Craned my neck to see if airbus had retrofitted RR Olympus engines from an old concord or something. Had another beer. At 11L47 I get another text to say we would land at 15.40, which seemed a lot more realistic. At 11.48 I get another text saying we would depart at 11.50, which was only about fifteen minutes out from our time we pushed away from the stand.<br />The flight towards Hong Kong was uneventful, as much as the food was unappetising. Once we got within about 60 miles of Hong Kong we just went into a holding pattern. People were getting tetchy, because they had connections and no information. I was getting tetchy because on the info they had us disembarking at gate 0, which I took to mean that we would be bussed to the terminal.<br />When we finally got on the ground, we did go to a gate, number 68 about as far away from anywhere as you can get; but, of course we had to wait half an hour for the airbridge operator to turn up. To give them, their due the airport was coping pretty well with the chaos. Going through the luggage reclaim, there were so many flights landing that they had this huge projection screen with the flights and their belt numbers. After that everything went smoothly, got to the airport express three minutes before the train arrived and got to Central where there were plenty of taxis and no queues. Got home and it was in one piece - no food in the house, so I headed out to get something to eat.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-82578548001838396162008-09-22T21:43:00.002+08:002008-09-22T21:51:32.039+08:00A quick visit to SingapoopsHad to come here for a day or two - we will have to see how the typhoon heading towards Hong Kong fares. First time I have travelled economy on Cathay for a while, and its a shame that the flight isn't half an hour longer, because i do prefer CX business class on their regional flights.<br />Met a guy at the airport waiting by the ATM machine who had flown to Singapore from London, via Hong Kong. It seems the grand prix is making the direct flights too expensive. Getting to the hotel was hassle free, and they have upgraded me to the garden wing. Its a non-smoking room, but no hassle because I have a balcony. <br />Because I often stay at Shangri-La hotels there is normally two bottles of beer waiting for me in the room. Nice touch here in Singapore they are in an ice bucket (Shangri-La Hotel in Dalian, please note, I like my beer cold). The only problem is there isn't a bottle opener to be found anywhere in the room. I suppose I could have called reception, but that would have been a hassle; then I had a eureka moment - the slot you put the chain in to secure the hotel door should do the trick. OK so its a little bit bent now, but I can enjoy a cold beer on the balcony with a cigarette.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-68056285616558752252008-09-20T17:29:00.001+08:002008-09-20T17:32:26.195+08:00Jessica all tied up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://content.declareyourself.com/images/media/g2data/albums/photos/silenceyourself/alba.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://content.declareyourself.com/images/media/g2data/albums/photos/silenceyourself/alba.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />This sexy ad featuring Jessica Abla is creating quite a vibration. The website Declareyourself.com a group that encourages young Americans to register and vote shows Alba in bondage, all tied up in tears. She does look stressed. I am sure there was no real torture here.<br />After the screaming and whipping the duct tape was removed from Jessica’s mouth, with tears running down her face she had this to say:<br /><br />“I really don’t see the point in not registering to vote. We sign up for MySpace pages and Facebook pages, and download music off the internet. The least people can do is register to vote online, actually making a difference in their world, not just making their lives a little bit cooler. It makes more sense to spend your time making a change in society—and it actually doesn’t take that much time! It takes more time to make a music playlist than it does to register to vote.”Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-53376563607753524942008-09-17T13:15:00.000+08:002008-09-17T13:16:02.564+08:00Better to think aheadA man lost in the desert, desperate for water, was trudging along when he saw something far off in the distance. Hoping to find water, he hurried towards it, only to find a little old man at a small stand selling ties.<br /><br />The lost man asked, "Do you have water?"<br /><br />The stall man replied, "I have no water. Would you like to buy a tie? They are only $5."<br /><br />The lst man shouted, I do not need an over-priced tie! I need water! I should kill you, but I must find water first!"<br /><br />"OK, OK" said the old man, "It does not matter that you do not want to buy a tie and that you hate me. I will show you that I am bigger than that. If you continue over that hill to the east for about two miles, you will find a lovely restaurant. It has all the ice cold water you need."<br /><br />Muttering, the man staggered away over the hill. Several hours later he staggered back, almost dead. <br /><br />"Your brother won't let me in without a tie!"Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-9527752052658076132008-09-09T13:34:00.002+08:002008-09-09T13:53:21.698+08:00The doctor is to be feared more than the diseaseSo after a weekend of painful elbows, I made an appointment to see my doctor, here in Hong Kong. I was fortunate to get an appointment the same day, and left work a little early to go see him.<br /><br />When I went into his surgery he greeted me with, "Hello Mr O, how are you, today?"<br />Surely it is blindingly obvious that, having made an appointment to see him that day, I haven't come to tell him that I am perfectly well.<br /><br />So I tell him that my left elbow is swollen and painful, but that the earlier proble I had with my knee is OK. So he looks at my elbow, moves my arm around, looks at other parts of me and asks me some questions. Then its time for the diagnosis, "well your elbow is inflamed".<br /><br />No shit, Sherlock! This is a great job, the patient tells you what's wrong and you turn it into medical language, "doctor, I have broken my leg", "yes, you have a fracture of the femur, that's 700 HKD please"<br /><br />Any way he is not sure why my elbow is inflamed, so he has given me loads of tablets and told me to come back in a fortnight. To give hime his due the tablets seem to be helping a little bit, but I am probably growing a massive stomach ulcer from all the anti-inflammatories I am shoving down my throat.<br /><br />As Voltaire said, “Doctors are men who prescribe medicines of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, in human beings of whom they know nothing”Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-34288506705044178602008-09-05T17:29:00.001+08:002008-09-05T17:41:52.208+08:00Do you like fish? Yes, of course?Tucked away behind Renmin Square, in Dalian, is Gao’erji Lu. This tree-lined avenue is unremarkable. It consists of a hotchpotch of different styles of architecture ranging from Stalinist era, gothic buildings to more modern, urban housing. Towards the eastern end of the street is a strip of bars and cafes, which includes the Bavarian Beer Hall. This is where I had arranged to meet Wendy, last night.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3193/2830408066_5e3260802b.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3193/2830408066_5e3260802b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />I arrived there early, and spend a little time looking around the area for photo opportunities, but these where hard to find, so I entered the cavern. Quite naturally, for China, it resembled nothing like a Bavarian Beer Hall, but was more akin to a Parisian café with a B&Q pine floor and Ikean tables and a wrought iron, spiral staircase. However, it had many saving graces: a good selection of German style beers, a plentiful supply of beer nuts, pleasant staff and modern music, played at a volume that didn’t prevent conversation.<br /><br />One of the girls, Yoyo, was extremely eye-catching. Fortunately they hadn’t tried to imitate Bavarian beer waitresses, as she didn’t have the build for it, but she was one of those beautiful girls that seem to be in abundance in Dalian. By the time she had poured my second glass of beer, Wendy arrived, directly from her dance class.<br /><br />We moved to a table at the back, and ordered some food. Wendy had a plate of salad, and I decided to try the selection of German sausages with sauerkraut and mashed potato. I was not expecting a great deal from this order, but I was pleasantly surprised; it seems they order their sausages direct from Germany. The serving was far too large for me, but it was very pleasant to tuck in to decent bangers and mash.<br /><br />The conversation turned to European food and different kinds of sausage. Some how I don’t think Wendy believed me when I told her about haggis. It may have been the part about it being a small Scottish animal that lives in the mountains, and because of the steep slopes, its front legs are shorter than its hind legs.<br /><br />After this, the conversation did turn to more profound things. This is one of the reasons that enjoy spending time with her; we are able to have a good conversation together. Of course it helps that she is attractive, but on the other hand she is married, so I can’t see us becoming more than good friends. Of course that doesn’t stop has having good fun, and the evening was good fun. The time came, eventually, when she had to head home to her husband and I headed back to the hotel. I did go down to the F2 Bar for a couple of drinks, but it was not very exciting, so eventually I retired to my hotel room.<br /><br />On the way through the security check at Dalian, today, the scanner operator spotted a lighter in my hand luggage, so the security lady asked me to give it hand it over to her, which, of course I did. As I left the security area, my colleague overheard her saying to the others, “Oh, he is such a handsome man”. Some of these Chinese ladies have very strange tastes. <br /><br />I wonder what they do with all these cigarette lighters that they collect at Chinese airports? Two airports, which I am aware of: Xiamen and Shenzen are to be praised for giving away free lighters to arriving passengers. These have been collected at security and are just recycled into the public domain. I wished that more airports in China adopted this practice. Of course it doesn’t help when I am flying to Hong Kong. At least, there, the smoking rooms normally have people who will give you a light.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-14797018110284553352008-09-04T17:42:00.001+08:002008-09-04T17:49:50.575+08:00Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat itI suppose that when you write a journal and post it on the internet, you should expect it to come back and bite you on the ass some time in the future. I have not posted on this blog for some time, mainly because I haven’t had anything I feel worthwhile sharing with my readers. So, you can imagine my surprise, when in a dark nightclub, I am approached by a girl and she tells me that she has read my blog!<br /><br />Fortunately, she seems to like what I have written, including what I have written about her. What is more surprising is that she has started to read the whole thing; going back to when I started it over two years ago. In typical direct Chinese style, she was asking me questions about Peanut, and the whole shebang.<br /><br />Well Chrissie, I am glad you are enjoying this, and I hope you enjoy your fame on the internet, and I hope you get something from it.<br /><br />I did ask her how she found my blog, and she said she was searching for something on the internet and found it with my photo, which she recognized. I wondered how my blog reached so far up the search engine listings – then I remembered that I used to spell Dalian as Dalain, and if Chrissie also made a mistake in her spelling then “Voila”Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-89058993981511656972008-07-30T06:30:00.000+08:002008-07-30T06:31:08.673+08:00Planet Battle<div><embed src="http://widget-41.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=2954361355560437313&site=widget-41.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:320px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2954361355560437313&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-41.slide.com/p1/2954361355560437313/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2954361355560437313&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-41.slide.com/p2/2954361355560437313/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&amp;at=un&amp;id=2954361355560437313&amp;map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-41.slide.com/m/2954361355560437313/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide9_1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&at=un&id=2954361355560437313&map=F" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-41.slide.com/p4/2954361355560437313/bb_t016_v000_s0un_f00/images/xslide42.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div>Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-21199735542505610712008-05-05T12:24:00.000+08:002008-05-05T12:26:44.728+08:00Hiding behind the WallThe Klu Klux Klan is the name given to a secret organisation in the southern United States, who, while hiding behind conic masks and white robes, used terrorism, violence and lynching to intimidate and oppress African Americans. The robes and masks were used to hide the true identities, and to provide anonymity as well as adding drama to their activities.<br /><br />There are many reasons why a person may want to chose to hide their identity and become anonymous. Several of these are legitimate, such as gifts to charity or tipping off the police about a crime.<br /><br />Anonymity in literature has a long history – before the advent of the printing press the namelessness of works was not unusual. Beowulf and Sir Gewain and the Green Knight, like most medieval literature, were anonymous. However, with the advent of print, it became an expectation of authorship.<br /><br />Authors hide behind the mantle of anonymity for a myriad of reasons: diffidence, fear of consequences, or shame. Some authors wrote works, where, if their true identity were known, could have lead to personal attack or accusations of sedition, punishable by torture and death. To me this is a justifiable use of the nom de plume Anonymous.<br /><br />In the age of the internet, most people hide behind a handle, which may or may not reveal part of their true identity; but at least with this handle you should be able to put an identity, true or perceived, to a message. To the person who uses the handle ‘Anonymous’, this is not possible. Of course, it is possible to find out part of someone’s IP address, etc. Having an IP address 218.xxx.xx.85 in Hong Kong, using a Mac and PCCW as an internet provider, tells me a little bit more, but I like the idea of a handle rather than an IP address. As Patrick McGoohan claimed in The Prisoner “I am not a number – I am a free man!”<br /><br />The zeitgeist of blogging is that we like to have an impression of the author, however, misleading or wrong that impression is. Readers use their knowledge of the author as a kind of short cut to interpretation.<br /><br />In 1968 Andy Warhol proclaimed that “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes.” It seems, today, that people who hide behind the tag ‘Anonymous’ are deliberately eschewing this view. <br /><br />One reason for this is that its easy to say the most scurrilous and unsubstantiated nonsense when hiding behind a non-name. In the same way that the kluxers wear hoods, to protect their identity and reputation, while they do their dirty deeds; on the internet too many people feel free to sling slander and lies while hiding behind the handle of ‘Anonymous’.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-25144378545937637232008-04-03T12:50:00.002+08:002008-04-03T13:19:43.783+08:00The working girls will be happy, tonightThe US Navy, or what appears to be a fair size part of it has arrived in Hong Kong:-<br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/81/USS_Nimitz_in_Victoria_Canada_036.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/81/USS_Nimitz_in_Victoria_Canada_036.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Multi-mission Aircraft Carrier Nimitz, complement 5,680, arrived at 08:45,<br /><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e9/USSPrincetonCG-59.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/e/e9/USSPrincetonCG-59.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Guided Missile Cruiser Princeton, complement 360, arrived at 09:25,<br /><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9b/USS_Higgins_DDG-76.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9b/USS_Higgins_DDG-76.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Guided Missile Destroyer Higgins, complement 338, arrived at 10:18,<br /><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/USSChafeeDDG-90.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f0/USSChafeeDDG-90.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Guided Missile Destroyer Chafee, complement 350, arrived at 10:22,and,<br /><br /><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/USS_John_Paul_Jones_DDG-53.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6b/USS_John_Paul_Jones_DDG-53.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Guided Missile Destroyer John Paul Jones, complement 338, arrived at 10:35.<br /><br />That's about 7,000 navy personnel to spend their money on shore - good for business. I think I will stay away from Wanchai for a few days. The navy guys are usually well behaved, but it does get crowded!Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-76261445863483750872008-03-22T16:15:00.005+08:002008-03-22T16:39:51.016+08:00Black beer with a creamy head<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2003/2350991721_2f9e7fd865.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2003/2350991721_2f9e7fd865.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Next weekend, I will be attending the Hong Kong Rugby Sevens Tournament. Hong Kong's, self-proclaimed, <a href="http://www.geocities.com/hkhemlock/papers.html">most obnoxious expat</a> calls this his "second-favourite occasion of the year, because every sweaty, blubbery gwailo in town has been interned in a stadium where they paint their faces, indulge in inebriated pagan chanting and watch hulking oafs run up and down a field, leaving the rest of the city a distinctly more pleasant place."<br />What will make it even more pleasant for me is that I didn't have to join the multitude, who queued up all night in December. I got mine by drinking beer. OK I don't normally drink Guinness, but since those kind people at Diageo have rewarded me with tickets, I may even change my tipple for the weekend, especially as G is now the official beer of the tournament for the next 3 years. So Mr H enjoy your pleasant city in the daytime, but watch out in the evening because the smell of b.o. and eggy-farts will be overpowering.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2177/2351822360_2fcb6ef329.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2177/2351822360_2fcb6ef329.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-33304909866003186522008-03-13T22:41:00.002+08:002008-03-13T22:44:19.922+08:00Some people would be modestBut I say I told you so.<br /><br />There is an international furror as Hong Kong has closed its schools to a flu bug; I mentioned it over a month ago <a href="http://octopuscard.blogspot.com/2008/02/phoenix.html">here</a><br /><br />Back in Hong Kong myself this weekend and looking forward to it.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-66642172390725631762008-03-09T16:34:00.002+08:002008-03-09T16:36:47.410+08:00OTOP gemstone scamI was in Bangkok today, and was nearly had by the gemstone scam.<br />Although it's widely known about, there maybe people around who haven't heard about it; so that's why I am repeating it here.<br />I had gone site seeing, taking the river boat from Saphan Taksin to Tha Tien. I spent a nice couple of hours wandering around Wat Po and the area around it.<br />I was walking past the Grand Palace (with no intention of going inside, I don't like the two tier pricing system: free for Thais, Farang pay 200 baht), when I was approached by an older Thai gent, who spoke very good English, who introduced himself as someone who worked in place security, going home at the end of his shift (alarm bell #1: this guy's English was just a little bit too good for a lower rank civil servant, I thought, but gave him the benefit of the doubt). He even showed me his ID card. (Alarm bell #2: The ID card was very poor. It looked like a photo copy of something that had been laminated and badly trimmed with a pair of scissors. he didn't give me any time to examine it; not that it would have meant anything as it seemed to be totally written in Thai). We started chatting and he asked me if I had been to see the Grand Palace (Alarm bell #3: why did he want to strike up a conversation with a sweaty farang, at the end of his shift? I would want to go home. I also thought that Thais do not normally strike up conversations with strangers). I told him that I didn't want to visit it as it was too crowded with Farangs. He laughed and agreed with me. He then suggested that I visit Wat Suthat, and that i was very lucky, as it was normally closed to the public, but was only open for a couple of days. (Alarm bell #4: What a coincidence that this wonderful temple is only open the day I arrive in Bangkok. Wat Suthat is open to the public [B]every[/B] day. OK I had to check on the internet for that one.)<br />He then drew me a map and said I should go to Wat Suthat, then go to the OTOP Centre to buy some gifts for my family, and then it was only a short distance to Victory Monument, where I could get the skytrain back to my hotel. All this sounded like a very good plan. The guy was very polite and seemed genuine.<br />I told him that I was heading back to the river to get a boat back to Saphan Thaksin, and he told me that it would be very busy, and I might have to wait 2-3 hours for a boat. (alarm bell #5: this sounded very improbable. As it happened I had to wait twenty minutes). <br />He told me about the OTOP store saying it was a royal factory and I could buy gemstones for my family. JACKPOT! Now I knew why he was being so polite, it was the old gemstones scam. He said i would be much better getting a tuktuk to the OTOP centre. He even offered to tell the tuk-tuk driver where to take me. I politely declined his kind offer and said i was going to sit in the shade and think of what to do next, he left and I avoided being part of a gemstone scam.<br />If you don't know what would have happened next you can find out <a href="http://www.angkor.com/2bangkok/2bangkok/Scams/Sapphire.shtml">here</a> and <a href="http://www.geocities.com/thaigemscamgroup/Intro/Scam.html">here</a>.<br />OK I was lucky enough to know about the scam and avoid it, but I feel sorry for tourists who might fall for it. Maybe its there last day in Thailand, and they get told the palace is closed for the day, and they miss out. Why do TAT, the Police and the palace allow these scammers to operate so blatantly?Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-79429453429182016112008-03-03T19:09:00.000+08:002008-03-03T19:10:49.657+08:00SundayOn the following morn, our blogger awoke and stretched. Ah, the first full day of his adventure, and he didn’t have to do anything at all, if he didn’t want to. What a wonderful lazy feeling. He opened the curtains to see that the golden sun was high in the sky and beating down. He thought that it was beating down a little to strongly for his liking.<br />He pulled on his colourful shorts, t-shirt and sandals, because this blogger liked to wear colourful clothes when he was on adventures. He sauntered out, because this blogger liked to saunter, it had a lazy feeling to the word, and he was feeling lazy, so he sauntered, and found a place where he could get some food.<br />After he had filled his stomach he continued to saunter along the beach, and he thought to himself that he was right, the sun was beating down a little too strongly, so he sought shelter in a massage parlour, where he had his wooly feet administered to by a delightful elve, who wanted to give him an oil massage. Our blogger thought to himself, “where’s the harm in that?”; so after an hour they headed out the back to the room where the oil massages were administered, and our blogger enjoyed himself some more.<br />So now a couple of hours had passed and our blogger didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasted some time looking around a shopping mall, but that really didn’t excite him. Then he remembered he had stashed a couple of large bottles of magic elixir in his fridge. He headed back to his temporary hole, extracted the bottles labeled Singha and spent some time by the secluded swimming pool.<br />That evening, when our blogger returned to Walking Street, things were back to normal. Trolls, elves and goblins were crying out, trying to entice mere mortals into their emporia: “Come inside, beautiful ladies”, “Welcome to the Lobster Pot”. “Hello handsum man, come inside for a drink” were just some of the cries that reverberated around the street. Others were accosting people in the street, trying to get them to buy their cheap, tacky trinkets at grossly inflated prices. This all added to the cacophony created by the music coming from stalls selling bootleg CDs and DVDs competing with the sound systems of the bars.<br />Our valiant adventurer was pleased to note that people were drinking from green and brown bottles, esconsed in foam condoms. The elixir, called beer was back on sale. He headed into one establishment on the street and consumed a plate of flat noodles with pork and green vegetables, all washed down with a pint of cold, draught Heineken. He would have tarried longer, but this particular bar had chosen to adopt the smoking ban recently put in force by law, but not enforced by the government.<br />Wandering around without a clear plan in his head, our blogger spotted a go-go bar he knew from his previous adventures, so he headed up Soi BJ and into TQ2. He found himself a table in the corner and took in the room. In the middle was a stage, with the obligatory chrome pipes reaching to the ceiling. On this stage seven ladies lazily shuffled their feet to the heavy rock music belting from the loudspeakers. They appeared to be more interested in eaking out the last remaining flavour of their chewing gum, than in entertaining the half dozen customers around the room.<br />The uniform on the stage was, well, nothing. The girls were absolutely naked, but had their knickers close to hand in case the wrong person came through the door. The age and looks of the girls would prevent them from winning any prizes at a beauty pageant. C section scars, sagging bellies and buttocks were evidence of standards being lowered.<br />Soon two ladies came and sat with our blogger. It seems a common strategy here that one will speak fairly good English, whilst the other struggles to understand the simplest phrases, apart from “do you want a drink?” They all understand that one! Introductions were made and drinks were bought. Friendly, inane chit-chat followed that, thankfully, went beyond “What’s your name? Where you from?”<br />Although the girls were pleasant enough, they didn’t pass our adventurers “Do-I-Want-To-Wake-Up-Next-To-Her” (DIWTWUNTH) Test. So when the girls had gone back to dance on the stage, our blogger settled his bill and quietly, slipped out the door and into the night.<br />Our blogger decided to head for safer, if slightly more expensive ground, and ended up at Angelwitch. The mamasans remembered him from his previous visit, and soon he was occupying a prime seat, enjoying the show with a cold beer. A few new dancers and a couple of new routines meant that he wasn’t bored by the naked flesh cavorting across the stage.<br />Sometime during the first show, one of the mamasans came over and explained that she had a new girl whose first night it was, and could the girl come and sit with him? The blogger, being a gentleman, was hardly going to turn down such gracious hospitality, and this young girl was ushered over. “She’s not new! I have seen her before.” declared our adventurer. “Where?” asked the mamasan with a confused expression on her face. The blogger pondered this riddle for a while, and concluded that he may have been mistaken, so he said “maybe it’s the bikini I have seen before, its very catching, especially on such a beautiful lady” Blushes and face saved all around, the young girl planted herself bown on the bench next to our blogger.<br />Gloin introduced herself; she claimed to be twenty-one years old and from issan. She said she used to work at Coyotees, but had been on holiday in Phuket for the last few months. “Not working there; on holiday”, she insisted.<br />After spending some time with her it was apparent that she fitted the bill for our adventurer, so whilst she got changed, he sorted out the bar fine and settled the check bin.<br />A small issue when they tried to leave, was the waitress claiming that she given our questor too much change. Fortunately he was not so “mao” that he could tell the mamasan exactly how much the bill was, how much the change, and what tip he had given the waitress. He and his fair maiden were allowed to leave the cage unharmed; he did wonder, briefly if the waitress was trying to scam him, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, as he may want to go back to that treasure trove some time later on his adventure.<br />They returned to his cave, where the sexual tension was thick, you could have cut it with a knife. “Come on”, she said, “join me in the shower”.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-62346176064290376942008-03-02T10:09:00.000+08:002008-03-02T10:11:30.483+08:00There and Back Again Chapter One - Apologies to JRR TolkienIn a hole above the ground there lived a blogger. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a blogger hole, and that means comfort.<br />This blogger had lived in the neighbourhood for some time, and people considered him very respectable, not only because he was comfortably off, but also because he never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what this blogger would say on any question without the bother of asking him.<br />This is the story of how a blogger had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours’ respect, but he gained – well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.<br />By some curious chance one afternoon long ago in the quiet of the office, when there was less noise and more green, , and the blogger was sitting at his desk after lunch, tapping away at his computer, because the smoking of enormous long wooden pipes that reach nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed) is forbidden– when his boss Gandalf came by. Gandalf ! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion.<br />‘‘Good afternoon!’’ said the blogger, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows.<br />‘‘What do you mean?’’ he said. ‘‘Do you wish me a good afternoon, or mean that it is a good afternoon whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this afternoon; or that it is an afternoon to be good on?’’<br />‘‘All of them at once,’’ said the blogger.<br />‘‘Very pretty!’’ said Gandalf. ‘‘But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this afternoon. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.’’<br />‘‘I should think so – in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them,’’ said our blogger, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, because he was fat in the stomach and had to wear braces to keep his brightly coloured trousers up.<br />Gandalf drew himself up to his full height, that wasn’t very tall, since he was a shortish wizard and started to explain to the blogger, “Across the see and over the mountains and still further over some plains there will be a great gathering at a place called the City of Angels. This meeting will be opened by a fair princess and I have to attend this meeting to cast some spells, but I need someoneone to attend the meeting as well.”<br />Well the blogger startled to chortle to himself, and declared, “I am your man”, because this blogger wasn’t going to pass up on a chance to visit the Land of Smiles, especially when a wizard was paying.<br />The blogger continued “Pray, tell me Gandalf, what is the name of this gathering?”. Gandalf replied”It goes by the strange name of Pipetech 2008, and it is a great gathering of people involved in our business that is held every two years in strange lands”. Of course the blogger knew exactly what the meeting was; he was stalling for time while he devised a plan.<br />“This seems like a worthy adventure for me,” he declared, “In order to prepare myself for this, I shall go and acclimatize in the Elysian Fields for a week before hand”<br />Gandalf told him that he was showing his true worth for the adventure by making such a clever plan.<br />So several weeks later our valiant blogger sets off on his quest carrying a lot more than three handkerchiefs, what is more he didn’t have to fight any trolls on his journey, and the only thing resembling a dragon that he saw was the airplane that carried him to Bangkok. To make his journey even better, the blogger was upgraded to business class for the journey.<br />Very soon he had found a nice concrete hole with a swimming pool to stay at for his week halfway between Jomtien and Pattaya. That evening he decided to head into town. When he reached the town, something was different. All the gogos were closed, with magical signs on the doors that our valiant blogger couldn’t read. There were some bars open, but the only lights came from above the pool tables, and the people in the bars were drinking strange concoctions such as sprite, orange juice and coke. And it was quiet, ever so quiet. The only music came from stalls that were selling CDs and DVDs.<br />Our blogger went in search for some nourishment, and quickly he was sat at a table wolfing down some pad kaprow, which wasn’t really spicey enough for him, but it filled the hole in his ample stomach. Now he was happy, a full stomach. He needed to find some entertainment.<br />Strolling down Walking Street, carefully avoiding the small children selling fluorescent bangles, old ladies selling flowers and swarthy looking men advertising ping-pong shows, he carefully looked around, and then down an alley he spotted a sign that he recognized. Hope at last for some company and entertainment. He turned down the side street and carefully avoided the sleeping troll, side stepped the speeding motorcycles and sauntered past the food stalls selling unimaginable bite size snacks.<br />He soon reached the door of the place he was heading for, and a mighty fine door it was too, made of blackened glass and guarded by two people. Our blogger suddenly recalled reading about a new smoking law in Thailand, so before he committed himself to entering he asked if he could smoke his long pipe inside, he was told that he could. He entered and looked around to take in the scenery. In the middle of the room was a bar and surrounding the bar were several Thai ladies, some quite beautiful and some not so pretty. He sauntered up and sat on a stool that was vacant between two girls. Very quickly a waitress approached and asked if he wanted a drink. Our blogger said that a little beer would suit him, but the waitress just shook her head, and our blogger settled for some coke light. Then he remembered, they were electing a panel of wizards the next day and the whole country had to stay sober in case an evil wizard was elected by mistake. The two girls next to him introduced themselves as Flori and Nori, and very soon they were all talking away about mines and gold and troubles with the goblins, and the depredations of dragons, and lots of other things which he did not understand. Well they may well have been, because our blogger didn’t really care, he was back in Thailand with a smile on his face and in the company of some beautiful ladies. He bought them drinks, nam som and mipo seemed to be the flavour on this tequila free night. <br />After a while our blogger got bored of sitting in a bar and asked Nori, or was it Flori? to accompany him back to his hole for the night. In a very short time they were back, wearing no clothes, roaring like lions, howling like wolves and romping on the bed like a stormy sea.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-77503087160113106582008-02-21T12:47:00.001+08:002008-02-21T12:49:27.626+08:00New, innovative, old technologySomeone left a comment on my other blog, it goes like this:- "Fuel is the adrenaline of any car, truck or engine. Thus, it is every vehicle owner's wish to enhance the fuel of their car and save more of it as well. With this in mind, the most innovative fuel-saving tool in the automotive industry was conceptualized and created: the Tornado Fuel saver. An automotive air channeling tool that <em>creates a swirling air motion</em>, the Tornado Fuel Saver allows the <em>air to move in a faster and more efficient way </em>by whirling air around corners and bends. Hence, more fuel is saved."<br /><br />Sounds like a turbo-charger to me.....Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-65763421866902153392008-02-19T10:38:00.002+08:002008-02-19T10:53:24.811+08:00Monsieur Impoli<a href="http://www.javno.com/slike/slike_3/r2/g2008/m02/y30163729994220261.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.javno.com/slike/slike_3/r2/g2008/m02/y30163729994220261.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Of course I have heard the stereotype of the rude French, and I have dismissed it. There are rude and polite people in every nation, and most of the French people I have met are far from rude, maybe a little distant to start with, but certainly not rude.<br />In a recent remake of the Mr Men series, for British TV, Mr. Rude was given a french accent. This was not intended to cause offence, and was meant to be light hearted and tongue in cheek. Unfortunately, it got blown out of all proportions when a French Embassy official decided to comment that a farting cartoon character with a Gallic accent called Mr. Rude will not improve relations with Britain. How petty, its a kids' TV series - get a life.<br />Today I met a rude Frenchman; I was outside our office block, having a cigarette, when I was approached by a Frenchman demanding to know if the building was numbber one one eight. So I told him that it was number 168. Then he demanded to know where 118 was. I asked him "Do i look like a postman? How should I know? Try over there" pointing towards Central. He then demands to know if its far, so I said that not only wasn't I a postman, i wasn't a guide either and that I had no idea how far it was - seems strange he just stormed off - not a please or a thank you. Yes i may have been rude, but he started it.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-55378947700483425682008-02-19T10:14:00.002+08:002008-02-19T10:25:51.565+08:00Methinks the lady doth protest too muchEnjoying my stroll along Stanley Street, on the way from work, yesterday, I noticed in the window of Ultimate PC & Mac gallery large posters stating that they had nothing to do with the Edison Chen scandal, and that it was another shop with the same address. Of course it was eLite Media, next door. Though, I got to thinking having two large posters in the shop window, what does it achieve? Do they really think that if EC had bought his computer into their shop and they had found the photos that they wouldn't have done something similar?<br />Ultimate is a great shop, and I have bought from them before, but now, with their "holier than our next door neighbour" attitiude, I am thinking twice about going there. I would probably go to eLite, on the same premise that the cleanest restaurant is the one that was recently closed down by the health authorities and allowed to re-open.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-68522166990823272142008-02-18T11:22:00.004+08:002008-02-18T11:45:57.870+08:00The Loneliness of the Long Distance RunnerWhen I was studying English Literature at school, I was forced to read Alan Sillitoe's short story. It's not really about running, but more a socialist moral fable.<br />Still, the title is common enough to make people think of long distance runners as solitary, bona-fide introverts, obsessive individuals who don't mind pain. This is contrasted by the fact that nearly 43,000 people took part in the Hong Kong long distance races, yesterday. It seems to me that long distance running is quite a social affair.<br />Respect though to one of my colleagues, Ken, who despite being in his seventh decade, took part in the ten kilometre race, and finished withing fifteen minutes of the winning time. Even more respect to the fact the race started at twenty past five in the morning, and after the race, he went off sailing. Of course I only have his word that he took part as he lost his timing chip, so he won't be receiving a certificate. But knowing Ken, he took part - he's too honest to lie about it. Me? I couldn't even get up that early, let alone run in a race at that time.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25690622.post-32398202286102298322008-02-17T04:38:00.002+08:002008-02-17T04:56:16.954+08:00Leica MateAs you may be aware, I am a bit of a shutterbug. I have acquired a frightening amount of camera gear, since I have arrived in Hong Kong. Most weekends will find me weighed down with a camera bag, tripod and all sorts somewhere in Hong Kong taking photos.<br />Last week I acquired a new digital camera, the Leica M8. It's a rangefinder camera, which is quite different from the SLRs I normally use. One of its advantages is its size; not only is the camera smaller, but the lenses are too.<br />Yesterday, I went around Central taking pictures. Its a great camera, not easy to use. Focussing is a pain in low light situations, but overall I was impressed. There are situations where the SLR will beat it hands down, but it definitely has a place in my armoury.<br />During my walk I noticed that the old Central Police Station was open to the public, as it was hosting an exhibition, so I took a look. The building, especially the jail, was very interesting. It was a little bit difficult to get a true feeling of how the place was, as the exhibits tended to dominate everything. Some of the exhibits were very interesting. Its a sort of cross between an architecture/design exhibition and a protest against modern decay in Hong Kong and how to preserve Hong Kong's heritage.<br />There were several people there with large camera bags and tripods, and me walking around with my camera which fits into a baggy pocket on my jacket.Lukehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13490047818297606512noreply@blogger.com0