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  1. #141

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    Couldn't they have made that nice building into a cultural centre or space museum or whatever?


  2. #142

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    Quote Originally Posted by justjoe86:
    Couldn't they have made that nice building into a cultural centre or space museum or whatever?
    Did you intend to post this question on the Tokyo forum? It's the kind of that they seem like they would do there.

    But if you are talking about Hong Kong then:

    HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Good one!
    justjoe86 likes this.

  3. #143

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    Quote Originally Posted by R.O.:
    Actually, I think the 1 cent notes were the smallest.
    You are correct. I noticed that, but was too lazy to correct it. The 10c coin was the smallest. There were then 1c banknotes, very small, maybe 2 x 5cm, but they weren't really in use and one basically never saw them.

    There was also a 5c coin around till 1988.
    R.O. likes this.

  4. #144

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    Why did they get rid of so many nice buildings?
    - Why did they destroy that fertile countryside and build a block of flats?

    - So that I could live there.

  5. #145

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    This used to be in the terms and conditions of various Jardine Fleming investment funds:

    Unless otherwise terminated earlier in accordance with the provisions of the Trust Deed, the Trust will terminate automatically on the earlier to occur of 12 June, 2083 and the date immediately preceding the twentieth anniversary of the date of death of the last to survive of the descendants of King George V in being at 13 June, 1983.

    - - - - - - - - - - - -

    At the entrance to Ocean Terminal, there was a plaque commemorating its official opening by Princess Margaret. Now covered over.

    At the Public Transport Interchange at Tuen Mun Ferry Pier, there is a plaque commemorating its official opening by Her Royal Highness the Princess Royal GCVO. Still visible. I hope she remembers it.

    bookblogger likes this.

  6. #146

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    Feb 2013
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    458

    I remember, on Christmas morning in 2009, walking around Central after a long-haul flight from the States because it was very early in the morning and our hotel room wasn't ready yet. I walked up to Caine Road to check out the very first place that I ever lived in, the place where my parents first brought home their firstborn. Over the years, I would always take a peek as I passed by on the 13, imagining myself going inside, but I never had the guts to do it. Bamboo scaffolding was up, and I figured they were remodeling. The front gate was open. In my groggy state, I didn't think twice about trespassing and went inside. It was the first time I set foot in the place in 30 years.

    I asked the guard if I could take a look around upstairs, telling him that I used to live there, and he reluctantly agreed. I thought I'd just look around, and not bother the current residents. Imagine my shock when the lift doors opened and the flat was completely accessible. Holy shit. All the photographs I had seen over the years suddenly aligned, memories that I didn't even know I had surfaced. The bathroom tiles looked familiar. The wood floor looked familiar. Everything seemed a lot smaller.

    There was a huge gap where the windows should have been, and I realized that the building wasn't being remodeled, but being demolished. It didn't really sink in until last year, when I returned to Hong Kong and saw that it was gone, now just a construction site.

    Times change, people live, people die, and life goes on, but I'll always remember the surprise Christmas present I got on December 25, 2009.

    Last edited by HK2A430; 06-05-2014 at 07:43 PM.
    R.O., Proplus, bookblogger and 2 others like this.

  7. #147

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    Everyone has their own noise story.

    I was living on the 10th floor. On the other side of the street, with a clear line of sight and sound, there was a brand new 4-storey building which had never been occupied. I wondered why not. Then they started demolishing it and I realised that the owners had acquired the old 4-storey building next to it, and on the larger site they could put up a 15-storey building, which is still there.

    The new building was demolished with a single jackhammer. It was used 10 hours a day, 7 days a week, which was permitted at the time, late 70s. It took over two months to finish the job. The old building next door crumbled in a day. Throughout the entire period, I was either not working, or working only in the evening.

    * * * * * * * *

    I remember the 'Shanghai' barbers.

    It would be quite a large and spacious shop, with as many as a dozen chairs. Haircut, shave, and shampoo. The first barber gave the haircut and shave. He would offer you a cigarette to smoke while your hair was being cut. For the shave, you were laid almost flat. It would include a discreet trim of the nostril hair, if necessary. Mentholatum was used as an aftershave. A westerner might request a beard trim, not something they did every day, but they were professionals.

    It was very quiet in the shop; there was a balance between the stillness of the customers and the careful activity of the barbers. There was no chat between barbers and customers. As I remember it, there was no radio or television playing. The only sounds were the clicking of the scissors and clippers, the whoosh of gas in the water heaters, the splash of water, and the hum of the blow dryers.

    After the shave, you stood up; your collar was given a brush, and you were given a steaming hot moist towel to freshen up with. You were shown to a chair at a wash-basin at the back of the shop, and handed over to the second barber, usually an old man. He would plug your ears with cotton wool, and then massage a cream shampoo into your dry hair, adding a handful of water. Some of them wore thin plastic gloves; some used their bare hands, on which the skin was turned pale by the shampoo. With your head bent over the basin, he would vigorously wash and rinse your hair, then vigorously dry it with a towel. When you stood, he would give you another hot towel, to wipe away the last suds.

    He showed you to another chair, and offered you another cigarette to smoke while your hair was being dried. He carefully dried, combed, and placed your hair - but you had to stay on guard! If you didn't, he would rub some Brylcreem in! When it was finished, he brushed your collar and - I don't think I'm imagining this - gave you a third hot towel to freshen up with before leaving.

    He showed you to the cashier's desk where a couple of coins, the change from $20, had already been placed in the tray. It was an occasion to tip gladly.

    There are still Shanghai barbers, despite the competition. Some of them are now on the first floor. I only go for a haircut now, but I think the full service, without the cigarettes and multiple hot towels, still costs less than $100. But the television is on now.

    bookblogger likes this.

  8. #148

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    Apr 2010
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    I remember that HK people used to call minibuses vans - because they were originally vans, open vans or pickups. They came onto the roads in the lawless days of 1967, during the Cultural Revolution riots. Later, the government would have preferred to ban them, but could not, so started to regulate them. Even when they were proper minibuses and regulated, they kept their piratical character. They raised fares ruthlessly when they could, for example returning to Kowloon from the New Territories on a Sunday evening in summer. But the drivers were also victims, subject to triad extortion.

    The whole world calls them minibuses, but the colonial government called them light buses.

    * * * * * * * * * * * *

    This is the recipe of a gweilo dish demonstrated in a HK television programme, according to an article in TV and Entertainment Times, 1994.

    Take two slices of brown bread, spread one with crunchy peanut butter, the other with margarine. Then put slices of banana on the margarine side and cover with the other slice of bread. Slice off the crusts and pinch the edges shut to prevent banana slices from escaping. Heat a wok of oil, dip sandwiches into beaten egg and deep fry. When golden brown, remove and cut in half. Then take a tub of margarine and scoop out a large lump. Place this on top of the fried sandwich halves, douse liberally with pancake syrup, and serve.

    Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.
    - Rudyard Kipling


  9. #149

  10. #150

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    Ha ha. Everyone had those Pan Am bags in those days.


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