just go back to his hotel.
The rain was unrelenting. It hadn’t stopped since he’d arrived, and it was starting to make him feel miserable. Dave took the map out and stared at his next location as if something interesting would reveal itself. The hotel receptionist had told him it was nice there but what did ‘nice’ mean, coming from a local recommending places to a lone male tourist? Buildings became smaller and the streets neater the closer he got to Wyndham Street. Every little bit of real estate was occupied. Hong Kong is not for someone who favours wide-open or personal space, he thought to himself. Like tiny Lego blocks, apartment buildings were stacked on top of each other in an endless sprawl.
When the taxi pulled over, Dave paid the fare and looked in both directions, unsure of which way to go. Since he was on a hill, he decided on a side street off Wyndham that led to a downward flight of stairs. At their terminus was the central part of the city, but the streets melted into each other and he couldn’t tell them apart amid an assortment of shops, commercial billboards, flashing neon signs, all sorts of restaurants and high-rise business buildings. Dave was surprised to see McDonald’s, Subway and virtually any other commercial business he was used to seeing back in Australia.
Finally, among the maze of advertising signs that covered virtually entire buildings, Dave spotted a massage centre and followed the entrance sign downstairs. With a smile on his face, he went straight to the counter and greeted the receptionist.
‘Yes?’ t he woman’s expression was one of surprise.
‘I’d like a massage, ’ he said.
‘One moment,’ s he replied before calling someone else. Another woman emerged from a room and spoke to her co-worker in Cantonese before addressing Dave.
‘Can I help yo u?’ she said, her face showing utter indifference. She looked unimpressed with his presence and somewhat annoyed.
‘ Yes. I’d like a massage. Do I need a reservation?’
‘One moment please. I check if free,’ she sighed and glanced at a computer monitor, then almost immediately turned back to him. ‘Not free tonight. Goodbye.’
She couldn’t possibly have seen the screen at that angle. ‘Fine!’ Dave replied and stormed out. Obviously he wasn’t wanted there, but why the bullshit? He noticed what looked to be a sign indicating an all-female clientele on his way out. Suddenly he felt embarrassed. Maybe it was a mistake on his behalf, but it didn’t justify the treatment he got. Did they think he was just another pasty skinned white man looking for happy ending? Hong Kong managed to piss him off again, and it was doing it quite easily. He felt like going back into the massage place and giving them a lecture on manners. His hands were shaking with anger.
‘ What the hell am I doing here?’ he mumbled to himself. Doubts entered his mind. Where was he going? Maybe Amy was right, and he should have stayed in Melbourne. Was he up for this stuff? Going off on his own in another country? He wasn’t a brave adventurer. Only with Julia did he feel he could do anything—she knew how to calm him. He realised that this culture clash was going to be hard for him to deal with on his own.
T he rain came down harder and the lack of cover meant he was constantly wet and clammy. He reached for his back pocket to check the map, but it wasn’t there—he must have dropped it. ‘Shit!’ He swore and looked around, realising how ridiculous the chances of finding it were. For a man with zero sense of direction in a strange city, it was almost impossible to find his way without a map. It was hard enough with one. His plan of taking it as it came was not going well. Now he was lost.
Chapter 8
No landmarks looked familiar, and Dave had no idea which way he’d come, so he walked in what felt like circles until his feet ached. In the end he was back where he started, up the stairs on Wyndham Street, wet and frustrated.
The rain was unrelenting. It hadn’t stopped since he’d arrived, and it was starting to make him feel miserable. Dave took the map out and stared at his next location as if something interesting would reveal itself. The hotel receptionist had told him it was nice there but what did ‘nice’ mean, coming from a local recommending places to a lone male tourist? Buildings became smaller and the streets neater the closer he got to Wyndham Street. Every little bit of real estate was occupied. Hong Kong is not for someone who favours wide-open or personal space, he thought to himself. Like tiny Lego blocks, apartment buildings were stacked on top of each other in an endless sprawl.
When the taxi pulled over, Dave paid the fare and looked in both directions, unsure of which way to go. Since he was on a hill, he decided on a side street off Wyndham that led to a downward flight of stairs. At their terminus was the central part of the city, but the streets melted into each other and he couldn’t tell them apart amid an assortment of shops, commercial billboards, flashing neon signs, all sorts of restaurants and high-rise business buildings. Dave was surprised to see McDonald’s, Subway and virtually any other commercial business he was used to seeing back in Australia.
Finally, among the maze of advertising signs that covered virtually entire buildings, Dave spotted a massage centre and followed the entrance sign downstairs. With a smile on his face, he went straight to the counter and greeted the receptionist.
‘Yes?’ t he woman’s expression was one of surprise.
‘I’d like a massage, ’ he said.
‘One moment,’ s he replied before calling someone else. Another woman emerged from a room and spoke to her co-worker in Cantonese before addressing Dave.
‘Can I help yo u?’ she said, her face showing utter indifference. She looked unimpressed with his presence and somewhat annoyed.
‘ Yes. I’d like a massage. Do I need a reservation?’
‘One moment please. I check if free,’ she sighed and glanced at a computer monitor, then almost immediately turned back to him. ‘Not free tonight. Goodbye.’
She couldn’t possibly have seen the screen at that angle. ‘Fine!’ Dave replied and stormed out. Obviously he wasn’t wanted there, but why the bullshit? He noticed what looked to be a sign indicating an all-female clientele on his way out. Suddenly he felt embarrassed. Maybe it was a mistake on his behalf, but it didn’t justify the treatment he got. Did they think he was just another pasty skinned white man looking for happy ending? Hong Kong managed to piss him off again, and it was doing it quite easily. He felt like going back into the massage place and giving them a lecture on manners. His hands were shaking with anger.
‘ What the hell am I doing here?’ he mumbled to himself. Doubts entered his mind. Where was he going? Maybe Amy was right, and he should have stayed in Melbourne. Was he up for this stuff? Going off on his own in another country? He wasn’t a brave adventurer. Only with Julia did he feel he could do anything—she knew how to calm him. He realised that this culture clash was going to be hard for him to deal with on his own.
T he rain came down harder and the lack of cover meant he was constantly wet and clammy. He reached for his back pocket to check the map, but it wasn’t there—he must have dropped it. ‘Shit!’ He swore and looked around, realising how ridiculous the chances of finding it were. For a man with zero sense of direction in a strange city, it was almost impossible to find his way without a map. It was hard enough with one. His plan of taking it as it came was not going well. Now he was lost.
Chapter 8
No landmarks looked familiar, and Dave had no idea which way he’d come, so he walked in what felt like circles until his feet ached. In the end he was back where he started, up the stairs on Wyndham Street, wet and frustrated.
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