Mrs M and I are existing in an errie universe at the moment: a kid free zone. PB and JC are in the protective custody of their Nana and Papa until tomorrow lunchtime. We have not squandered our freedom. We spent an hour with the kids down at the park, fed the ducks, conducted the handover to the grandparents and got the hell out of there. Since then we've spent a gorgeous Sydney day doing what anyone does when the weather is so good: we spent it shopping. Sure we squeezed in a lunch at an outdoor cafe too. But that doesn't suit my theme so I'm not going to mention it. Just like I'm not talking about our plans to go to the beach for a swim soon.

We hit a new, partially completed shopping centre in a place called Bondi Junction. What used to be a couple of dreary shopping malls seperated by a wind tunnel that doubled as a road is now in the process of becoming a spaceship design to suck as much money from your credit card in as short a time as possible. An excessive use of glass, bright signs and friendly staff will destroy even the hardiest of travellers. Wandering around the shops it was all great fun - we met several friends also looking to spend money for the sake of it. However I kept thinking the same thing as we drifted from bookstore to bra shop. Except for the accents we could be in any shopping mall in any place in the Western world. Now I'm not lamenting that fact - such malls are popular or they wouldn't exist everywhere. But the emergence of a growing uber-culture, an over-riding sense that being (say) Australian is being overhauled by a sense of being Western, came over me. More and more people in the Western world eat the same food, watch the same shows, shop at the same shops. It's all the benefits and curses of globalisation in one air-conditioned, four floor retail extravaganza.

And it's part of the Western world's relentless celebration of anything new being better than anything old.

I am sick to death of everyone over the age of 40 saying this (from a book review in The Economist):

It may well achieve its goal of taking management ideas to a new younger audience, aged around 30, being famous for their short attention span and need for instant impact and gratification.

I like bright shiny thing-ys.

The balloting has finished in the Asia Blog Awards. It's been a great initiative from Phil and much has been learnt in the process. Unfortunately due to cheaters it is impossible to know who's won what, but you know [cliche warning] it's more about being involved than winning. Right? I'm just getting prepared in case I discover I've lost out in some outrageous ballot stuffing exercise. My plan will be simple if that is the case. I will slur the awards and all involved in them. I will cast aspersions on the sanity of the voters. I will dismiss the awards as unimportant and not part of "what I am trying to achieve". I will look into the eyes of my children and with a small tear in my eye explain why sometimes the world isn't fair. How sometimes trying your hardest isn't enough. How important it is to soldier on despite the injustice of it all.

Of course if I win there's going to be one hell of a party around here. Thanks to all who voted. In particular thanks to those that voted for me.

Had lunch today at Circular Quay in Sydney. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. There was a gentle breeze taking the edge of the warm summer sun. We dined 100 metres from the Sydney Opera House and looking across the Quay to the Harbour Bridge. There were thousands of people milling about, providing a human carnival to gaze at and admire in all its diversity.

This is the best city in the world.

The wedding was great. It was an overcast day which meant it was mild enough to enjoy without sweating buckets. The ceremony was held in the middle of a park, watched by family and friends and a few picnickers who got more than their money's worth. The disasters were slight - a CD that wouldn't play, an intermitent microphone. The birde looked gorgeous and my brother the groom was his usual wise-cracking self, even during the ceremony. JC and her c-flower girl were extremely cute, and with ehr sister PB they were doing laps running between me (standing next to the groom) and Mrs M.

The reception was great fun. For those unfamiliar with a Jewish wedding it tends to run like so: the bridal party enters, then ther's ab out 30 - 40 minutes of dancing. Not slow, cheek-to-cheek waltzing. We're talking full-blooded, death-defying, foot stamping, hell-raising dancing. Bride and groom are lifted on chairs. Groom is tossed about on tablecloths. Groom is danced with by anyone and everyone. Men dance on one side, women the other. Lest you think this terribly sexist, it's actually more a way of preventing serious injury to the women-folk. And inevitably it all gets mixed up by the end anyway. After this dancing, everyone sits and drinks 3 gallons of water while waiting for the heart rate to return to normal. Next it's some food and speeches. Mine was second. Luckily the first joke got a good laugh so after that I did what I always do when I'm speaking in publich. I imagined everyone in their underwear. It was all I could do not to laugh myself! Speech out the way I could relax and enjoy myself. PB and JC both did well, enjoying the early part of the festivities before crashing. The rest of the night was a blur of conversations, dancing, hugs, kisses, tears and festiveness. It was a great night made all the better by everyone enjoying my speech.

Now I'm enjoying a precious few quiet minutes at the in-laws. Mrs M has taken PB and JC to see some friends. The in-laws are out shopping. I've got the cricket on in the background. I'm writing this. I'm about to step out for a rather long lunch with the God of Munu. It's all good. I almost feel like I'm on holidays.

I've not read this but Susie thinks it's a good entry in the new blog showcase: Banning Smokers.

PB decided to celebrate getting over her cold by waking at 5:30am today. JC decided she was so excited about her uncle's wedding today she would wake at 6am. I decided at 6:03am that as best man today I needed extra rest.

That's how I ended up waking in a bed with 6 stuffed toys.

Christmas day was a blistering billion degrees or so here in Sydney. Played golf. Did I mention it was hot? Managed to avoid third degree burns to most of my body. Otherwise we've spent the last few days running around visiting, preparing for the wedding, catching up with friends and family. The usual holiday madness. I've not seen a newspaper in a week. The only TV I've watched has involved animation or cr@ppy BBC 1970s sing-a-longs. Today is overcast, the wedding speech still needs finishing touches and I've not blogged in days. Mrs M is out shopping with her sister; PB and JC are both sleeping and can think of nothing I'd rather do than join them.

Sometimes I feel like life spins by so fast it's a wonder any of us can stand up.

Went to the theatre last night. A great little place tucked right up against the Sydney Harbour Bridge in Kirribilli, on the waterfront and opposite the Opera House. Mrs M and I used to often go to the theatre but with kids it became less frequent and since the move to HK non-existant. It's a shame because I find theatre the one medium these days that consistently entertains and provokes, rather than just fill in time (look under television, reality or supplements, newspapers for a couple of examples). The play last night was a one-man show. These are difficult to carry off at the best of times because one person speaking for a couple of hours is pretty boring. If the actor or actress is a good one they will go close to keep your attention; likewise if the material is good you'll be keen to see how the story flows. This play was an auto-biographical one; the actor in question is moderately famous in Australia. As my father-in-law pointed out, anyone coming out of Europe around World War 2 has an intersting childhood and sure enough this guy did too. But the play itself wasn't much chop. A mix of homilies and this actor's views on the world. Other than acting in some plays and TV shows I didn't notice anything on the programme that would explain why his views were so relevant to the world at large.

However one thing he mentioned got me thinking. Given there were still 20 minutes of the second act to endure I welcomed the distraction. The actor was whinging that Western civilisation is going through huge changes and there is no certainty anymore. His context was how difficult is now for parents to guide their children when everything we once "knew" no longer applies. All the relationships in society are being questioned: between races, sexes, religions, classes, countries; between children and parents, husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, within communities and between communities. Nothing is certain.

And he's right. In times past decisions and thoughts were made for you. By your church, by your parents, by your society. Free will was not part of the equation and the system worked well enough for everyone to get by. However something has changed, especially since the end of the Second World War. Western society has graduated to a point where free will is a key tenet of being a citizen. There are boundaries that are set such as laws and modes of behaviour but the world is as tolerant and as free as it has ever been. Herein lies the problem. Mankind has for generations been able to be lazy. Decisions were made by the few for the many. They were not questioned.

Nowadays it is different. People need to think for themselves. People need to develop their own code of morals, of conduct, of ethics. It is part of the responsibility of free will. If it's too much there are still plenty of people willing to tell you what to think and decide. Every day our senses are assaulted by messages and information. Advertising, media, conversations, telephones, internet, blogs, skywriters. They exist to bombard our poor little brains with way too much of everything. It is why advertising needs to constantly change - because our brains try to block out anything it's seen before. We only ever absorb a tiny fraction of all of this. And from all of this we still need to find time to sit and think. To reflect and make decisions for ourselves. I was lucky in that the school I went to had classes on Philosophy and Thinking when I was in early high school (about 13-14 years old). Teaching how to think is the first step; most schools specialise in teaching what to think instead.

It's not easy. It's not meant to be. That's why so many people choose not to think for themselves. There's nothing wrong with that. It's just a waste of your brain power not to. But be careful: once you start thinking for yourself you will find you cannot stop.

It's little things that remind me of the differences between Hong Kong and Sydney. For example this morning the sound of lawnmowers and the smell of freshly cut grass was in the air. And PB, my 17 month gem, was in my arms crying. She has never heard that sound before.

OK so I'm still working on the wedding speech. With the groom's permission I'll post it here early next week for y'all to cast your verdicts on my lame jokes and half baked cliches. It is really that good.

If you are my brother, please skip to the section marked *.

My brother gets married on Sunday. I am best man. So far I haven't got a suit, a speech or a clue. And not in that order either. Oh, and PB has decided to get sick, meaning Mrs M and I are down to 4 hours sleep a night. On the plus side a Sydney summer is great - skimpy outfits, beautiful bodies, tanned complexions. And the girls are even better.

To make matters worse I am completely procrastinating by blogging instead of writing a speech. Mrs M thinks the few jokes I've got so far are pretty lame, although they seem to work better on my mother-in-law. So Mrs M is dumped as speech tester. She never laughs at my jokes anyway. Right, back to work. Blank screen, here I come.

* Bro: the speech is totally under control. We are completely prepared for your wedding. Nothing can go wrong...

It was a beautiful warm Sydney summer day yesterday. Father in law and I headed out ot play some golf. This is one of the reasons I love returning for visits to Australia - there are numerous good courses, easily accessable and cheap(ish) to play. So we rock up to the course. And I'm promptly told my shorts are not "correct". These were tailored shorts, with a belt and white socks. But because the shorts had some buttons on the outside they were deemed cargo pants and contrary to the dress code.

So what gives? What is it about golf that there are these absurd etiquette and dress codes? White socks. That meant one of our playing partners needed new socks, because his white socks had a thin blue stripe at the top. How does a thin blue stripe on someone's sock stop you from enjoying your golf game? How does having tailored shorts, with no studs, exterior buttons and no exterior pockets alter your swing? Of course it is all a rort. It is a way for golf pro shops to force you into buying over-priced sports gear from them if you want to play golf. You're not going to turn around and not play because of a pair of shorts. But it's a flippin' ridiculous rip-off rort.

I played well just in spite of them.

I'm not listed here (picture below). Not that it much matters what a satirical website that protests far too often it is not a blog thinks. However I will do what all internet users do and make bold claims based on assumptions not backed by easily-verifiable facts.

I'm not in the worst ten HK blogs. Thus I must be amongst the best. Thus you must vote for me in the Asia Blog Awards. Anything else is intellectually dishonest.

QED.

(Of course the other thing might be I don't even register on the HK blogging tour but my inflated sense of self-importance doesn't believe that. It would be like visiting Hong Kong without visiting the delights that are its over-priced and over-rated top-flight restaurants).

It's Sunday night. My body is crying out for rest. However my brain is demanding a blog update, because that's what blogging is like: crack cocaine.

It all begun Friday afternoon. I raced down to meet Mrs M, PB and JC at the Airport Express train station to check in and go to the airport. Usually it's easy to pick them out in a crowd, because there's not many caucasians to choose from. Friday was a different story. It was the Friday before Christmas and that means only one thing: expat exodus. Almost every single group was a family making their way back "home" for the Christmas and New Year break. Nevertheless I was able to spot the three of them as they left their taxi, mostly by the large amount of baggage. We checked in and made our way to the airport. A quick zip through the SARS check, passport control and security (where for some reason the Winnie-the-Pooh bag of PBs was given a thorough going over) and it was time for dinner. We all stuffed a quick burger and chips down - it's important the kids learn bad habits directly from us, rather than their peers - before finally making it to the shuttle to the other terminal. Now Mrs M has a theory that because Hong Kong is Cathay Pacific's base, they get the best gates and preferential treatment at the airport. Not true. Gate 69 is the second further gate in the airport. With two strollers, carry on luggage and 10 minutes before the flight leaves, this means walking turned into a rapid trot. Until we were stopped in that typical HK way by an official with out flight number. Clearly we would make it if we could keep going. But we had to stop, produce our boarding passes and wait. Why? So she could radio ahead and tell them we'd be late. Of course we're going to be late, Mrs M pointed out helpfully to the official, because we've got to stand here and wait while you do this. A traditional smile and apology followed by not much else lasted all of a minute but felt longer. Nevertheless it was perfect in the end - we were the second last group onto the plane. With two young kids, that's perfect.

The flight was uneventful, in a travelling with a 3 year old and 17 month old kind of way. We were stuck in the same cabin as CNN minor celebrity Stan Grant. We have CNN on all day at work. CNN's news cycle is 30 minutes. Stan is an anchor based in HK. I've grown to hate Stan. Not as a person. But for what he represents: canned news, churned over endlessly and over-analysed to death. I figured anything the girls might do is a little way for Stan and through him CNN can feel the pain they inflict on me. Daily. But I digress. We engaged in a bit of socialising on the plane, as we knew several people also returning to Australia for the holidays. Then we managed to get some sleep, temporarily interupted by a cyclone off northern Australia. Which we only found out was a cyclone when the pilot told us. Just before we landed, 4 hours later.

We breezed through Sydney airport and got a cab to the in-laws. No time to rest though. A quick shower and bite to eat and I was on my way back to synagogue for my brother's pre-wedding call-up. I had been told to be on time as I was also due for a call-up, which is both a great honour and a way for the synagogue to cop an extra donation. I arrived. I greeted. I was introduced to my future new family. Then I was given the fateful news: no call-up for me, due to scheduling difficulties. No worries. I bolted out of their for a suit fitting. A very kind Russian lady told me I looked a little fat in one size of the suit. I told her that's because I am fat. She agreed, but said this made me look fat. The other size hid it better. Thank God my self-esteem is bulletproof. After crying in the car for 10 minutes because some Cossack had insulted my over-active stomach muscles I bee-lined it back to the in-laws to pick up Mrs M, in time to head to my parents' house for the pre-wedding lunch. More meeting, more greeting, more introductions, and way too many people between me and the food table. After a couple of hours I begged leave, which was fine by everybody as JC and PB turned up and that's all they really wanted. I got 45 minutes nap time before the next item on the agenda.

My brother's bucks night. Stag party. Bachelor party. Whatever. It was good. As part of the organising comittee I knew what was happening and yet it all still went surprisingly well. I discovered that many of my brother's friends are readers of this blog (hello gents) so I knew it was going to be a good night. In order to obey the Bucks night Code Of Silence I cannot divulge too many details, despite the presence of a camera to record many of the events. What I can say is watching one's brother marching down a public street dressed only in a G-string and a dog collar is funny. We spent much of our time down at Bondi Beach and we seemed to make a lot of friends, judging by the yelling and screaming. The night was a great success and certainly one of the best bucks nights I've been too, mostly because my borther was such a good sport about everything we threw at him. He was even generous enough to say having your chest hair waxed off is not too painful. He is a true man amongst men.

I managed to leave the night in a state of relative sobriety but complete exhaustion. Sleep came quickly although not before Mrs M informed me how badly the two girls had coped with their jet lag. 3 hours time difference is enough to knock them out of kilter. We awoke and needed to quickly get ready (noticing a pattern here?) as we had a concert to go to. Not just any concert. The Wiggles, the band for kids. The concert was at the Sydney Entertainment Centre, which holds about six thousand. It was full. And they had 3 concerts today. Ka-ching. The did a mix of the old favs and the new stuff ("the new CD is available in the foyer after the show"), but at almost two hours it was a little overlong for the littlies. We returned to the in-laws in anticipation of everyone having a much needed lunchtime nap. But JC had other plans. So yours truly and JC spent "quiet time" bonding on Grandma's bed, mostly by me imploring JC to read/lie down/closer her eyes/stare at the ceiling while allowing myself moments of micro-sleep. The rest of the afternoon was spent swimming with friends before we headed for an early dinner.

Let me ask you this. You run a pizza place. Not one of those cheesy faux-Italian places with the red checker-board tableclothes and faded pictures of Jueventus FC and the Almalfi Coast. No this was an outdoor cafe that offers pizza and pasta. It is situated in a courtyard. It is ideal for kids. Yet we arrive and discover there's no high chairs And the owner doesn't like kids. Or us. Even though we proceed to order 8 pizzas, 3 salads, numerous drinks, ice-creams for everyone and assorted other bits. And it was 5:45pm. There was one other table, also of kids. The food was good but the service sucked. It just re-enforces my belief that a good restaurant is as much about service as the food or location. We returned home, bathed two very tired girls before putting them to bed. And now Mrs M is chatting with her mum, and I'm blogging. We cancelled our anniversary dinner tonight in anticipation of JC and PB having another bad night and of course they fell asleep instantly. They're smart little things I tell you.

Right, better go. Got golf in the morning. I miss a Sydney summer. The sun has just gone down and it's 8:30pm. It's a moderate mids 20s, the humidity is not over-powering and there's beach, family, friends and more. I love HK but one day Sydney will be our home again, without a doubt. It's just too good a place to live.

And there's not a thick pollution haze every few days.

In just a few hours from now Mrs M, JC, PB and myself will be leaving HK to head back to Sydney. Yes, we're joining the expat exodus for the holidays. And it's my brother's wedding.

That does not mean this blog will be left unattended. Remarkably Australia also has broadband internet, allowing posting from the comfort of my in-laws' and my parents' houses. Frequency may decline but that just means quality will increase. It does not mean you can slack off from voting if you have not yet done so.

this is going to be one busy holiday. There's something on almost every single day. It will be one of those ones you come back from only to think how badly you need a holiday. Don't believe me? Here's this weekend for you:

Tonight: 9 hour plane trip with 3 year old and 17 month girls.
Saturday: Synagogue for my brother's call-up (for the non-Jewish, here's a quick primer on the ceremony itself. Tomorrow is more a preparatory thing). Then I need to hot-foot it over to the suit place for a fitting. Next is the big family lunch with both sides of the new family, many of whom we haven't met because we're in HK. Quick afternoon nap (hopefully) because around 5pm the bucks night (bachelor party for non-Australians) starts.
Sunday: arrive home from wherever. Get 2 hours drunken sleep. Awoken by jet-lagged JC and PB. Go to Wiggles concert (3,000 three to five year olds. A great hangover cure). Return home to try and find brain. Bask in warm family glow for the afternoon. Join parents and brother's in-laws to be at a picnic. Return home to bath and put kids to bed. Take Mrs M out to dinner to celebrate 5th wedding anniversary. Discover limits of human endurance.

Lest you think that's where it all ends, that's nothing. There's golf. There's the dentist. The pre-wedding haircut. The Get Pixy Pissed lunch. More golf. Family. Friends. Picnics. Breakfasts. Brunches. Lunches. Dinners. New Year's Eve*. Farewells. Packing. Returning to HK. Going back to work the morning after arriving back.

When I say busy, I mean busy. Regular blogging will continue when opportunities present themselves.

* Sydney thankfully has two sets of New Year's Eve fireworks. One at 9pm, one at midnight. By agreement with our friends (most of whom have little kids too) 2004 officially starts at 9:01pm on December 31st, 2003. That way we can all go to bed and a get a good night's sleep.

There are two kinds of people who read or write blogs: those that do it during normal hours, and those who seem to exist on two hours sleep a night and spend the wee hours looking at and writing blogs. Daytime = blogtime. Nighttime = sleep/going out/making love/having a life time. Just saying.

Mister Green is going to be rich. Yes, he's engaged in Nigerian scam email tennis. Luckily for him I can help.

You see if you just send me through your bank account details I'll be happy to facilitate the rest of this transaction. My Grandpapa was a dictator of an obscure African nation who's name I forget. He embezzled like there was no tomorrow. If it wasn't nailed down he took it. He used to carry a hammer around and use that other side of it to pry the nails out so he could take things that used to be nailed down too. He was very thoughtful. He was very generous too. He would give money to many countries who needed it. Switzerland. Cayman Islands. Bermuda. Jersey. He cared for his subjects citizens. He would tax them until they bled he cared so much. He would find as many possible human rights and take them away so his citizens wouldn't need to worry about having them or not. He built a few palaces which doubled as a front for his militaristic ambitions. He started a few wars to keep everyone busy and give him an excuse to take out the best and brightest. No one was quite sure why they were fighting but if an army's fighting a war somewhere else they can't be planning a coup at home. That's what Grandpapa used to say. He liked playing what he called the "big boys" against each other. The ex-colonisers always had a guilt thing he could exploit, and those darned New Worlders sticking their noses in could be placated with empty promises. He was very smart, my Gradnpapa.

Now I just need your help to get that money. You see if you can fly to the middle of nowhere, meet my cronies (they're very helpful with those baseball bats) and help my family find our money. Your cut is 10% of any part of your body.

Each week HK Magazine comes out as an English language what's on guide with a classifieds section. It's always great reading with the singles ads proving entertaining as always. You know the type: "20yo Dirty little slut seeking 24 to 35 yo white guys for sex" (that's a direct quote from one of today's ads).

So today's task for you all is this. How would you describe yourself in a singles ad? You've got 25 words or less.

My go:

30yo short white male with glasses looking for blog readers and linkages. Looking for LTR* only.

* LTR = long term relationship. Feel free to use acronyms, real or imagined.

Another prize for the best entry, either in the comments or on your own site (just link back to this one).

Jen may be a little misguided in the old Blogwar, but being a historian she may be able to help with something. Why is it that in history Alliances have always triumphed over Axises (or whatever the plural is)? World War 2 is one example. The current Axis of Evil is another. Just a thought.

Yet again I've found it difficult to find anything to vote for in the New Blog Showcase*. But I've gotta do my duty, at least until I can convince the Bear to add a none of the above section. So my vote goes to My Word, which is on blogspot so doesn't work anyway. I pass no comment on the article itself.

* There's an interesting post about this issue over at Alliance HQ.

The morning delights that are the SCMP:

Seventeen people have been arrested by the ICAC for allegedly inflating the number of hits on a semi-official website which took bookings for government sporting facilities.

The Independent Commission Against Corruption said those arrested were involved in a suspected fraud case, in which the number of website hits was falsely boosted to meet contract requirements set by the government.

I really am starting to feel like Hong Kong is my home. I just got my first all Chinese spam this morning. I've been accepted as a local at last.

My big contest also had a winner. Seeing as no-one told me they were number 10,000 I hearby declare the very funny Joey of Buggre Alle This the winner, as he was number 9,999.

Joey, here's your prize:

Sometime tonight (Hong Kong time) the 10,000th visitor will view this blog. How can you tell? Go 3/4 the way down the sidebar and check the site meter, just under the "Movable Type" thingy.

If you are number 10,000 then leave a comment in this post. You and only you will receive a special prize.

For the other 9,999 visitors I hope everyone's enjoyed what they've found so far. Thanks for your support and lack of comments. It really makes it worthwhile when I bleed and sweat into a great post, only to get nothing back.

Back when this blog was just a twinkle in my eye, it got 5 visits a day, 4 of which were me checking if anyone else was visiting or if the format was OK, and the other being my parents or brother. Now look. People from all over the world with nothing better to do visit it to fill in a spare 10 minutes of their day.

What did we all do before the internet?

My computer screen blew up. It's one of those flat ones. It just stopped working. The IT guy (favourite quote from him: "I hate computers") replaced it. The new screen works. But the colours are a blue wash. It makes for an interesting contrast. Luckily I already wear glasses.

I feel sorry for kids with dorky parents. Especially little girls with a dorky Dad. Sorry JC. Sorry PB.

The new AIA tower being built in Hong Kong will actually be a perfect reflection of the ultimate that HK has to offer the mobile: it completely resembles a giant mobile phone.

It is just my luck that of all the contests in the Asia Blog Awards the one I'm in (Best Newcomer) is the closest. Why God do you mock me so?

This is not another plea to vote for me if you haven't yet. It's more a beg. But wait there's more.

Please also spread the word and ask your friends/family/fellow bus riders to vote for me too. It turns out to win the US$100 Gift Voucher I need the most votes of any category. If you're a fellow blogger, please put a pointer for this vote with a demand all your readers vote for me.

Oh, and maybe read my blog a little too.

Apparently Australia is already begging for us to come back.

As more and more of our best and brightest leave to work or study overseas, Australia must reach out to them and encourage their eventual return, a new report urges. Permanent departures of the Australian-born have jumped by 146 per cent since the early 1990s, with Britain, the US and New Zealand the most popular destinations.

Nearly one million are living and working overseas - about 4.3 per cent of the national population.

...

The report canvasses a number of measures, including setting up a register of expatriates to maintain contact while they are overseas, and tax breaks so they won't be disadvantaged on their return.

Those working abroad still had a strong attachment to the homeland, however, with more than 80 per cent calling Australia home and half intending to return some day, the report found.

Now if they just could get the income tax rate down from 48.5% to somewhere closer to Hong Kong's 16% we might be in business.

A perfect example of double standards when it comes to HK's approach to governance. Firstly the good:

Stephen Wong Hon-ching, a former chairman of the Liquor Licensing Board, yesterday was found guilty of misconduct in public office because of an intimate relationship he had with a lawyer.
Wong, 50, had recommended solicitor Catherine Yu Mei-lin as legal representative to three people applying for liquor licences during his tenure as head of the board, from January 2000 to December 2001, the District Court heard.

Ms Yu also received information from Wong that gave her an advantage when representing her clients at board meetings he chaired.

...

The father of three visited Ms Yu's flat regularly from August 2001 and stayed for the night on occasions, in "what may properly be described as a close and intimate relationship", Judge Alan Wright said.

Rejecting a defence claim that Wong's conduct "may have been immoral or ill-advised" but "not criminal in nature", the judge said: "It is not my function in this trial to arrive at moral judgments. This is conduct that calls for condemnation and punishment and falls four-square within the established definition of the offence."

However, as I pointed out the other day, it's OK if you avoid about HK$180,000 in tax. You're the financial secretary, about to introduce a tax rise on new luxury cars, it is discussed often in front of you. You rush out and demand the new car from a dealer before the tax rise is announced. But that's NOT considered misconduct.

Double standards. That's all it is.

I'm in the pantry at work getting my daily 24 litres of water to drink. Gotta stay hydrated you know. Plus it means I get to visit the bathroom every 5 minutes. I'm waiting while the lady in front fills her coffee cup with hot water from the fountain. Then she fills her water bottle. Then she turn to the drinks machine and pulls out a can of Coke, which she opens and has a sip out of.

How can anyone start their day with a coffee, water AND Coke? That's way too much caffine. And it's not like the panty if so far away. Why not just take a coffee now, come back for some water later and a Coke at lunchtime? Could she really be that thirsty?

"What makes a person so poisonous righteous that they think less of anyone who just disagrees?" - The Idea of North

Why do these quirky posts always get the most comments?

At first winning in the Asia Weblog Awards was just something to keep my self-esteem inflated. Perhaps also to get a little recognition for the effort and hard yakka that goes into this place. Something to say thanks for cr@pping on about everything and anything.

Now it's about something much more important. Money.

Now would seem a good time to announce a little extra something. The blog with the most votes in any one category gets a US$100 Amazon gift certificate courtesy of a mystery sponsor.

If you have not already done so, VOTE FOR ME as Best Newcomer 2003. It takes about 15 seconds of your time. Feel free to skip a few of my posts today and vote instead. The page loads quickly and you just go to the bottom and pick my blog from the drop-down box and enter your email address (which is only for verification). Remember, I'd do the same for you. Unless I was competing against you, in which case I wouldn't.

If you have I thank you sincerely. Your vote means a lot to me. About US$100 right now.

I sometimes put soy sauce on my curry. Deal with it.

You know things are slow when there's people having putting contests at work.

It looks like SARS may be making a comeback for winter.

10:03 17Dec2003 RTRS-Taiwan says lab worker shows SARS symptoms

TAIPEI, Dec 17 (Reuters) - A laboratory worker at a hospital in Taipei has showed positive signs of SARS, a Taiwan health official said on Wednesday. The Department of Health is scheduled to hold a news conference at 0300 GMT.

The patient is a worker at a general hospital in Taipei and has been transferred to a hospital equipped to handle SARS cases, the official who declined to be identified, said by telephone.

In September, Singapore reported the world's first SARS victim in three months after a 27-year-old Singaporean medical student most probably caught the virus in an accident at a Singapore government-run laboratory that researches the deadly disease.

Taiwan had the world's third worst outbreak of Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) earlier this year, but no fresh cases were reported after June. Thirty-seven people died directly from the respiratory disease in Taiwan and another 37 local deaths were related to SARS. Worldwide, SARS killed more than 800 people this year.

UPDATE Now it's official. Courtesy of Reuters:

10:59 17Dec2003 RTRS-TAIWAN'S HEALTH MINISTRY CONFIRMS SARS CASE

11:03 17Dec2003 RTRS-TAIWAN HELATH MINISTRY SAYS SARS PATIENT PROBABLY CAUGHT VIRUS IN LAB

11:09 17Dec2003 RTRS-TAIWAN HEALTH OFFICIAL SAYS PATIENT VISITED SINGAPORE ON DEC 7-10 TO JOIN SEMINAR

The unlinkable SCMP brings this morning news of a most happy nature. He's going to try again:

As the mainland experts headed home to Panyu empty handed yesterday, Australian hunter John Lever said he's ready for another go at catching the Yuen Long crocodile.
He has designed a laser-guided harpoon, specifically with Hong Kong's wily reptile in mind, but the weather needs to warm up first, he said yesterday.

When the laser sight finds its target the harpoon is accurate up to 30 metres. Speaking from Queensland as he set off to test his new weapon catching a rogue 3.5-metre croc in the Fitzroy river, he said he began designing the tool on the flight home from Hong Kong at the end of last month. "It's become a big challenge to me to catch him safely, especially a little chap like this who eludes me. I'd love to come up to Hong Kong again if I was invited," he said.

Mr Lever said he was not surprised to hear the 10-man mainland team from the crocodile farm attached to the safari park at Panyu, on the outskirts of Guangzhou, had had no luck after nine days. "They were hunting in daylight - it needs to be at night," he said. Their attempts to snare the 1.2-metre reptile in nets strung across the river failed when the crafty croc popped up on the other side. The cold weather has further frustrated their efforts: crocodiles stay underwater where it's warmest once the temperature drops. "You'll find him following the tidal currents now because they will be warmest, and basking on the bank when the sun's out to get his body heat up," Mr Lever said.

His advice to the Agriculture, Fisheries and Conservation Department had been to leave the croc in peace until temperatures rose and he started eating again. The animal was in no danger from the cold and could go up to three months without food, but he would not eat at temperatures below 24 degrees Celsius.

When asked if they would invite Mr Lever back, a spokesman for the Agriculture, Fisheries and Conservation Department was hesitant. "Maybe Mr Lever's new harpoon is one way to do it, but right now the mainland experts are still trying. They are optimistic they can catch it," he said. "Possibly we could invite Mr Lever back but I am not the one to decide. Mr Lever is the expert. When we worked with him we learned so much about crocodile behaviour. He had the expertise but not the luck."

I hate it when the bus home runs late when I'm able to get away from work early.

How can anyone do any work in the main HSBC building after sunset? The light show on the building itself flashes, swoops and twinkles at a blistering pace. On top of that the Christmas tree in Statue Square and outside their window lights up like a short-circuiting computer.

If I worked in that building I would demand to leave before 5pm or get very dark sunglasses issued.

The Government in HK is slowly getting the public ready for the issuance of bonds next year. Hong Kong, being one of those places blessed with a huge surplus of funds for much of its history, has never seen a need for bonds. In the last few years the Government has funded its deficits by drawing down on these reserves. But economically that makes little sense if the money is being invested in infrastructure.

Think about a company about to build a new factory. This company could either fund the new factory out of past profits or borrow money from the bank. Regardless of what they decide the company needs to take account of the cost of this money. Because even if they used the past profits, there is an opportunity cost of putting the money into the factory instead of some other investment. Either way the factory needs to be able to generate sufficient return to pay its way, including the cost of building it. So the cost of taking a loan with the same life as the useful life of the factory matches the costs with the benefits.

So it is with Governments. If they are going to build a road that lasts 30 years, the users should pay for it. Not the current taxpayer. Not past taxpayers. The costs should be amortised over the useful life of the infrastructure. So if the HK Government is true to their word: Tang said the principle had already been set: ``Proceeds from the possible bond issue will not be used to fill the operating deficit. Rather the money would be used to fund any capital expenditure such as infrastructure projects.'' then there should be no problem.

The temptation for Governments is to use this money to fund its current expenses, things like public servant wages. I think with HK's big reserves the prospect of that is far off.

The good news is they removed the puke yellow headrests from the Disneyland bus. The bad news is the "ergonomic" seats are so bad my back is having spasms.

There is nothing and no-one I can trust anymore. My "Cartier" watch from Mongkok had a broken link. So on the weekend when we were back there I took it to my man and told him I needed the link replaced. He's a busy man. His shop is tiny. It's three floors up with an entrance no greater than a hole in the wall, but barricaded with an inch thing steel door. As is the entrance to his shop. You enter a space of no more than 80 square feet, where you are bombarded with handbags, wallets and watches from every brand in the world. Good quality stuff too. So my man tells me he cannot replace it now and will have it ready on Monday. He's constantly answering his mobile phone. He's got ADD. Nevertheless I get him to focus for three seconds. I tell him there's no way I can leave work to get back to Mongkok this week and that I need the watch before Friday. I don't really need the watch at all but that's besides the point. If I don't set a deadline I'll never see it again. He tells me again I need to come to Mongkok to pick it up. I tell him no, he will deliver or send it to Central. We're talking about 4 stops on the train, at a cost of HK$10 or so. OK he repeats three times in that local way, rapidly and as a way to say "Whatever, just leave me alone." I judiciously slip his card into my pocket.

So I ring my man this afternoon. Where's my watch? If he sent it Monday, it should be here today (HK Post is good like that; same-day delivery is not unheard of). Oh, he says, obviously scouring his mind to remember who I am. It will be ready tomorrow. He'll send it to me tomorrow. I must have it by Friday I repeat to him. I will call him again tomorrow to make sure. Yes, yes, yes, I will send tomorrow he tells me again. He hangs up on me. We both know the truth. If he remembers he will send it. And it may not be the same watch. And I will ring him irrately and he will tell me to come to Mongkok to his store to sort it all out. And he will have won.

There is no honour or trust in such dealings. This guy's after-sales service sucks. I don't care what part of commerce or business you are in. You make sure your goods are of good quality and if not you do your darnest to make it up to your customer. This is a guy I've sent plenty of others too. I will never send anyone again if that friggin' watch isn't here by Friday. I'm not saying I have life or death power over him. He probably won't notice the drop in business. At first.

But I will not rest until I avenge this travesty. Or until I get my watch. The right one. Fixed. Properly.

Everyone knows they got Sadaam. That's great, the world can rest a little easier. But instead of Osoma as the next target, I'd like to see everyone concerntrating on finding the world's worst criminal mastermind.

I am in a minority. No, not the nerdy expat Hong Kongers minority. An even more persecuted group exists. I am a fountain pen user.

This is a world built around the ball point pen. They are ubiquitous and boring. They have little style and reflect a conformist mentality. They are the junk food of the writing world. Pencils have their place but are really too specialised to be of general use. Pencils, to continue the analogy, are the side dishes of the writing world. Fountain pens are the cordon bleu, the creme de la creme, the finest and most exquisite of cuisines. They require intimate handling and need to be appreciated as they are being used. They require effort and love. They are not disposable, throw-away forgettable and unlamented objects. They are a tool of trade, an instrument of great power. They are a mark of maturity and sophistication and need to be appreciated like a fine wine.

Once you use a fountain pen you will never go back. Do yourself a favour and start using one today.

Yes, it's a slow day and I'm hungry.

Christmas in Hong Kong is not a good time for epileptics. There's more flashing lights than a light flashing convention.

The people at the Disneyland complex have really lashed out. They've bought themselves a new bus to help ship the work fodder to and from Central. I boarded it last night. It had the new bus smell. But worse was the colour scheme. Let's just say that bright yellow and gray do not work to soothe the hordes on their bus journey home from a day in the trenches.

I was thrown out of my home last night. By my wife. And I'm thankful.

Mrs M decided to do what all self-respecting women do: she hosted a party. Not any party. It was one of those parties where everyone comes along and a company representative tries to sell these women, now alcohol plied, various goods. It's the new Amway. The hostess gets a discount on the goods (or even free goods) depending how much her drunken mates lash out on the merchandise. Last night it was prepared gourmet food. This meant lots of yummy leftovers when I came home. It also presented a golden opportunity to go and join fellow temporary widower and Disneyland inmate D for a night of Playstation and dinner. We could relive our bachelorhood for a little while and pretend hygiene and balanced meals don't matter.

D is an interesting fellow. Despite being a lawyer. He had warned me of two problems with our night last night. Firstly there was his conference call with London at 8pm. Secondly, he's doing the Atkins diet. That's the one that says all fat is good and all carbohydrates are the devil's spawn. So I arrived with all hopes of pizza dashed. Instead I was presented with the night's dinner to be cooked while he was on his call. It was meat. Nothing else. Just meat. Steaks, hamburger patties and some pastrami. D started his call. I cooked it all to perfection. D was still on his call. I ate my share. D continued to negotiate reserves and closings and settlements. I finished my dinner. He finished his call and marked down the 45 minutes it took as billable time. Then he apologised but had to call the client again. No worries I replied as I started on the Playstation. Much placating and re-assuring later, he finally was able to join me. And this was a quick call, according to D. We soon settled into a night of sports, fighting, shooting and car racing, courtesy of the good people at Sony.

And every day I thank God I'm not a lawyer.

Let me give you an insight to what passes as appropriate political conduct in Hong Kong. From the always unlinkable SCMP comes two gems.

Firstly imagine that the country's treasurer/finance minister brings down a budget with an increase in tax on new cars. Then a few weeks later it emerges the same person went and bought an expensive new car in the weeks before the public release of the budget, but after the new tax had been agreed upon. This person goes to car dealers and demands the new car be ready before a certain date. This date also happens to be the date the new tax is due to start. And the minister at first denies and hushes it all up. A scandal. Definitely. Resignation of said minister. Absolutely. In this case it took several weeks but finally even Antony Leung could see he had to go and Tung Chee-twa cut him loose. In most normal places that would not be the end of it. There would almost certainly be some sort of investigation and possible civil or even criminal sanction. Effectively it is a form of insider trading.

So what do they do here? They hire a couple of expensive lawyers to find reasons why they cannot prosecute.

Former financial secretary Antony Leung Kam-Chung has escaped prosecution over the Cargate scandal after the Department of Justice concluded there was insufficient evidence to prove his actions had criminal intent.
The department made the decision, announced yesterday, after consulting two independent legal experts, who advised that while there was a prima facie case, there was no reasonable prospect of conviction.

Lawyers groups have welcomed the decision not to press charges against former financial secretary Antony Leung Kam-chung, saying it heralds a new era in transparency and openness by the Department of Justice.

I had hardly finished cleaning up the corn flakes I had spat out on reading that one before I come across the next gem. To give this one some context for non-Hong Kong readers the Legaslative Council, which has little power anyway, is not elected by universal sufferage. Instead half the seats are voted for by the almost 7 million residents of HK. The other half are filled by "functional" constituencies such as the medical profession and business. Usually to vote in these you are a member of some exclusive organisation that may number 500 or 1000 people. Gerrymandered like this, the Legco is never going to give the Government much grief, even with its smattering of democrats.

So this comes out:

Tycoon Peter Woo Kong-ching has called on the central government to protect the "rights" of Hong Kong's business community by not allowing a dilution of its power in the Legislative Council and the election committee that chooses the chief executive.
He said the public was "too hopeful" about the prospect of directly electing the chief executive, implying he believed universal suffrage would do more harm than good.

He urged President Hu Jintao and other state leaders to consider how to maintain a "balanced participation" in politics without introducing universal suffrage.

The business sector should keep at least one-quarter of the seats in the legislature even after the review of the post-2007 constitutional framework, said Mr Woo, chairman of Wharf Holdings and an adviser to the central government.

In a recent speech, Mr Woo said the central government should keep the trade-based functional constituencies in Legco because Hong Kong was a "business city".

"The introduction of elections of chief executive and all seats of Legco through universal suffrage amounts to abolition of the business sector's rights to participate in politics," Mr Woo told the leaders.

...

"After [the] July 1 [protest], I hope that the central authorities will send out a stronger signal on this to make it clear there will not be any change to this position," the speech read.

Mr Woo said the public was "too hopeful" on the prospect on electing both the next chief executive and Legco after 2007, after "encouragement" from the proponents of universal suffrage.

He said without copying the political system in the US or Europe, consideration should be given to preserving the present system of participation in politics.

This is exactly why HK needs greater democracy. To stop the Antony Leung's and Peter Woo's of the world.

I finish dumping on one "Aussie in Hong Kong" article that whinges about Australia's place in the world when I stumble across another. What is going on at the moment that all these complaining Aussies are coming to Hong Kong so they can appear to have a better view of all that ails the lucky country? It's always tricky getting fired up twice in a day to deal with silly articles but I'm going to try.

The only general news story about Australia to feature in The South China Morning Post on Monday concerned the attempt to scale back the skimpy bar girls in Kalgoorlie.

Ah yes, don't you love the image Australia projects to the world - a bunch of boorish, sexist miners in the desert leering at semi-naked young women between shifts working for largely foreign-owned mining giants?

And what other messages have been coming out of Australia of late? Our PM is a boring, small-minded, sport-obsessed, Monarchist, yankophile, divisive, dog-whistle racist. The leader of the Opposition is foul-mouthed thug who has broken the arm of a taxi-driver and just succeeded a grey union troglodyte as the alternative national leader. And the leader of the Democrats is a drunk who man-handles women in the Senate. The country's clearly in good hands.

Travelling overseas just highlights everthing that Australia is not. Crikey's best mate lives in the central Hong Kong suburb of Causeway Bay, the most densely populated square kilometre in the world.

If 6.7 million people can live on this vibrant little Island (including Kowloon), why the hell can't Australia cope with 50 million and actually become relevant on the world stage at something apart from sport? And don't give us this water argument? The whole of the north has too much water.

The bridal party for this wedding is an interesting snapshot of globalisation, multiculturalism, Australia's place in the world and the generational differences which John Howard and Mark Latham each represent. The bride and groom each have one sibling and two high school friends in the wedding party.

The bride and her bridesmaids at this wedding who are all very outward looking, educated Hong Kong Chinese. One works for the world's biggest advertising agency and is about to marry an Aussie and probably move to Beijing, another was educated in Australia and is about to go and work in New York for a financial information giant, another is a pharmacist and the sibling bridesmaid is about to move to Singapore with another multi-national.

The blokes are all non-practising WASPS (Australia's arguably has less religious baggage than any other country) from Melbourne's comfortable eastern suburbs. We're all private schools boys, university educated, working professionals and on good money, save for Crikey who is self-employed, asset poor and owes 20k on the credit cards.

And what has happened to the careers of these lads? One works for a giant American consumer goods company, another was schooled by Nike and works for Australia's largest importer from China and another works in Hong Kong for a London-based global advertising giant and is about to move to Beijing. Crikey, of course, runs the quintessential information age business - a web operation based at home with the wife and kids in suburban Melbourne.

So did any of the blokes in this bridal party have the opportunity to work for an Australian-based multinational? Not really, because as a nation we ain't produced many of them? Instead, we have a load of cartels, a service-sector oligopoly with way too much power, close to the highest level of foreign ownership in the developed world and the reality that to seriously get ahead many Australians have to leave for more dynamic and relevant places like Hong Kong or work for foreign companies.

The groom and his two groomsmen school mates have married "Catholic foreigners" - one Hong-Kong Chinese, one Indonesian-Australian and one Irish-Italian (Mrs Crikey) - although this is largely irrelevant to all of us.

These sorts of marriage patterns and career paths would never have happened in our parents' generation - the conservative generation which loves John Howard and will prove to be Mark Latham's biggest obstacle.

However, the 30-something, Aussie blokes in this bridal party are all very excited about what Latham potentially has to offer - mainly because he's an alternative to little Johnny Howard and has a vision of individuals and Australia as a country "getting stuck in" and climbing "the ladder of opportunity" .

Sitting up here in Hong Kong, where the top personal income tax rate is just 15 per cent, you do reflect that Crikey could be run from anywhere in the world. In logical terms, Crikey should never be "based" in Australia where the working poor are getting slugged like never before to prop up the subsided and conservative, Howard-voting, retired, asset-rich, low-tax, 60-plus generation who don't like multiculturalism or globalisation. They may enjoy some of the benefits of mobile capital, but they don't like the idea that labour could be mobile also and Australia should open its door to millions more "foreigners".

The phrase intergenerational tension has been flying around lately and the ascension of Latham will bring much of this to a head. The young will vote for him but the subsidised oldies won't. Latham has previously talked about cutting the top personal tax rate which is the most punitive regime in the world. He should make the oldies pay more tax as part of this change as they won't vote for him anyway. Crikey met a bloke on the tram yesterday who sent his son to the University of NSW for an accounting degree but then brought him straight back to work in Hong Kong because the tax rates in Australia are so ridiculously high.

So what is making news in Hong Kong at the moment? Well, this tiny Island state's foreign reserves rose $US1.7 billion to $US114 billion in October giving it the fifth highest pile of cash in the world after Japan, China, Taiwan and South Korea. As the poor white trash of Asia we've only got $US30 billion stashed at the Reserve Bank because the Howard government keeps raiding it to claim phoney budget surpluses which wouldn't exist at all if we built up our foreign reserves to Asian levels and also properly funded our $85 billion and rapidly growing unfunded superannuation hole for current and former federal public servants. Crikey remains gob-smacked that Federal unfunded super can blow out by $13 billion over the course of the Howard government and they have the gall to claim surpluses when this would be illegal if done by any publically listed company.

With more than 30 per cent of Australians on welfare and more than 50 per cent of Australians now requiring support or heavy subsidies from us "highly taxed working poor", someone like Mark Latham has it all in front him.

Firstly, he's got to win over one of the most union-dominated "non-right" mainstream political parties in the world and then he's got to win an election and then he's got to get a visionary reform agenda through a perenially hostile senate.

He probably won't succeed so sport can resume its place as the major barbecue stopper in Australia - the nation which doesn't count for much on the world stage and is famous for things like strippers in mining towns and celebrity crocodile hunters.

Phil points out the latest in HK's obession with mobile phones:

The number of mobile phone accounts in Hong Kong has topped 6.9 million, exceeding the city's population for the first time as cellular operators continue to cut prices. Cell phone accounts, including prepaid phone cards, increased by 183,000 in October. The 2.7 per cent increase brings the total number of accounts to 6.94 million, according to the Office of the Telecommunications Authority (Ofta). This gave Hong Kong a penetration rate of 102 per cent, the regulator said.

So co-incidently two things happened today in the mobile world. Firstly from the SCMP this:

Hong Kong conglomerate Hutchison Whampoa planned to kick off its local third-generation (3G) mobile telecommunications services next month, the company's managing director Canning Fok said on Monday...The company set the price of new 3G handsets at HK$4,380 (US$560) and monthly subscription fees at HK$238 to HK$558 dollars, Mr Fok said.

Universal mobile telecommunications system (UMTS), commonly known as 3G technology, allows users to gain high-speed Internet access, send and receive e-mails, see video images of people they are talking to, take photographs with the handsets and play electronic games.

Hutchison Telecommunications is considering its legal options over a survey highly critical of the company's multi-billion dollar "3" third-generation (3G) mobile phone network.

The mobile phone company said the survey, which claimed to have found a low level of customer satisfaction with the new network, was "of its nature, designed to deliver a critical outcome".

The Australian Computer Society survey comes at a bad time for Hutchison, which is already suffering handset shortages during the crucial Christmas period.

Hutchison's spin-doctors will quickly discount this stinging experience as a one-off. However given that 95% of the 20+ plus 3 customers I have encountered share my deeply disappointing experience, perhaps they would be well advised to reflect on the facts as opposed to resorting to spin.

All I can deduce from my experience and research is a systemic, widespread and potentially terminal case of 3 customer dissatisfaction. Not only is it the extent of the dissatisfaction but the strength with which it is held. One unhappy 3 customer told me that legal advice suggested that the case for class action to demand full refunds was strong. A different 3 customer suggested starting some "anti-3 activism".

Clearly, Hutchison have some issues. But relying on the oft-repeated excuse about early stage 'teething problems' wears thin extremely quickly (did they simply launch prematurely?) and is of no consolation to deeply frustrated customers - customers that the market deserves to know about.

This is utter drivel. Let's have a look shall we?

An article by an expat Australian in Hong Kong on Australia's place in the world. The first part talks about the swelling of pride and patriotism that accompanied the Sydney Olympics in 2000. Then this.

In the three years since the Sydney Olympics, the brand name ‘Australia’ seems to have lost some of its enviable cachet. If anecdotal conversations with the Chinese and International communities of Hong Kong are any indication of the global perceptions of our country, the reservoir of goodwill also seems sadly depleted.

Many of my friends and colleagues in Hong Kong delight in visiting Australia. They express a deep affection for our country, and many have strong personal or professional ties to Australia. However, in the last year or two, many of these people have also been asking me some shockingly pointed and challenging questions. Sadly too, the tone with which they ask these questions resembles the tone of an addled, disappointed teacher whose Straight A student has suddenly become the class bully.

Some of their questions are focused on specific domestic or foreign policy, while others are more general lobs at Australian ‘values’. Why does Australia imprison refugees in the desert? Are Australians frightened of Muslims? Is Australia really racist towards Asians? Why did Australia support the war in Iraq without the support of the UN? Why did Australia close its Parliament to the public during the visit of George W. Bush? Why does Australia admire its sportspeople more than its thinkers? Why aren’t teachers respected more in Australia? Why did Australia ban the movie ‘Ken Park’ (which ironically was screened here uncensored and without much comment the same week that half a million people took to the streets to defend civil society and free speech)?

Most of these questions have left me absolutely gob-smacked. Initially, I was affronted by these prickly political and cultural probings, believing that they were simply borne of cultural misunderstandings and of stereotypes based on the international press’ gloss of complex national issues. However, as I reflect more deeply on the salience of some these questions, I now view them as the legitimate enquiries of curious but emotionally removed cultural observers. Furthermore, I am now starting to ask myself many of the same questions.

To provide a coherent, let alone persuasive response to questions such as these requires much thinking on the spot, especially when they are casually asked over the photocopier or on a bus ride home. I have stammered lame replies such as “we’re really not racist” or “the Australian Government does not always speak for the Australian people”, but increasingly I find myself reluctant to defend our country with such platitudes. Instead, I prefer to look to the Australian press and to the international media for ammunition with which to counter my friends’ and colleagues’ good-natured but merciless interrogations. What I find in our press is generally not helpful.

In most Australian newspapers, I see little deep and thoughtful debate of the bi-partisan political support of the forced detention of people fleeing torture and trauma in countries such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Algeria or Kosovo. Nor do I see much consternation at many of the practices associated with this forced detention. Why, for example, wasn’t the use of water cannons to ‘control’ detained refugees in Woomera a national scandal?

I also see no outrage at the Federal Government contracting out the running of its detention centers to companies such as Wackenhut Inc, a multinational private security corporation that also owns Third World utilities, banks and factories and whose Board of Directors has included a former special agent of the FBI, and a former Under-Secretary of the US Air Force. I have seen no irony expressed at the image of boatload full of Australian sheep (a ‘sheep of fools’?) not being able to find safe haven in Middle Eastern ports.

I see no studied or serious cultural unpacking of what it says about Australia that its most popular television program in 2003 was about home renovation. Yet I do see almost daily references to ‘Our Nic’, to Kylie, and to our sports people.

As I read the Australian media, I ask myself whom most Australians might regard as the nation’s prized intellectuals. Who are our cultural heavyweights and our social visionaries? Who are our contemporary dissidents, our satirists, our polemicists?

The international media seems an equally barren source of ideas for supporting my defense of Australia’s international prestige and goodwill. Asian English language papers such as the South China Morning Post, The Straits Times, The Jakarta Post and The Nation have all pitched stories that paint Australia as suspicious of Islam, intolerant towards Asia and Asians, and subservient to the foreign policy aims of the United States.

Does this anecdotal evidence from the press of our closest neighbours (and some of our key trading partners), suggest that like America, Australia is becoming internationally resented?

Is Australia represented more favourably in the media of its ‘allies’? Not much, it seems. The BBC World Service’s reporting of Australia in 2003 has focused on cricket matches and the Rugby World Cup, Australia’s participation in the ‘Coalition of the Willing’ and the odd story or two about a crocodile hunter.

In the American press and in globally distributed publications such as the International Herald Tribune, little, if any reporting of Australia actually occurs, even though purportedly we are the United States’ ‘staunchest ally’. A search of ‘Australia’ in all the New York Times’ 2003 headlines yields just six news stories related to our domestic politics or foreign policy (compared to seven stories about Australian tennis). To supplement its one hard news story about Australia every two months, The Times also features several stories about traveling and dining in Australia: a ‘good value’ tourist destination where the Green Back still enjoys a favourable exchange rate.

Excluding references to our exported entertainers, our holiday spots, our low costs and good exchange rates, and our sporting achievements, we generally don’t seem to rate much of a mention in the rest of the English speaking world.

Australia, however, does seem to be increasingly talked about in non news media publications. A quick glance of the titles of some of Amnesty International’s recent reports on Australia reveals that the word ‘Australia’ has been collocated with phrases such as ‘Shirking responsibility’, ‘Picking and choosing human rights standards’ and ‘Offending human dignity’. Similarly, the United Nations High Commissioner on Human Rights has urged the Australian government to ensure that detained asylum seekers ‘enjoy a secure legal status and humanitarian assistance in accordance with international law’ while Human Rights Watch has criticized Australia's ‘failure to tackle human rights issues’.

Is this the press that we want to have, and is the image that we sought to project to the world on that September night in 2000? Rather than projecting an image of tolerance, openness and fair play, we suddenly seem to be a belligerent international pariah with a deteriorating human rights record.

From where I look, the view of Australia is not rosy. I believe that the international criticism and indifference that we are receiving is not only valid, but also necessary. To my eyes, we’re not living up to the image that we projected 3 years ago, nor are we living up to our promise as a dynamic, sophisticated, generous nation that is compassionate to the human dramas in other parts of the world.

There seems to be have been little rigorous domestic debates on issues such as our international good standing, our obligations as good global citizens, and the need to honour international covenants on issues such as greenhouse emissions, border controls and human rights. There also seems to be little domestic concern that our regional goodwill is withering. If international criticism or indifference does not arouse concern for how we look to others, what will? Are Australians aware that we’re not universally loved and respected and that people in other countries’ unemotionally associate us with words such as ‘racist’ and ‘repressive’?

Obviously, my perspective of Australia is filtered by time and distance, and maybe my view is coloured by the emotions of flight and nostalgia: the baggage of immigrants and exiles. But I believe that my view, like those of the other million Australians who live overseas (that’s a diaspora the size of Adelaide), may contribute something worthwhile to our national introspection.

I see Australia in many of the same ways that I see my family and friends. Like the daily personal emails that keep me abreast of what is happening in the lives of loved ones, my daily visits to the Australian press give me a general sense of what’s happening ‘back home’. But obviously, since I’m no longer living in Australia, many of the nuances of the country’s changes pass me.

When I return every six months or so, I not only notice taller teenage nephews, hair on babies’ heads, or recently formed crow’s feet on relatives’ laughing faces. I also notice changed details on Australia’s beautiful, diverse and sun-damaged face.

Australia looks older (fatter around the hips and a bit overworked) but I’m not sure if it looks wiser. It looks more affluent but I’m not sure if its smile is as generous as the one I left. It’s more sophisticated and wears a cosmetic sheen, but I’m not sure if this sophistication includes a worldly sensibility that makes it aware of what’s happening in other chic (and not so chic) parts of the world.

Australia is definitely more of a homebody and despite a decade of unprecedented positive economic indicators, it seems more scared of its neighbours, reluctant to go outside and disinclined to invite the new bloke in for a drink.

I like to think that that I’m not an expat ‘knocker’ -a breed of ‘er’ nouns that is on a par with ‘wankers’ and ‘dobbers’- but no doubt some people who read this will react by saying ‘if you don’t like Australia, why don’t you stay in Hong Kong’. Unlike the many people who are currently in Australia’s detention centres, I had the luxury of choosing the circumstances and timing of expatriation, and hopefully, I will likewise be able to choreograph the happy occasion of my repatriation. I can indeed stay away, or if I so choose, I can also come home.

The point is I do like Australia. It’s the place of my birth, and it’s my childhood, my education and the bulk of my adult life. Australia is more than a word on the front page of my passport. It’s where most of my family live and friends live and the sum of many things physical, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual that create my inner landscape. I love the sound of laughter in people’s voices; the easy mix of the urban and the natural and all the things that we so grandly celebrated on the day the 2000 Olympics began.

The view of Australia that I have as I write here in Hong Kong may be clouded by many personal feelings. However, it seems that my view is shared by many others. And sadly, this view seems to do neither Australia, nor its people, justice.

And the main point is that articles like this can be published and lead to vigorous debate. Unlike most of our Asia friends. It's always a shame when cultural cringe get in the way of an honest view of the world. This is an example of it.

Everyone's busy. In this world there's too much to do. There's always another web page to check, a link to click, a blog to read. Well bugger that. Stop. Do something important. Make a difference. Make your voice heard.

VOTE FOR ME!!!

If you haven't voted yet, do so now. To make it easy, you can follow the following links:

Asia Blog Awards - Best Newcomer This is the one I've got the best chance in, seeing I'm in front. This doesn't mean you can relax. It's far too close for that.

Asia Blog Awards - Best Hong Kong blog

If you've already done your democratic duty, I thank you. If not, then please do.

Adults should never try and play on children's playground equipment.

I'm as happy as everyone else they finally caught Sadaam. But in celebrating you've gotta be careful. What goes up can also come down. I've never understood why the best way to celebrate in the Middle East is to shoot your gun in the air. The laws of gravity are not a Western conspiracy.

Friday night was the work Christmas party. The lads headed to Dublin Jacks for a couple of warmers before making our way to the venue. A nightclub called Fly. Now being completelt out of the loop in terms of hip and happening places, I quickly realised this was a "hot" spot. At the door a burly security guard was checking passes and business cards to gain entry. We negotiated a tight spiral stairwell to be greeted by a door that swished open like on the Starship Enterprise. It was one of those long and thin bars with concrete floors, bagunga-bagunga music and lots of drunken co-workers downing shots and toasting one another. The usual flirting induced by alcohol and an out-of-work environment was impaired by a dangerously lop-sided male-to-female ratio. A few of us headed for the exit and hoofed it over to Blowfish, a trendy Japanese place, for some sake and sushi. Ironic how I did not eat Japanese food once in Japan, yet eat it regularly in HK.

Saturday I got to sleep in as Mrs M was under the mistaken impression I got home at a ridiculous hour of the morning. My task of the day was to accompany my sister-in-law on her quest to single handedly drag Hong Kong's economy out of recession. In this task she was successful. We started at Causeway Bay, wondering the streets and finally ending at Times Square, a 12 level shopping mall/food nirvana. Being in HK we did some mobile phone shopping before being joined by Mrs M. Next stop was a trip to Mongkok where we had lunch at a great local place. Always an enjoyable experience where my extremely limited Cantonese meets the universal food sign language. Lots of pointing and gesturing resulted in a very satisfying meal. We wondered the Ladies' Market for a while with about a million other people. I don't know if it's the approach of Christmas or increased tourism but either way there were a lot of people. Interestingly a truck decided to make its way down the middle of the market while we were there. For those who've not had the pleasure, imagine a street of stalls with a 2.5 feet in roadway between them. Then cram everyone browsing into that 2.5 feet. Then put a truck coming down that roadway. You get the picture. Every stallholder had to move their stall tables in to allow the truck to pass. Never have so many fakes moved so quickly. Luckily for most of the stallholders they didn't have time to put much of their goods back on display before the police launched a raid. The HK police make a big show of clamping down on the trade in fakes. Fake handbags, fake watches, fake DVDs, fake everything. What I don't understand is when I watch these police make their way from stall to stall, and seemingly at random choose some stalls to "clamp down" on, while others selling exactly the same are passed by. I'm sure bribes/traids don't come into it.

On our return to Causeway Bay we stopping in at Sogo, a department store, in search of Christmas decorations to give as gifts. It was a lamentable place with poor merchandise and shoddy displays. And yet it was also packed. We quickly gathered our essentials and departed for home, tired and laden with shopping bags. That evening we had a Christmas champagne party in Tai Tam. The night passed pleasantly enough with the usual chit-chat and slow inebriation. My sister-in-law decided spending a night with married couples was not her "thing" and she braved the wilds of Lan Kwai Fong instead. A great part of HK is that a single woman can safely negotiate places such as this without any fear. She returned at the same time we did, vowing to return to HK to shop and party again.

Sunday was a lazy day. Mrs M and her sister went shopping, again. That left me with PB and JC. We headed to the playground, returned home, returned to the playground and headed home again. JC didn't get out of her pyjamas all day. She had a great time in the playground with her friends. She introduced me to her mates as Daddy, and thenceforth I was Jaimee's Daddy for the rest of the afternoon. PB merrily played in the sandpit for an hour or so, desperately digging her way to freedom, only to find concrete. PB is quickly learning to talk. Amongst her first words are Buzz, Nemo and Barbie. As a soon-to-be shareholder in Disney and Mattel I am so proud. Then last night sister-in-law treated Mrs M and myself to dinner at the Madarin Grill. Snooty and posh, the meal itself was 2/3rds great and 1/3rd disappointing. Mrs M and her sister both had a steak diane, prepared at the table and mouth-wateringly delicious. I opted for sirloin, which came over-cooked and with a lame bernaisse sauce. Food envy was a big problem. A desert of chocolate cake and creme brulee somewhat eased the pain. We walked passed a wedding reception on our way out and the ladies decided to poke their head in. The entrance lobby had assorted portraits and photographs of the happy couple in various poses, combined with such soppy sentimental poems that I feared my steak would return. The ladies commented how crazy it was to have wedding shots before the big day, as then the groom would see the wedding dress before the wedding! They really pick up on the little things. We headed up to Vong for a quick gander at the view before heading home for the warm comfort of bed. It has been getting steadily cooler in HK of late so we are very much looking forward to our return to the Australian summer next week. Sun, swimming, surf and sand beat shivering, sweatshirts and sleepiness. And with that lame attempt at alliteration I'll end this post.

Never trust a guy wearing suspenders.

JC, Mrs M and Mrs M's sister just paid me a surprise visit at work. There is no sweeter sound than hearing my 3 year old girl screaming out "Daaadddyyyyy" and running up to me to give me a hug. She thinks I am the smartest, funniest, best looking guy in the world.

I love the innocence of childhood. Memories like this will keep me going when she's 14, getting ready to move out for the fourth time and screaming how she hates me because I don't understand. Or she starts an obsession with death row convicts.

Lastly the guy ate the Big Macs. He had 8 minutes to spare.

It's time to wrap up everything you really need to know about the world this week:

1. Hugh Grant admits what everyone already knew: doing sex scenes is fun, especially if lots of people are watching. Oh, and he's a dysfunctional cad too: "Being a well-known person with a bit of money has had an extremely alluring effect on women up to now," he says. "It's by no means a curse - it's a blessing." Divine Brown anyone?

2. Via Metastatis and A Better Tomorrow there's a perfect example of why Cantonese papers should only be read without food. A step-by-step graphical guide to cannibalism. Cooking instructions to follow.

3. It's not like the Sepos (Americans) to go too far...

4. Sometimes dogs have 9 lives too.

5. I'm all for greater exposure of politicians to the public.

6. Science has finally answered the question why there is a worm in bottles of tequila.

7. Who says the Queen isn't updating the monarchy?

Finally this needs to be repeated in full.

Some of the more offbeat results of medical research reported this year:
- Teenage boys around the country rejoiced after a Victorian researcher announced that masturbation could reduce the risk of prostate cancer.
- Medical experts warned against using ice cube enemas to revive drug overdose victims. "The first time I heard the story...I was quite surprised at the inventiveness," said drug safety educator Paul Dillon.

"It has now gone beyond a joke."
- A Sydney student who ate garden slugs for a $20 dare ended up with more than a reputation as an idiot when he developed meningitis, the Medical Journal of Australia reported.
- Royal Darwin hospital defended performing a caesarian on a woman who wasn't pregnant. The woman had claimed to be pregnant, the Hospital's Len Notaris said.
- A man became the world's first recipient of a human tongue transplant in Vienna. Not to be outdone, a NSW man became the first person to have a new upper jaw made from his arm with help from Sydney surgeons.
- A doctor's lobby group in Brisbane called for more community awareness about discrimination against short people after a barrister's decision to have a leg-lengthening procedure to make her taller.
- A north Queensland nightclub did its bit for safe sex by offering patrons STD tests at the door.
- People who have difficulty identifying smells may be at risk of developing schizophrenia, Melbourne University researchers revealed.
- According to a Canberra study, pet owners are less educated, fatter, more likely to smoke and drink and more likely to have high blood pressure than those without.
- Get out those razors, guys. Men who don't need to shave every day are 70 per cent more likely to suffer a stroke than those who do, research from Bristol University in the UK revealed.
- German researchers were charged with sniffing the sweaty armpits of a group of volunteers to test the effectiveness of the anti-wrinkle treatment Botox as an anti-perspirant. Separate research released in the US said male sweat could reduce stress and induce relaxation in women – and even affect the menstrual cycle.
- An 85-year-old widow was so determined not to be resuscitated that she had the words "do not resuscitate" tattooed across her chest
- Spanish researchers diagnosed an extremely rare disease that makes people smell of fish. Trimethylaminuria, or fish odour syndrome, is caused by a liver abnormality.
- Power-dressing business men could increase their risk of eye damage by wearing their ties too tight. The warning was published in the British Journal Of Ophthalmology.
- People with shorter thighs have an increased risk of diabetes, according to a US study.
- A baby born with three legs in China underwent surgery to remove the extra limb. The 14-month abandoned baby, Qing Qing, had a third leg growing from her back.
- Researchers in the Netherlands brought the world underpants that can detect heart irregularities and call an ambulance if necessary.
- Just standing next to a fat person can be bad for your image, a University of Liverpool study found.
- A US anaesthetist made an unexpected discovery after implanting electrodes in a female patient's spine during a pain relief procedure.

During the ensuing operation – as the electrodes began generating tiny electrical pulses – the patient began exclaiming emphatically.

When asked what was up, she said, "You're going to have to teach my husband to do that."

The doctor has since patented the device as a sexual dysfunction therapy known as the "orgasmatron".

He is seeking volunteers for a trial.

There is a bet that a guy at work can eat 5 Big Macs in 25 minutes. Seriously.

The impending listing of China Life on the HK and NY stock exchanges shows how some stock bubbles are alive and well in this day and age. Hong Kong has the gambling bug. And everyone worships the almighty dollar. And the surest way to make easy money is getting in on a hot IPO. From the SCMP (all numbers are in HK$, the exchange rate is HK$7.8=US$1):

Insurer China Life's share offer was about 150 times oversubscribed by Hong Kong's investing public - who put up nearly $175 billion (US$22.4 billion) for a slice of the world's biggest IPO this year - sources said last night.

...underwriters initially estimated the offer was 100 times oversubscribed but late last night raised their estimate to 150 times. The number of subscribers will not be known for several days.

The result could rival this year's most oversubscribed initial public offering, Great Wall Automobile Holdings, a mainland carmaker, which locked up $110 billion of would-be investors' money. The portion of Great Wall's shares on offer to retail investors was 600 times oversubscribed.

China Life already counts some of Hong Kong's biggest tycoons as its investors. They have taken up 18.1 per cent of the shares on offer.

Worried he could miss out on the world's biggest stock offering this year, shipping clerk Lawrence Wong, who earns $7,500 a month, borrowed more than $1 million from his broker to subscribe for the China Life shares, according to Reuters.

"If I didn't borrow the money, I wouldn't be able to secure enough shares," Mr Wong said. He said that in the unlikely event that he got all of the 300,000 shares he applied for, he needed them to rise 10 per cent on their debut next week to cover interest payments and make a small profit.

"I think the risk is low for these IPOs [initial public offerings]. I'm going for the first-day gains," Mr Wong said.

But you cannot legislate against stupidity.

A fellow Disneyland inmate pointed out something interesting on the bus ride into Central this morning. The Connaught Road underpass has an assortment of Christmas decorations adorning various poles and the like. Most of these decorations are made of crete paper and are all within easy reach.

The inmate pointed out that if we were in London, Sydney, New York or any other such city these decorations would last several minutes at best before someone took them down. Even with a couple of security guards the very idea of such decorations would be laughable as they would be vandalised quickly and irreparably. Yet these decorations have been up for a few weeks and look as good as new.

It speaks volumes about the attitude of people here.

Teachers in schools have all sorts of ways and means to retain control of students. There is the implicit control that society hands teachers as surrogate parents. There is the carrot and stick approach. The reasoning approach. The silent treatment. Sarcasm. Embarassment. Detention. The cane. Calling the parents. Rewards. Points. The list goes on.

But there is one threat that rides above all others. The permanent record. If a student really veers close enough to the line they are told that "this could go down in your permanent record." A threat that strikes terror in all children. The shame. The disgrace. There's no chance of higher education if the infamous bra-flicking of 1987 is in the record. No chance of a job if the fags behind the toilets incident of 1985 is noted. And a life alone is sure to follow a mention of the boys in the girls dorm scandal of camp 1988.

School is the way society forces children to think within the confines society prescribes. It might also be about education or socialising with peers. But the most fundamental element a school is about is to get kids used to idea of going somewhere for several hours a day to follow a routine, being told what to do and how to do it, coping with mediocracy and dealing with a bunch of fellow kids enduring the same. Don't get me wrong, I loved school. The school I went to was reasonably progressive in its educational philosophy in as much as they taught us how to think and question. Of course this backfired badly.

In my home state of New South Wales the final 2 years of high school are all for the Higher School Certificate (HSC). This exam will decide which university courses you can enter. My enlightened school decided the best way to prepare us 16 year olds for the rigours of the two years to come was to take us all away for a "study camp". That's where you get lectures on how to ration your time, commit to your studies and cheat in exams. The best part of the whole thing was what any group of 16 year olds would tell you - the chance to spend night-time in the company of the opposite sex. The teachers laid down the laws early. No mixing after lights out. Boys and girls dorms well seperated. Blah blah blah.

It was about 1am when we were sprung. In hindsight I'm amazed they waited so long, but who knows what the teachers were up to themselves. Probably they had all been at the pub for a few before a quick check of the rabble. The 6 or 7 of us guys who had dared to venture to the girls cabins were dutifully marched out and told us to report to the dining hall at 7am.

It was cold that morning my friends. Each breath was a cloud of mist as we endured the nervous anticipation. We were made to wait while the three teachers decided how they were going to handle this outrage. Then one by one we were marched in for our interview. Being one of the "better" students (read that how you will) I was second. It was classic good cop/bad cop and I don't know how the teachers kept a straight face. For following for base biological urges I was now subjected to a drilling from my English teacher, who used the ocassion to find his inner thespian. Fire and brimstone were rained down, followed by the kinder understanding of our science mistress. Admonishments were made. Stern words were spoken. Riot acts were read. And then finally it came. Almost as an after-thought, as I was trudging towards the holding room (they didn't want us criminals conferring to get our stories straight), the English master said "This will go in your permanent record." I entered the holding room deflated and spoke with the girl who had gone first and was in tears. At first we were both terrified, worried that we were a step away from expulsion. Slowly other students come in and we did what you would expect: we compared our stories and interviews. And each interview finished with those fateful words: "Permanent record." We realised that was our fate. A blot on our records for all the world to forever know about our night of shame.

In a minor way it did cost me. The following year the announcements were made for school prefects. Without getting too ahead of myself, I thought I was a good chance of getting head prefect. It was a small school and each class had only 30 students. Once you drop the truly evil, the stupid, the slackers, the couldn't cares and the don't know betters, there were really only two or three to choose from. The past couple of years had thrown up female heads so the time was ripe for mankind to rise up again. The position itself brought little reward. You got a special patch for your blazer, you got to run a weekly prefect meeting (the point of which was to have a meeting) and you got to go with some teachers every 2 months to other local schools on a visit other local schools visit. But it looks good on a CV (people always get hired because they were prefects, right?) and it strokes the ego. It was a prize denied to me for this incident. How do I know? Because the principal called me in and told me so. It took about 15 minutes to deal with it. There were no long-term scars. The fact I'm writing about it 13 years later should have no bearing on the matter. There was no post-traumatic stress. I simply repressed the thought.

Then I graduated from high school. At the final speech night (awards night) I still recall thinking if they were going to finally hand out these permanent records or if they sent them direct to employers/universities. After the ceremony I made a point of asking the very same English teacher where are these records? He turned to me and smiled. In a conspiratorial whisper he let me in a truth kept hidden from students for generations. "There is no permanent record." I smiled too. The b@stard. I felt only one thing: self-loathing at being so stupid and naive. But I learnt the best lesson of my high school career. Question everything and trust no-one. Oh, and that teachers are really control freaks who enjoy lording it over those they already have complete power and domination.

The story has a happy ending though. My brother got made head prefect two years after me. So I like to think I sacrificed myself for him. And I have yet to hear a word of thanks from him.

Mr. Tall from Batgung has some good advice for new parents and parents-to-be in Hong Kong. Sometimes the best in not the "best".

Why do taxi drivers in Hong Kong insist on keeping the air conditioning on, even though it's winter?

I finally got around to checking the renewed NOT The South China Morning Post and thoroughly recommend a gander. The real SCMP remains lamentable but this satiric website (which protests it is not a blog) looks like the goods to keep them honest. Unfortunately the so-far unispiring Spike hasn't hit the satire straps but it looks like NTSCMP is going to do the job. It shouldn't be too hard given the masses of material the SCMP lobs up to be smacked every day. Luckily there will be plenty to go around for everyone.

How ironic one of the world's worst newspapers will be shadowed by what was previously one of the world's better websites (and no doubt will regain its place). And irony is so 1990s.

I've already discussed parts of my trip to Tokyo but I'm going to get into more detail because there's so many fascinating things about the place. It's long so click the extended entry to read more. Don't want to push too many posts off the screen at once.

After landing on Sunday night I made my way to the passport queue. As an 'alien' there are plenty of signs telling me that I'm in for extra security checks. And the man in front of me in the queue told me it will take at least an hour to get to the front. He wasn't kidding. Yet I glanced over to the Japanese nationals side. That side emptied out in 15 minutes. Did any of those officers then come over to the aliens side to help speed things up? Of course not. Did any more flights land after mine? Of course not. Was it frustrating? Not really. By the time I got out of there I headed to the bus ticket counter. Last bus to my hotel area had already left. The only bus going was to the central station. OK give me one of those, I said. How much is a cab from that station to the hotel? About 2,000 Yen and the bus leaves in 3 minutes. A quick glance at the queue in the money changing counter and some rapid mental arithmetic told me it will be close. I chanced it. I got to the front of the queue but I can saw the bus arriving. It's the last bus. I figure I'll take a punt I can get away with no cash in downtown Tokyo at 11pm on a Sunday night. Hour long bus ride. Make it to the deserted T-CAT station. Walk over to the taxi stand. I see that blessedly universal sign with credit card logos. I enter the warm cab thankful for Japan's affinity for technology. You can't use credit cards in cabs in HK. The Tokyo taxi driver understands my destination. He is friendly in a no-common-language kind of way. Amazingly there's a traffic jam. It's 11pm on Sunday. Everytime the cab stops at a traffic light, the driver turns his headlights off. I know not why. They all do it. Does it save money? Fuel? Lightglobes?

The hotel is big. It has two seperate buildings, a main section and another tower. At check-in I'm told there's only smoking rooms available. Stale tobacco to lull me to sleep, just great. I ask where the ATM is to get some cash. The ATM only operates from 9am to 6pm. The clerk apologises. That's OK, I tell him, I'll get some in the morning even though inside I was steaming. What kind of country shuts the ATMs?

The room has a great view looking over a park (the Akasaka Guest Palace, I later discovered) and out towards Mount Fuji. But even better was the bathroom. Particularly the toilet. It had a built-in bidet. I've always been sceptical of bidets. It never struck me as right that a squirt of water like that was the best way to do things. But here was my opportunity to try it. I braced for it and tried it but I don't think I'd ever get used to it.

Woke up for a traditional hotel breakfast: CNN and a couple of warm pieces of toast. Cash-less and freezing cold, despite several layers of clothing, I caught a taxi to the office. We zipped in and out of lanes, onto main thorofares, back into laneways. We were driving in what looked like a suburban area when when pulled into the courtyard of our office. An office block in the middle of a bunch of houses. This random assortment of housing, businesses and office blocks plus Tokyo's unique address system (where the hell is 2-20, Akasaka 5-chome) adds to its charm. The building security is incredible - I go through a security check every time I enter the building over the next two days, including x-ray scans for my bags and metal detectors for myself. The rest of the day was a blur of meetings and people. The office also had a view to Mt Fuji and the stunning sunset made for great viewing. Except sunset was 4pm. My "Cartier" watch (that's Cartier of Kowloon, not Cartier of Paris) impressed a few people. Can't beat that Hong Kong ingenuity. Looking out over Tokyo city I noticed that every high rise had red flashing warning lights over them. I don't know why that's the case but it certainly made for pretty viewing.

While I did all this Mrs M and her sister spent Monday night on a junk. They headed out to Lamma for seafood and returned gazing at the myriad of lights adorning every Hong Kong skyscraper of note. I have calculated that Hong Kong has approximately 110% of the world's fairy lights. If it's not moving they chuck a bunch of fairy lights on it. If you look hard enough you can pretend it is snow instead. Instead of a white Christmas it's more of an incandescent yellow Christmas, but it's pretty close.

Returning to Tokyo I drove past the Imperial Palace several times. During the bubble years Tokyo property was out of control. Well the palace must have been worth a fair penny because the grounds are huge. Tokyo itself, at least the areas I was in, was great. The autumnal trees, the small shops juxtaposed with office blocks and houses. Everything is clean. Everyone is polite. There is a concept of personal space. These were times I noticed the contrast with Hong Kong. The disorder of HK is part of its charm, and the order of Tokyo is part of its charm. Driving around I noticed many of the cars had in-car navigation systems. Little TV screens with live maps showing where you are and how to get to where you are going.

One particular cab ride was exteremely illuminating. I was visiting a customer with a local salesperson. We got to chatting about work. About how they work. This guy's average day started at 6am and finished at 11pm. That's his average day. Not if he was working hard. That would be 1am or so. Plus he comes in Sunday nights. Why, I asked? So he can view reports before calling customers on Monday. But what do you do all day then? There aren't that many times you can call customers and the like. His answer was they basically sit and wait for the phone to ring. But they have to be there just in case it does ring. To miss a call would be unthinkable. Furthermore the managers work even harder. I asked whether once you've made it to the management level can you ease off a little, see your family more? No. You're expected to lead by example. Each of the 3 managers in this guy's area had been hospitalised in the last 2 years and wore that like a badge of honour. Getting by on a few hours sleep each night and doing 100 hour weeks is considered the norm. Not that they do any more productive work compared to someone who gets in at 8am and leaves at 6pm. Simply being at work is expected. Being productive is a bonus.

The contrasts with Hong Kong are huge. People in HK work hard too. But there's no thought to be working just for the sake of it. There's too much to do outside of work. Where the Japanese are polite, formal and reserved, Hong Kongers are abrasive, casual and in your face. People in Japan would hold the open door button on the lift, rather than the traditional HK method of trying to get the doors close before anyone else enters. Tokyo is clean and neat where HK is chaotic.

I know which I prefer.

The normal unlinkable SCMP today has a story that should shock men globally.

A jealous wife in China threw a chair into the family's TV set when her husband ignored her because he was transfixed by the Miss World contest.

The South China Morning Post said the woman was furious when her husband stared and stared at the beauty queens on stage, ignoring the meal she had brought for him.

He only paid attention to her after she threw a chair at the television set and smashed it, the newspaper said.

The altercation took place at their home in Tianjin in northern China on Saturday evening.

What a waste of a TV. But now the man has an excuse to buy himself a plasma instead.

(Courtesy Charlie)

Saturday night Mrs M and I were waiting for Mrs M sister to arrive in HK. While mooching around the IFC we decided to try the cafe which is part of the new cinema. We approach the desk and are told the tables are all full and we need to wait. We can see empty tables. We point out the empty tables. But you see those tables are only for dinner, not desert. So we are shown the 3 tables available for desert dining. This is 9:20pm. We can see one couple close to finishing up so we encamp next to their table, ready to pounce. I can hear the chocolate cake calling me, whispering what sweet delights it holds. The people at the table take their cotton-pickin' time. One goes to the bathroom. Then the other. My distress is made obvious to them via the ancient technique of loud sighs and stares. Eventually these people leave what by rights was our table 5 minutes ago. We sit and look for a waiter to order. Both Mrs M and I have sweet tooths and are keen to test the delights that await. The waiter comes. At first I think I mis-hear him. It's like he said they were closed. I ask again. Sorry sir but last orders are 9:30pm. It is 9:31pm. Yes, this is the same waiter who 10 minutes previously told us to wait for the table. The manager comes over. Surely you can squeeze our order in, we just want coffee and cake. No sir, last orders 9:30pm. But there were empty tables that were clearly not going to be used for dinner. That one there. And that one at the back. You could have taken our order while we were waiting. I'm very sorry but no more service. Mrs M and I have been in this situation before. There is no arguing. No reasoning. The place shuts at 9:30pm and that's it. Forget about the numerous patrons likely to look for a bit of cheesecake after their movie finishes at 11pm. We missed out by 1 minute and that's that. We get up to leave for some ice-cream at Ben and Jerry's instead.

And watch with a smile as the couple that had been hovering over our table sit down for some desert.

Is it correct to put a full-stop at the end of a line in a Powerpoint presentation?

Trying to plough through all the emails now I've returned to civilisation i.e. Hong Kong. But a very brief example of some of the differences between Tokyo and HK is reflected in the airports.

Narita Airport (Tokyo) is in the middle of Tokyo. Tokyo is a huge city geographically. I think that's partly because until recently there weren't many tall buildings because the city is on a major fault line, so earthquakes are frequent. Hong Kong is small in comparison, especially because geography and history have conspired to make sure this is the case.

So the trip to Narita takes about an hour and ten minutes if there's no traffic. They could put a bullet train in but the bus service is run by the Yakuza. So the trains run at the same speed as the buses. The airport itself is nothing special, with plenty of security checks (because foreigners must be evil, right). I'll get into that more in a later post but my flight this morning was leaving at 9:30am. I left the hotel at 6am, arrived at the airport around 7:30am. Checked in and made my way to passport control. Except it was all blocked off. Because passport control doesn't open until 8am. And you cannot go back because you've gone through security already. So a whole bunch of people are stuck in literal no-mans (and womens, and childrens)-land. Finally it opens and as if by magic there's now 50 staff where previously there was no-one. Where had they come from? I know not. Why couldn't they be there 30 minutes earlier? I know not. Why does one of the world's busiest airports only run between 9:30am and 10:30pm. I know not.

Land in HK. Straight onto the shuttle to the main terminal. Through the passport control and SARS check AND baggage collected within 20 minutes of leaving the plane. Get the train ticket, on the train and back into the office. Sat down in my office chair exactly 55 minutes after the plane had touched down at HK. Take that, Tokyo.

There are many more differences between the two places. As well as similarities. They too are for another time, as the inbox calls. But the contrast was far greater than I ever expected.

Thanks to the wonders of the modern business airport lounge, I have approximately an half-hour in which to write. So I've done the compulsary checking on the Asia Blog Awards (have you voted for me yet?) and now its time to get on with it.

Cast your mind back to Saturday. Despite the approach of Hong Kong's winter, Saturday morning was blessedly fine. Warm. Slight cooling breeze. All in all, a perfect day for a 3 year old birthday party. Mrs M, which her usual military like precision, had everything organised to a T. As she put it herself, if she could organise conferences for 3,000 people (her old job), organising a party for 35 kids shouldn't be too hard. Being the male of the house, my tasks were simple. Continually offer to help despite none being needed, and schlepping everything from our apartment to the playground and back.

We got JC (the birthday girl) dressed in her favourite Princess costume (thanks Disney). Then PB got dressed in her purple fairy outfit. Dainty she ain't, but she was darn cute. Tables, food, drinks, bowls, platters, music, arts, crafts and assorted bits and pieces were dutifully moved to the shady spot in the playground and then the waiting game began. It did perturb me slightly that JC was inviting more people the her birthday party than people I knew in HK. But she takes after her mother in the making friends stakes so it was lucky it wasn't more.

People started arriving. The music was cranking. The arts and crafts activities were laid out. All we needed were the cops. And sure enough, Disneyland security obliged. A security guard hestitantly approached and asked our apartment number. This was not a good sign. It meant we were to be written down in one of the hundreds of notebooks all the guards have, recorded the comings and goings of everyone in the Disneyland compound. I often wonder what they say. "White male took small dog out. Returned later with small dog. Got into lift and returned to apartment." It's a bestseller that's writing itself.

So I adopt the traditional male posture in such situations. I asked the man what the problem was. It was 10:30am. Surely The Wiggles CD wasn't too loud? We were camped in only one corner of the playground, and indeed were the only people in the place. But sure enough, within 15 minutes of the party starting, someone had complained. Complained because they weren't invited, I asked? Apparently sarcasm doesn't translate well. The security guard left and was soon replaced by the head of the Disneyland complex. Yes, the issue had escalated. After assurances we would clean the mess after the party finished and a promise of no nudity or violence the Disneyland people were placated and the party could carry on.

The food was devoured. The chalk was spread across the ground. The photo frames were decorated. The parents did the chatting, the kids did the running around. At the right time, the birthday cake appeared, the usual song was sung, and all was right with the world. I know all this because being the father I had to video and photograph the whole thing. I've got it all to a point where I can video and take the photos at the same time. Try that next time you're also singing happy birthday with your 18 month old clinging to your leg with her chocolate smeared faced. The goodbye gifts were distributed, the hugs and kisses were made and the party petered out.

We schlepped everything back to the apartment, including the gifts. JC and PB had a much needed snooze while we cleaned everything up. But JC could smell the presents. She soon stirred and we were sitting on the rug opening them. I commented to Mrs M how it reminded me of my excitement when I did the opening when I was young and how it's now my turn to watch. She agreed with the sentiment but still said I wasn't allowed to open any of them. Damnit! There was a great variety of gifts. There was the Snow White Barbie. The Sleeping Beauty Barbie. The Barbie make-up set. The Barbie jewellery set. And for something different, there was the costume dolls from the Princess series (which is Disney's rival to Mattel's Barbie). Say what you like about JC but she's easy to buy for. There were other gifts besides the Barbie army and some were generous in the extreme. Indeed to the point were almost embarassed by the generosity. Suffice to say half the gifts were surreptiously removed from JC's grasp and placed aside for another time. Too much at once and she'd be bouncing off the walls for days.

That evening Mrs M's sister was arriving for a visit. We decided to head to the new IFC cinema for a film before we picked her up from the Airport Express next door. We never go to the airport to pick someone up. I imagine some of our visitors think we are rude not to offer to come to the airport. But once they get the train they quickly understand the reasoning. Quick, efficient and easy. So we march up to the movie box office. Yes there are still some seats to whatever Hollywood pap is on offer. They are right at the front. So dinner it was. Ironically we had Japanese in honour of my impending visit to Tokyo. Spent some time doing our favourite thing: browsing in bookstores. Got Mrs M's sister and happily returned home, passing the glowing lights of HK's Christmas decorations and neon signs.

Sunday was blissfully quiet and blog-free. I didn't think about the blog once. No seperation anxiety at all. Indeed I walked right past the computers at the airport lounge and didn't heed the siren call of the a quick entry. Actually the truth is I didn't see the computers until I walked out, which lead to a very big D'oh! Instead we spent the morning at Nathan Road, mooching the shops a little and letting the girls enjoy the trains. Lunch at the food hall in Pacific Place with 1,000 of our dearest friends, but PB's unique eating style with rice meant we were given a reasonably wide berth (read one metre) and ate in comfort.

There's plenty more about the wonders of my visit to Tokyo, but that's for the next post.

I can see Mount Fuji both from my hotel room and the office. It's got snow on it. And I can see it. Which means the air must be significantly clearer than Hong Kong, where it's often hard to see Kowloon from Central.

It's flippin' cold here.

Thanks to all who've voted for me so far. Looks like I'm in the lead in the Newcomer 2003 category. But don't rest on your laurels. You need to get your parents, siblings, pets, next-door neighbours and anyone else with internet access to vote*. For me. My fragile ego needs it. Not that I define my self-esteem by my blog. It's not an all-cosuming beast that runs my life. No, it's not.**

Don't forget your homework.

* Note you can only vote once in each category. Plus check out some of the other blogs. Once you've voted. For me.

** Dearest blog, I didn't mean that. Please don't be mad at me.

Currently sitting in Tokyo, getting ready for a busy day of meetings and what not. For such a technologically advanced place Japan has some serious issues. The place is known for it's bullet trains. Yet Narita Airport, nicely situated about 600 kilometres from Tokyo (number may be exaggerated due to extreme irritability) is only connected to Tokyo via slow train or slower bus.

The plane arrived early. Landed at 8:45pm. I entered my hotel room at 12:15am. An hour for passport control. Final bus to my hotel had already gone, so had to take one to the centre of town and then catch a cab. Had no Yen. Luckily cabs take credit card. Made it all in one piece and only moderately tired.

Plenty of other stuff to write about. JC's party on Saturday a massive success with the best HK day for weeks. Sister-in-law arrived safe and well on Saturday.

If I get some more time I'll file fuller reports (conveniently broken down into seperate entries for your viewing pleasure).

This weekend will be busy. It is JC's 3rd birthday party tomorrow, so if you see a man struggling with his sanity and thirty 3 year olds, then that's me. Preparations have gone well: our daily prayer and sacrifice to the weather gods seems to be paying off. Yes this is tempting fate, but that's the fun of rolling the dice with these gods.

A blog is like an illicit lover. She needs constant attention. Nuturing. Looking after. Gifts. Gimmicks. New things. Old things. Finding quick moments to steal away and look after her, tending to her needs. Yet inevitably the mundanity of life sometimes intrude. And so it is to be early next week. Unless I can steal a few moments over the weekend this will be the last entry until Wednesday or Thursday next week. A visit from sister-in-law starting tomorrow, and then a business trip (and blogging expedition for fodder) to Tokyo will likely put me far away from precious internet connection time.

Do not fear, my friends. I have two important tasks for you to conduct while I am away:

1. Vote for me if you haven't yet.

2. My brother is getting married and I am best man. This requires a speech. Which I have not written. Or even started. To give you some background, he got some mentions in my interview with Jen a while back.

So your task is this: in the comments please leave snippets, thoughts, jokes, stories, complete speechs. Anything really. Truth and reality are not factors. I will edit and craft as appropriate on my return. Winners get mentions in the speech on the big day and get to avoid seeing the photos and video afterwards. You are a creative and interesting lot so I'm expecting some good stuff to steal use.

Please spread the word. It's like I'm testing the 1,000 monkeys theory but with bloggers and wedding speeches instead.

Time to vote in the New Blog Showcase:

Blown Fuse has a good one on her dog. We've got a female cocker spaniel, so this is an automatic vote. And from this one by Ripe Bananas is perfect: short and funny.

On the subject of voting...VOTE FOR ME!!!

Big kudos to Phil who's got the first annual Asia Weblog Awards 2003 going. I highly recommend a visit, check out the nominees and then vote for me in the Best HK Blog and Best Newcomer 2003.

Please go and check out all the nominees. Hopefully this will give the world of Asian blogging a big leg-up. Once you've checked them out, remember one thing:

VOTE FOR ME!

Update: While you're at it, I'm also up in the Wizbang Weblog Awards under the Ecosystem Slithering Reptiles category. That's me towards the bottom there.

This blog suffers from a disease. Don't fear, it's not contagious. I choose to call it Nice Blog Disease (NBD). It's similar to Don's and Jim's diagnosis of Nice Guy Disease (NGD). Like NGD it punishes the nice and rewards the wicked. And it is just not fair.

There are all sorts of blogs out there. They fall into 3 main categories. Firstly there's the political ones. These rant and rage against all that is wrong with the world, which tends to be anything they don't agree with. Secondly there's the humour ones. These find some niche and spin comedy from it. Sometimes these are combined e.g. Allah. Then there's the rest which are best described as slice of life blogs. These are diaries, reflections, observations. Of course many blogs are combinations of various elements of these. However keeping it purely in one of these three categories is the first step to blogging success. The next step is to take your category to an extreme. So in politics, take a view and push it hard while slating everyone who cannot see your point of view. In comedy, stick to your theme and redo it over and over again. In the slice of life ones the more open about yourself the better. If you expose demons or expose your life to the world you'll get the hits. Just as people like to stare at car crashes, the same with lives.

I am not saying I don't enjoy any of these kinds of blogs. My blogroll contains examples of each and I enjoy them all a lot. Otherwise they wouldn't be on the roll.

What I do have a problem with is simple. Those blogs, such as this, that are a mix of these categories tend to not get the publicity. The hits. The links. The notice. Especially if you're on a periphery, such as Asia. The Blog-iverse is based primarily around the USA, so that puts Asia right on its outer extremes. There are exceptions of course, such as Gweilo or Jim. There are no slice of life blogs that come close to approaching the dominance of political ones such as Instapundit, with the possible exception of Lileks.

But I maintain blogging is like life. Often, nice blogs come last. Any ideas for curing NBD? Perhaps post a whinge about NBD?

[end of whinge]

There is an old saying: if you could only walk a mile in my shoes...then you could keep those shoes forever. But the intent behind this mangled cliche is clear - never lend someone your shoes.

More seriously an irony dawned on me last night. A year ago I was living in Australia. Australia is well-known for its mutli-culturalism but inevitably it leads to tensions. Often one will here complaints for "old" Australians (i.e. those who were born in the country) about "new" Australians, immigrants.

To wit:
"They don't assimilate."
"They only talk their language. They don't know English."
"They only eat their food."
"They follow strange customs and religions."
"They stick to themselves too much and live in ghettoes."

You get the idea. It might not be as explicit as that, but any morning numerous radio schlock jocks can be heard effectively spouting such views. It's racism under the guise of patriotism.

Yet it struck me last night that the very same comments apply in reverse to many expats in HK. Caucasians are a very obvious minority in Hong Kong and clearly stand out. Of course there are some who have chosen to live in HK forever and do make great efforts to absorb and mix with the local culture and lifestyle. But skin colour always plays a role. Indeed a local derogatory term for a Hong Konger who is deemed too Western is a "banana" (yellow outside, white inside). It is a simple demonstration of that universal human trait: fear. Racism flows from being unsure of the other, that which is foreign and unknown to us. Humans prefer the familiar in order to be comfortable.

So whereas in Australia there are those who are anti-Asian, here in HK there are inevitably those who are anti-caucasian. And the minority communities do tend to coalesce for protection and comfort against the ravages of the broader society we are in. It has given me a much better understanding of why minorities act as they do. If only some of my fellow Australians could undergo the same experience of living here for a while.

It's always interesting when the shoe is on the other foot.

Political machinations being what they are, Munuviana has gone and made it on the map. Click onto Munuvia, over against the Baltic Sea, under LGFia. Or just follow this link.

Yes that's me. The provincial town stuck in the middle of the country, not quite on the railroad or anywhere in particular. The town is know for it's wise and handsome menfolk. Munuviana's world domination plan is coming together.

It's time to trawl the net for opportunities for me to display my sarcasm. In no particular order:

1. Suddenly our English friends have gone quiet. I wonder why? Or maybe they saw this? The world has returned to normal.

2. This is what they made the internet for. So you don't get hurt. A voyeur fell to his death in southern China after climbing up the side of a building to get a better look at a woman's naked body.

3. I'm hearing these guys loud and clear: An Austrian trade union has claimed the repetitive playing of Christmas Carols in department stores is nothing short of "psycho-terrorism" for salespeople.

4. D'oh! A Frenchman, who burned his life savings to a cinder before swallowing two bottles of pills, is facing life with an empty bank account after neighbours foiled his suicide attempt.

Yet again, d'oh!

5. Put this one in the shock! Horror! category: A survey looking at British morals has found that modern women lie, flatter and have affairs.

How can I ever trust again? Good job men don't do those things.

6. Hong Kong isn't alone in it's crocodile problems. It's spreading...A CROCODILE is the latest wild animal to hold up a round of golf on a remote course in Arnhem Land.

So you can score an eagle, but the eagle's in the croc. If you can get it out you get the score.

7. Lastly the answer to a question you've never asked: why does that skinny Japanese guy always win those eating contests? This one you just have to read for yourself.

It is so typically Hong Kong. Co-worker Charles went to a swish new HK eatery last night. Stunning views, fantastic fit-out, no expense spared. Literally millions of dollars would have gone into making the place look great. Consultants would have been consulted. Designers would have designed. PR flaks would be flakking.

But why do such places then insist on hiring waiters who have clearly never waited a table in their life? Who do not know a bordeaux from a beaujolais? A confit from a corn fritter? Paying peanuts gets you monkeys. A restaurant's location matters, but only after you take care of the basics. You need good food and wine, sure. But service often matters as much or more. A meal of cr@ppy food can usually be redeemed by good service, while a meal of 3 star Michelin standard can be brought underdone by bad service. Defining good service is impossible because it is so subjective but there are basics that need to be covered.

Spend a little less on the light fittings and a little more on the staff. That's Simon World's Restaurant Advice™ for today.

It's Mrs M's birthday today. As is customary here's some roses for her (albeit only a link this time). While she has been spoilt today there is really only one thing in the world she desires: Heinz Mayonnaise. It seems to be unobtainable in Hong Kong. That means we'll be stocking the suitcases with numerous jars of the stuff when we return to Australia for Christmas. This will displace the wine I'm planning to bring back.

This is a bad thing. Please help us find Heinz Mayo in HK. Before it's too late!

My ability to read books when not on holidays is limited. Not because I read slowly nor because I do not like books. The dangerously high pile on my bedside table attests to the backlog of good books I want to read. But every Friday I receive the Economist magazine. Despite the title it is actually a current affairs news magazine, with articles covering events right across the world. They are openly opinionated, balancing facts with their liberal view of the world. There are always thought provoking items on various issues and events. If you find it hard to keep up with what's going on in the world, the Economist is a good palce to start. [End of plug; please send free subscription my way thanks.]

So on the bus home last night I read this week's article in the Science section on the state of the war against AIDS. I strongly encourage you to take 5 minutes to read it all, but here's some excerpts:

In its (UNAIDS) annual report on the epidemic, it estimates that a shocking 40m people are infected with HIV—2.5m of them are children. In 2003 alone, 5m were newly infected. Although the total number of people living with the virus seems to have grown more slowly in recent years, Peter Piot, head of UNAIDS, cautions against complacency. This apparent levelling off of the figures is largely the result of a steady rise in the AIDS death rate, from just over 2m in 1999 to 3m this year.

Despite such dreadful figures, Stephen Lewis, Kofi Annan’s special envoy for AIDS in Africa, says he is more optimistic than he has been for years. Firstly, political leaders, especially in sub-Saharan Africa, are no longer as silent or apathetic as they were in the 1990s. The second reason for optimism is that there is now more money available. UNAIDS says about $4.7 billion was spent on AIDS in low and middle-income countries this year, compared with just $200m in 1996. Since 2000, the cost of the drug cocktail needed to treat AIDS has fallen from $10,000 per patient annually to $300. This is largely thanks to competition from generic medicines...

If the world is, at last, trying to muster an adequate medical response to AIDS in poor places, the same cannot be said about the vast socio-economic implications of the epidemic. It is hard to fathom, let alone fix, a situation in which most teachers and farmers are expected to die of AIDS, as in Botswana.

Arguably the epidemic’s cruellest legacy, though, is the orphans it is leaving behind. Around 11m children in sub-Saharan Africa have lost at least one parent to AIDS. The situation is about to get a lot worse, according to a report published last week by UNICEF. By 2010, there could be as many as 20m AIDS orphans in sub-Saharan Africa. Even if widespread anti-retroviral treatment takes hold, some think it will, at best, spare only 1.8m children from such a loss.

Orphans tend to be poorer than non-orphans, and to face a higher risk of malnutrition, stunting and death—even if they are free of HIV themselves. They also endure the psychological trauma of watching parents waste away, and often have to watch as their subsequent care-givers suffer the same fate. Many are also separated from their siblings.

Their future prospects, too, are grim. Orphans are less likely to attend school—partly because they cannot afford the fees but also because step-parents tend to educate their own children first. Many drift on to the streets, as the teeming slums of Nairobi and Lusaka attest. Many go to work. In Zambia, for example, more than two-thirds of the child prostitutes are AIDS orphans. As a result, these children are themselves at high risk of HIV infection.

While there is welcome progress across many fronts in Africa, much more needs to be done. The same is true of other regions where the disease is now taking hold—among them eastern Europe, India and China. Indeed, the lessons learned and mistakes made in Africa should prove useful elsewhere. But it will take years before the impact of these new, large-scale initiatives are felt. AIDS itself is hard enough to beat; its broader social effects defy any quick fix.

I hope to God China starts taking those steps.

Hong Kong has a reputation around the world as a good place for shopping. For the most part this is a fallacy. The shopping is world class, but so are the prices. In the modern era of globalisation there are few bargains to be had. However this is not always the case. One example is tailors. The lads at work got together and organised a tailor to come. We all had business shirts made and a couple of guys bought themselves suits. We were measured up Friday, when we chose the fabrics and the style of each shirt. The tailor returned Tuesday to check the sizings and brought the finished product yesterday. The materials are good, the workmanship is fine and the shirts look tailor-made. And each shirt was US$25. We'll be ordering some suits and ties in the new year.

For all its faults, you've gotta love this city.

The SCMP splashes an amusing front pager today:

State leaders are "very much concerned" with the development of Hong Kong's political system, President Hu Jintao said yesterday.

Speaking during a meeting with Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa in the Great Hall of the People, Mr Hu urged the Hong Kong government to "continue its efforts to improve communications with [people of] all walks of life" and to "draw on the wisdom of the masses".

While the pressures facing Tung Chee-hwa and his team were all too evident on his duty visit to Beijing yesterday, Macau Chief Executive Edmund Ho Hau-wah appeared to have a far more relaxing time of it during his own stay.

Mr Ho was all smiles after a ringing endorsement from President Hu Jintao at the start of an hour-long closed-door meeting that followed Mr Tung's.

"Under Ho Hau-wah's administration, Macau has marched forward in every aspect, namely in terms of public security, economic development and co-operation with the outside world," Mr Hu said. "And I am very happy with this achievement."

Official reports of the meeting carried none of the list of works-in-progress faced by Mr Tung in the area of improved communications and "drawing on the wisdom of the masses".

Co-Australian and misguided Collingwood fan AB has finally hit back via internal email at the constant English sneering over the Rugby. I bring you his email to a couple of token office Poms in full. To give some context, one Pom reckoned that no other sport than Rugby counted (simply because the English have won it, and they can now cover over their loss to Australia in the football).

After your recent remarks about the other "sports" you do consider to be sport, I thought it was worthwhile casting the mind back to come up with a few other recent English triumphs. I did have to go back a bit though...

1. 1984: Torvill and Dean skate to gold ahead of Ukrainians and Finns in Sarajevo

2. 1981: Bucks Fizz win Eurovision Song Contest and go No. 1 with 'Making Your Mind Up'

3. 1966: Dubious goal sets up sham victory over West Germany in Soccer World Cup.

4. 1778: Britain beats small list of nations in colonising largely uninhabitable island.

5. 1654: English seize Jamaica from Spain, creating the first of many superior cricket-playing nations.

6. 410: Romans leave after failed campaign to introduce bathing.

Shaky is having IT problems. We all go through this. Something on the work computer doesn't work. You call the IT help desk. Even if you have a good idea of the problem, they run through the template for fixing it. This generally goes like so:

1. Reboot the computer
2. If problem persists, call someone else.

I think I really could have made it as an IT help desk worker. To be employed on an IT help desk you need to be able to do the following:

1. Not be around when needed. This is especially good if it is a critical system that has crashed. Or if you've just lost a whole day's work. It is important to turn off your mobile so you are completely uncontactable.
2. Be around when not needed. This requires working the shortest hours in the office and certainly not be around for installing or fixing anything outside the hours 9am to 4pm.
3. Learn to use the phrase: "I'll fix it at lunchtime." IT lunchtime tends to be a period somewhere between 2pm and 4pm and inevitably after you've already had lunch yourself and are trying to get on with work.
4. Learn to treat everyone like idiots. This isn't so hard.
5. Use the word reboot often. If someone comes back with an "I've already rebooted" you need to be quick enough to say "Do it again", because all IT people know two reboots are better than one.
6. If rebooting fails, completely re-install the program. Sure this means losing all settings and data, but at least you've killed an hour while it re-installed.
7. If that fails, you'll need to rebuild the machine. This is a nebulous concept that no human can understand, so saying it will take a week can keep the heat off for a while.
8. Indulge various vendor treats. This is because computer and software vendors seem to think that people in IT departments make decisions. Take advantage of this stupidity.
9. Pick on those who are defenceless and tell them they are part of a pilot project. This requires taking something that works well and replacing it with a new sysytem that's never been tried before. The new one is cheaper, but takes months to learn and cannot do several key functions the old program could.
10. Have a really annoying mobile phone ring. Just because it will no doubt go off several times while you're fixing someone's computer and you really want to piss them off.

That's all there is to it. You're now qualified. Just reboot first.

My Da is visiting Dallas, Texas for a conference. On the phone yesterday he described the place as somewhere to avoid at all costs. Then by happy co-incidence this morning a Texan was visiting us at work to discuss various IT issues. You know, the usual "that's due in a year" kind of thing, while we all try hard not to laugh. So I mentioned to my Texan friend about my Da's predicament in Dallas. This friend hails from Houston but he still had some advice. He suggested my Da should drive out to a farm, grab some cow-pats and shoot them out of the air.

So now you know what to do in Dallas, Da.

Hong Kong buildings have a fascination with lights. I do not know why. However any skyscraper worthy of its name has some assortment of lights on its exterior. These vary from bright neon advertisements to nausea-inducing patterns. When it is right it works wonderfully well, highlighting a spectacular piece of architecture and enhancing it. When it is wrong, it is woeful.

An example is the new Sir Norman Foster designed residential building in Repulse Bay. It is interesting, yet they've put the most ridiculous coloured lights on it. They follow a bizarre pattern of rainbow-like waves. This pattern induces waves of feelings in the pit of my stomach. It is visual pollution of the worst order and it detracts from an otherwise quality building. Now my co-workers, including some expats of longer standing in this city than I, maintain that those lights are good to look at. They say that after some time in HK you get used to them. I find that very hard to believe.

I will know I've been here too long when I find those lights attractive.

This will be our first Christmas in Hong Kong. In fact we won't be here as we're returning back to the promised land (Australia) for two weeks to watch my brother get married. Oh, and to enjoy two heady weeks of Sydney summertime. But Christmas is never about the day itself. More important is the build-up to the big day and it says a lot of the culture of a place on how it prepares. Australia is a predominately Christian country but religion does not play a major role in the lifestyle of the general Aussie population. This is probably because of the country's multicultural nature. Sure there are the Christmas and post-Christmas sales, the tinsel and tinned musak, the corny TV specials, the imitations of winter despite it being the middle of summer. But it remains relatively unobtrusive.

Hong Kong is different. Here there seems to be a much bigger fixation on Christmas and all things related. There are the lights strew over every high-rise of note in the city, all with various Season Greetings themes. The shopping malls have the same sales, the same fake trees, the same tinsel, the same musak. But there is an intensity to the approach of Christmas. It seems to be in the forefront of many people's minds and gift giving is a big thing at Christmas time for people here.

The Disneyland complex where I live has really got into the theme. There is a nativity scene set up next to the bus stop, complete with straw, manger, kings, virgins and messiahs. There are more fairy lights, stars, red and green banners and trees than is normal. The complex electricity bill must be reaching nuclear proportions. The staff are being forced the wear Santa hats. The musak has been switched to tinkle-y carols. Everyday for the past week there have been more and more decorations. Never before have so many been employed for so long for something so pointless.

Now being Jewish I may be especially sensitive to all of this. It doesn't really bother me either way. However I find it interesting how much more into Christmas people seem to be here in HK compared to other places. There is no doubt an intersection between the culture of Christmas and the culture of Hong Kong. In fact thinking about it the uniting theme is simple. Consumerism. Conspicuous consumption. The perfect marriage everything Christmas and Hong Kong are about.

Despite some thoughts to the contrary, the famous Gucci is back. The SCMP reports

The crafty crocodile has popped up for the second time in three days, 3km from his former haunt in Yuen Long creek, witnesses say.

Officials from the Agriculture, Fisheries and Conservation Department could not confirm the most recent reported sighting by a sand barge skipper late on Monday afternoon.

But they admitted the rogue reptile had surfaced late on Saturday in the same area.

Now I have found the solution. Inspired by Jackass: The Movie, let's use one of their stunts:

For their big screen debut, the pranksters spare no expense with their antics, which range from the ridiculous (strapping rocket fireworks to rollerskates and zooming down a hill at breakneck speed; dangling from a rope over a crocodile pit wearing a jockstrap stuffed with raw chicken) to the sublime (a bone-crunching banger car race using golf buggies; dressing up in giant panda suits and running amok on the busy shopping streets of Tokyo).

It's never too late for regrets, according to the SCMP:

Singapore needs more mavericks, geniuses and independent thinkers, says the founder of the city-state known for its tight social, political and media controls.
Senior Minister Lee Kuan Yew said he had made Singapore a "first-world oasis in a third-world region" but had failed to realise the need for both team players and radical thinkers.

I just hope Singapore flight control are on alert for all the pigs soon to be flying past.

UPDATE: Via Phil, an amusing local view on this.

I mentioned in my weekend review that the family visited Ocean Park on the weekend. One thing I didn't mention then was the number of times we got stopped. By tourists. Wanting photos of our kids. It would go something like this.

We would be walking along our merry way, minding our own business. A gaggle (I'm not sure of the collective noun for mainland tourists) of visitors would grab on to JC , pull her over, take a quick snap with several of them bunched around her, make adoring coo-ing sounds and occassionally touch her hair. PB was in a stroller but she too was photographed twice. Now I am biased but I do think JC a very pretty kid and PB is particularly cute with her curly hair and constant smile. I'm proud that others agree. I'm flattered women visiting the shark enclosure found JC more interesting than man-eating machines of the deep. But I'm more than a little disturbed about this abuse of personal space. And this wasn't an isolated incident. This happens almost everytime we go out. It's nice and disturbing. Nicely disturbing.

Plus I didn't get a chance to charge them all HK$50 a pic. We'd be rich.

Forget about statistics. Hong Kong is definitely on the rebound economically. I just tried ringing several of the better restuarants around town and couldn't get in to any of them. I even tried the old "Do you know who I am? No? I'm Conrad." Even that didn't work. That's how you know things are back to normal. Six months ago there wouldn't have been a problem. They would have asked if they could come around and do the cooking at our place. Now it's "Sorry sir but we're fully booked." I bet Hemlock doesn't have to put up with it. At least his attention will soon be diverted.

It's not racism. It's blogger-ism I'm dealing with here in HK.

The unlinkable SCMP brings us this:

Secretary for Education and Manpower Arthur Li Kwok-cheung was accused of playing with his hand-held, electronic personal data assistant (PDA) during a meeting that lasted almost four hours...Professor Li said: "There is no reason to assume that the education chief cannot manage more than one task at a time. I can listen to educators' suggestions, read documents and check my schedule [on the PDA] at the same time."

I would think this is better than the alternative: snoring.

A few for the quirky Hong Kong files:

1. Went to Stanley for dinner last night. Headed for a place that serves Indian, pizza and assorted fried and other foods in one of HK's specialities: eclectic food menus. Being a Monday the place was quiet so we found a table near the front, looking out over Stanley waterfront and the bay. Casting our eye on the scene we were taken in by one thing in particular: 40 locals line dancing. Country 'n Western style. That's not the weird part. The area we were eating at was open air, and this line dancing cabal was about 20 metres (I think that's about 50 feet in the old scale) from us. Yet there was not a single bit of music playing. They were just line dancing to nothing. We spent about an hour and a half at dinner and these people didn't stop. We left them to their own devices.

2. Our tower at Disneyland has a security code to access the doors (like how I've adopted the American custom of verb-ising nouns?). They change it every 3 months. That means I've finally remembered the old code when they change it and I have to spend 5 minutes each night trying to remember the new code, or ringing Mrs M for it.

3. Last night I finally got into our tower, only to find 10 security guards instead of the regular 1. Why? Because they were changing a light bulb. There's a joke here somewhere. But it wasn't just any light bulb. The atrium in our tower is 15 metres, floor to ceiling (look it up, you non-metric heathens). There are a multitude of lights up there. It all looks very impressive but I had always wondered how they changed them. It turns out they get a flippin' long pole. One guard holds it, two others stand either side to make sure the pole holder doesn't fall, four to watch and make sure the residents don't get too close, one to hold the globes, and everyone to scream instructions at each other. All I know is by the morning the globe was changed.

That's the great thing about Hong Kong: everyday there's something completely unexpected happening.

Petrol is extremely expensive in HK. I have no idea why this should be the case, except that no doubt the Government taxes the bejesus out of it. That said, I don't think it will ever get to this:

A Cambodian man who found he had no money with him when buying petrol ended up paying with his nephew...The boy's uncle filled up the bike with three litres of petrol at a roadside stall before realising that he had forgotten his wallet...

He succeeded in convincing the old woman who sold him the petrol to take his nephew as a deposit while he went off to get the $1.50 he owed. But he never returned. Nearly two years on, the petrol vendor has decided to keep the boy.

(Coutesy of Giles. Who's still going on about the friggin' Rugby.)

Today is JC's 3rd birthday. She has received a myriad of Barbie and other gifts from family and friends. In addition I got her a rose, admittedly synthetic, but a rose nonetheless. Why? Because Mrs M's father, since God knows when, bought each of his daughters (an admittedly real) a rose for their birthday, every year, without fail. It is a tradition he continues to this day. And it is a tradition that I hope to continue for my special girls, JC and PB.

Happy birthday, JC.

The unlinkable SCMP has a front page story to co-incide with World AIDS Day, on the user-pays principle in practice.

Gains made in controlling the spread of HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases (STD) were being jeopardised by the charges, introduced at the height of the Sars outbreak, because they deterred sex workers from undergoing testing....From April 1, non-residents have been charged HK$700 for consultations at public social hygiene clinics. HIV treatment costs non-residents HK$1,910 per consultation...The figures showed there were 19,672 samples obtained at the STD clinics for HIV testing from April to September - a 30 per cent drop from the same period last year.

The group (HK Coalition of AIDS Service Organisations) pointed out the policy exempted attendances at tuberculosis and chest clinics. "Tuberculosis treatment is provided free exceptionally because prompt treatment is considered the single most effective and preventive tool."

So if you want a sure-fire way to ensure HIV becomes a bigger problem in Hong Kong this seems to be the easiest way to go about it. Richard often talks about the problems of AIDS in China and it seems Hong Kong is destined to follow the same path. This is a case where the Glorious Motherland have shown exactly what not to do.

It beggars belief that any half-decent public health official can see this making sense. Do not for a second believe that this would remain a problem unlikely to affect HIV infection in the greater HK population. Prostitution has a murky but certain place amongst the male psyche here. Such ineptness is often funny in the context of the usual political shenanigans of this city. But when it comes to such life and death matters as this it borders on criminal negligence. These sex workers are exactly the ones that need cheap or even free health care; it's great they get it for TB. It makes a hundred times more sense for them to get it for HIV.

Sometimes this place can be just plain scary.

I will just post this little excerpt from UKJoe's site, a woman of discernible taste:

Then when Simon was introduced to me, I thought, "Wow, he looks cuter than I imagined." The glasses picture worked the wonder, and the knowledge of him being a father of two, I actually imagined him having moustache.

Just clearing things up.

Plenty of people get worked up about the risks of Deep vein thrombosis (DVT). But does anyone think of us poor office workers, trapped in front of computer terminals every day for hours at a time. Stuck in office chairs, staring at radiation generating screens in Radon filled air conditioning. It is an outrage and it must stop. I've already proposed the solution: the Simon World Siesta*. So now try saying to your boss: "I need 2 hours off after lunch to avoid possible DVT and other health issues."

Just another Health & Occupational Safety message brought to you by me.

* Use at your own risk.

Shaky, old mate, just letting you know that it was another golden weekend of Australian sporting triumph. Does England play tennis?

Friday night had dinner with some fellow Disneyland inmates. They are heading to Hanoi for a couple of days of R&R sans kids.
Hanoi is part of the expat touring schedule in Hong Kong, along with visits to Macau, Shenzhen, Shanghai, Beijing and Thailand.

Saturday saw the first wintery day here in Hong Kong. We had a late start as Jackie, our amah, took JC for a walk with Misti, leaving Mrs M, PB, myself and our guests an extra hour of Barbie-free sleep time. Took our visitors up to the Peak and a ride up and down on the tram. Had some lunch back up at the tourist complex at the Peak, a place called Shooters 66. They had a little kiddie playground, plenty of fried food, and a train the went around the roof for no apparent reason. And they had American size portions which meant way too much food for everyone except PB. That little girl can eat her own body weight, God bless her. What's really cute is her stomach becomes distended and hard when she's finished. I think it's a phase: I can't imagine her doing the same when she's 15. The afternoon passed indoors with a mess of toys and videos.

Saturday evening we negotiated the winding streets of HK to make it to a movie cinema in Wan Chai. HK traffic systems seem to be unique in having plenty of twisting roads that end up in one way streets and inevitably it's the wrong way. The only piece of driving advice I've ever been given here is to never follow a sign (on the Island) saying Kowloon. Because before you know it you'll be in Kowloon and you can't turn around until you're almost at the border. Or something like that. We made it to our movie, just. Being last in meant we were stuck at the very front. Mrs M announced she was going to find a seat further back, leaving the rest of us to engage in various contortions to try and prevent permanent paralysis. The movie was Nowhere in Africa which I knew nothing about other than it was part of the HK Jewish Film festival. Who would have thought the Jewish Film Festival movies would start on time? Regardless the movie itself was fantastic, a story more about Africa and Europeans forced to adapt to it and a gripping character study to boot. There seemed to be an unusual amount of dust catching my eye at certain parts which meant I couldn't even enjoy the sex scenes. I highly recommend this movie. It gets an official Simon World two thumbs up. Afterwards we grabbed some dinner at a Vietnamese place called (imaginatively) Siagon.

Sunday morning we made the concerted effort to head to Ocean Park. This is Hong Kong's answer to a question that shouldn't have been asked. Essentially built on two seperate strips of land with a 500 metre hill in the middle and joined by cable car, it is a 25 year old theme park looking like a 25 year old theme park. It is a combination of merchandising, concrete and schlock in an effort to extract as much cash as possible from parents of young children. Of course we obtained our annual pass. Whomever designed the place obviously never had kids themselves. The place was anti-stroller with plenty of stairs and few ramps. We had a quick photo with the man dressed as a seal before heading to the cable car. We all enjoyed the ride overlooking Deep Water Bay and further, except our guest who suffers from vertigo. She firmly stared at the hillside instead. Let me tell you that alighting from a moving cable car with three strollers, bags, kids and assorted stray bits is a challenge. The cabal headed straight for the shark aquarium which was enjoyed immensely by all. JC was able to identify the various animals courtesy of Finding Nemo, especially Bruce the shark and the Sting Ray. So thank you, Disney. Or more importantly, thank you Mr. Shenzhen cheap-o DVD man. Next stop was the coral atoll aquarium, which was huge and involves a series of descending viewing platforms. There were some flippin' big fish in that tank. By then it was time to march back up the mountain to the cable car for the trip back home. The afternoon JC had (yet another) birthday party so PB and our visitors hit the playroom for a quiet afternoon. Bedtime couldn't come fast enough for everyone except JC, who at 9pm was still busy announcing she wanted to get up. I don't know why it is but it is far more tiring running with kids all day than spending a big night on the hit and miss and working a full day.

There was an article in the weekend New York Times on Chinese blogger Mu Zimei (this link may require registration). This together with the happy co-incidence that my blog appears 8th in a Google search of Mu Zimei mean this:

If you are visiting this site for the first time, please feel free to have a look around. There's a whole lot more than a passing mention to a Chinese sex columnist/Candice Bushell wannabe.

UPDATE: I've just updated the graph. I'm just riding the wave, baby.