So that was it for Oz. I set off on a bus for Cairns airport, reflecting on a fun week, much the same way as Steve Martin did in 'Planes, Trains And Automobiles.'
Cairns to Hong Kong. Asia. Mental, mental Asia. This is what I'd been building up to. Hot-dogs made from real dog, an average million people per square kilometre, tarts with both a cock and a minge, noisy bikes powered by heroin.
Oh yeah, I'd done my homework baby!
And finally, 10 hours later, HK:
I arrived without any guidebook, figuring that plenty of people would speak English....
I knew that the little place that I'd booked was in Mongkok, Kowloon and that it was on Argyle Street (can't believe I still remember that).
I took the speedy train into the centre of town and tried to get a taxi. What a palaver that was!! No fucker knew what I was on about. God knows how we ended up on Argyle Street, but we did. It was dark by now, and I felt a little initmidated and a little bit of a dick. I saw the number before the number I needed and got my man to pull over.
People, everywhere. Humid as fuck.
I took this picture:
I couldn't find my bloody hostel/hotel place. I searched all around but just got more confused. I was tired. I looked back at the love hotel that I'd walked past a few times. Fuck it. I walked up the narrow steps to the entrance. A frail woman of around 75 grinned at me from the tatty reception desk. She spoke no English, but it was obvious I just needed a bed. She proudly showed off a room; heart shaped pillows, red wallpaper, mirrored ceiling. How much? Fair enough. She turned on the TV and started flicking through the channels. I looked around the room, not paying much attention to the old crone. Suddenly, I heard, 'Yes! Fuck my ass! Fuck it! You like that ass?' I turned back to find Mrs Wang suggestively grinning at me. 'Oh no, no. Not for me...straight to bed.'
She left me to it. I abused my happy stick so many times I lost count and slept for 12 hours.
