Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 5

And so we come to the last section of our five-part Hong Kong miniseries. It's been great having you along for the ride but please put your seats in the upright position and restore your tray tables. And since planes seem to keep on flying another half an hour after these useless announcements, I'm just going to keep on writing.

On our second to last day Elliot went to to explore one of the islands near Hong Kong. He'd wanted to rent a bike and ride around and had planned on it since way before the trip so I said he should just go for it. Since I felt like hell, and not on high heels like the subject of the eponymous Motley Crue song, I decided it was time for more relaxation. I went off to find out exactly what foot reflexology entailed. According to Wikipedia, reflexology is an alternative medicine, complementary, or integrated method of treatment involving the physical act of applying pressure to the feet and hand with specific thumb, finger and hand techniques without the use of oil or lotion. It is based on what reflexologists claim to be a system of zones and reflex areas that they say reflect an image of the body on the feet and hands, with the premise that such work effects a physical change to the body. There were signs ALL OVER the city for it. Complete with neon-lit images of blinking feet. Now, I hate feet. I think they're gross and yucky and just bleh. But, I was willing to push aside my feet prejudices in the name research. Maybe by rubbing a certain area of my foot they could make me not quite so congested. And I really wanted a massage. Maybe one that didn't leave marks.

Our hotel was connected to a bigger one, it was like the satellite branch except they were right next to each other. Good job Hong Kong. So I went to their spa. It was on the bottom floor and made up of a series of rooms connected by short passageways. It was like a very dimly lit labyrinth where people went to get pampered and didn't come back alive. I said I wanted foot reflexology, a massage, and a manicure. I'm a girl, deal with it. They led me to a one person couch that was so comfy. Beaded curtains separated the hallway into partitions that each had a couch. They made makeshift rooms and each "room," had a couch, a table and small TV mounted on the wall. They gave me some tea and then I soaked my feet in warm water. The lady in charge of my treatments asked if I wanted the TV on and I said sure. They gave me little earphones, set the channel to National Geographic where a show about India was starting, then had me lean back and prop my feet up on a footstool.

And then I saw the DO NOT SCREAM sign. I'm not kidding. There was a sign fixed right across from me that read exactly that. Good grief, what did I get myself into?

Bliss. I got myself into bliss. Oh good God, it felt good. I mean, I don't know how "healed" I was, but it definitely felt nice. She rubbed my ankles and massaged my calves (who has knots in their calves? Me, apparently) and just applied the best amount of pressure to ease up my poor little feets. Plus, the show about India was really good. I learned all about cow wranglers. And then came a show about the tallest building in the world, Taipei 101, and I learned all about it. It has a special window-washing system made personally for it.

The reflexology took about an hour after which they graciously asked me if I need to use the bathroom (I did. I drank a lot of green tea) and then led me to the massage chamber where I changed into the same kimono top and shirts the other place had. And then I had the most miserable massage experience of my life. I'm not a hypochondriac or a fussy person. When I'm sick, and I say I'm sick, I am honestly sick. So when I had to lie on my stomach with my head propped on the padded toilet seat thing they have on massage tables for your face, all my mucus drained to the front of my head. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't sniffle without making a lot of noise and I could feel everything dripping. I couldn't even enjoy the massage because I was too busy silently willing my sinuses to cooperate. They didn't. At one point, I had a droplet splash down through the face hole of the massage table onto the ground. I felt so sorry for the poor Chinese lady having to touch the diseased white girl. But bless her she finally gave me tissues and had me rest my head on the side. That didn't work. I got a coughing attack and kept jerking around as she was trying to rub. Finally, she had me on my back and even tried to rub my sinuses but nope, I just felt too gross and too miserable. Thankfully it was over soon but I couldn't even hang my head and make my escape. I had my damn manicure. I was led back to my armchair (DO NOT SCREAM) and it was a different girl and I had the stupid glitter OPI nail polish that took about half an hour for her to remove. Then she basically scythed my cuticles with one blade of the nail scissors as I watched horrified. She left me there, after she was done applying whatever weird chemical-y nail polish she put on me, so my nails could dry but I just paid up and made my escape. It smudged. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

Elliot got back a little after I did and he was sun-burnt and a little let-down, as per Hong Kong usual. There were no bikes but he did get a lot of pictures. We hung out for a little while, got free coffee at the hotel's terrace cafe and then decided to give Indian food anther try. We found a place on the 6th floor of a building in Wan Chai and had a pretty decent meal. Much better than the Indian bazaar where I'm pretty sure I watched a woman agree to certain "services," for a creepy Indian man. I'm not just making this up either. Elliot missed the whole thing but I watched the man come in, talk to the woman (who I think was Malaysian. Definitely not Indian or Chinese), smile as she nodded, leave as she told him to go wait outside because she had food coming, and then come back in and inquire several times as to what was keeping her food to the girl working. When the woman got her food, he escorted her out. Something fishy definitely went on. After dinner we finally made it up to the Peak. It was so dark and the city was so beautifully lit, it was truly a spectacular view. Everyone should see it at some point in their lives. Of course, there was a lame couple making out like they'd never seen tongues before. We yelled, "EWWWW," at them. We are very mature.

It was with a hacking cough and more rib pain that I woke up on our last day. Elliot kept trying to convince me that we needed a doctor but I waved him off. We had presents to buy and bird markets to see. Though, I did get a little apprehensive about going to a Chinese bird market while sick. I mean, I joked about SARS and the bird flu but... we were in China and I had been growing steadily worse for the last ten days. I drank my weight in liquids though and off we went.

Hong Kong has a lot of markets. They have the fruit and vegetable markets set up on the streets during the day on Queen's Road where Elliot and I bought delicious crisp apples and sweet bananas. They have the night markets in Mong kok, the most crowded place on Earth, where they sell everything from vibrators to paintbrush sets to Super Mario figurines (we got them for our friends). They also have the two animal markets where, for once, you don't actually eat the animals. These are the bird market (or gardens as they were called) and the goldfish market. We went to the bird market first. It was this little area that had all sorts of birds in pretty wooden cages. There were African grey parrots I made Elliot take pictures of for my cousin who has one so she can see Gypsy's (that's his name. He's 19) Chinese cousins, and so many little budgies and parakeets. I think I saw some myna birds as well as blue and yellow Macaus, my favorite kind of parrots. It was a little uncomfortable seeing so many birds crammed into the cages though. Elliot is kind of a bleeding heart when it comes to animals, more so than I am, so we didn't really linger.

The goldfish market was amazing. I admit, I was kind of ambivalent about it because let's face it, goldfish are kind of boring. My family has had one goldfish or another in the house since I was a child and they just don't really excite me. Not like turtles, haha. But the market was not so much as a market as one street with all the shops next to each other and they all had rows and rows of plastic bags filled with water and fish on display right outside. Beyond just goldfish there were several other kinds of fish for sale too, including some really weird spotted ones. Of course, there were turtles too. I could've stayed and stared at everything for hours. We saw a little case of bright yellow frogs just swimming about like froggies do. This street also had pet shops and of course, I had to look at them. Elliot's stomach turned at all the kittens and dogs and bunnies on display, and I tried to make him feel better in between squealing. They wouldn't stock so many (and put them all together, like 7 kittens in one small enclosure) if there wasn't such a high demand, right? They probably sell them fast. But then I got distracted by a window filled with bunnies and stood there cooing. As we walked by apparently there was a giant bucket of guts right next door. I'm glad I didn't see it. Though it was odd that there were so many seafood restaurants next to the pet stores. I assured Elliot that the giant store with the big pawprint on the sign was probably just another pet store not a restaurant... thanks Hong Kong :D !

We'd finally managed to get in contact with Nikki and she asked if we were free that night. We were going to go to Jumbo, the famous restaurant that had a version in Boston, because it was our last chance to that night. But, we decided we could fit her in too so we used the free Internet at a Pacific Coffee Company (sort of like a Starbucks) to send her a message asking her to meet us at 8 p.m. by the clock tower in the Kowloon harbor. We went to lunch back on the Hong Kong side at this small, Chinese (doi big surprise) restaurant. A guy sitting next to us told us to get the set menus because they were cheaper and really good and told the waiter to give us the menus. The waiter got all fussy but did it and we ended up eating some of the best food on the whole trip. Noodles in clear, spicy broth and crispy pork in a honey glaze with fresh, crunchy cucumbers in garlic. Yeah, it was delicious. We spent the rest of the afternoon getting gifts including personalized stamps for each of our dads. We had to give the man an hour to make them so we made a plan. We'd go over to the Kowloon side for Elliot's final fitting and to give them the hotel address to deliver the suits (and free beer!), then come back and get the stamps, then make our way to the bus station to go and finally see Jumbo, then either take a cab or the bus back to Kowloon to meet Nikki, even though she hadn't responded back to us yet.

Elliot's suits were great and the tiny store was filled with energetic Indian men, all friendly and personable and measuring various customers. The stamps were made; my dad's with a carved horse on top (he loves horsies) and Elliot's dad's with a pig as he was born in the year of, and so we trudged back to the bus station. We'd had trouble finding the right bus earlier in the week but luckily, it was right there so we hopped on for a merciful half hour of sitting down. I was next to this kid playing, according to Elliot, God of War and he was not doing so well, also according to Elliot who was watching from behind us.

When we got to our stop it was right by the water. A few steps and we could see out towards some lights just floating in the middle. Jumbo. So we walked. We walked for half an hour and ended up at some car service district with no sign of water anywhere. Where the hell was it?! How do you get to the damn restaurant!? Finally, we gave up and went to pee at some food court we found. Needless to say, we were danm exhausted and we were pretty far from where we had to be so we found a bus stop rather than a cab and decided to just take it to the pretty much the end of the line. The bus rolled down the street in the opposite direction of where we'd been walking and it drove right past a giant sign, JUMBO. It had steps and a pier right to it. We'd gone the wrong way. At least we got a glimpse of it on the way back? We just didn't have time to get back out and go see it, we were already a little late.

We were at the clock tower a little past 8:30 but there was no sign of Nikki. You can kind of imagine how tired we were at that point (the market trips had been the same day) and we waited for almost and two hours but no sign of Nikki. We took turns getting hot coffee at the 711 or checking the internet and the heavy wind did not help my developing headache. We'd had a long day and at that point I hadn't eaten since lunch, nine hours earlier. After giving up on Nikki we got back on the ferry and crossed over to Hong Kong. I had a raging headache by this time and I just thought food was what I needed. We walked around trying in vain to find a roast pork place (or suckling pig. Elliot found out the name of what he wanted so we ended up walking into places, asking if they had it, and then turning around and walking swifly back out when they said no. We asked maybe 7 places. Note: this is a food Hong Kong is famous for) and after while, fed up, we ended up at the same building the Indian restaurant had been in. We picked a random floor and walked in to a restaurant. I think it was Taiwanese food. It was odd and I felt like throwing up because my headache was so bad. Elliot was getting increasingly worried, especially when I went to retch in the bathroom. No vomit though. Finally, I said I was just going to leave and grab a cab back but my darling boyfriend abandoned his meal, paid up, and led me out.

Back in the noise and mess and chaos of people we were. I had enough. I was just done with Hong Kong. A passing double-decker bus had an ad all over it for Turkish Airlines and Istanbul. Thanks universe. Your timing, as always, is super. I almost started crying, I wanted to go home so badly. This was of course, before my exchange with Cengiz Bey so Turkish Airlines was a sign of comfort not extreme hatred (haha their catchphrase is, "Globally yours." My dad cracked that it was, "Globally up yours." Amen sir!). We walked out on the street, stopping only so Elliot could get pork jerky from a corner store, and went to track down a cab. Our hotel wasn't too far away, but far enough distance walking so we had some trouble finding a cab but thank God one stopped. He dropped us off, Elliot begged me to eat something, I told him to get out as I did not want him to deal with me vomiting, he did, at which point I went to the bathroom and actually did start crying. This did not help my pounding head. And still no throwing up. That usually makes me feel better but I wasn't about to force myself. I'm pretty sure I burst some blood vessels from heaving anyway.

Elliot came back after a while with some yogurt but I had taken some Tylenol PM at that point (it knocks me out so I didn't want to take any earlier and I didn't have regular Tylenol with me) and was curled up in the bed. I've had migraines before but usually they're like once every six months or so. In Hong Kong I got two within three days of each oher. The Tylenol helped a little and I finally drifted off to sleep to the dulcet tones of CSI, my new friend.

The next morning I felt fine (well, still mucus-y and cough-y and gross but at least my brain didn't feel like it was about to come out of my skull) and it was kind of sad how happy Elliot and I were to be going home. We were almost giddy. We took a cab to the airport express terminal, got to check in our bags there (it's a subway station for just the airport in the city. You can check in and leave your luggage and it'll get to where it's going, no problem. Jesus, Hong Kong. You are so amazing at some stuff and so ass-backwards about others. It blows my mind), and then peacefully rode the subway to the airport. We got our last buns (pork for Elliot, cheese and mushroom and I think some pork too as I doubt they have anything without pork there. Yep, I was a bad Muslim this vacation) and I bought the sequel to the, "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," as I'd finished the first one and we boarded Continental bound for that magical, glorious land; NEWARK.

Now, we were spoiled by Cathay Pacific so we didn't have high hopes for our Continental plane. Boy, were we wrong. Every seat had a TV with probably hundreds of movies and a fair amount of TV shows. They had Dexter! They gave us food and snacks and even though I was in the middle seat, I was quite comfortable the fifteen hours back. I watched Desperately Seeking Susan because it was a comfort movie with my Madonna in it and I realized I'd never seen it all the way. It's not very good. The problem is, it has a decent plot and the writer(s) gave reasons and alibis and explanations for everything so that it would be plausible. But, they got so caught up with making sure everything made sense that the actual story and movie fell by the wayside. It was kind of boring but fun. Madonna was amazing though, just because she's so cool. I mean, acting is so so but she's just so cool! My darling muse was there right when I needed her. Oh, and her outfits? MAN. She had a pair of sequinned boots I would very happily sell my cat for. No, I LIED. NEVER. Not my Egglet. Oh I just got a heartache-y pang. I have to go hug her right now. No, not my cat. My sister maybe. I love you Mina. Rosanna Arquette talks and looks like Sarah Michelle Gellar, by the way. It was really odd. I think that might be way I like her. I always wondered why and assumed because she kept appearing in mvoies with my loves, Madonna and David Bowie (The Linguini Incident, one of my favorites), but it might very well be because I love SMG and Rosanna and she do have a fair bit in common. She's in Desperately Seeking Susan too, I didn't just randomly start talking about the best Arquette.

It wasn't until we reached Newark that I saw I had a message from Nikki. She slept through everything. Oh Nikki. Good job :D

We got home and were immediately greeted by an ecstatic Egg. She spent the rest of the afternoon and night going from my arms to Elliot's and slept curled up close to us all night. It was good to be home.

I wouldn't say it was a bad vacation but I also wouldn't say it was the best. China is not for the weak. Especially those with a crappy immune system (my cough went away a day after I got back home but I remained congested for another week). But, I guess I'm still pretty happy I got to go and see it. It was an experience and well, maybe next time it'll be for 3 days rather than ten. THANKS HONG KONG :D !

Goldfish market



Bird gardens.




Hong Kong from the Peak at night.



Us. Where will we end up next? My vote is for Australia.

Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 4

All right, I got my German bowel-movement tea (don't ask) and my King Diamond DVD waiting for me so I'm ready to finish this sum bitch up. Bring it on Hong Kong.

:D

I have no idea where we left off so we're just going to start off with the nice Korean dinner we had one night. There was a huge sign outside the place that read, "WE SPEAK ENGLISH," which seemed kind of odd but we went in. Yes, they did speak English. Very well. It kind of weirded us out. I don't know why but hearing an older Chinese (Korean? Wait I don't remember if it was run by Chinese or Koreans) spit out rapid-fire, amazing, English and then throw in some slang was just odd. But the food was so delicious. We weren't hungry enough for Korean barbecue (except I kind of was but I didn't want to bully Elliot into eating sizzling meat, hur hur that's what she said) so I got my stand-by Jap Che noodles and Elliot got... something. They were like tubes of noodles with veggies. Both very good.

The next day, we decided to go see the big, giant Buddha. Now, I was kind of excited about seeing the big, giant Buddha. It's a big, giant Buddha for crying out loud! All peaceful and big and giant. Who doesn't want to see a big, giant Buddha? Pish tosh. Oh, and to get to big Buddha you have to ride up by cable car.

!!!

I love cable cars. They were my favorite part of the skiing vacations my family used to go on. Besides the tost (grilled cheese) and tea/hot chocolate we'd have in the little restaurant at the bottom of one the slopes. And the game room with the pinball machine. Not to mention the foosball machine. Back in the days when I used to be good at it. Grr. Okay, I liked all the supplementary stuff to skiing. Skiing itself is kind of a take or leave. Since we haven't been in years it's more of a leave. But anyway, cable cars = good, creaky fun high above land!

Yeah the cars went rather slowly and swayed quite a bit and they had gaps where freezing wind snaked in and made me feel like we were in a rusty deathtrap but we lived. We went up a pretty long way but it was so cool seeing the big, giant Buddha slowly come into view. It lay just beyond one of the highest hills and even though it was a hazy day, it looked so majestic. And that was about the only impressive thing about it. The place was like a bizarre theme park. China Presents : Buddhism! There was a Starbucks, a Subway and various other fast food places and fake snow and Christmas music piping out of everywhere (you could get your picture taken with Santa!) and cheap, touristy crap. They also had an animated feature starring monkeys named Doofus and Clever. It was the most underwhelmed I've ever felt at an international landmark. The Buddha itself was all right. I'm actually surprised it wasn't plastic seeing as how commercial the entire place was. But it was big and we could climb the 300-odd, yup OCD me counted, steps up to it's base. Of course, I was excited because I didn't do my research and thought it was a historic place. It's barely 15 years old. The spiritual, mystic monastery right next to it? Still under construction.

I had fun laughing about it with my equally disgusted boyfriend. It became a running joke, "So help me God, I'll take you back to Ngong Ping!" That was the name of the place. But the most magnificent thing happened on our way back. We passed this couple, we can only assume a husband and wife, and the man looked like he was ready to kill himself (or more likely, her), he just looked like the most brow-beaten man ever. His wife was this rather large lady and all we heard her say, for about a full minute was, "MungmungmungmungMUNGMUNGMUNGmungMUNGmung." She said it maybe 15 times and she had no teeth and I sincerely hope she wasn't having some sort of stroke because oh how we laughed. I mean, we walked away really fast before we cracked up, but still. Hilarious. I guess you had to be there.

Then we got stuck in the cable car, suspended above water, with a Korean family for about half an hour. We assume someone threw up even though the announcement said there was just, "routine maintenance." Suuuuure. We did get a nice view of the sewage treatment informational facilities though. And the airport. Yes, the view was a little lackluster.

My Elliot and I don't really fight that often, and we usually resolve it in minutes, but we did have kind of a tiff in Hong Kong. He kept saying I looked miserable and I kept trying to tell him I was fine. Dumbest argument ever. I mean yeah, I was sick the entire time so I probably did look terrible but I don't ever really exclaim like a crazed banshee when I'm having the time of my life either. I absolutely hate it when he thinks I'm having a bad time and feels guilty about it because come on, I'm not a child. If I'm not enjoying myself I'll excuse myself and go do something else. Hell, I've done it with my other friends. Some nights I just don't want to laugh at fat hipsters at our bar. I'll bid them all have fun and hang out by myself at home or whatever. I was getting mad at him for being overly concerned and he was getting mad at me for not making any plans to see places and I guess it was secretly that we were both kind of disappointed with Hong Kong and taking it out on each other. I guess we assumed it would be like Japan where we had a blast but eh. But we cleared that up pretty fast. And then spent the rest of the time taking Hong Kong with a grain of salt. Thanks Hong Kong :D

Hong Kong is known for it's tailors and Elliot wanted to get a suit made so he found one of the more famous places, Samm's, where his dad and grandfather had also gotten suits and went in for a fitting. They had a pretty great marketing scheme for customers; offer them beer. It's Hong Kong, nobody cares about anything! So after every fitting (there were 3) Elliot would just walk back out into the city, carrying his open, and free, beer. He got two suits made there and they're excellent. One is a deep charcoal color with bright orange lining and the other is dark, dark navy with subtle pinstripes and a royal blue paisley lining. Yeah, my boyfriend has Iranian taste in his clothes. Loud and paisley. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

On one of these days we also ventured back to the Walk of Fame and took pictures of all the stars' names we recognized, both for our friends and for ourselves. We found Jackie Chan and Michelle Yeoh and Chow Yun Fat among others. I also took a picture of Elliot with the Bruce Lee statue. There were a bunch of school kids prowling around the area too, and they were conducting surveys for class. We got stopped a couple times each and asked questions. One girl who interviewed me also took my picture. I assume it shall become a Chinese internet meme soon. The questions were mostly about Hong Kong and the food in Hong Kong. They were short and kind of fun, actually.

We still hadn't heard from our friend Nikki so we went on making plans by ourselves. The next morning, after getting a breakfast of French toast at this little place run by a sweet old Chinese man, we rode one of the subway lines all the way to the end, outside the city, to try and find a certain monastery. There were signs pointing uphill and I was still a cauldron of boiling mucus (yep delightful, I know. I woke up every morning hacking and coughing and spitting out chunks of green phlegm. I am the most attractive girl in the world) and walking was cause for a weird stabbing pain in my ribs (I seriously was falling apart for ten days. When did I become such a weakling? Need to start hitting the gym again, I guess) so I asked if we could take a cab up. The guidebooks even recommended we do that. But the one cab that stopped was kind of a jerk and it just turned Elliot off of the whole deal so we decided to go find something else. We got on another train and followed a path to a secluded little garden. Elliot had looked up locations from Bruce Lee movies he'd wanted to visit and this was one of them. It was so quiet and so pretty; lots of big trees and small pools filled with giant carp and turtles again. Yay, turtles. There were archways and a couple buildings that we weren't allowed in but we could see inside and they had just rows and rows of pictures of people and incense burned everywhere.

There were big cauldron-like things set up everywhere and what looked like incinerators. Oh. It took us a while before we realized it was a type of crematorium center and those little flakes floating everywhere weren't leaves or blossoms, they were ashes. Human ashes. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

It was still pretty cool though and we got back to the city in time for lunch. This is where we gambled with our lives and picked a random place off the street to eat. Elliot and I both ordered our food, and milk tea which everyone around us was drinking and it looked really good, and waited in trepidation. There was an Istanbul Kebap branch right across from us so that was our back-up plan in case we were served something particularly inedible. That day I learned that lo mein in China is THE SAME AS IN AMERICA. It kind of blew my mind because I thought that was an Americanized dish. But nope, totally had noodles with sprouts and meat served to me. But I don't know what kind of meat. I'd like to think pork. Let's say it was pork.

Oh who am I kidding, it was probably horse.

Elliot had a dish of beef and rice and we both ate quite well. Our tea was also delicious, and let's just try not to think about how the the glasses probably hadn't been washed since they were first delivered to the restaurant. Everyone on the street was watching us eat too. There was a group of Indian men just staring. When my food came, a man walking by looked down, looked back at me, gave me big smile of approval and walked on. I guess I passed some sort of test?

That night we went to our stand-by of Japanese. How sad is it that we had to have Japanese as our stand-by? Poor Elliot. All he wanted was roast pig and we couldn't find one place. Hong Kong really let us down in terms of food. We went to this Indian arcade type place that was all stuff from India and we had lunch there and although I enjoyed the music videos (all of whom I recognized and could name the stars in them and the movies they were from) the food was kind of bad. I guess I'm a meat snob because the cuts of chicken there were terrible and the rice was not at all good. I also really wanted to try the crab with chili, a Hong Kong trademark, but I knew it would just come served as is; this giant crab staring at me from the plate and I would stare at it and it would stare back and I'd have no idea how to eat it and it would just be an ordeal. Next time I guess. Or we'll go to San Francisco and try there. We did find a restaurant that Anthony Bourdain went to, though. His picture was splashed across the door. Anyway, Japanese was good and I decided it was finally time to have my Tsing Tao. Yes, I ordered Chinese beer at the Japanese restaurant. It came in a bottle the size of a large, wine bottle. Elliot didn't have more than a couple sips, his tailor had supplied him wit enough earlier, so I drank most of it. I was feeling no pain by the time I got up from that table.

Wan Chai is simply the best place to walk around when you're buzzed. I wasn't drunk or tipsy but I was at that nice point where you really can't work yourself up about anything but you've still got your wits about you. It was a nice state to be in as we walked around the hooker and "dance" club section of the city. And by dance I don't mean dance. It's unfortunate though, every time one of the "dance" ladies called out to us, it just broke any spell her looks may have sought to cast. Yeah, the language of love, nay seduction, it is not. Then we rode the double-decker tram back to the hotel. I got a nice hot Nescafe from the 711. I really enjoyed the trams and the cans of Nescafe drinks, hot or cold.

Thus ended another night in Hong Kong. We still hadn't trekked out to the metal bar a MetalSucks reader had sent me a message about, or to the "old" Jumbo, but hey, I had my beer. Still prefer Kirin. But thanks Hong Kong :D !

Up with the cable cars.


The big, giant Buddha


The animated monkeys. You may wonder why one's head is up the others' ass. I wonder too.


Jackie Chan!


Elliot and Bruce Lee.


Peaceful crematorium garden.


Where we assume they dump the bodies.


The tram during the day.


On the the tram, empty street at night.



Warnings on a bus. Hee, boobies.

Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 2

Okay, I have notes from our trip because I'm lame and always take notes wherever I am in case it can make good writing later (I told you I'm lame) but some of the days kind of blur into one another. I'm gonna do my best to remember each day as accurately as possible but I may mix up certain meals and events because we did a lot in ten days and well, I was out of my mind tired with jet-lag and diseased more than half the time.

Where did I leave off? Oh yes, breakfast. After breakfast I went to lay down a but because I was still kind of sickly and early enough in the day that I didn't feel the need to start conquering China like my Energizer bunny boyfriend. Apparently on his lone exploration he stumbled on a music video shoot for a pretty big star. The back-up dancers were wearing shiny big pants and there was a pink Chinese dragon.

We met up for lunch and ventured around the hotel. The Luxe Manor is right off of Nathan Road, a sort of Newbury St./Istiklal Caddesi for the Kowloon side, so right out the door we were smacked with food stalls, stores, massage places, and Indian men hell-bent on selling us, "Copy watches sir? Copy purses madam?" They didn't even bother pretending their articles were genuine! Throughout the next ten days, Elliot would get approached more often than I did, weirdly enough, because along with fake watches and bags, they were hawking tailor services. "Tailor suit sir?" This question was often delivered in a low, machine-gun fire rhythm that had us staring uncomprehendingly at them for a second before realizing that no, we did not want a suit. After a while we started snickering to ourselves because the thought of toying with them was kind of irresistible. Like, seriously what would they have done had we stopped dead in our tracks, opened our mouths wide and just went, "REALLY?! YOU HAVE COPY WATCHES?! WHY, SHOW ME, MY GOOD MAN, SHOW ME!," What would they do? And on a related note, have they really attracted anyone with that sales pitch? Hong Kong is so cheap, you can get the original at probably a very reasonable price. And people do judging by the mansion-like Louis Vuitton, Prada, Coach, and various other stores on every block. I'm not exaggerating. Hong Kong is the city of labels. Every woman, and I mean every, single woman and most men had the LV monogrammed bag and each store was at least two stories tall or more. Not to mention, the giant malls everywhere. I kind of regret not going into to one to compare prices actually because again, Hong Kong is cheap. I will refer back to this several times.

Anyway, we found a nice little restaurant not far from our hotel, though not on our street. I don't know why but I guess the street we stayed on was wedding dress central. Every other store was a bridal shop. And some of the dresses, whoooo-eeeee. I wouldn't be caught dead in them as a joke on Halloween. The first place we chose to eat at in Hong Kong, the center of quality Asian cuisine, was a Japanese place. Another thing that will get reiterated a lot; the comparison between China/Hong Kong and Japan and the fact that we ended up at Japanese places more often than you'd think in a world food capital. I guess we couldn't quite shake off our first big vacation together. Elliot had some udon in black sesame broth and I had my trusty katsu with curry and rice. We decided to head back to the hotel for a quick nap (Elliot still hadn't slept unless you count the couple hours on the plane and I was still sickly feeling and hadn't gotten any more rest that morning. I accidentally spent it watching The Powerpuff Girls on Cartoon Network Asia. I don't know what it is about travel but it always makes me watch cartoons. My sister too, every time we've been in India we've ended up falling asleep to Dexter's Laboratory and various other kids shows). It was around 2 pm by this time so we set the alarm for 5 and curled up like cats.

We didn't wake up until 4 am the next morning.

Sure, we set an alarm but after hitting snooze several times, and after convincing a zombie Elliot that no, we would not be missing out on anything by sleeping because if we wandered around like sleepwalkers that'd hardly be "experiencing" Hong Kong either. So we turned off the alarm and slept for 14 hours. I woke up a few times drenched in sweat which I took to be a good sign that my fever had broken (yep, had been chilled/hot this entire time) so by the time we were up, I felt much better. Elliot decided to go take pictures of the city waking up and I stayed in the room and finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. It was a bit long-winded and I didn't get completely sucked in until well over 200 pages but the ending was infuriating which is why I am now reading the second book, The Girl Who Played With Fire. I like the main character and she reminds me of me sometimes. You know, besides the psychotic passive-aggressive sociopathic tendencies.

It's was a short walk from the hotel to the bay and ferries that cross back and forth between Hong Kong and Kowloon. Though we were in Hong Kong technically, we were staying on the Kowloon side, just to clarify to avoid confusion. It's like Boston and Cambridge or Istanbul with it's Asian and European sides. Along the way was the Walk of Fame with various Hong Kong stars' names and handprints on the ground as well as a huge statue of Bruce Lee. Elliot had explored there in the morning but I didn't go until later on in the trip, just caught glances as we walked by it. The ferry across to Hong Kong from Kowloon was about 30 cents and we used it often. My first time we did it early in the morning and the view was kind of awe-inspiring. Hong Kong looks like a very modern, very alien settlement with a very geometric and tall skyline. It towered over us in the daylight but it was beautiful at night when we were crossing back and all the lights were on. Except for the tacky season's greetings signs plastered and lit up all over the buildings. Seriously, I don't think I've heard, "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," as often as I did it there. Christmas music was blaring everywhere. From the underground subway stations to the malls to the random crappy little restaurants on the streets. You have not lived until you've listened to, "Feliz Navidad," surrounded by screaming Chinese women. That's another thing. People never had normal conversations there. Because of the language, everyone just sounded like they were yelling at each other all the time. It was not a place for quiet reflection.

We made our way up to the Peak, one of the highest points in Hong Kong by way of a tram. We headed up the hill on the steepest incline. We were sitting down but it felt like we were about to flip over and go sliding back down to the bottom. There was also a Madame Tussaud's at the Peak and we took a couple pictures of the Bruce Lee figure for Elliot who is a huge a fan. At the top we had a beautiful view of the city and Kowloon too and we had delicious drinks of milk tea with coffee before heading back down where we wandered, quite by chance, into the Botanical Gardens and Zoo. There were all these gorgeous orchids and I saw a Venus Fly-Trap in real life! As well as a, um, raccoon. You see, I love raccoons (thank you childhood viewings of Pocahontas) and I've never seen them except in movies and they had one in a cage at the zoo. It was so fat it looked like it was wearing pants. I loved it. There were also several swinging monkeys, chimps, a bunch of turtles and giant tortoises, and many, many birds. I saw a crane for the first time too. I've never really cared for cranes and barely paid attention to them in artwork such as Japanese, but they were so big, and so elegant I couldn't take my eyes off them.

As we wandered back down the hill (the gardens and zoo were at the base of the Peak but still uphill) we followed our ears to some music. We came across a marching band celebrating... something. I'll have to ask Elliot what it was for but they were amazing. At one point we both realized we knew what they were playing. The band was dancing and waving their trumpets and trombones in unison while they played Lady Gaga. Yep, 'Bad Romance."

After that little show we headed to Queen's Road which is the Newbury St. counterpart in Hong Kong and wandered among the vendors. I got myself one of those bags used for carting rice with a picture of an elephant. I love these bags and have wanted one forever but they went for upwards of 100$ in the States. I got it for 100$ Hong Kong dollars. Which is about 14 dollars. Hong Kong is so cheap! We had lunch at a mall called The One right by our hotel. It's a place that's 10 stories high with various, hilarious, store names (such as Rapee Living) and we had the best pork buns I have ever tasted in my entire life. Oh dear Lord they were heavenly. Soft and juicy and flavoured with scallions. I almost wept. I also had noodles with chili and peanut sauce that burned my mouth to high heaven but were so worth it. Elliot had a few other steamed dumplings and a noodle dish and our meal, in a really nice place, came out to probably like 20$. Hong Kong is so cheap!

I bought a shirt with a bunny that says sex on it from there. The mall, not the pork bun place.

Hong Kong is 13 hours ahead of Boston and I got tired pretty fast in the day. I can walk a lot but am no match for Elliot (and my mother in some cases. Man, traveling with those to two together would really be a special kind of hell. I love you guys, just kidding. But while you two would hike up a mountain, the rest of us would probably die on the trail). There's a restaurant in Boston called the New Jumbo and it has a huge panoramic painting of Hong Kong so one of our goals was to go to the original and have a drink there. But seeing as how we were so tired, we kind of called it an early night again, though we did send an email off to our college friend and my first RA Nikki who lives in Hong Kong. We had many night activities planned, including a trip to the metal bar a reader at MetalSucks had told me about. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

I know Elliot wants to save and show off the pictures himself but here's a sneak. He took all the photos as he's our excellent photographer.

The dancers.


Sun coming up over Hong Kong and the bay we crossed with ferries everyday.



The street right outside our hotel.


At the top of the Peak.


Bruce Lee at Madame Tussaud.


Orchids at the Botanical Gardens.


Marching band.


Stores at The One.

Thanks Hong Kong :D ! Part 1

My darling boyfriend and I decided to take a vacation. Now normal people enjoy warm weather and beaches and the Caribbean, we prefer the cold, weird places, and try to stay far, far away from sand. So naturally we decided to go to China. But not just China, ten days in Hong Kong.

Interrupting myself for a second though, I just got the new Hardcore Superstar record, Split Your Lip. It is absolutely fantastic and totally deserves it's place on the year's top fifteen list I wrote for MetalSucks. Coming soon, stay tuned. My copy came signed by the whole band! I shrieked and ran to show Elliot who just nodded encouragingly but really didn't know what the hell I was dithering about (he was playing Fallout). I'm such a fangirl, how am I a "music journalist?" It's ridiculous.

The trip started out innocently enough. We'd packed the night before so we kissed our little Egg good-bye and left for the airport at around 9:30 in the morning on Dec. 1st. Security was harmless enough even though we had to take our shoes off. I can't begin to explain why this pisses me off so much. NO OTHER COUNTRY DOES THIS. Why in the good God's name do I have to take my damn shoes off? One time, just one time, someone smuggled something through that way. And now we have to suffer this. TSA, you are worthless, a waste of money, and no you do not make us safer. You make traveling a fucking ordeal for everyone involved. Jump off a cliff because your presence is what inspires homicidal thoughts in me and probably most others too. Believe me, when someone finally snaps and tries to take you out, any weapon they have on their person will not be in their DAMN SHOES. But I digress. I digress a lot when I write. Anyway, we got through and sat. And sat. And waited. Then waited some more. Our connecting flight was through Newark and apparently Newark in it's infinite generosity, decided to have the storm of the century and restrict all flights coming in and going out.

A lot of people were connecting through Newark and going on to Hong Kong along with us, along with a Chinese lady and her baby. I seemed to be the only one who could understand her garbled English so I had to translate what she said to everyone else without making it too obvious. I think everyone's blank expressions might've tipped her off though. Finally, after letting us twiddle our thumbs for two hours without really giving us any answers (thanks Continental!) they booked us on an alternate flight. Instead of a straight shot to Hong Kong from Newark, we'd be going to London then on from there, adding about a day's worth of travel.

Which would've been awful had we not been booked on Cathay Pacific.

Oh. My. God.

I don't know if it was because everyone made such a fuss that the Continental people booked us on a rival airline (American to London then Cathay Pacific) but I'm sure as shit happy they did. Let me put it this way, you know how the Japanese are the best at everything including their airlines? Cathay Pacific puts even them to shame.

After making sure the Chinese lady and her baby were also taken care of, Elliot and I trooped back home much to the kitty's delight. We hung out for a couple hours before heading back to go through security and re-check our bags all over again. Taking our shoes off again (grrrr...). Our flight to London was pretty uneventful. We were on the same flight as some hardcore band I think. They were dumb. One had a head of bleached hair and Elliot and I called him Billy Idol (under our breaths) all the way there. When we were getting off, one stewardess went, "Ohhh I didn't know Billy Idol was on this flight!' I lost it and almost fell over laughing.

London was freezing. Everywhere was snow and ice and I think I got my first cold symptoms there. Oh yeah, I got sick and I'll get to that in due time. My throat was sore and I could feel the stuffiness coming so I got a few preventative medicinal things there and napped the four hours we had in between flights. Poor Elliot sat awake the entire time. At that time it was 11 am in London, 5 am in Boston, and he hadn't slept yet. But then we got on our Cathay Pacific flight.

The plane was huge and so spacious, even in Economy. It was nowhere near full so Elliot and I took over the four seats in the middle and took turns sprawling out and sleeping. Each seat had a video monitor and selection of TV shows and movies, as well as games. You had your choice of about 15 episodes per show too. I'm not kidding. Elliot watched a season of The Cleveland Show. The stewardesses were pleasant Chinese ladies with perfect English and the food was actually edible. It was the most comfortable I've ever been on a ten hour flight. We were so spoiled. Kind of dreaded the flight back where we'd be stuck on crappy Continental. But in the meantime, bliss.

I definitely got sick though. Nose got stuffed up about halfway through and then I got a fever. I couldn't know for sure because I didn't have a thermometer but I know when my body has a fever. My hands get unbearably hot as well as the rest of me but I'm cold to the touch and the slightest movement sends chills down my spine that wrack my body with shivers. Not good. I drugged myself with Tylenol PM and hoped sleep would make me feel better. I was out.

We arrived at 7 am Hong Kong time, on Dec. 3rd. Yeah, we traveled all the way through the 2nd. It wasn't too bad though, originally we would've arrived at night on the 2nd so we didn't really miss anything. The Chinese lady and her baby made it all right too and we waved bye-bye to them after the passport control. Our suitcases showed up no problem (mine was red, in honor of China bahaha) and we took money out and got our Octopus cards at the airport. Hong Kong has a system for travel called the Octopus card. It's basically a metro card you can keep putting money on and use it on every source of transportation and in most convenience stores. It was great. Best system. We hopped on the airport express and rode it all the way to Kowloon. Cue my ten days of quoting Cassandra from Wayne's World, "Oh my GOD, I WAS BORN IN KOWLOON BAY." The first half of the trip we were on the Kowloon side before moving to the Hong Kong side on the 6th.

Then we got lost. We got yelled at for trying to take our suitcases up the escalator (though we were dumb and missed the huge sign that clearly told us to take all, "hefty baggage," up the lift) then we couldn't find the bus even though a patient lady tried to help us. At this point, I begged Elliot to just let us take a cab and we did to our hotel The Luxe Manor. It had huge Chinese fortress doors and a snazzy, modern lobby with a giant plush red armchair. Breakfast was complimentary so we dumped our stuff in our room and went down to eat. It was 9 am at this time. After breakfast, feeling more or less ok and non-feverish on my part, we headed into the town.

Five steps outside and I walked smack into a Turkish kebab place called Istanbul Kebap. It's like there's an invisible cord connecting me to the motherland at all times. Thanks Hong Kong :D !

My airport express ticket.

Because Unlike Some Other Robin Hoods, I Have a British Accent

I just sent my sister off back to New York after a weekend of shopping and fooding including a particular night where I put way too much chili oil in my pho and basically sweated out the soup as I was eating it. Mm, delicious I know. Pho is great. It's my favorite. Spicy noodle soup with scallions, onions, and beef. I mean, it's nothing earth-shattering but I could probably have it for a week straight and not be sick of it. To think I never used to have it because it had cilantro. Cilantro is godawful. Don't you argue with me, you know it's true. But pho! You can make it spicy, you can make it all hoisin plum-y, you can switch up the meats or the noodles. It's just goodness. My favorite is really spicy with good beef and lots of noodles, easy on the onions.

So I'm just sitting here eating my lunch and Robin Hood: Men In Tights is on and of course I have to watch it because like that's even a question. The first time I saw it, I was in 4th grade and it was the movie the class voted on to watch as part of the year-end , "Yaaaay we don't have to do work but still have to be in school," times. I loved it. And I loved Cary Elwes. I didn't grow up with Princess Bride which is when every other girl fell in love with him but funnily enough, I kind of get a loophole with that. You see, when I was in elementary school, we had a horrible snowstorm one winter. One other older girl and I were the only kids who actually made it there on time. I remember a particular teacher, one I never had but who had a reputation for being "cool," took us both to the main building (this was on my old campus where the school was spread out in a variety of former apartments and trailers. Yes trailers. Big, tin metal trailers. We froze in the winter and got heat-stroke in the summer but it was still infinitely better than the shit hole we moved to when I was in 9th grade. You could fucking see Bulgaria from where that campus was. We used to dream of making a break for it and escaping through the fields on cows and sheep.) and sat us down and put a movie on. All I remembered from that movie was that there was a girl and boy walking through some swampy land and her dress caught on fire. Years later, I realized it was Princess Bride so I kind of did have it in my childhood like everyone else.

But anyway, Cary. Oh Cary.


He's what older, classy women in Turkey (and probably France, as that's where we got the word) would describe as a jeune. He was just such a leading man. Charming, eloquent, and a star. In movies that were hilarious, wonderful classics no less. Then I saw him in Saw and in Liar Liar and he was chubby and angry and, well, there went that fantasy but for a while, Cary Elwes ruled the world of comedic period pieces.

Last night, a bunch of us watched Aladdin. There's no shame in that, quit judging me. All I know, I've gleaned through Disney movies. But thinking about the star of that film, Jafar (duh), made me realize my, "ideal," celluloid men might be a little different than other normal, little girls'.

My dad raised us on action movies. I remember clearly watching Die Hard with a Vengeance on a plane and shrieking in anger when they cut it off because the stupid plane had the audacity to prepare for landing. More than action movies though, we loved the world of "action" and the actors. My dad took me to the Naked Gun movies in theaters. When he found out Arnold Schwarzenegger was in a kiddie movie, Kindergarden Cop, he didn't even think twice about taking me and my cousin. My cousin got scared and wanted to leave. I shrugged and said no, I was fine when my dad asked me. My cousin is a boy and a month older than I am. When we were on a cruise with fourteen members of my family, we found out that the ship's movie theater was showing XXX: State of the Union, and all trooped in to watch it. It sucked. No one holds a candle to Vin Diesel when he's in the Xander zone. The first person I sent a message to after watching The Expendables was not my dad, but it was to my mom to tell her to tell my dad to see it. We love action movies. And movies with excessvie violence. My dad took me and my sister to Inglourious Basterds. In a full theater, we were the only ones to come out with broad smiles and warm, fuzzy feelings in our bellies. Everyone else just looked kind of green. Don't even get me started on Christoph Waltz. I won't stop. No I really won't.

Aw, look at his happy Nazi face.


As I got older, I was introduced to Mafia movies and shows. My dad loves The Sopranos and can quote Scarface at length. And will do it, even though it's mostly to piss off my mom. She always makes faces at our "manly" tastes but I think it's all an act. Her favorite scene in Pulp Fiction is when Marvin's head gets blown off as they're driving over a pothole. She will laugh until she cries at the mention of it.

Then came martial arts movies, which my boyfriend also loves with a hearty passion. I remember going to The Protector and coming out feeling so exhausted because we were so engrossed in it, it felt like we kicked and fought our way through film too..

The Protector; The loving story of what a man will do to get his elephant back.


We will watch, or try to watch, anything that has Jackie Chan in it. Especially if it's Around the World in 80 Days with Steve Coogan and ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER AS AN OTTOMAN SULTAN.


We love our action movies and action stars. Except Jean-Claude. He's just not as worthy. But that high kick is pretty impressive. Oh JCVD, you try so hard.


I like action movies and action stars. But I absolutely love the villains. Hans Gruber, Jeremy Irons as Jeremy Irons in everything Jeremy Irons has ever done, Prince John. I mean, you could probably explain this away with oh, I'm a girl I like the bad boys. I mean, I like rock stars too. However, it goes beyond that because well frankly, I'm not some bimbo who chases bad seeds because I feel I can "change." Piss on that, I have better things to do with my time. I think it's because although we like to cheer the hero on, the villain is just so much more interesting to watch. And that's what I want from my characters; some unique thing that separates them from the herd. In this way, it's not just a the bad boys or whatever. I will sit and yell for the good guys too if they give me something to yell about. Take for instance Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I was raised on that series.


My cousin and I had all the collectibles, we got the tapes, and we had themed sleepovers. I had to be Donatello because he wore purple which is girly but I liked Michelangelo best. That show toyed with my emotions like no other because as much as I loved each of my turtle boys whether they were the party dude or the one who, "did," machines, I couldn't help but love Shredder too, even if they didn't cut him no slack.


Why don't they make shows like that anymore? I grew up in Turkey but I lucked out because every single family member would tape episodes and buy stuff for me and my cousin whenever they travelled. We were not denied any American pop culture especially when they were heroes in a half-shell. Ugh, the British version was Teenage Mutant HERO Turtles. Yuck. How stupid. Everyone knows ninjas are just cooler and more bad-ass than simple-minded heroes. Way to go Britain, you ruin everything.

There's also Disney and all my male figures therein. Unlike the other girls (except my friends who were just as smart as I was), I turn my nose up at the princes. Come on. The one in Snow White says and does NOTHING. He kisses some hot girl who might as well be dead for all he knows. Sorry, not good enough. If he drop-kicked the evil stepmother after foiling her plans to take over the kingdom with help of German terrorists, that would've been a different story. Cinderella's prince has a more interesting father (don't you love bumbling kings? The sultan is another great one) but at least has one funny saving grace; he yawns at the gawking females during the ball (my cousin and I always thought this was hilarious). Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty, kind of had personality, actually. It was just boring. Beast from Beauty and the Beast was only awesome when he was a beast. I'm serious. He was so scary and intimidating and you couldn't avert your eyes every time he was on-screen. When he turned back into a human, he became a Ken doll. Literally, like all the sexual tension and attraction was gone. Between him and Belle I mean. Of course.

I liked Jafar. He was so cold, so calculating, so devilish, and his beard was so... twisted.



I liked Scar. Because he was Jeremy Irons as Jeremy Irons in everything Jeremy Irons has ever done.


And his song, "Be Prepared?" WITH MARCHING NAZI HYENAS? I was terrified and thrilled to the point where had I wet myself, I wouldn't know for what reason.

Again, it's not that they're bad boys. No, if that was the whole truth I'd like Frollo from Notre Dame who sings that song about wanting to rape Esmerelda (listen to it again, it's beyond disturbing). This is just further proof that we, mostly I, need characters, not bland cut-outs because I liked the good guys as well. But only if they had some great characteristic going for them. I liked Disney's Robin Hood. He was a fox, (hur, hur). He was charming and daring and cute, and man, don't look at me like that, I was not the only one admiring a two dimensional animal. I liked Zazu and Iago because I like self-righteous angry bird-men with crabby attitudes (one is a good guy the other is Gilbert Gottfried). I liked Stitch because he was a psychotic super smart alien hell-bent on destruction who had moves like Elvis. He was "bad," but then he was, "good," and he's still my favorite Disney character.

I liked Gaston because even though he was a pompous peacock and used antlers in all of his decorating, he wasn't just freakin' wall-paper like Prince Valiant or Prince Charming. God, they even had dumb names.

Hang on, they're doing the eponymous song on Men in Tights.



Sure, there are girls who like the bad boys and the rocks stars and the rebels. You like them because they command attention and are sure of themselves. They have character. They don't fade out. That's what it comes down to. As long as you're not something bland like, I don't know, terrible lo mein from Nan Ling, I will admire and like you. But you can be a "nice guy," and still have that. Half the action stars usually do, I mean, have you seen True Lies? Best Arnold movie ever and he's just a nice, normal family guy (Harry, who're you kidding with that accent?) and then it turns out he's like Superman with a secret identity and has to save everyone. He's amazing to watch. Take for another example, my boyfriend. He's a nice guy and I love him for it. But he's the best kind of nice guy, he has a motorcycle, loves metal, and thinks I'm the bees knees. He's like Pho Hoa's pho, familiar and tasty.

THAT'S IT. I like men, movie and otherwise, like I like my pho; delicious with that certain kick that makes you sweat.

The Weekend of ME

My brain keeps making these drastic 180 degree spins and it's making me dizzy. But good things first.

My birthday weekend and day were pretty great. On Friday, the boy and I went to our friends as usual and we ended up at the usual hipster bar that has slightly better music (INXS, Twisted Sister, and Bon Jovi all made an appearance) than the others. The bars and nightclubs close at 2 am here and one of the last songs was Lady Gaga's, "Bad Romance." My friend, who is very tall and noticeable, just stated moshing to it for fun. You know what moshing is right? When you throw yourself around to music at concerts and get others doing it too? Well, halfway through the song the entire bar decided this was the best thing ever and joined in. A tidal wave of Red Bull hit me and the table we were at was pushed from the middle of the floor to up against the wall. It was insane. And hilarious. My friend got escorted out even though he really didn't instigate anything bad, it was the rest of the people taking it too far, but since he's so tall he kind of stands out and it was easy to blame him. Luckily, he's allowed back in next time.

Saturday, Elliot went to a concert which I didn't really feel like attending. I was going to spend the night reading my friend's script. He's out in L.A. and is slowly making headway in the "business," and wanted my feedback for his new draft. Through some happy interference though, I wasn't left alone all night. A few friends came over and we spent the night lazily watching delicious food shows until we couldn't take it anymore and ordered Thai food and then cheesecake. They all left (un)comfortably full and after a really nice low-key night.

I spent Sunday at home with Elliot, reading the aforementioned script and making notes, and we discovered Housesitter starring Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin was available for free and since Elliot had never seen it, we settled down to watch. It's one of those silly '90s comedies that make you feel all happy and content and it was so nice to curl up and watch it. Even Egglet our kitty jumped up and snuggled in between us. The clock struck midnight in the middle of the movie and we paused so that I could open my birthday presents.

My boyfriend has amazing taste. He got me three books I can't wait to read, a silly t-shirt from this Japanese label we both loved when we were there (it has a cartoon monkey with a red cape and fangs trying to catch a floating dagger), and a trench coat and fedora. Yes, that's right. He got me a coat that fits so well, tight on top and flaring out in a full bottom, with a cool hat and proclaimed every classy lady needs this outfit. I agree. Now I can be a 40s dame. He even made sure the model wearing the hat ad curly hair so that it would look good on me.

On the day of, I got so many emails, texts, and Facebook messages, it was overwhelming. I've never felt so loved and touched and I appreciated every single one of them. I had lunch with Elliot in Chinatown (mm delicious pho) and we spent the day at home watching this weird anime called the Tatami Galaxy. My friends had organized a dinner at an Indian restaurant for later but I was a little blue because Elliot had to go back to Austin.

I admit I got a little teary-eyed when I said bye and then promptly started cleaning and putting away things because I am Monica from Friends and I clean when I'm anxious. I trudged to dinner, still a little down, and it was pouring down rain. There was a small group of us there and while we were waiting for appetizers I felt a big smack on my cheek. I looked up to see Elliot's grinning face! He had tricked me and was back for good, no more Austin. Haha, he totally got me and I had a delightful rest of my night which culminated with drinks and ice cream at my apartment while we all watched Death Becomes Her.

Again, thank you to everyone who made this day so nice for me. I tend not to have good birthdays and this was exactly what I wanted. Thank you so much.

But then comes the day after and I woke up with a cold. The rest of this week I've been feeling kind of yucky from the cold and from other stuff on my mind. I keep applying to places that never respond even when I send follow-ups and I'd really like more work from my literary agency but they haven't responded to my email today either. I should be happy that I'm not "struggling" per se, that I can spend this time writing but my head feels so empty and at the same time clogged (both because I'm sick and metaphorically) that I can't bring myself to do much. I hope this funk passes with my cold and I can get going on my book. I'm starting to outline how I want it to play out and I emailed my agency asking if I can start submitting things in January when I'll have been with them for a year. I always need a basic outline before writing because even if I don't stick entirely to it, it feels safe to have that "skeleton."

I was thinking about writing a letter to Christopher Moore. He's the most active of the authors I enjoy and because of Facebook's new features, I get updates from him. It might help to hear from someone who is a writer and how to handle the long days that seem to stretch on forever.

Also, I wrote a really long piece about how Bon Jovi has been in and out of my life since I was seven years old and it got posted on MetalSucks. This link will take you to it.

Brain Goes See-Saw

Turning a complete 180, I had a really nice second half of the week with my parents and boyfriend. My parents got here Wednesday and Elliot surprised me on Thursday (I walked into the apartment with my mom and noticed the TV was on and ventured into the living room to see someone sitting on my couch. I had a small heart attack as my brain tried to process this and try to figure out if I needed to find and snatch up my cat and protect her and my mom. But then it clicked and I realized it was Elliot) and we all got to spend some nice, relaxing time in the new apartment. My dad got to enjoy his tasty beers with Sopranos on the big-screen, my mom got do some winter shopping at Elie Tahari her "trademark," store, and Elliot and I partook in delicious food with them and fun times with our friends.

Friday night we took my parents to the North End because they never venture to our little Italian neighborhood. We ate at Assagio which is Elliot and my preferred restaurant there with coffee and dessert at Cafe Vittoria. Everyone flocks to Mike's Pastry because it's the famous dessert place there but I think it's overrated and not that good. Besides, I really don't like cannolis. Cafe Vittoria has a nice, old-timey feel to it with it's decor and furniture plus really good coffee. I had chocolate almond gelato with my capuccino (after angel-hair pasta with chicken and mushroom in Alfredo sauce with some really excellent wine because my dad can choose it well) and was pretty ready to just fall over from excess food. But we went off to our friend's house as is our Friday custom and had some silly TV watching time there. Afterwards, Elliot and most of the group headed out to a bar while I kept my friend who was sick, company. We watched a movie called Zombie Strippers. It was possibly the most hilariously terrible movie I've ever seen. I mean, the premise is pretty self-explanatory (it's about a strip club that has zombie strippers) but all these philosophical conudnrums and theories were thrown in there which made it so weird! The town was called Sartre, Nebraska, there was a Major Camus character and Jenna Jameson, yes the famous porn star (who, by the way, has the scariest fake boobs. They're so large and hang so low that they made my own modest chest ache), was reading Nietzsche at one point. It also had the unforgettable line, "Vaya con Ronnie James Dios," combining racism and metal in the most cringe-worthy way.

Elliot left today and my parents went back to New York for my sister on Saturday but tomorrow, I'm also going to New York for a couple days. My mom's still there (my dad had to go back home to Turkey) and my aunt and cousin who also goes to NYU will be there. I'll be back on Thursday in time to greet Elliot as he arrives Friday- yay! The shortest time we've been apart; four days! He's coming specifically for my birthday as he refused to be absent for it again and though he leaves on the day, Monday, I'll get him for most of the day and I'm sure I'll get some nice beer and movie times with my friends which is all I really want.

I'm starting my dance classes next week as well as a rigorous writing schedule, not to mention a few more interviews and pieces for MetalSucks. I'm going to keep stubbornly sending my resume out too. As we discussed on Friday night, "America is the only place where you can mold yourself and what your dreams are into something that pays off." I'm lucky to be in the position I am and I will start writing that damn book and my damn scripts and finish them and submit them to Gersh. Even if it is to get my boyfriend and parents and sister to shut up and stop bullying me about writing for now.

I've started takine some pictures of the new apartment so I'll post them as they come in. Here are some experimental shots as well as a bonus shot of my ohm tattoo just because I really like how my nail polish (Atomic Orange from OPI) mnatches my watch and contrasts with the purple. Some are blurry as I have shaky hands and don't really know how to use my camera still. Oh well, I have no deluded visions of myself as a photographer and I never have.



Oh, Egglet just walked into the room meowing with her ball in her mouth. Now she's looking at me expectantly. My cat is wonderful and requires my hugs. I love her so much. Elliot says I'm obsessed. I think it's just because she has the exact cat personality that would mesh the best with my owner personality; she needs love and hugs and attention all the time and I'm willing to give it. We make a good team.

Ganeshji at the entrance to my home.


My corridor with my collection of weird pictures and Turkish/Iranian/Egyptian-inspired art. The pictures are mostly from the vintage photo and picture shop I visit in Istanbul. I have plans to add more as I find them.



My bedroom with my glorious bed. The long blue fabric draped across is an Indian sari my mom and I found in a store in istanbul. The store no longer exists but it used to carry a lot of Indian-made items. The shimmery polka dot fabrics at the head and foot were found in the Covered Bazaar and were originally cut to hang as curtains/doors to my tiny closet in my first apartment in Boston. It was so small it didn't have a door, unlike my two other roommates' closets. I just folded them and hung them up on the bed as I still really like the fabric but don't have any use for it.


The steps lead up and out to a deck. I have a desk and chair in the corner as well as a dresser with my small TV directly across from the bed. It's so nice to have TV in my room again. I feel it makes it cozier though some might disagree. Egglet's basket is in the room too so she usually sleeps with me at night and naps while I hang out in the room during the day.


Yes, I now have a jewelry bookcase. Most of it is kitschy stuff I found in cheap little stores and on Istiklal street. There are some nicer things scattered about or stored carefully but the "real," real stuff that I would worry about is back home in Istanbul.



My closet.


Don't you love my hand-made AC/DC skirt above my AC/DC shoes?


It's so organized!


My first kitties, I even took them to college with me :)


The Madonna pop-art corner. I can't cut in a straight line to save my life so I used zig-zag shears and neon borders. They're still crooked and it annoys the OCD part of me but it looks good enough and I'm not in here that much anyway! Heh I have a Madonna corner as well as a Hello Kitty toaster... alongside Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, Misfits, and Megadeth framed prints.


My living room.


The back of my old couch. This is too short to be a sari but was also purchased in the same place as the blue sari above my bed.