The 100th Floor

And then I was like... Oh yeah, hi. Day three, right? Right. It got off to a rocky start considering that, on top of my feet being sore from yesterday, I managed to injure my toe in the tiny shower/toilet cubicle. The entirety of the apartment I am occupying for the week is roughly the size of my bedroom at home. But I am not complaining. I understand that space is a premium in a city that has an area about two thirds that of Houston while maintaining more than three times the population. But ow.

As for the goings on of the day, just like my life, I had no real plans. I was just going to wing it. And wing it I did. With mixed results.

No idea where I am going

I had read about a small restaurant that had opened recently down the road from the apartment and decided to check it out. Unfortunately, for the second time, this place was not open. Unlike yesterday, however, someone was there to inform me that they would be open for business tomorrow. Pencil that one in on my imaginary calendar.

I walked around aimlessly through the streets trying to find a restaurant to have a bite, but they all seemed to be filled to the brim like dishes I throw in the sink and fill with water to fool myself into thinking I'm just letting them soak until I get a chance to clean them. This is where that space as a premium comes in again. There is by no means a shortage of food options in Hong Kong, but many of them are small shops with a kitchen the size of one in your apartment and a dining area the size of a large parking space.

I did find a place, though. A Japanese restaurant on Hillier called Hakodate. Its wait staff was very nice and helpful, despite my shortcomings in Chinese and theirs in English. I ordered some ramen with cuts of pork and enjoyed my second meal in three days. I was busy.

From there, I continued on my aimless journey to discover whatever there was to discover. Like a pioneer exploring the unknown even though it was clearly already very well known by many other people. You know, like an American.

More taxis than you can shake a stick at before being hit

I eventually found myself by the piers where an armada of ferries could take any person any place they could dream of. As long as their dreams were limited to the numerous islands of Hong Kong and Macau. My dreams were well within that epic scope, and I hopped a ride to Tsim Sha Tsui on the opposite side of the harbor. I'm sorry. Harbour. Because Britain.

Once I got to the other side, the only natural thing I could think to do was look back to where I came from.

toot toot

From where I stood on the pier, I could see more closely a looming pillar that was hard to miss even from the top of Victoria Peak. It was the International Commerce Centre and location of my next destination, Sky100. On the 100th floor of the building is an observation deck with a 360 degree view of the city. Not unlike Tokyo SkyTree in... I forget... Toronto? Something like that. One thing that cannot be mistaken is the amazing view.

The view was so nice that it made me completely forget about the taxi driver who brought me there. On top of driving like he and his Toyota Crown were in the filming of a Cantonese rip off of Fast and Furious, he was not at all happy that I didn't speak Chinese. I was able to inform him of where I needed to go, and though I can't carry a conversation in Chinese, I know when someone is talking shit. I bring it up because of the polar opposite experience of the taxi back to the pier. An old man, born at the very least before the end of the last dynasty, also speaking no English, kindly looked at my phone with a magnifying glass and began his smooth and calm drive to the docks so I could catch the ferry.

The remainder of the evening had me running to a market to get some things to eat at the apartment instead of struggling to find food every day. Of course, what I did not realize until I got back was that there were no utensils in the apartment. Third meal: scheduled for tomorrow.