I am supposed to be in HongKong. Yes, surely I flew from Tokyo to HongKong 4 hours ago, now turns to be realized myself that I am surrounded by Indian chaos. Without a certain plan or purpose to travel, as always, but this is the first time feeling like missing my direction.
It's already passed Midnight, being exhausted and being at a loss. A huge screenboard of its facade, with multi-colored neon, are outshining in contrast of their skin, Indian's dark, cinnamon-coloured skin. This illumination should be welcoming sign.....or might be alarming. Be that as it may, there's no option except to get in "ChungKing mansion", a famous building for the movie "Chungking Express"(directed by Kar Wai Wong, 1994).
Many Indians (Africans, sometimes) are standing on the street luring sheep, nope, customers for accommodations and other dealings. Fished by one of those guys who looks agreeable enough, at least, not such a searching look, I got into the building. Well, to be precise, I need to clear the barrier, which looks like animal CAGE at front, to get a entry permission, needed to show Passport and to fill out signature to the security guard (are they hired-Police?). Wondering this registration is of a list for security or just for a document to report AFTER something happens. In anyway, I've got my name on the list now.
Haven't seen any women nor even other touristic faces outside the street, there was a crowd of guys and a few of women (Indian ladies, who work here) inside the building. That made me feel like I am the only person traveling (or a little sheep) around here.
According to my "courier" the hotel runner, his guest house has just opened 3 months before, with clean and reasonable price. Besides it was on 7th floor.
Not bad.
Number seven implicates fortune, in my culture at least, although no idea in the perspectives of India or China.
Waiting the lift coming, my nose reminds me of India, smelling of masala and its humidity.
Taking the crowded lift going up, my eyes glancing down, I was tallest among all (Indians) in the lift.
Got off the elevator, my courier guided me to the guestroom. Surprisingly he was not lying to me. The room I am facing is clean and looks comfortable much more than I expected. There are no bedbugs nor suspicious spots on the wall. Actually I could say that more pleasant than my brother's (or twenysomething guy's) room. So that it was easy and simple to put my reply.
"Good, I'm gonna take this room." Said I.
"Thank you. Then I need you to fill out a piece of paper and pay us in advance."
Heading to the office, he asked me whether I was from Korea. His, this, guess made me wonder the reason of his forecast over my nationality. Do I look as pretty as Korean girl? or there's few Japanese girls who stay in this infamous building, which used to be the nest of crime? Anyway it's good to know that he never ask me whether or not I have a boyfriend and suggests having Indian boyfriends, just like always annoyed me during my small journey in India several years ago.
He is from Calcutta, northeast India , where I haven't visited during the last trip, mainly hanging around the northwest India, so that they might use another form of greetings, ingenious line on women. According to their original personality, SHYNESS.
His face and the way of casting a look gave me different impression compared to what I had in the last northwestern India trip. Hard to express but I could say this is more close to me, east asian images. I don't think all the Indians here are from Calcutta, actually I've seen many Sikhs, whose religion is the most popular in Panjab region of north India (Many sikhs doesn't shave, and their hair is covered by turban. therefore I could recognize them from their appearance) . Nevertheless, the question of differences among Indians remains. Is that the differences between Indians in India and Indians in HongKong? Is this the point?
Remembered that Calcutta used to be a trading base of The British East India Company, and many Indians were sent to Hongkong by the English during its colonial occupation. This might explain the connections between India and HongKong, and also my question.
After I've done my payment and fill out a paper, he gave me a room key and calling card of this guesthouse. Say, this knocked me out. PARIS GUEST HOUSE, that is the name of it.
Tipping him a bit I got back to my room on a second. Sliding on the bed, exhausted, but my nerve were still too excited to sleep. Not feeling like reading a book, I turned on TV.
In a state of half asleep, beautiful women were singing and dancing on the screen.
...in the rhythm of India.
