Jan 5, 2010
It wasn't that ChungKing was so bad to me this far, it was just that it had the potential to be tremendously worse if given the chance. And then, I started to notice the signs. Typical scenario: I'm moving through the halls towards my room, Indians tapping me on the shoulder, "Yes, miss (nodding) copy watch, copy handbag here for you, Miss. Yes." No eye contact. "Ok. Hash cookie, Miss? Ah Yes, for you."
Haha, maybe any other time? I may have considered it.
Nigerians, huddled together on the opposite ends of the hallway, scanning and searching seemingly plotting, and about to go for a tackle. (Chinese swear that Chungking is the only place in HK, you can find a terrible representation of Africans.) Standing there, I can't top squirming and fixing, getting rid of the eyes all around me. I can't wait for the elevator any longer and duck into the stairwell. Walking up 5 flights, I swear there is blood on the wall at the 3rd rail, but this is the only and last time I will acknowledge the possibility of whatever substance it is.
I stayed out the entire afternoon that day, just so I wouldn't have to go back.
At around 7pm, I finally got a hold of Aaron to plan my escape. I went back to the room, wrapped up everything in the backpack, and took the ferry over to Hong Kong island. Aaron's apartment was in Aberdeen on Tin Wan Pai Road, Hong Kong island. I didn't finally get there until about 10pm, and had absolutely no clue where I was because I was so dead-beat tired and completely passed out in the cab for the 30 miinute trip.
His apartment reminded of something that I may have found in Tokyo. Or, from what Tokyo seems like in the movies. It had an extremely contempo, modern, futuristic feel to it. Super clean, white, boxy, with coffee tables made out of glass,and lots of windows. The couch wasn't that comfortable. It was a firm rectangle box with fabric.
But it didn't matter to me, I could have slept on a rock at that point.