🇭🇰🇲🇴 Somewhere Else

Hello Adventurers, 

When it comes to boxing, it has long been said that styles make fights. And for the sport’s matchmakers, determining the best configuration of opponents to hopefully deliver a thrilling bout? That’s the eternal pugilistic puzzle to solve (should a boxing promoter want to sell tickets as well as PPV buys, and cultivate a reputation for delivering compelling multi-bout cards).

Anyhoo, when it comes to matchmaking, sometimes it’s as simple as pairing two journeymen together (who’ll give us a messy slugfest…as they give themselves brain damage) or the slimy lopsidedness of an emerging star bullying someone of lesser talents (enabling the newbie to create a highlight reel to sell us fans on future fights). And other times it’s as contractually complicated as a years-in-the-making super fight between a slick technician and a power puncher (who duke it out to settle the age old debate ‘bout brain versus brawn…until we yearn for bloodlust reappraisal).

But here’s the thing, matchmaking is tailoring…but also a hypothesis. So, it isn’t conclusive, and won’t necessarily fashion a great fight (because greatness is determined by reality; as in, how fighters actually fight one another in the ring). And ultimately, it is the performance and/or the outcome of the fight that determines whether it’s vogue or not. Said another way, styles don’t make fights…great fights make great fights. And nothing can will this into existence…save fate, destiny, chance or luck (be it good or bad).

And I should know…because I assumed the Special Administrative Regions of the People’s Republic of China* was gonna be a match made in heaven ala ‘me the adventurer’ versus it, the presumed adventureland. But it wasn’t. How come? Well, because our existential styles just didn’t jive, we never found our groove, and ultimately…because neither of us were made for the other (which is something one can only learn in a real-life cultural exchange…not in the expectations of the mind in things imagined). That’s fact, not fisticuffs.

While my time in the SAR wasn’t a loss, it also wasn’t the resonant touristic victory I was hoping for…but it did give me lots to think about, and much to draw from. Furthermore, it gave me the results I needed; being the completion of a marathon per New Territories, Macau, and Hong Kong Island respectively…all of which are recounted in this issue of the newsletter. So let’s get into it…but not wager too much on my words (because — like boxers — everyone stacks up differently with everything else, and I bet you may very well dig these parts).

- Ben Pobjoy

*Because of the data limitations associated with this newsletter’s platform, I will be using ‘SAR’ as a shorthand acronym for the ‘Special Administrative Regions of the People’s Republic of China’ herein.

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 69

• Flights taken: 72

• Kilometres flown: 108,309

• Marathons completed: 205

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 9,749

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 72,840

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: As a Westerner, I was surprised by how the SAR presented as less special / actually more CCP. The heavy handedness of the state is felt in subtle ways, and despite the regions’ population density, bustle, and busyness (intermixed with superficial glam and glitter), the everyday life here is rule-based and hella bland😴

• The Biggest Obstacle: Weaving around the phone-addicted, open-umbrellas-in-the-sunshine waddlers that obstruct / bottleneck the SAR sidewalks. People constantly bump into you (because they’re staring down at screens) so flânerie in these parts ain’t much fun🤬

• The Lesson Learned: We long to be elsewhere when our reality doesn’t satisfy and/or happiness seems to be proportional to freedom, opportunity, and self-realization🤔

FIELD NOTES: NEW TERRITORIES, SAR

A buster’s paradise…full of beauty

I anchored myself in some inexpensive accommodations just north of Victoria Harbour. It billed itself as a ‘boutique hostel’ but was in fact a roach motel in Kowloon, one that was on the ninth floor of a dingy, rat-infested building…atop eight other floors of brothels (which athleisure’d men — who had disavowed direct eye contact, and prefer to stare at phones — queued for in the ground-level foyer…entering the tiny elevator six at a time…like sex-starved sardines…24/7).

And while I arrived years too late to see Kowloon Walled City — since demolished / now a park — I did wander through the area’s Chungking Mansions (being an anarchic 5 block, 17 storey building full of shops, restaurants, guest houses, and offices) to get a taste via approximation…which was essential because of my revere for Wong Kar-wai, and his film Chungking Express (some of which was filmed there). And that — topped with an evening stroll along the Avenue of Stars to see Hong Kong Island’s southernly / shimmery skyline — is all you need to know about Kowloon / do there…which is why I abandoned it — via marathon — for greener pastures in the New Territories.

The internet suggested I could possibly see some rhesus monkeys in the wild / general vicinity (if I was willing to trek to / through the Kam Shan Country Park)…so I took a gamble and marched myself outta Kowloon to try my luck. Now, I presumed my free-to-do, self-guided safari was gonna be a bust because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing…but I sorta struck gold; seeing dozens and dozens of packs of monkeys in the park immediately upon arrival. I marvelled at their very human features and mannerisms…well, for about thirty seconds before some charged my way in a super speedy, creepy crawly manner (making me think they were gonna rip out my eyes…and overall, I almost shit my pants outta sheer terror…not kidding).

Anyhoo, the monkeys are as cute as they are unpredictably vicious…so I got my fill fast, and promptly hit the park’s rugged trails to escape them. And while ascending one hill in the dense brush I heard some rustling, and figured it was more monkeys…but then I caught sight of grey ‘cute-y booty’ wild piglets (looking like bulge-y and bulbous babies you just wanna pinch)…and my heart nearly exploded with joy. But then I nearly had my heart explode by heart attack because a nearby adult boar — whom I couldn’t see in the brush — startled me with a booming-ly hoarse, dinosaur-like guttural grunt proceeded by bushes-bending-towards-me stampeding…and I hauled ass outta there (nearly pooing my pants…like, again…for the second time within the span of about 37 minutes).

At this point, I was seriously questioning my routing decision — and the safety of the park itself…because it is legit wild AF — but then some monkeys started swinging through the trees above me as I jogged out, and seeing them move so fluidly / hearing the sounds of bending branches coupled with the song of the breeze through the leaves…honestly, it was probably one of the most magical moments of my life. And exiting it all, I totally get why all the local hikers entered the park with wooden staffs (for personal protection from the wildlife…whereas I had irresponsibly raw dogged it).

As an aside — I gotta make one thing known about my personal POV, and another thing known about my marathon routing — and this concerns China itself and Sha Tin, a SAR neighbourhood I hit in the New Territories on this ‘thon.

Basically, it is important to acknowledge that certain opinion-framers in the West are increasingly painting China as some sort of existential threat (to what exactly, I do not know). Is this true? Well, I’m not learned enough to say…but I am also hesitant to blindly accept any anti-Eastern position because I am an internationalist at heart (and well-travelled…so I have observed life everywhere to be inherently more chaotic than conspiratorially controlled). So when pundits and politicians are near-unanimous in being anti-polity (i.e. dislikers of the CCP), I know that their populaces internalize this rhetoric in the most base and stupid ways, and tend to express it as an ugliness that is anti-peoples — where scapegoats are created — and racism rises (and that’s both dangerous as well as the stuff of morons…because haters should actually hold their politicians to account and make them fix homegrown problems). But yes, ‘West is Best’ if you like paying a grand for a loaf of Wonder Bread as a 100ft² studio apartment will set you back a billion dollars with a million year mortgage…cool place! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As such, I’m neither pro-China or anti-China — which is my position on all countries — because every country is more prism than monolith (and uh, I’m Team Earth…because it is the only home we have / thus something we gotta share). And if shit were to hit the fan, I’ll just go for a long walk…and good luck…like, catch me if you can! Plus, the capitalist class professes to love competition — yet it is in the shady BTS business of self-interest via consolidation and hegemony and monopoly — and that is why it shits BRICS when its dominance is challenged. So, when I visit different countries, I always make an honest effort to observe them with neutrality and then form my own opinions (trying my best to distance myself from the propaganda in my country as well the propaganda in the host country that I’m visiting). Basically, I just wanted to state that everything in this issue is my opinion (entirely formed by me)…and I’m no shill for nobody, and not lazily toeing someone else’s line that’s been clipped to me, nahmean?

That said, when I went to Sha Tin on my marathon — and got outside of the Hong Kong that most tourists see — I eye-rolled at all the buster signage everywhere; no skateboarding, no touting, no boisterous noise, no parking, no loitering, no hawking, no smoking, etc. And the cops there — as well as all the super loser security guards (bruh, calm the fuck down with yer dumb whistles and wands…shoeing me away as I simply stop to tie my shoelaces) — they were enforcing it all (here, you can only do those things where the powers that be say you can do ‘em). And I personally believe that this aspect of these parts sucks shit — coupled with how they fence-in many of the sidewalks across the SAR to shepherd / control people — but hey, the public washrooms here are plentiful (and immaculate), and the facilities in some of the public parks are the best I’ve seen in the world.

My point? Well, it’s multifaceted; we gotta get outside into the physical world and form our own unfiltered / non-algorithmic conclusions (while not necessarily accepting things at face value, and of course supplemented by a nutritious diet of responsible journalism…which is more credible than some jackoff blogging in his basement / talking unfounded shit), we gotta accept that no model or modality is ever gonna be perfect / be one size fits all, and we gotta empathetically understand that other cultures do things their way…and such may not jive with our cultural norms or one’s personal values (which is fine…and why the deferential, social order vibe of Confucianism woven into certain elements of Chinese society / behaviour may rub me the wrong way yet rubs millions and millions of others as right or right-er than whatever else is ideologically out there). And that my friends, is the freethinking frontier…in any territory, new or old.

FIELD NOTES: MACAU, SAR

Colonialism’s culture clash

My Portuguese wife — as well as her extended Portuguese family — are united by an incredible talent; you can lob any esoteric topic / subject at them…and within two minutes they’ll connect it back to Portugal (think Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon). For instance, you’re at the dinner table with them eating, and you bring up Trump’s xenophobia re: China…and a minute later someone is somehow talking about some guy named Rui who — 40 years ago — lived in some village, was equally hot-headed, and had a beef with a fisherman who may have once sailed the South China Sea.

Anyhoo, going to Macau wasn’t in the original plans for the Marathon Earth Challenge…but Christmas is approaching…and Kowloon was near enough…so I sailed to Portugal’s last colony (which only took 75 minutes from Hong Kong Island). Why? ‘Cause honey, my WASP-y ass needs to bring something ‘anecdotally Portuguese-y’ to sweeten our upcoming holiday gatherings (in order to get the fam buzzing / ensure my honky ass remains relevant to them, LULZ)…and because it was a fun day trip (to go do a marathon) / an easy and inexpensive way to knock off another country from the list of places visited.

Now, I had been warned that Macau was ‘just casinos’…but TBH, I found it to be so much more than that, really interesting overall, and a highlight of my time in the SAR.

Having grown up in Canada, I have a sense for what it’s like to exist in a place that’s a former colony. And living in / having visited other places in the Commonwealth, I’ve grown accustomed / deaf / blind to British holdovers (especially as it concerns language and aesthetics)…so going to Macau enabled me to experience colonialism with fresh senses (because of the linguistic and architectural colonial differences differing from those of my own)…and it was really something to behold (i.e. colonialism as ‘thing’ that’s ultimately really weird and imposing).

Basically, Macau is tiny; originally it was just 10 ish square kilometres in size — and through artificial land reclamation — is today about 30 ish square kilometres in size. And yes, it is known as the ‘Las Vegas of the East’ because of all the casinos…but this is sorta misleading since the gambling industry there is seven times larger than that of Las Vegas (according to Wikipedia). So Las Vegas — in fact — should be known as the ‘Poor Man’s Macau’, LOL.

Anyhoo, I exited the ferry terminal and was immediately struck by how all the roads had Portuguese names, and how most of the businesses had bilingual signage in Portuguese and Cantonese (being a visually jarring combo). And how the southern portion felt more Portuguese — in aesthetics, people, and pastel du nata cafés — as things got more Chinese the further north I went (i.e. more modern in architecture as well as less Portuguese on storefronts). In the city centre, portions of the sidewalk were even calçada and lots of the old Portuguese-styled buildings had Catholic motifs (that still remain…see the image gallery here). And because of how small Macau is — like, everything is nearly side by side — the culture clash is in yer face / pretty cool to take in.

Macau may be the first country I bipedal-ly circumvented via single marathon, and things got a tad strange when I was closest to Zhuhai / the heavily surveilled border with China; basically I had four ‘random’ interactions with four different people at four different points in time who each approached me with riffs on the exact same talking points; Why was I wearing a GPS device? Where was I from / what’s my age? And did I want to buy drugs? And TBH, I’ve bought enough drugs in my life to know the general difference between a dealer and a narc-y type, and my Macau interactions felt like the latter (i.e. old men in young men’s clothing faking odd ‘Hey there, cool guy!’ lingo…and then asking about nationality / age? C’mon guys…try harder!).

Yes, this all could’ve been pure coincidence…but as an insane-looking dirtbag that was alone in Macau, cruising the border via marathon, and snapping photos alongside it…I dunno…it was peculiar to have all these ‘same same interactions’ within metres of the border over the course of a few kilometres alongside it (especially since no one else approached me anywhere else in Macau). Were these agents of the state?!?! I can’t say, but it was a good closer to my time in Macau…and prompted me to sail back to Hong Kong Island...to be another face in a sea of crowds.

FIELD NOTES: HONG KONG ISLAND, SAR

The region’s rocky rhinestone

TBH, my time in the SAR progressed from ‘meh’ to being somewhat better with each day / each marathon; Kowloon was a bust (for me, at least), Macau was objectively more interesting, and Hong Kong Island was pretty darn rad. And should I return, I’d pony up the loot to stay in the latter; it was the most diverse, action-packed, and I guess enjoyable* (like, if I had to stretch the truth). That said, I arrived to Hong Kong Island sorta irritated after a hundred ‘paying no attention’ phone addicts had already bumped into me / accidentally slammed their carts into my shins over the previous two days.

As such, I hit Hong Kong Island differently than most; opting to get up into its aggressively slopping hills — to get away from people — where I did 2,300 metres of elevation gain (which is wild). And I’m glad that I did, because I took in some awesome views, saw waterfalls, and visited a near-vertical cemetery. And beyond that, my marathon route was fairly freestyle through the city centre…which is like ‘Times Square x Broadway x Shibuya’…but on steroids (i.e. rammed with some incredible shops as well as neon blink-y illumination at night). That element alone warrants a visit to these parts…even though I was too skint to buy shit.

Regardless of where I was in the SAR, I saw a variation of the same type of scene (everywhere and repeatedly); lonely and/or overworked locals looking like they were longing for something else (or maybe needing / wanting something more?). It is nuanced — and sorta hard to detect amidst all the density — but is noticeable if you’re sentient and open-hearted.

That said, I’ve got no clue what the source of the malaise is. And ya, I’ve seen ‘rat race stuff’ across all continents (which typically manifests itself as physical haggardness and exhaustion ala anyone in a suit in Tokyo)…but there was a real solemness in both the soul and spirit in these parts. And the people don’t look stereotypically glum like they do in Eastern Europe (which is slower / quieter / less prosperous), but it’s like many in the SAR have undiagnosed La Nausée. It isn’t outright melancholia per se, but like this dimmed down disillusionment of sorts / emotionally-repressed people seeming like they need really big hugs (which would prolly repulse them as this ain’t a touchy-feely gooey place…unless you’re banging in the brothels, I suppose).

Anyhoo, that sort of ‘longing’ as well as the stacked sombreness of things like the Monster Building (pictured below…being an extreme example of the vertical living here)…represent the truest textures of what I felt in the SAR. And quite possibly, why lots of the people here are tuned out…as they’re dialled into their phones; escaping to the borderless cyber elsewhere as ‘software patch’ for the absence of a deeper fulfilment.

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

Due to the delectability of warm and spongey pita bread straight outta the oven as well as the viscous opium that is tahini (yes, I know it is sesame-based and not the stuff of poppy seeds), Middle Eastern food is my personal fave…and just slightly edges out Chinese food (which is a very, very close second). And while the cuisines are totally different — and therefore incomparable — Chinese food is nevertheless a mainstay of my diet because I love the flavours, noodles, and just stuff like bean curd. Furthermore, Asia — as a whole — has always been ahead of the curve when it comes to mock meats (be they soy-based or gluten-based). So, when I was in the SAR, I had to seek out the latter…and man, it was world-class (and possibly the best I’ve ever eaten).

Now, I have been vegan for nearly thirty years…so I’m far too removed from eating animal proteins to suggest that the barbecued pork at Tong de Veggie in Tsim Sha Tsui would fool a meat eater, but if you’re vegetarian or vegan…it’s the best tasting / best textured stuff I’ve ever had; chewy but sorta seared and caramelized with a delicious char siu coating (achieved by soy sauce, molasses, hoisin sauce, and five spice powder). This meal was so good — and nothing back home in my Chinatown compares to it (although there’s still some stellar dishes back in Toronto) — and basically, I will be dreaming about this meaty-but-not-really meal for a long-ass time.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Kowloon, Macau, and Hong Kong Island (all prices converted to USD):

• A falafel sandwich, fries, and 330 millilitre can of Coke Zero from a kebab stand in Kowloon: $15.35

• A 250 millilitre bottle of mixed berry juice, a 500 millilitre bottle of Coke Zero, a 1.5 litre bottle of water, and two 40 gram bags of trail mix from a convenience store in Macau: $9.09

• A small oat milk latte from a café on Hong Kong Island: $6.39

MARATHON MUSINGS

On our continued migration into the machine

I love my smartphone; I use it to track every marathon, navigate unknown places, look at stupid memes, and read very smart words in things like the NYT, Toronto Star, or the New Yorker. Yes, I spend too much time on it every single day…but it is also a powerful tool that has changed my life for the better. How so? Well, wellness apps helped me lose 100 pounds nearly a decade ago, and dating apps / social media have brought some of the most amazing people into my life (who would’ve never entered my orbit otherwise…like my wife, whom I met on Grindr). And while elements of the digital / virtualized / connected world genuinely inspire me, the physical world — being earth and its earthlings — is a greater inspo as well as my ultimate muse. And the latter isn’t better than the former, it’s just what happens to resonate with me the most.

Anyhoo, as this project slowly winds down, I strive to remain present (and ‘in the moment’) so that I’m open to receiving the transmissions of the experience…but my brain is increasingly doing ‘pattern recognition’ — like an operating system on a computer running diagnostics — in relation to everywhere I’ve been and everything I’ve seen over the course of this year / project.

And while I won’t fully get into all of my WIP findings (I’m still processing), one irrefutable thing — the world over — is that we’ve all got phones in our hands (like everywhere…all the time…all across the planet…and at all socioeconomic levels…and I’ve been to nearly 70 countries this year and have seen this phenomenon in the most remote / most surprising places). And I’m neither a futurist, eschatologist, or a millenarianist…I’m technically just a millennial…but I nevertheless believe that we’re presently in some sort of transformative physical / digital ‘cocoon age’ (but I’ve got no fucking clue what comes next in terms of our collective evolution…short of another paradigm shift…like, if I were to place a bet).

As a heavy phone user myself — being someone who has just passed through countless societies of more moderate phone users ‘round the globe — I gotta say that people in the SAR take the connected cake; they’re the most extreme phone users I’ve ever seen. And I won’t paint this as negative — it is simply what it is — and IMO they’re just further along the path / deeper in the slumber of the ‘cocoon age’ that we’re all in (whether we recognize it or not). But, if you want an example, I saw stuff like dudes walk into washrooms staring at their phones, whip their dicks out, place their phones atop urinals (yes, on the pisser itself), and digitally stream content while their penises streamed urine…because they just couldn’t part with a single moment of disconnection (even when peeing). And then there were the queues for busses with dozens and dozens of people simultaneously on their phones, parents more interested in screens than in their sprogs, and lots of other examples.

Anyhoo, Viktor Frankl is one of the many thinkers that has profoundly impacted me. And he has this one line that surmises that, “When a man can’t find a deep sense of meaning, they distract themselves with pleasure.” And I sorta believe it to be generally true…but I’m not applying it to the people of the SAR because it’s too judgey (and I have no metric for determining the degree of meaning in each of their lives nor any clue as to what they’re doing with their phones…it could be positively transformative for all I know). And I mention this so you don’t think I’m a judgmental asshole nor painting their society with a broad brushstroke. And yes, this area of the world is known for its population density — so certain things are more apparent because they’re that much more in your face — but even if things were halved or quartered population-wise, I’d have still noticed the users using like they do here.

Overall, it made for a weird experience in the SAR; everyone on their phones there yet somewhere else mentally, everyone transfixed on their phones and walking into me ala don’t look up, and everyone touching their phones in a contactless society where I didn’t once see anyone holding hands, hugging or kissing (be it with their partners or with their kids). And maybe this has something to do with the malaise I detected…IRL disconnection soothed by cyber connection…but what do I know?

*All I know is that I didn’t find the SAR that enjoyable — being a sentiment I felt was reflected back to me by locals — and I highly doubt I’ll ever return.

Why? Well, because it is a region I didn’t find to be pleasurable. So instead we got on our phones…and scrolled ‘em; looking for pleasure somewhere else.

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