I could tell you all about high tea at the Peninsula:
The tradition, the scones, the sandwiches, the
English and inflated prices and violins and neoclassical decadence and Gucci
and Prada and tourists blah blah blah.
Blah blah.
But I’m not.
Although I highly recommend the Hong Kong Peninsula for tea
and urge you to check it out, you don’t really want to hear all that.
And you don’t want to hear about what I had for dinner so;
Fast Forward to post dinner drinks:
I was in with the expats and it just seemed kind of
Mcdonalds-y and to be all honest
I really wasn’t feeling it.
I was in the Lan Kwai Fong area of Hong Kong Island and there was
trouble in these parts.
So I sat at an outdoor bar, drinking exceedingly over priced
double bourbons neat,
And watched.
There was a stench of trite obscenity and assumed arrogance
in the white air.
It reminded me of home.
The yellow air was more cautious, introspective but brazen
all the same.
I smelled a fight.
I drank and read where the energy was flowing to better
understand this tension I wanted no part of.
It was coming and I was realizing
And remembering:
when I was 17 and visiting relatives in London- the day was
July 1, 1997- A very hot summer day in
London, and there was a lot of sadness in England. It was the day that the grand old British Empire
ceded control of Hong Kong to the Chinese.
I remember the fanfare and the tears in mother England.
And now many of the English and the representatives of all
their former empire who live in or visit Hong Kong still act like its 1913. But
its 2013 and the Chinese now own the place and have caught up in finance and
can play the same game and have the ability to mock and harass the pale faces
they call Gweilos (or pale ghost white faces)
with the same venom their ancestors were sometimes on the receiving end of.
The young Chinese
especially don’t like their former emperor’s representatives in HK, No.
There are wounds
there that still run deep, and there was anger for them and pride of them.
The fight was for dominance, and it was ever apparent to me
now in this space.
Ahhh.
Hong Kong: A City of the future stuck in a world of the
past.
I stepped out and sighed and lit a cigarette.
Ugh.
This place. It wasn’t my style, at least, it sure wasn’t my
style for tonight, I wanted to find
some fucking
MUSIC.
(real music, like music music. Not the radio)
I inhaled and let it go. Ill finish my drink and walk
somewhere, I trust ill end up in the best place.
I always do.
But there was a palpable disdain between the un-naturals and
the naturals. And although I was just beginning to know the why of it all, I was immediately aware of its presence.
But this wasn’t my fight, and I didn’t care to join.
I felt sorry for the lot of them.
Wake up Hong Kong.
"Lost in LKF Street Art"
I stood and smoked and pondered this, getting lost lost lost
from my surroundings when I felt something jarring and unexpected……………………………….
……………………………………………….A hug.
A strong tight embrace, I open my physical eyes to see a Buddhist
monk with his head buried in my breastbone.
Squeezing me.
Before I could even begin to hug him back he steps back and
smacks my 3rd Eye
-------------------(forehead
for the non believers)----------------
with a two finger snap and then kisses me on each cheek.
This crazy beautiful wide smile.
He had eyeglasses on, and I couldn’t get into his eyes, I
couldn’t get a read, so I fumbled for some money to give him, as my brain
wasn’t working.
(Brain no work, reach pocket)
- (modern day consumerism at its
morbidly sloppy finest)
I gave him some money and marveled at this man’s smile and
reveled in his warm wise energy.
I laughed.
So did he.
He then took off all the beads he was wearing, Blessed each
piece and gave them to me.
It was as if Lan Kwai Fong, the nexus of drunken
debauchery, had gone silent.
And like that he was gone.
I laughed to myself and smiled wide.
If things like this didn’t happen to me every so often, I
WOULD BE BORED.
I wanted to drop them at my hotel as I was headed to some
clubs and did not want to sully these new treasures with a baptism in this godforsaken
little corner of the universe…..
………………….Well………..
That and I was drinking.
And didn’t
want to l o s e
them.
As I walked back to my hotel to drop them off I became
curious about the smile. I remembered the embrace and it was electricity. But what was that ear to ear telling me? What
his eyes and smile said, I didn’t yet know, but felt blessed nonetheless to
have felt his honor and his grace in his embrace.
I pulled my earphones on and jaunted to the hotel. Tonight was
a club night, and I would soon forget the whole matter.
But I would see this monk again.
A couple weeks Later.
On the beach in Palomino, Colombia.
He had the same smile but his glasses off and I immediately
knew why he was smiling when I saw his eyes. It was one of knowing and happiness, it was
one of blessed safety and respect. He was right. He knew where I was going, and
what I was
on. And he blessed me and blessed sacred items for my
journey.
This time, in Colombia, I didn’t need to fumble for money
when he I saw him. I was eloquent and concise and was now speaking his
language.
Hot damn that crazy man was right.
I hope I see that beautiful monk again.
And in truth, I already have- And every time I do I just
laugh and laugh and laugh like an uncontrollable innocent child- my own knowing
ear to ear smile plastered across my face.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
*There is immense traffic that flows through our brains, and I
try to catch all of it, but there are times, even when we are paying attention that
we miss something.
I didn’t realize this until now, months later as I write
about it, but :
Earlier that day was the day that I:
Woke up late
was lost
trusted my feet
and
Interesting.
More interesting: I told the story to a Greek brother of mine. His only remark was why i would take what i consider a sacred item back to the hotel (the mala beads), as to not sully them in a club, yet I would then go get sullied in a club myself.
Brothers and sisters, that's more than interesting...that is a good one.
More interesting: I told the story to a Greek brother of mine. His only remark was why i would take what i consider a sacred item back to the hotel (the mala beads), as to not sully them in a club, yet I would then go get sullied in a club myself.
Brothers and sisters, that's more than interesting...that is a good one.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
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