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My first foray into Hong Kong nightlife was with co-workers. And if you read my “lessons from Hong Kong” entry, you know it was the night I learned about pacing myself at the bars. Needless to say I made quite an impression on my new office mates. The art of Hong Kong nightlife is the barhopping and ability to move seamlessly from one to another, covering as much ground as possible along the way. This night started at Staunton’s Bar, an ex-pat meat-market guaranteed to make you lose sight of the fact you’re even in an Asian city. Crossing the street we grabbed a few pints at The Spot, your basic run of the mill football and rugby bar. Now eating is important during these marathon evenings, so we went to Cru, a decent restaurant run by some Aussies on Staunton. Next up was Feather Boa. I need to create a notable pause here. I LOVE this bar. In fact, every girl loves this bar and therfore guys love it too It’s pretty much the coolest boudoir of a lounge ever; French décor, candlelit, tiny, no sign on the front, pineapple bellinis that simply make you happy, and a varied but attractive crowd of ex-pats and locals. Because of its signless nature, no tourist could find this bar - so its got that going for it. After Feather Boa the names and places get a little fuzzy. I do know we ended up somewhere in LKF dancing to bad music, drinking more champagne, downing a few shots, smoking what felt like a pack of cigarettes, and if memory serves, saying some wildly inappropriate things to the man who would one week later be named my new boss. I think the Club was called Drop. Aside from putting my foot in my mouth, the evening had been, I discovered later, a truly typical Hong Kong night.
When I woke up Saturday, I realized I would have to avoid mixing co-workers and alcohol for a while. I had this epiphany that I needed to make other friends so I wouldn’t come off as socially needy to a group of people who are simply, not by their own choice, stuck with me. So to www.geoexpat.com I went.
My first evening out was the result of a post in the “meet and greet” section of the geoexpat forums. It was titled “calling architects / designers / etc.” Now I am neither an architect nor a designer, but I fall into the “etc.” category quite well. The thread was speaking to creative types avoiding the ex-pat suits that troll the city, and more notoriously LKF. Nothing wrong with brokers and bankers but dear god, I do not need to know how much you make within twenty minutes of meeting you. The gathering was held at a coffee/wine house that doubled as an artists studio. Like Feather Boa, the place is not one you "stumble" upon. There are a lot of bars like that in Hong Kong, making it very important to meet some people who already know there way around a bit. It was a lively group of sixteen and led by a vivacious jewelry designer who had grown up in London. It had all the elements of a “creative” meeting; a German not-for-profit art gallery manager who felt the need to tell me why America and Nike, the company that pays my bills, are viewed around the world as evil. Luckily with my glass of wine in hand and a room full of new people, I handled the criticism beautifully. There was the architect who had originally started this elitist thread; he struck me as a tad cynical, but I barely talked to him so that may be a bit harsh. There was a guy from San Francisco who reminded me of a guy I used to date; very "Berkley", into music, so laid back you had to question it. There was the very nice local girl who was a graphic designer and clearly enjoyed the transient nature of her city. There was a gay couple from Perth – I think they were gay. (If they’re reading this and they were just friends, my bad.) And there was a graphic designer for the Asia edition of the Wall Street Journal whose parents were from Hong Kong, but who had grown up in Brooklyn. When we were done with this classroom like studio a few of us moved on to a more club like atmosphere in Causeway Bay – again, I couldn’t find the bar we went to if there was a gun pressed against the small of my back, but it was an 8-story building, each floor with a different themed bar, nice views from the upper floors. I belive we were on the seventh floor and it was called House. We proceeded to get a bit tipsy. I went to sleep with a smile. I had hung out with people I didn’t work with.
Jewelry designer (JD) and Wall Street Journal (WSJ) called me later that week and we planned a Thursday evening out; a Thursday evening that somehow turned into my first bender in Hong Kong. We planned to meet up to see a few “canto punk” bands at a bar called Underground (yes I said “canto-punk”). It had been a rough mental day for me and when WSJ asked me how I was, a simple question, I started crying. But that got it out of my system. The bands were funny, one good, two not my style. Berkley was there and was actually incredibly cool (proof I need to re-meet the cynical architect, I’m sure he is really a good guy – curse me for being so quick to judge). When we were done with that bar, JD told me there was another geoexpat evening going on in Kennedy Town, did we want to go – of course! A few more drinks wouldn’t hurt. Once there, it was uphill or downhill depending on how you look at it. The people were awesome and the evening went from “fun” to “thank god I met normal people I can seriously drink with”. We proceeded (all 20+ of us) to get completely blitzed on Stella Artios (I’ve really been embracing the local culture, huh?) I met a lovely girl from Australia who got down to some critical business upon glancing at my chest – “can I ask you a personal question – where do you buy your bras?” Upon which I answered, “I would love to help you, but I stocked up in the states – god knows Asian sizing does not include a double d.” Her face crest-fallen she introduced me to her older brother and took another drink. These two lovelies decided an after-party at there parents apartment in Pok Fu Lam was in order. The evening went from a group of drunk strangers to a group of total train wrecks. There were a few humorous hook-ups, much drunk living room dancing and an unfortunate incident with a lizard who lost his tale and the party-goer whose sole obsession became saving the said lizard. Yes, I think she remembered in the morning that lizards don’t actually die when they lose their tales……. but there was no convincing her of this biological fact at 5:00am in the morning (yes, I said 5:00am in the morning). I will go no further with detail; they seem somehow inappropriate for a public blog. I got home at noon. Good times. That was Thursday. There are 48 hours more of this story.
Geo-Expat internet friends -- can you believe how attractive and normal they are!
So four days prior to Thursday (that would make it Sunday – god I use too many words) I had decided to post my first “event” on geoexpat. A cinco de mayo dinner party at iCarumba!, a decent Mexican place on Elgin Street in Soho. I’ll break from the story to note the uncanny excitement I had for this American/Western holiday. There are some observed holidays in the US that are simply important to me; 4th of July, Memorial Day, Labor Day – these represent America’s nationalism; if you have a social security number, you’re in. But all of a sudden, when you’re living abroad, observing the sub-cultural holidays become really important; St Patrick’s Day must be celebrated because all Americans are about 1/10th Irish. Cinco de mayo becomes important because Mexican culture is part of the Western US. Bastille Day speaks to your inherently rebellious nature, boxing day…....okay I've never actually celebrated Bastille Day and I don’t even know what Boxing Day is, but you get my point. Hence a cinco de mayo gathering -- and just note that in my head the evening was no longer just about pico de gallo and tequila, it was about that fateful day in 1862 when 4,000 Mexican soldiers defeated the French army of 89,000 at Puebla. And of course as a self-appointed ambassador to all things North American, I told people this. Anyway, it was a fun group of twenty or so – enough people that we had to overflow to a different non-Mexican restaurant – I think they still managed to find tequila though.
We had been split in two different groups; the Thursday night crowd getting over their hangovers hair of the dog style at a restaurant called Wildfire, and me with the group I hadn't met yet; they were a slightly quieter group and luckily couldn;t grasp how much I was hurting -- the margaritas helped! When dinner was complete there was that slight awkwardness that happens when a bunch of strangers say goodnight or fumble to decide if they're going to stick together for another drink. I was antsy to get back to the group I already knew -- and of course the cute Australian from Thursday who I was ready to flirt with again.
iCarumba on Elgin Street
So the two groups did merge back together to head off to Gecko, one of my new favorites in Central. It’s in an alley that in any other city would be part of the “girls beware” video, but in Hong Kong, its just another safe place to walk. The alley is off of Hollywood Road and under the escalator. It’s a very ex-pat crowd, owned by a French guy with a Pomeranian, provides a a very comfortable space and plays good music - I keep going back so it must be good. People started to come and go at this point, the group from Thursday night of course were the last men standing. We eventually made our way to Bulldogs in LKF. Did I not tell you that every night somehow gets you back to LKF. Thank god I live up the street. Easy crawling. So I’ll sum up Bulldogs for you; massive amounts of beer, a DJ with a questionable playlist of pop from the 80’s and early ’90s, a group of girls dead set on listening to Whitney Houston and Robbie Williams (some Brits really do have crap taste in music), and one girl in particular who loves dancing on a chair with a dead microphone. All of these details made for a truly spectacular evening. Then we - **edited part** - and then - **edited part** - and then the sun came up.
One of my favorites, Gecko, off of Hollywood Rd. under the elevator
Bulldogs on LKF
The quantity of drinks and the time I actually crawled into bed tapered off with each night, so by Saturday I respectively met a co-worker and her boyfriend for a pint at The Spot. After the beers and a half a pack of cigarettes (I've smoked so much I'm starting to sound like a man), they introduced me to a new guilty pleasure; the hot dog stand under the escalators. Oh so good snack to prepare the stomach for a night of drinking; sauerkraut, relish, ketchup.....tasty. We then walked across the cobblestones to Yumlu, quite a cool little sleek bar playing ambient house music – mostly local hipsters. It’s kind of off Hollywood Road down yet another little alleyway. It's alongside one of a million city parks, so the crowd overflows to the brick terraces. Totally worth the trip! We finished off the night by walking down the brick stairs of the park and dropping into Baby Buddha, a great little half-indoor, half-outdoor bar with a mellow crowd. What makes it charming is the little Buddhist prayer-shrine next store. The smell of incence wafts through the bar making for a great end to any evening. Order a bottle of Tsing Tao and you can create a nice little reminder that you're in Asia. I was in bed by a very respectable 2:00am – the sun was not yet up – very impressive – I am such a disciplined soul, don’t you agree? Well, don’t you?? Hello?!?! Is anyone there………..
Yumlu - A hip little bar with DJ's who provide some pretty good house
The park that Yumlu uses as an annex on crowded nights. Its stairs lead down to Baby Buddha and eventually LKF
guilty little pleasure between the alleys that house gecko and yumlu
