Lone Wolf

I needed to meet someone at the office very early (7 AM), so today I set off to our Hong Kong offices on my own for the first time. I followed Stan’s directions precisely, finding a guard at the apartment to summon a taxi for me. I had written down the phonetic pronunciation of the instructions that I was to give the driver. “Tie Koo Fung, through the Aberdeen Tunnel” I told him confidently. “No Aberdeen” came the reply. Oh-Oh. I repeated myself, this time more authoritatively so it sounded like an order. Once again, he answered with “No Aberdeen”.

Either this guy didn’t know how this whole taxi driver/customer relationship is supposed to work, or Stan gave me bad instructions (intentionally for his own amusement?), or perhaps this guy knew something that I wasn’t aware of. To play it safe I showed him one of our business cards, printed in Cantonese. Taxi man seemed satisfied with this evidence of my destination and pulled away from the curve. Still, as he pulled into traffic, he felt compelled to put me in my place and muttered, “No Aberdeen”.

No matter what tunnel he chose, everything was fine and twenty minutes later I was delivered to Warwick House East, home of Simeb Hong Kong.

Before heading upstairs, I decided to grab a coffee. Starbucks wasn’t opened yet, and they didn’t brew at either the Seven Eleven or the Circle K (although I grabbed a day old USA Today while I was there). How can a coffee shop not be open at 6:30 AM? I guess this is what happens when normal start time doesn’t come until nine. So I crossed the street and bravely purchased a cup of Joe from the nearby McDonald’s of all places.

The joint was immaculate, and none of the booths were filled with tattooed, inked, burned out teenagers as back home. I was handed my coffee in a cute little plastic bag designed for that purpose and which kept the scalding liquid from spilling onto my hand.

I had a great morning of productivity and then stepped out at the appointed hour (12:15 PM) for my lunch break. Surrounding the office building is a plethora of little cafes and American fast food chains. Naturally Stan selected a small deli-like place called “Café Einstein” that was tucked behind an alley. I decided to go with a hot lunch and ordered the curried lamb on a bed of rice. I think India invented curried flavorings, so I ended up being served Indian food, by a Thai woman, from a café named for an Austrian in the city of Hong Kong. Pretty cosmopolitan place, eh?

I ate at my desk reading about yesterday’s events. About an hour later, I discovered that “curried” must be the Hindu word for laxative.

The office is very quiet. I don’t know if this is the regular ambiance or a consequence of Stan and me being here. But everyone stays busy. I notice very little chit-chat and practically no meetings! I could learn to love this place.

I am greeted with curious looks and sheepish smiles. I’m sure most of the staff doesn’t even know who I am. That’s my problem to fix. There are a lot of empty cubicles and offices… no doubt a result of the slowing economy. Outside my office window I look directly onto a grungy apartment building. To the right is a lush mountainside, and to the left a gigantic, brand new skyscraper. As Stan says, the view seems to capture all of the prevailing elements of the Hong Kong cityscape.