RGD Travels

Tokyo: September 28, 2011

2012-02-05T12:23:00.000-08:00

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Wispy, filamentous-tufted cirrus clouds streaked in a westerly direction high above my head in the clear blue of morning. It was a bit chillier that I had reckoned from my window, so as I exited the hotel, my goosebumps alerted me that it might be a good idea to go back inside and get a jacket.

I was going to spend the morning doing one of my favorite things while traveling in a strange city — wandering the streets in an aimless, serpentine pattern, trying to absorb as much of the local color as possible, photographing anything that might be of the slightest pictorial, informational or compositional interest.

In my research for this trip, I had seen a snapshot of a small Buddhist shrine that was protected by a large yellow curtain emblazoned with double Manji (the Japanese name for the swastika). From what I had gathered from my searches on the internet, it was located in the northeast corner of Shinjuku, and that was the area I would explore this morning.

I walked east across the footbridge past Takashimaya Times Square and into a collection of streets that divided medium-sized apartment buildings and small business establishments.

The area was alive visually with subtle accents and dramatic statements. With a bow to the past and an acceptance of the realities of modern life, the area was as accommodating as possible without capitulating to the western predilection for overlooking the importance of detail in one's everyday life.

I spent a couple of hours walking up and down, stopping here and there to admire and stare in wonder or disbelief. I'm sure the residents of the area were wondering what I was up to, and why I needed to photograph this and that.

I located several Buddhist temples and cemeteries but had no luck locating the small devotional I was looking for.

I still had plenty of time before I had to meet Tatsumi, so I stopped at the Gyoen National Gardens at the southern boundary of this section of the city. The garden was lovely, but the clear morning skies had given way to a midday haze. I wasn't sure if it was due to inversion or pollution, but it hampered my visual appreciation of the area.

A little after 1 p.m. I stopped at the Family Mart across from my hotel and rounded up some snacks that would suffice for lunch. I was going to rest for a few hours before taking the JR train south.

Feeling a little more rested, I got to Shibuya just after 3:30 p.m. I walked out to the front courtyard and found a seat (more like a place to lean on) near the statue of the faithful dog.

Tatsumi showed up around 4:20. He'd just come from a museum conference about an exhibition of his work in the upcoming year.

Tatsumi, like me, is visually unusual, especially in Japan. I photographed him in the waiting area, then we headed into the depths of Shibuya Station. At the entrance, we encountered a vision-impaired gentleman in need of assistance. He and Tatsumi spoke for a while, then Tatsumi extended his arm. The man grabbed on and we were off to help him catch his train.

After our good deed, we took the JR line south to Shinagawa, then changed to the Tokaido Line heading to Yokohama. Twenty minutes later, we exited the train in Kawasaki City, and Tatsumi led me to another platform to catch the local train to where he lives.

When we finally arrived at his stop, I was totally lost, so we agreed that he would get me back to Kawasaki City, and then I would be on my own to get back to Shinjuku.

At the station, we bought a couple of Diet Cokes so I would have something to drink during dinner, and then we walked through the dusky lanes to his house.

While I was unlacing my Timberlands, he went ahead to warn his mother and her caregiver that the terrible "gaijin" (outsider) was coming.

I'd met his mother ("Mama") back in the late 1970s during her visit to Los Angeles. She has a group photograph of her husband, herself and me in front of the place that they were staying at. But I've changed so much there's no way she would recognize me, even if she hadn't been afflicted with Alzheimer's disease.

Mama needs total care 24/7. From feeding her to helping her with bodily functions, Tatsumi has served as her primary caregiver for the past 10 years or so. It's back-breaking work, but he has a very generous soul brimming over with loyalty.

Twice a week, the Japanese health service provides an in-home caregiver so that Tatsumi can have a break and deal with outside matters. The caregiver was just leaving as we arrived.

Tatsumi made a simple dinner because he's aware of my limited palate. Afterward, we spent an hour remembering the good old days. I had spent a week at his place on Canal Street in NYC the summer after I'd graduated from Cal Arts; it had been impossible to sleep because of the early-morning trucks headed to the Holland Tunnel.

We toasted the future.

His house was overflowing with artwork and printed material about his performances. I took a few shots of the part of the house I had access to, as well as a few shots of Mama wearing my hat. (Go into google.com and type in "Tatsumi Orimoto" to get an idea of the scope of Tatsumi's work.)

A little before 7 p.m., I packed up my camera and said my goodbyes to Mama, then Tatsumi and I headed to the train station. We were right on time for the local express, and we got to Kawasaki City in less than 15 minutes. We exchanged farewells, and I headed over to the platform that would get me back to Shinagawa, and then from Shinagawa back to Shinjuku.

I was back at the hotel by nine, ready to lay my head down.

Tokyo: September 27, 2011

2012-01-25T15:03:00.000-08:00

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After my usual morning routine, I boarded a northbound train for Akihabara, famous for its conglomeration of electronic, Manga and anime shops. The 411 on Akihabara is that it's the ultimate place for Tokyo's legions of geeks and devotees of fantasy and role-playing to get their weekly fix of what's new.

During the ride to Akihabara, I took what I believe to be the best shot of the trip. The handsome, well dress executive seems worn out by the travails of the day, with his young competition coming up fast outside the window.

Akihabara lays claim to the greatest concentration of electronics stores in the world. And, from what I saw, that claim could be true. If you're looking for electronics components, this is the place to come; store after store, box after box, with thousands of labeled and unlabeled items to choose from. The only proviso is that you have to be savvy enough to figure out what it is that you're buying.

I should have come yesterday. The massive crowds of costumed, role-playing young people rumored to roam Akihabara streets and alleys never materialized. I asked around and learned that they mostly appear on the weekends. During the week, a lot of them are at university, trying to keep their parents happy, and the others are at some menial job that lets them earn just enough to be able to indulge their fantasies. The only person I saw in "maid" costume was an actress, being filmed on the street, who was more than pissed when I started shooting her during the filming.

That left only the commercial establishments to provide me with something interesting to experience. Manga is big here, but of limited interest to me. All the character figures, compelling as they are, are a little bit outside my taste level and my pocketbook.

In Japan there is a fascination with the idealized image of the chaste but naughty schoolgirl that gives inspiration to a whole group of artistic endeavors that seek to glorify the perfection of these precocious, pubescent girls. I'm not sure that this intense obsession is even legal in the U.S.

This place is a little like the old Radio Shack, lots of non-name-brand items but nothing really new or impressive. I'd read in several guides that companies come here to test new products, but I wasn't able to find anything that I hadn't seen before. I wandered around for hours trying to find something I hadn't seen before, but no luck.

I visited Yodobashi Camera, which is the large camera chain in Japan. Several guidebooks, including A Geek in Japan, expressed the idea that cameras were cheaper here, but that has not been my experience. Everything I priced was at least 30% higher here than I could get it for in Los Angeles. And they didn't have international warranties. I thought my experience in Shinjuku might just be because of the area, but Akihabara is supposed to be discount heaven, and I wasn't able to find even a hint of that promised land. Getting bored, I headed back to the train and my next stop, Ginza.

The Ginza is Tokyo's high-tone shopping area. In the old days, Ginza meant something like "large silver mint," and the shops here seem so enamored of the name that they are continuing the tradition by mining the silver from pockets of their customers. I love the area's detail. The attention paid to the smallest utilitarian items is staggering. The doors to these fuel-access ports are raised above the norm by their spot-on reverence to the gods of correct proportions and superior craftsmanship.

The major players are all here, from Gucci to Tiffany to Apple. I read that before the earthquake of 2010, Japan was the destination for over 40% of the world's luxury goods; and even during this time of uncertainty for the Japanese people, they still lust after high-end name-brand goods. That's why spotting a shopgirl in $2,000 Gucci thigh-high boots is nothing special. You've got to have lots of financial resources to keep up with the Satos (Japan's equivalent of the American Jones) here. But it's different from the high-end shopping in Hong Kong. A difference in tone, something about the Japanese preference for understated, refined beauty, seems to make it a lot less flashy than Hong Kong.

Over the past few days I must have walked 8 or 9 miles a day, and I was a little worn out. I stopped in at a local 7-Eleven to purchase an energy gel drink. They are very addictive; like a space food, the gel is sealed in a vacuum-sealed pouch. Once you break the seal, you begin to suck out the gel and continue sucking until the pouch is flat and you have gotten every delicious droplet of gel down your throat. I don't know why they aren't available in the United States. They must be some vitamin-stuffed form of jellied sugar, but they're delicious.

I tried snapping some shots of the shoppers on the street, but they have a seventh sense, and just as I'm hitting the shutter button they turn away. I do get a restaurant worker to pose, and the back of a woman wearing a kimono. I grab some texture shots of the area and some of the window displays. Again, I find the attention to detail staggering. I am very envious. Everything in America these days is just basic, because everything is based on cost. We're making a giant mistake; the country is too divided to make attainable goals. A real shame.

Back in Shinjuku, I rest up in my room until the sun is down and then head back to the Metropolitan building for some night shots. I wait in line until I finally get my trip up.

Tokyo is not as luminous as it was before the great earthquake of 2010. From above, much of the city seems a bit duller because of the current energy conservation requirements. This will continue to be the case until new power generation capacity can come on-line to replace the non-functioning nuclear power plants in Fukushima

Power conservation doesn't seem to be a concern to the persons in charge of the 52nd floor. The reflections are a hazard. I place the lens hood directly against the window, but because it's fluted I'm still getting errant light intruding into my composition. After giving up on a pristine shot, I begin to incorporate the reflections into my shots. I stay for 20 minutes and then head down.

Walking back, I pass through a section of restaurants and drinking establishments filled with company men totally committed to their nightly stress-relieving drinking ritual.

I stop at the Family Mart for bottled water, Cokes and more energy gel, then walk across the street to purchase a Big Mac sandwich before heading back to my room and calling it a night.

Tokyo: September 26, 2011

2012-01-22T14:04:00.000-08:00

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The clouds seemed to be retreating a little as I scanned the morning skies outside my window. I'd just finished watching the local TV weather forecast, and from what I could discern from the gestures of the "news readers," it looked like it would be relatively dry today; but then again, this is Tokyo and it is late in the fall.

Last night I'd spotted a Denny's on the circuitous route back to the hotel, and this morning I was making a beeline there for what I hoped would a glorious breakfast. The restaurant is located in a two-story standalone building, unusual in this part of town. The ground floor is actually the parking lot, while the restaurant hovers above. I took the stairs up to the brightly painted, ultramarine-blue eating establishment and pulled the door open. The layout was very similar to that of its American cousins, with a very relaxed atmosphere and lots of elbow room, unlike most of Tokyo's other fast-food-franchised dining rooms, which are usually cheek-to-jowl.

I ordered two eggs over-easy, bacon, toast, and a Diet Coke. The food was great, even if the portions weren't American-sized or quite U.S.-style, because in Japan over-easy, must really mean sunside-up. The best surprise was that the bill only came to ¥580, which was a lot cheaper than Mickey D's. You can rest assured that I'll be back tomorrow.

This morning my destination is Asakusa: Tokyo's major ("low town") pleasure/entertainment center during the first half of the twentieth century. Seekers of diversion would flock to the famous theater/cinema district from all over Japan. They were captivated by the flickering images at the Denkikan, Tokyo's first movie theatre, and entertained by the diverse offerings of the legitimate theaters in the area.

I took the train down to Shibuya, then changed to the Ginza subway line, where I pulled out my two-day Metro Pass and put it to work. Shibuya is the Ginza line's first stop, and Asakusa is the last. Because I was getting on at the first stop both coming and going, I would be able to get a seat going in both directions, which at my age is a benefit.

Travel Info: When you look at the train/subway map of Tokyo, it looks like someone dropped a plate of multi-colored spaghetti. The train- and subway-line configurations are so numerous and overlapping that it is daunting to even contemplate a journey. But I found if I just laid out the train stops in a straight line, one after the other, it was far easier to understand how to get from place to place.

Like much of Tokyo, most of Asakusa was incinerated during the fire bombings of WWII. In the 1950s and 60s, major portions of the area were rebuilt, and today many of the mid-century-styled buildings still stand, giving the area an "Old Downtown" ambiance that is a major draw for those who want to look back fondly.

Once I exited the subway car at Asakusa, I found the station to be a little run-down and very humid. After quizzing one of the station attendants, I learned that it was Exit 6 that I needed to use to get to the temple. The trip to the surface was a labyrinth of twists and turns past shabby places to eat that were yet to open for the day and still had last night's trash piled against the door. I surfaced into a covered mall-like walkway, very reminiscent of downtown Las Vegas but without the digital imaging.

The walkway from the station intersects the famous Nakamise Way that has been taking pilgrims to the Senso-ji temple since the 1500s. This path is lined with merchants selling their wares much as they have for the past five centuries. From corn-on-the-cob to delicate cookies, from samurai sword replicas to religious devices, the path is humming with commerce, giving a shadowy perception of what pilgrims might have encountered during the Edo (1600-1800) period.

Senso-ji is one of the most famous temples in Tokyo. Erected in 628 AD, the original building was flattened by the great earthquake of 1923 and then again during WWII, when its second incarnation was burned to a crisp. The present temple has survived the latest series of quakes and serves as a welcome island of calm and spiritual rejuvenation to the Japanese, who over the past year have suffered through a series of unsettling events.

Like many of the temples in Asia, you can avail yourself of a glimpse into the future here at Senso-ji by using the all-pervasive fortune sticks. Very similar to the experience I had in Hong Kong: you begin by grabbing one of the containers, then you shake out one of the sticks and record the stick's symbol. But instead of finding a soothsayer, as you would have done in Hong Kong, here at Senso-ji they have a series of drawers containing printed sheets that purport to prognosticate forthcoming events; that is, if you make the mandatory 100-yen donation.

After doing a photographic survey of the temple area, I moved on to the side streets, where the majority of artisans sell their goods. A whole host of traditional handmade items are available, from exquisite wooden combs to handmade writing utensils, in a concerted effort to keep traditional skills alive and well. I would have loved to buy something, but they were just a little too dear for my meager means.

According to the guidebooks, there are still 50 geishas working in Asakawa. I hadn't seen even a fleeting glimpse of them, but I found several shops that sold the accoutrements of their profession. One footwear shop had magnificent Zoros, and another carried kimono fabrics that were works of art. Really impressive stuff, their attention to detail is hard to comprehend, especially in today's attention-deficit world.

Kaminarimon Gate is at the southern end of Nakamise Way. It is a landmark in the area, and visitors are compelled to have their picture taken in front of it. The locals watch the activity with sense of bemused pride. One gentleman attracted my attention because he was taking pretend pictures of all he encountered. I found out that he spends most of his days here mentally framing and storing away the images in his memory. I showed him my camera and pantomimed taking his picture and he agreed. So I took a digital shot of him at the same time as he mentally recorded me.

It started to sprinkle, and I found an umbrella shop, along with a several high-end luggage shop, selling exotic skin cases. They didn't have an all-black model, so I had to settle for a black with gray accents. I continued to photograph some of the shops, but the day was winding down and I headed back to the subway.

I found a seat and discreetly photographed several of my fellow passengers making their way home after a hard day's work.

Even though it was raining, I got out at Shibuya and walked around a little, still trying to find the "pork ramen" house that I'd seen in a book, but after 20 minutes I was pretty soaked, so I took the train back to Yoyogi Station.

I stopped at the convenience store, got tons of junk for dinner, and headed back to my room. Once there I changed out of my wet clothes, gathered up the rest of my dirty duds, and took the elevator down to the garage level, where the coin-operated laundry room was located. I swatted mosquitoes and made notes of the day's activities for the next two hours while the machines worked on my clothes.

Back upstairs with my clean clothes, I changed into my sweats, turned on the TV, grabbed a Coke and apple turnover, and climbed into bed. It had been a long day.

Tokyo: September 25, 2011

2011-12-07T07:16:00.001-08:00

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There's something wonderfully enticing about Japan, even with the undercurrent of separation and loneliness that seems to shimmer just under the surface veneers.

The week before my flight, Tokyo had been hit by Typhoon Roke, and the long-range forecast had called for rain to continue during my visit; but luckily, the weather prognosticators were incorrect. On this bright morning, the crows outside my window were excitedly chatting back and forth across the gleaming manmade chasms of this part of town. Black harbingers of the work day, crows seem to have replaced the rooster. The roosters must have been either eaten or zoned out of the city, allowing the ubiquitous carrion crow to swoop into the time-honored position of herald of the sun, especially in the metropolitan Tokyo area.

Last night, I came to the conclusion that time was passing and I needed to start checking things off of my shot list. So today, I was heading one stop south on the JR Yamanote train line to Harajuku Station, to visit Meiji Shrine. I had read somewhere that on Sundays, there is a good chance to witness a portion of a Shinto wedding, and that was a big item on my list.

At Yoyogi Station, I used my Suica Card, for the first time, to get through the turnstile. I found the platform for the southbound train and waited, along with a lot of Tokyoites out for a little recreation on their day off. In a little over 10 minutes, I had arrived at Harajuku and made my way out of the station, which is only a hundred yards or so from the south entrance of the shrine.

Meiji Shrine was built at the turn of the last century to house the deified spirits of the Emperor Meiji and his wife Empress Shoken. He was enshrined for leading Japan out of its feudal era and into the modern age and westernization. Completed in 1921 and bombed into oblivion during WWII, it was reconstructed in 1958. The shrine is situated in the middle of 150 acres of evergreen forest, containing over one hundred thousand trees of various species, donated from every part of Japan.

This Shinto shrine is very popular with the Japanese people, especially during the New Year's celebrations. During the Hatsu-mode festival (on January 1), two to three million people make their way into the park to make their obligatory "first visit of the year." During this time, the shrine has its own train stop, and the priests actually use traffic signals to direct the massive crowds.

The majestic Tori, at the entrance, marks the beginning of the transition from the profane to the sacred. It's also the place where lots of tourist groups form to begin their visit. Once on the gravel path, it takes a while to get to the inner buildings, but it's a way of clearing the mind as you trudge along. The sound the gravel makes as it accommodates your weight is almost like a chorus chanting an absolution as you make your way to the holy of holies.

As you approach the offering hall and inner shrine, you need to stop at one of the holy-water fountains and purify yourself by rinsing off your hands and rinsing out your mouth. Nowadays, most people just wash their hands, choosing to forego the rinsing-of-the-mouth part of the ceremony.

Luck struck just as I was leaving the fountain. A wedding party came through the shrine gate, heading toward an area set aside for formal wedding photography. As discreetly as I could, I made my way over and began to shoot. The wedding photographers know their business: arranging the party so that everyone is in the correct position and as flawless as possible; making sure that ties are straight; and if anyone's coiffure needs a little smoothing, one of the team is there to make sure that there won't be any blemishes in the final image that commemorates the merging of two families.

I move back over to the forecourt, hoping to use the open doors of the gate as a pictorial window into the shrine. For the next 20 minutes, I stand there, hoping the crowds will thin out a little and allow me a couple of seconds to make the shot. Unfortunately, there are so many visitors I can't get a composition that I feel fits the bill. Walking away, I shoot some details of the structure and grab a no-looking shot of the inner shrine (they request that you don't photograph it, but so many Japanese were disregarding that plea that I felt licensed).

Turning around, I found another wedding procession making its way through the gate. It's like seeing the past come to life. They looked wonderful in their traditional costumes, and the proud fathers were just beaming, glowing almost as much as the bride. As the procession disappeared into the inner sanctum, I noticed the first wedding couple standing alone near one of the exits. I approached them and they graciously agreed to pose.

After I completed photographing them, I walked back to the inner courtyard, where a third couple had emerged from the sanctuary. The wedding procession moved across the inner court in a time-honored cadence on a traditional path that would serve as the foundation for their life together. I moved over to grab a few more shots. Again, the wedded couple was radiant in their traditional guise, beaming with happiness. I assumed they were relieved that the complicated ritual was nearing an end and that their life together was beginning. I was feeling very lucky to have witnessed this glimpse of Japan's past.

It was moving on towards mid-afternoon, and I too needed to move on. My next stop was Takeshita Street. It's Tokyo's most fashion-forward shopping area; supposedly very similar to Los Angeles' Melrose Avenue. It was easy to locate, being that it dead-ends into the train station's northern-most exit. A signage arch and wall-to-wall young people announce that you are there.

After cruising up and down the street, I was disappointed. There were lots of sundry shops, doing good business, but no in-your-face storefronts flaunting the work of young fashion designers. I was looking for something exciting, some new, unforeseen innovation that would further my faith in man's constructive rebellion; a flag in the sand, announcing their intentions to perpetuate progress by reshaping the norm into their irreverent vision. I spent an hour traipsing up and down, but nothing on this visit gave me pause. I gave up and took the train one more stop south to Shibuya.

Shibuya District is another of Tokyo's major entertainment and shopping areas, very popular with the affluent young. The premiere rendezvous spot in the area is the statue of the faithful dog Hachiko. Located in the forecourt of the train station, this bronze statue attests to the devotion of a white Akita dog for his dead master. Unfortunately, today the area around the statue is a designated smoking area, which means that often you have to view the statue through clouds of cigarette smoke, and to a dog-loving westerner, this seems to be an affront to the memory of this most loyal canine. I held my breath and took a few shots and then crossed the intersection that you see in all the photographs and movies that fronts this area. I crossed it with what seemed to be millions of others, looking for some side street that might hold something interesting to photograph.

I strolled the streets looking for a particular pork ramen shop that I had seen a snapshot of. An hour later, I gave up and took the train north back to my hotel, after making a stop at 7-Eleven to gather dinner.

At 7:30 I headed back out to Kabukicho, looking for targets of opportunity.

Tokyo: September 24, 2011

2011-11-11T14:44:00.001-08:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to www.ronalddunlapphotography.com)

As usual, in a new place, I had a somewhat restless first night. I woke at 2:30 a.m., then again at 4:30, and finally at 6:15 I gave up and got up. The first thing I did was to open the window. I was more than surprised to be greeted by a murder of crows, on the next building over, serenading the city as it came to life. In the distance the Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower held sway over the sky line.

I welcomed the hot water as it cascaded over my head and down my torso; without a shower in the morning I never feel fully awake. Dressed and loaded for bear, I was out the door by eight.

Down at the desk I got a safety deposit box and put in my passport plus my emergency cash. I also checked my computer in for the day and found that there was a Currency Exchange Machine in the lobby. I changed a hundred and got better rate, 76 yen to the dollar (the extra 3 yen was a moral victory at least).

I had a map to a local Denny's but had difficulty in locating the restaurant. It seems that the city streets are laid out in a very counterintuitive manner, so after plodding around for a while I gave up the notion of having a "Grand Slam."

I was right next to Yoyogi Station, so I availed myself of the opportunity to purchase a Suica card. I have a translation program on my Mac and used it to print out phrases that I thought I might need. In the customer service office I pulled out the "I want to buy a Suica Card" sheet and showed it to the JR representative. He smiled, nodded and asked for ¥2000 (about $26.32). I asked (or more accurately pantomimed) that I wanted to add additional money to the card, but he shook his head and pointed out into the station proper, where I could use one of the machines to add to my card up to 18,000 yen ($231).

Travel Tip: I highly recommend the Suica card. Very similar to Hong Kong's Octopus Card, it's a prepaid travel pass that makes using the trains and metro system a breeze. Just swipe the card and you're on your way, no need to spend time trying to figure out which ticket to buy. It's really a time saver and alleviates a lot of stress, plus you don't need exact change.

Travel Tip: Shinjuku Station is the busiest train station in the world, with an average of over 3.5 million people passing through it each day. It can be very complex and confusing. I found that by using Yoyogi Station, just a few block to the south, you save a lot of time and don't have to deal with the ebb and flow of the massive crowds.

According to the internet there are more than a thousand McDonald's franchises in the greater Tokyo area, and I think that might be correct because there seems to be one on every block. After I had gotten my Suica Card, I walked across the street and got a sausage sandwich. Unfortunately I pointed to the wrong picture and got a bacon, egg and cheese McGriddle and a small Coke (and when they say small they're not kidding). I found the McGriddle part of the sandwich was not to my liking.

After I finished breakfast I consulted my pocket map and began to trek over to the skyscraper section of Shinjuku. I was looking for Bic Camera and the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building. My itinerary called for me to hit the camera store first, but halfway there I found signs directing me to the Metropolitan Building. I hung a left and walked five or six more blocks to the east. The "Observation Deck," on the 45th floor, is free, but there's always a line. It takes a while to get your turn to be squeezed into the elevator with 10 or 12 other individuals and be whisked up, to get your opportunity to observe.

It was a clear but somewhat hazy morning. This observatory is great place to see the city from above, but not the best place to photograph it. There are massive reflections everywhere, and the best views (of Tokyo Tower and downtown) are usurped by a restaurant. You need to be a patron if you want to photograph in that direction.

The day views were just so-so, and I decided that I'd do better if I came at night. As I was standing in line for the descending elevator ride, I noticed that they had a souvenir stamp that you could use to denote your visit. I availed myself of the opportunity by annotating my journal.

Once down, I walked back the way I came. It was a bit cooler than I would have preferred, especially in this section of the city. Skyscrapers always disrupt the normal air currents, creating wind-tunnel effects that can chill you to the bone, even on warm days.

At Bic Camera, they have a special counter for English-speaking customers. I told the representative that I was looking for a Fugifilm Finepix X100, and he found it for me immediately. The only problem was that it was $400 more than I could purchase it for in the U.S. All the cameras there were more expensive, by about 30%, than you can get them for at home. What a disappointment! I took the rep's card and headed back to my hotel.

I had an appointment with Tatsumi Orimoto at 1 p.m. I'd first met Tatsumi in the early 1970s at Chouinard's Art Institute. We were there the last year it was open; the next year, I headed to California Institute of the Arts and he'd headed to New York City. I was sitting in the lobby when he arrived at 1:30, late as usual. We hadn't seen each other for over 20 years but there was instant recognition when he came through the doors. We left looking for a cheap place to eat.

There seems to be a one restaurant for every single person in Tokyo. They are everywhere. One out of every three ground-floor establishments seems to be either a snacking, dining or drinking concern. I can't see how there is a large-enough customer base to keep them all afloat.

We found a place where Tatsumi could get soup and went in. We had to sit at the counter because we needed to be a party of three or more for a table. I sat down and he went over to the ticket machine to purchase food vouchers. A lot of lower-end establishments have vending machines that display the bill of fare. You decide what you want, insert coins and it dispenses a ticket that you then give to your server. I guess it's a way for the owner to keep his employees honest. Tatsumi passed over our tickets to a very slight young woman and within five minutes our food had arrived. I had some weird fried rice with some cheese sauce unmentioned on the menu, and he had some very hot soba (noodle soup). Plus, as he observed, I had to have my usual "girly" cola.

He wanted to show me around Kabukicho, which is Tokyo's red-light district and all-around place for "company men" to relax. It's also the place for unwary "gaijins" (foreigners) to get ripped off. It is supposedly run by some very tough Japanese, Korean and Chinese gangsters. As you enter the district, there are audio warnings playing, from the local merchant association, letting you know that visitors must beware (i.e., settle on a price before sitting down or you could end up paying a lot more than you than you think is fair).

Tatsumi is an internationally recognized performance artist, especially in Europe. He spent a lot of time there drinking ale, and that has contributed to him coming down with gout. Last month, he told me, it was so bad he had to use a wheelchair to get around. He was better now, but still couldn't walk for long distances without resting every now and then. We spent a couple of hours in Kabukicho with him pointing out the sex shops (whose signs appear innocuous to westerners, who are unfamiliar with Japanese fetish vernacular) and the dark-suited Yakuza who directed their operations. I kept trying to photograph people but they were uncooperative, and Tatsumi advised me not to push it.

We had a late-afternoon snack at KFC and then walked back to Shinjuku Station, where we agreed that I'd meet him on Wednesday in front of the statue of Hachiko (faithful dog) in Shibuya Station. From there we'd go to his home in Kawasaki City to have dinner with "Mama." He disappeared into the bowels of the station after giving me instructions on how to get back to my hotel. And to my surprise, after following them, I found the hotel in the same place I'd left it. Once assured of its location, I then turned around and continued to explore for another few hours.

Tokyo: September 22-23, 2011

2011-11-11T14:08:00.001-08:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to www.ronalddunlapphotography.com)

The sun rose over the foothills, bringing hazy sunshine to my bedroom window. It was 6:30 as I crawled out from under the covers and slid my feet into tattered shower clogs. I was leaving for Tokyo today, and the airport shuttle would be here in a little over an hour. It had be over 43 years since I last set foot in Tokyo. I'd been stationed there as a young man; now I was returning as a much older, and only a little wiser, senior.

I'd packed yesterday, and after I showered and finished dressing I stuffed the last few toiletry items into the smaller of my two bags. I zipped up and locked them both, then carried them down the stairs, placing them out on the porch. The airport shuttle ride cost $47, which seems a little overpriced to me, but then again, I'm a frugal guy (some people might think of this as a flaw, but when you're my age and want to travel, it's definitely an asset).

As usual, Lynda and the dogs wished me a safe trip as I made my way out to the Super Shuttle-branded blue Ford van. These shuttles are always a little adventurous. They seem to shake, rattle and roll as we negotiate the arteries of the city at what seems like breakneck speed from the back seat.

LAX's Terminal 5 is Delta's main hub in Los Angeles. Their set-up has changed a little since my last flight in February, but I found the "bag drop," checking two bags (free of charge, since it was an international flight). I got my boarding pass and made my way to the TSA passenger screening area, which was the usual pain in the ass, especially going through the body scan, but it was one of the ways the government has of giving us a totally unrealistic sense of security.

Gate 58A was at the far end of the concourse. After finding it and orienting myself to the facilities, I patronized a coffee shop, purchasing hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll, my usual pre-boarding routine. I also purchased a bottle of water. They never serve enough water on the plane, which I think is one of the major causes of jet lag.

Flight DL283 (also Vietnam Airlines 3015) began boarding at 12:15. The Economy Plus was called just after Business Class, so I was able to get both my bags up in the overhead storage bin. It was around an 11-hour flight and I was hoping to sleep some. I'd splurged on a seat in Economy Plus (an extra $120 each way) in order to get some extra leg room. I was in an aisle seat, 33G, and thought I might have all three seats to myself, but just before they closed the doors a young Japanese couple arrived to occupy 33H and 33J.

They were connecting from Las Vegas, where they had just spent what seemed to be an eventful week. After we'd been served a snack and dinner they were able to sack out. I got about two or three hours of sleep, but then I was wide awake. The screen in front of me did have the first season of HBO's "Broadway Empire." It wasn't what I expected but really enjoyable. I also got in a few episodes of Game of Thrones, which are as good as the books. An aside: Peter Dinklage really deserved the Best Supporting Actor Emmy for his roll as Tyrion Lannister.

About an hour before landing, we were served a very light breakfast snack. The young couple, just awakened, laughed at the little food boxes of dubious nutritional value. I smiled and tried out some of my Pimsleur Japanese on them, and they laughed some more. We exchanged cards and parted on very amicable terms. The big 747 had touched down right on time at 4:25 p.m., and the deplaning was fairly fast. From there I made my way through the immigration maze, where I had the mandatory photo and fingerprints taken. Past that obstacle, I grabbed a baggage cart and headed for the carousel. My bags appeared in the first third of the unloading, and I hefted them onto the cart and headed to customs, where I was given a polite pass-through.

I had done a lot of research on the internet and had the layout of the arrival area pretty well memorized. First thing I did was find the currency exchange. I had intended to exchange a thousand dollars, but the rate was only 73 yen to the dollar, so I only did $500, hoping to find a better rate somewhere else. Jesus, when I was here in the service we got 360 to the dollar. Globalization is really working great for America's working class.

I found the Limousine Bus ticket counter just where the internet diagram said it would be. I had chosen the bus over the train, even thought it was a little more expensive, because my hotel was one of its stops. I figured not having to drag my bags around Shinjuku looking for my lodgings was a great incentive. I purchased the two-day roundtrip bus-ticket and metro pass (¥6,000). It's a good deal, you pay for the round trip on the bus and get two free days on the Tokyo Metro System, for basically no cost.

I was told my bus would leave at 5:40, which was 30 minutes away. They are very strict about reservations and what bus you can board, even though most of the buses I saw left half empty.

At the next bus stop down I saw a couple I'd met waiting to depart in Los Angeles. Rick and Jane were heading to watch a Grand Prix race in Singapore, but for some reason their connecting flight from Narita was cancelled so they were forced to take a bus across Tokyo to Haneda Airport to catch another flight. They were still in good humor, but what a pain in the ass it was to make a change like that.

5:40 arrived, and my bus pulled up. I was first in the queue (which they strictly enforced) and found a seat about midway back on the driver's side of the bus. The bus ride in took a little over two hours, due mostly to heavy traffic. Hotel Sunroute Shinjuku Plaza was the last stop. The hotel has a little driveway out front and the limousine bus took up all of it. After unlatching the baggage compartment doors, the driver lifted out my two bags. The doorman said to wait, as he'd fetch a baggage cart.

For some reason, most of the hotels in Japan don't have bellmen, so you have to haul your own luggage around, which was fine with me. The cart arrived and I piled my luggage plus camera and computer bags onto it and wheeled my way inside to reception. I handed over my passport and Agoda voucher. The very well-groomed young lady behind the counter punched in a bunch of info and handed me the magnetic key card for room 1150 and amazingly didn't ask to take an impression of my credit card for incidentals.

Hotel Sunroute Shinjuku Plaza is a security-conscious place. You need the magnetic room key/card to do anything. From operating the elevators, to turning on the electricity in your room, it's all triggered by a swipe of the little magic piece of plastic.

The eleventh floor was a bit of a maze, and I had to pushed the baggage cart around a bit until I found 1150. I swiped the door knob with the card and unloaded my bags inside. I had been asked to return the baggage cart to the elevator area after I was done with it, and being the good citizen that I am, I did. Back at my room I had to climb over my bags to get inside. The passageway was so narrow that there wasn't room enough to walk around.

Once inside, the first thing I did was use the Gentleman's Convenience to relieve and refresh myself. I washed my face and combed what's left of my hair to try to rejuvenate my psyche. I needed to stay awake until at least 10 p.m. in order to adapt myself to this time zone.

I found that by placing my bags under the desk, it freed up enough space to make the room perfectly adequate. A lot of the reviews of the hotel complained about the room size and hardness of the bedding, but if you are traveling alone, the place is perfect, and I would recommend it highly.

The best thing about the room was that, unlike most high-rise buildings, the window opened. The opening wasn't more than six or eight inches, but at least I could let the outside in. I found the remote and flicked on the TV looking for a local weather forecast, then lay down for a bit to slow my heart rate and clear my head.

After 20 minutes I arranged my belongings in the most secure way I could, and then found that even after I pulled the room card out of the electrical authorization slot the TV kept playing. So I left it on and exited the room, placing the magnetic Do Not Disturb sign on the door. With my camera at my side, I was prepared for my sojourn out into the vastness that is Shinjuku.

Sunset was at 5:38 p.m., so it was near dark as I ventured out. A lot of the guidebooks all give the impression that Shinjuku could be a stand-in for the location in Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner," but I didn't find it nearly as dour or alienating.

I was out trying to acclimate myself a little and to walk out some of the blood that may have accumulated in my legs after sitting for so long. I also needed to find a convenience store so I could load up my mini fridge with junk. My pre-trip itinerary called for me to find an Italian restaurant to savor the goodness that is spaghetti; but I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so after looking around for an hour without finding the Italian joint, I settled on a Big Mac and some junk from the Family Mart that was catty-cornered from the hotel. I took my purchases back to the room, loaded up the fridge and devoured my dinner.

At 10 p.m. I changed into my sweats, climbed into bed and took a Xanax in hopes of defeating "Mr. Jet Lag."

HONG KONG SCORE CARD 2011

2011-07-11T15:16:00.000-07:00

HONG KONG OVERALL RATING

Hong Kong is a wonderfully complex megalopolis on the upswing. Jam packed with optimism, greed, and a belief that tomorrow can only get better. It is an exciting place to be, if only as a bystander.

PEOPLE

For the most part, I found everyone to be friendly and helpful. But there is an undercurrent of mercantile professionalism that seems to underly every personal interaction. It's like: "If you don't know what you want, step aside; the guy behind you does."

LODGING: HOLIDAY INN GOLDEN MILE

I chose that hotel because of its location. I read several reviews that the hotel was in desperate need of refurbishment. That's not what I found. My room was well appointed, of a fair sized (especially for Hong Kong), with all the amenities that one would expect. Room service was OK but I'd pass on the restaurants. I spent 10 days there very happily.

THE PEAK

In good weather the Peak is an "OK" half-day trip. Up top it's nothing like I imagined after reading the guide book descriptions. A mall is a mall, even on top of Hong Kong's tallest hill. In the public area you do get the views of Hong Kong and Kowloon that grace the pages of all the tourist literature. I've heard others rave about the experience, but for me it was a real let down.

MACAU

I loved this city and highly recommend it to everyone. There was something about its old world charm that totally captivated me. I would have loved better weather and a longer stay, but the glimpse I got was really intriguing. It's the yin to Hong Kong's yang.

KOWLOON

Kowloon is a shopper's paradise but, as in any big city, buyer beware. You need to be on your toes and make sure you're getting what you paid for. After a purchase, never let the item out of your sight, not even to be wrapped or bagged. These merchants are too good at sleight of hand. And always remember to get a written receipt.

STAR FERRY

It's not as glamours as it once was, nothing like the Hollywood movies of the 50s and 60s. But it is a refreshing outing, offering an incomparable view of Hong Kong Island in a nostalgic frame of reference. Commercially it's been a losing proposition for quite a while, but the City Fathers keep it running as a historic and tourist attraction. After all, what would a visit to Hong Kong be without a ride on the ferry, even if Suzy Wong never shows up.

Hollywood Road

Hollywood Road is an antiquer's heaven. The stores that front the road have the most amazing objects you can imagine. The only problem, other than their astronomical price, is that it's impossible for a lay person to tell if it's two thousand years old or made last week. If you become enamored, you need to enlist the aid of an expert before you shell out the big bucks.

Wong Tai Sin Temple

Located in the northeast corner of Kowloon, this Taoist temple is famous throughout China and Southeast Asia for its core of soothsayers' forecasting abilities. Despite the crush of people, it's worth while standing in line to get your turn at shaking out the Fortune Stick. Down on the fortune teller's level, pick your reader wisely. They will interpret your numbers for a nominal sum and read your palms for an additional charge that is NOT a nominal sum.

Temple Street Night Market

I was totally disappointed. Just an average swap meet, like you'd see anywhere in LA. A lot of t-shirts and other low-end souvenirs; nothing that peaked my interest.

OCTOPUS CARD

The Octopus Card is a godsend for travelers. I can't recommend it highly enough. The ease by which it expedites your transactions throughout Hong Kong and the surrounding areas can't be over stated. I wish every major city had a similar program.

See <http://www.octopus.com.hk> for current costs.

Bespoken Suit

Bespoke Tailors are an institution in Hong Kong. Many of these establishments have been around for over a hundred years and have a long tradition of service. Everywhere you turn there is another one promising to fit you perfectly for next to nothing.

From my experience I've learned that the process takes much longer than I expected (if I had known how long, I would have passed). Second, I needed to be much better informed. If you are going to avail yourself of this service do some research, know what you want (style, fit, material, etc.) and what you don't want. Most importantly, stick to your guns if you feel that you are not getting what you are paying for. Remember: THE SUIT IS BEING MADE TO FIT YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!

Hong Kong: February 25-26, 2011

2011-07-08T10:54:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

It's hard to believe that this is my last full day in Hong Kong. Time has just seemed to streak by. In the short time I've been here, I have become quite fond of the place, even with its rough edges of inequality.

Hong Kong is a spectacular (and in spots exquisite) city of "no-holds-barred" commerce. On the streets that crisscross this megalopolis, wealth seems to drip from the shabby building facades with their giant ads that glamorize the accoutrements of status. I think it would be hard to find another spot on earth with more neon signs advertising Rolex or other status symbols of time-keeping.

Since I had an appointment with "my tailor" at 11, I was going to use the morning to start my packing ritual. First, I ran over to the 7-Eleven, grabbed a few appropriate breakfast treats, and returned to my room to figure out how to get all my stuff into just one bag.

My belongings were strewn all over the place when the maid knocked. I'm normally out of the room by 8:30, and the other guest on my floor was a late riser, so the household staff had my room at the top of their schedule. Smiling, I told her I was running late and that I’d be out by 10:30. After closing the door, I continued to debate what I should put where.

Like many other successful travelers, I live by the motto "to be prompt is to survive." After walking over the few blocks to Cameron Road, I loitered down the block from Raja Fashions till just before 11 and got to the front door just as the minute hand was plumb. A phalanx of smiling tailors (really sales guys) were there to welcome me and (I believe) brow-beat me if I made a fuss.

I only had on a t-shirt under my coat, so I requested one of the collared shirts that they had made for me.

INFO: For a correct fitting, you need to be wearing the correct foundation garments (shirt, tie, undershirt, shorts, etc.). Remember, the suit is being made to fit you, not the other way around.

I put on the shirt and tie, then tried on the jacket. Thank the gods, it fit. The sales staff seemed more than relieved, and complimented me on my new professional appearance. As they began to package up my purchases, I counted out my traveler’s checks. I have had these AmEx checks for at least four or five years, so I had decided it was time to use them up, anywhere that would take them. At the door, I turned and grabbed a couple of shots of the owner and shop.

INFO: Most merchants, outside of the major hotels, are reluctant or else refuse to take anything but cash. If you claim to only have plastic, they will just point down the street to an ATM and ask you to go get cash. Some merchants, if their backs are up against the wall, will except a MasterCard/Visa card but boost the price by 2-3%. The few merchants that would even consider an American Express card wanted an extra 7% for handling. So remember, "cash is king."

INFO: There is no sales tax (as of now) in Hong Kong.

My suit and shirts came in a black cloth garment bag that was too flimsy to survive an 11-hour passage in the baggage compartment. On my way back to the hotel, I came upon a luggage store and presented my problem to the owner. He showed me a large two-suit suitcase, but after seeing my horror at its size, he recommended what he called a high-tech garment bag. It was constructed to negotiate the altitude and freezing temperatures of the plane's hull without a build-up of condensation. He assured me that my suit would arrive in perfect condition. I smiled, knowing that he knew that if his guarantee proved to be faulty he'd be over 7,000 miles away, laughing with my HKD 200 in his pocket.

I returned to my room and left my new suit and bag on the bed. I wanted to get back out on the streets for a last look at the city. Before leaving, I wedged my Powerbook, camera, data cards, and lens into the room safe. I wanted to walk around and take in the city, without having to frame it up through the view finder. The world is much more flawed when not seen through the camera. Just the act of framing up a shot seems to dilute a lot of visual chaos. It gives the scene a reference that somehow ties into man's need for order.

I rode the Star Ferry back to Honk Kong Island, then walked over to Connaught Road and caught a trolley heading east. I rode for about 20 minutes, then reversed the process and headed back west. Back at Central, I took the subway to Kowloon.

Back at the hotel, I stopped by the desk to settle my bill. I would just need to take care of my miscellaneous expenses (room service, laundry, etc.), since the room was already paid for by Priceline.

I needed to get a little rest tonight. I had to be up at 2 a.m. and off to the airport at 4. I called room service and ordered dinner (saying that I needed to pay cash). While I waited, I laid out what I was going to wear on the plane, transferred my suit and shirts to the new "high-tech" garment bag, and finished packing. My spaghetti arrived, and I enjoyed a leisurely dinner in bed watching some Chinese game show.

I put the dishes out in the hall and switched off everything. It seemed like I had just dozed off when the alarm went off. It was 2 a.m. I dragged my ass out of the warm covers and opened the refrigerator. I drank down some cold caffeine in Coke form and gobbled down some cold, slightly damp pastry.

By 3, I was dressed and packed. I searched the room thoroughly to make sure I wasn't leaving anything behind, then locked my bags and sat on the bed. I double-checked that I had my ticket, passport, and enough Hong Kong currency to pay for the taxi ride to the airport and a little tipping on the way out. I was set to go with 25 minutes to spare.

At five minutes before 4, I made one final sweep of the room, then opened the door. I rolled my bags out into and down the hall to the elevator landing. The lobby was empty except for one of the hotel staff behind the concierge desk. As I rolled up with my bags, he picked up the phone and before you could say Jack Sprat, someone appeared behind the reception desk. I handed over my room card key and said I'd settled the bill last night. She smiled and asked if I'd like anything from the mini-bar. I said no, and she printed out my final receipt and wished me a safe trip.

A taxi pulled up as I exited through the double doors into the cool of the morning. After the last passenger got his receipt, I loaded my bags and got in. The roads were empty except for the fog that obscured my view. The ride took just under 30 minutes and cost HKD 220 plus a HKD 30 surcharge for crossing a toll bridge. (HKD 250 = $32.13 US.)

The terminal looked deserted, and it pretty much was. Just past the entry ramp, there was a small seating area crammed with over-nighting passengers. I looked, but there wasn't an empty seat to be found. I looked around a bit till I found the departure board and waited till it cycled though to English. After looking through all the Delta departures, I couldn't find one for Los Angeles. It took several cycles for me to realize that I should be looking for Tokyo, not L.A.

There it was, DL 638, leaving from Gate 27. The check-in desk was closed till 6 a.m. (so much for the three hours in advance check-in for international flights rule). About 5:20, people started queuing up. I was about twentieth in line. I checked my one large bag and made sure that they placed my garment bag into one of their protective bins. From there I made it through security and customs and into the passenger waiting area.

The waiting area was nice, with free wi-fi, several eating establishments, including McDonalds, and a cornucopia of different nationalities vying for service. I had an Egg McMuffin and a large Diet Coke. After my repast, I took the long walk down to Gate 27.

It was a half-hour wait until Delta announced they would begin to board at 7:10. Because I was in Zone 4, I wouldn't see 31H for a while. When I finally got to my seat, I was lucky enough to find overhead bin space to secure my two carry-ons. Relieved, I flopped down in my aisle seat and waited for the plane to rumble down the runway.

I had an uneventful stopover in Tokyo and an unremarkable flight back to Los Angeles.

The skies were overcast and rainy when we landed in L.A. It looked very similar to my first day in Hong Kong. It was a real pisser; I'd brought the bad weather home with me. I felt like crawling into bed and staying there until it got warm again or I came up with an idea for my next trip.

Hong Kong: February 24, 2011

2011-06-25T18:31:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

I walked out of the hotel into a morning of azure-blue skies. My agenda had called for a return trip to Wong Tai Sin, but due to the unexpected improvement in the light, my plans needed to be revamped. But before I could do any revamping, I needed an energy infusion; and the most convenient place to do that was my local Burger King.

I climbed the stairs to the second-floor establishment and got in line. After paying my HKD 23 and receiving my allotment of eggs and bacon, I found an empty table. I savored each morsel of my food and every drop of my Diet Coke. Most of the times I've been here, the dining room has been filled, mostly with single patrons. It's a good place to be anonymous and to people-watch from your second-floor perch.

After my meal, I hopped down to street level and headed south. The sidewalks were fairly crowded. I wasn't sure if there was some special event going on or if it was just the cosmic collusion of unusual start times. My march to the ferry was slowed by my puritan impulses to make a record of my fellow walkers.

On the ferry ride over, there were still a few low-hanging clouds bumping the financial towers of the city. I was hoping that by the time I was up at the top of the peak, they would have burned off.

The paved area just outside the Star Ferry House is a major tourist transportation hub. Most of the city bus lines make stops here, as well as a good portion of the city's taxis. A couple of days before, I had spotted a direct bus to the peak, and I was going to try it out this morning. I dragged my Octopus card across the bus's sensor and took the stairs to the upper deck. After about a 10-minute wait, the advertisement-splashed double decker began to wind its way through Hong Kong's morning traffic.

Except for the tourists, most of the riders were working class. Dressed in either household-staff costumes or black, middle-management suits, their faces were in direct contrast to those of the contingent of foreign visitors. Consumed by the same boredom that commuters know worldwide, they were headed for jobs that put food on the table but left little in the way of meaningful interludes.

The bus ride takes a little over 20 minutes, which is a lot longer than the tram, but I'm enjoying the experience. It's a great vantage from which to view the unfathomable intricacies of Hong Kong's elevational layout.

The peak is crowned with two shopping malls. The south mall is connected with the tram, and the north is built over the bus depot. After I exited the bus, it took me a good 10 minutes to work my way up through the north mall and out to the public vista area. There is also another "pay to play" overlook at the top of the north mall that's a good 50 feet higher than the public area.

If you ride the tram, as part of your ticket you get admission to the north mall's observation deck; otherwise, you need an additional ticket to gain access. Since I'd ridden the bus up, I was completely oblivious of this requirement, and after I'd taken the five escalators all the way up, they denied me entry. I asked if I could just buy a ticket there, but No-o-o-o-o, I had to ride back down and get the ticket somewhere on a lower level. Well, that pissed me off, and I rode back down and exited back out into the public area.

From here you can still get a pretty good view of the city, and I figured it would have to do. There was still a lot of haze in the distance, and I didn't think the view would have been any better from the "pay to play" deck. There is a walking path that leads around the top and supposedly back down to the city. You can use the first portion to get some different angles and shots of the megalopolis with a little vegetation as a foreground element. I took several shots, then waited around another 45 minutes in hopes that the haze would lift. It didn't, but I kept on shooting. Once sated, I began walking back to the bus stop. About halfway through the north mall, I spied a restaurant specializing in spaghetti. They were only half full, so I swept in and had my daily allowance of "Bolognese."

I caught the 1:30 bus back to town. The bus was mostly filled with workers going home, and unfortunately, somebody needed to get off at almost every stop, which bumped the trip duration from 20 to 35 minutes. On the way down, you pass the Hong Kong (Happy Valley) Cemetery. It really looks interesting, but regrettably I didn't have the time to get back there. On my next visit it will be one of my first stops.

I rode the ferry back and forth across the harbor a few times, trying to get some photos of the boat's interior without passengers. It looks totally different without its human cargo, very "Edward Hopper."

It was just a little after 3, and I wanted to sit in the sun for a while. Not far from the ferry house on the Kowloon side, I found a bench on the promenade. It's hard for me to relax and enjoy the moment. I'm driven to work continually; that next great image might be just around the corner.

While I was sitting there, several more people wanted pictures. It's like I'm one of the Disney characters, or some kind of "old white traveler" mascot. I did the usual, and we traded taking pictures. These folks were from everywhere, Dubai, Singapore, Korea, Japan, even a group of Hong Kong school kids doing a "what tourists like" survey. Hong Kong seems to be one of the most congenial leisure destinations for many from the Middle East and Southeast Asia.

At four I made my way back to Raja Fashions. Again, I had to wait a few minutes for my suit to arrive from where they actually do the work. The jacket fit everywhere except the arms. I couldn't really flex them without putting a real strain on the seams. I knew that after a while they would rip out. The salesperson was getting pissed, but I was adamant about wanting them corrected. The tailor got between us and said not to worry, he'd do his best to correct the problem. I was getting bored with this process that's supposed to be a pleasant endeavor. It was more like a debate club where I paid all the bills.

They wanted me to come back at 7, but I told them I'd be back at 11 tomorrow for my "last" make-it-or-break-it fitting. I left them and walked around the area a bit, grabbing shots.

A couple of blocks away, I took what I feel is the best shot of the trip. In his steaming glass kitchen, a master chef was cooking up a storm. Moving in and out of the steam, he seemed like a chrome-framed apparition, with the yellow hanzi characters giving the image a real cinematic (with sub-titles) feel. I spent a good 15 minutes in front of his window, shooting away in hopes of catching just the right moment. There's something about this shot that defines the way I see the world. It's a hard and monotonous struggle, but if you approach it in the right light, it can be beautiful.

Hong Kong: February 23, 2011

2011-06-04T18:31:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

The morning broke mostly gray, but there were a few patches of blue sky, so I optimistically finalized my plans and left the hotel.

After spending 15 minutes leaning against the wall outside the 7-Eleven and devouring my breakfast of a thin yogurt drink and prepackaged pastries, I took the descended the stairs to the labyrinthian Tsim Sha Tsui Metro Station. Down at the train level, I was just in time to catch the Tsuen Wan line's northbound train. I was traveling against the normal traffic flow, so the train was nearly empty (by Hong Kong standards). Two stops up at Mong Kok, I left the train, crossed the platform, and continued northward on the Twun Tong line.

Today I was heading to Wong Tai Sin Temple. A Taoist temple built in 1921, it is famous for the cadre of soothsayers that help the inquiring assuage their thirst for a glimpse of what may occur in the coming years.

Five stops past Mong Kok the train arrived at Wong Tai Sin (the temple is so popular that it has its own stop). I exited the train and followed the signage toward the temple.

Since the Chinese New Year had just passed, the temple was still crowded with pilgrims eager to procure good fortune for the coming year or be forewarned if something bad was lurking a few months down the line.

As you approach the temple entrance, you have to run the gantlet of unauthorized vendors. An older lady cornered me, asking for HKD 10 for printed prayers and incense sticks. I said that I would buy them if I could take her picture. She talked to her cohorts and then asked for an additional HKD 10 (a little over a buck and a quarter US). I agreed, handed over HKD 20 in coinage, and watched her count the coins several times before I could shoot her face straight on.

From this encounter, I walked up a few steps into the commercial section of the temple complex. This is where authorized dealers are allowed to sell charms and other good-luck devices with the temple's blessing, as long as the temple gets its cut.

I perused the area, shooting a few overall shots of the mostly red and gold wares that were being offered for sale as good-luck charms. I found myself attracted to a charm in the shape of a bag of gold. I spoke to the beautiful, middle-aged stall owner and asked if I could take her picture holding the golden charm that I was going to purchase. She smiled and agreed, if I would email a copy of the image to her son in North Carolina.

The temple's entrance was proving to be a bottleneck. As I got close, I could see that the temple's attendants were inspecting the goods visitors were bringing in. When I got to the front of the line, they confiscated most of the offerings I had purchased. One attendant said in English, "Too much smoke." I was allowed to keep the incense, but all the paper prayers had to go. I followed the zigzag line and found an area where I could place and light the incense. This temple is deluged with offerings because it's famous for the number of prayers that are rumored to be answered. The temple's unofficial motto is "What you request is what you get."

Once up at the temple proper, I walked around a while to get the lay of the land. Once I understood the flow of the place, I got in line to have a chance to participate in the practice of Kau Cim. I waited for a good 15 minutes till there was a bamboo cylinder available for me to use.

Once I had the cylinder, I had to wait for a spot to kneel before the main altar. The cylinder contains 100 numbered fortune sticks, made of bamboo. You pose a question to the gods about a problem you are concerned about and then shake the cylinder until one of the fortune sticks is shaken out. I watched the other worshippers and found that most were shaking out two sticks, so I repeated the process until two sticks were on the ground in front of me. I wrote down the numbers, returned the fortune sticks to the cylinder, and placed the cylinder back on the table for the next devotee to use.

I had my numbers, 34 and 94, and was on my way to the lower section where the soothsayers practice their art, when I came face to face with a couple of very cute Korean girls who wanted to have their picture taken with me. I made the same deal as usual and had them pose with the fortune-stick-filled bamboo cylinder.

On my way to get my numbers interpreted, I ran into an elegant gentleman on the stairs that led down to the fortune-tellers' domain. He was a very photogenic soothsayer. He couldn't speak English, but through pantomime I asked to take his picture, and he agreed. After a couple of shots on the stairs, he motioned me to follow him, which I did.

Once we arrived at his cubicle, he got behind his desk for a more dignified portrait. He was very distinguished, and from the photographs of himself hanging on the walls I could tell he liked to pose. After several shots, he handed me a card with another booth number and motioned me to go there to have my fortune-stick numbers interpreted.

I found the booth, but the soothsayer/interpreter was with another couple of clients. I waited a good 15 minutes while she read the palms of two ladies who looked to be in their late twenties. When they were done, it was my turn, and I went in. The first order of events was to pay her HKD 30 for the number interpretation. I passed over the cash and handed her the slip with 34 and 94 written on it. My numbers revealed that I, as usual, had a rosy future, never the dark abyss I'm hoping for. After the number reading, she asked if I'd like to have my palm read, that it would only cost 100 US. I declined with a smile and left with a red packet that contained my numbers.

From the soothsayers' lower-deck area I climbed the stairs and visited the temple pond, and watched the turtles lumber around in the shallow water.

On a terrace just south of the main alter stand twelve oversized statues of the animals that represent the different signs of the Chinese Zodiac. From the Rat to the Pig, they're all here. They look like Disney characters or sports mascots, except they're made of brass. Visitors love to stand next to the statues that represent the year they were born in and have their picture taken. It's supposed to be good luck.

I was taking pictures of people having their pictures taken when a man motioned me over. I smiled and walked over to stand beside him while his daughter took our photo. She look very Western in her red sports suit, and she spoke excellent English. They were from a small city in mainland China, on the eastern end of the "Silk Road," and were very excited to find that I was from Los Angeles. Like almost everyone else in the world, they have relatives living in the L.A. area. After shaking hands, we said goodbye and I left the temple.

I walked back to the station and took the train south to Mong Kok, made the line change, and headed to Central. Since there was more light today, I wanted to grab some more shots of the double-decker trolleys and anything else that looked better. Also, I had another fitting at 7 p.m. that I'd have to be ready for.

I walked up and down Connaught Road, firing away and hoping that one of my shots would be able to convey the hectic, boogie-woogie style of these transportation relics. I especially loved the Warner Bros.' Nikita advertisement that graced several of them. The deep oxblood color and the half-dressed woman with her deadly companion, seem to convey a perfect metaphor for the aspirations of the city, or at least what I perceived to be Hong Kong's aspirations.

From Connaught Road I used the elevated walkways to get back to the Star Ferry. After a 15-minute walk I stopped at the Bistro on the Mile on the first floor of the Holiday Inn to get something to eat. I had fish and chips, which was a mistake; the chips were OK but the fish was horrible, just a sliver of fish in an overabundance of batter. Back in my room, I washed the taste out of my mouth with a Twinkie and a Diet Coke.

I watched some TV until just after 6:30, then started over to Raz Fashions. I wanted to walk off some of my nervous energy before the fitting. Tonight was supposed to be my final fitting, but I was guessing that they hadn't followed my instructions about the "American fit" and that my oversized shoulders would need more room.

I walked in three minutes before 7 p.m. to find that it would be a few more minutes until my suit arrived. I had to watch an Australian guy let his wife choose his clothes. Very upsetting; I hate to see a couple degrade one another in front of strangers.

When the suit arrived it was tight, as I expected, and they tried to encourage me to take it as it was, but I stood my ground and told them that it was too tight in the shoulders and arms. This caused some tension, but I didn't care—I wasn't going to give in. There was no reason to have a suit made if it wasn't going to fit correctly. They finally agreed, and a new appointment was set for the following day at 1:30.

Back in my hotel room, I transferred files and looked at day's take. I wasn't satisfied with some of the shots, so I decided to take a fast trip back to Wong Tai Sin Temple in the morning.

Hong Kong: February 22, 2011

2011-05-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

I was up at seven and prepared for my day-trip to Macau.

Nowadays, Macau is considered to be the Monte Carlo of the East, but it began as the first European outpost in Asia. Portuguese sailing ships dropped anchor here in 1535 AD, and by 1557 the Portuguese had established a permanent outpost. It remained a Portuguese colony until 1976, when, after the overthrow of the Portuguese dictatorship, the new Portuguese government decided to get rid of all their overseas possessions. In December 1999, Portugal handed over administration of their former colony to the People's Republic of China.

Today, along with Hong Kong, Macau is one of the two special administrative regions of the People's Republic of China, and has its own legal, immigration/customs, and monetary systems.

Located on the west side of the Pearl River, Macau faces the South China Sea and Hong Kong, which is an hour's ferryboat ride away.

Just before 8 a.m. I exited the hotel and had the doorman hail a taxi. I told the driver that I wanted to go to the Macau Ferry here in Kowloon. INFO: You have a lot more options if you leave from Hong Kong Island, but I didn't want to complicate things by traveling to HK.

The winds were really blowing today. I could see white caps in the harbor, and at one point I almost told the driver to turn around, but I sucked it up and continued.

I paid just over HKD 40 to the cab driver, and he pointed me in the right direction. I walked into the ferry building's lobby, and the lobby attendant told me to take the elevator up to the second floor.

When I exited the elevator car, I was approached by a harried female attendant who asked if I was going to Macau. I said yes, and she said hurry. Before I realized it, I was at the counter buying a ferry ticket. I didn't have enough Hong Kong dollars, so I had to rush down to another window and exchange some U.S. dollars.

From there you go to a waiting room with layout and decor very similar to that of an airport. Within five minutes, our boat was called, and the passengers queued up. I got my seat assignment and was passed through to Hong Kong Customs. They inspected my passport and asked a couple of questions, then allowed me to proceed down a long corridor until I found the gate for the Macau ferry.

The ferry berth was empty, as the current high seas were adding an extra 10 to 15 minutes to each of the travel segments. Once the arriving ferry had docked and the passengers allowed to de-boat, it took the clean-up crew 10 minutes to make the ferry ship-shape.

After making my way down a series of switch-back gangways, I was pleasantly surprised to find the ship's interior was nothing like the bench-seated Star ferries. It was much more like the interior of a Jet Blue very-wide-body jet. The blue leather seats were comfy.

We left the safety of Victoria harbor, and while the ride was a little rough, it was smoother than I would have guessed. The ferry took something over an hour to make the crossing, docking in Macau at 10:20. My fellow passengers and I were immediately ushered into a giant immigration hall, and everyone scrambled to find the shortest line. What a pain in the ass! It took me a good 25 minutes of standing until I was up at the immigration counter. The middle-aged officer didn't believe my passport was my passport. I smiled as he held it to the light from every imaginable angle possible. He was finally satisfied and stamped it.

From the immigration hall, you exit into a large, glass-fronted room, where you are accosted by hordes of taxi and van hawkers trying to get you to sign up for an exuberantly priced tour. There are free maps of Macau in this area, and I advise you to pick one up if you find yourself here.

I opened the map and located the Cathedral of Saint Paul, then negotiated with one of the hawkers for a ride, down from $700 HKD to $200 (I found later that it should have cost only $50HKD). The old guy walked me down into the parking structure to the van's parking area (this was a sort of creepy place; my imagination was working overtime, and I was ready to start swinging at any moment), where we were joined by a young female driver who spoke perfect English.

We got into the van and headed to the ruins of the Cathedral of Saint Paul. I had read in one of the guide books that it was the best place to start your tour. The cathedral is located in a hilly region of the city, and some of the hills were extremely steep. The driver said that a lot of the old part of the city was located here because of the defensive nature of the landscape.

The driver dropped me off in the parking lot of the Museum of Macau, which is located next door to the Cathedral's ruins, so I started my day in Macau by climbing the stairs up to the museum's entrance. Once inside, I took the escalator up to the front desk and purchased a ticket for HKD 15. INFO: In Macau, you can use HKD even though you will receive your change in Macau's own currency.

The museum looks brand-new, is well laid-out, and gives the viewer an excellent understanding of the city's early history. Some of the small dioramas are very entertaining, but some of the life-sized ones border on the kitschy. The museum is a little time-consuming but well worth a visit.

From the museum I walked down to the ruins of the Cathedral of Saint Paul, which in its time was the largest Catholic church in Asia. Only the front facade of the church is still standing. It sits atop a small hill with 66 stone steps that lead up to an intricately carved stone facade. Under the direction of an Italian Jesuit, the carvings were executed by Japanese Christians (who were exiled from Japan because of their religious beliefs), between 1620 and 1627.

I took several photos up on the plaza in front of the facade and then walked to the bottom of the stairs to get a different perspective. No sooner was I at the bottom than I was approached by a group of Korean girls who wanted their lucky picture taken with me. I agreed, as usual, and we exchanged picture-taking.

From here I walked downhill looking for anything visually interesting. The surrounding streets are a commercial mish-mash of upscale boutiques, medical clinics, and food outlets. I continued in a downward direction till I got to Macau's central plaza, Senado Square, which has been the center of urban life in Macau for centuries.

The square is paved in a black-and-white swirly pattern of mosaic tiles that gave me the feeling of being in South America. In the northwest corner of the square stands the Baroque church of St. Dominic. Built in 1587, the cathedral sprang from the efforts of three Spanish Dominicans who sailed here from Acapulco, Mexico, in the late 1500s.

The interior of the church is pastel yellow with accents of white that mirror the building's exterior color scheme. I was just standing there trying to decide how I wanted to shoot the statues of the Virgin Mary and St. Dominic when a guard approached. I thought he was going to tell me that photography was not allowed, but to my surprise, he simply told me I'd have to remove my hat, because it was still a place of religious worship and I should show respect.

After photographing the Virgin and saint, I left the church, put back on my hat, and walked the surrounding streets looking for inspiration. After 20 minutes of shooting, I stopped at the Haagen-Dazs gazebo across the square from St. Dominic's. I got a pre-packaged ice cream bar and sat on one of the built-in benches that the square is equipped with, to people watch.

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After finishing my treat, I spent the next three hours hiking up and down Macau's hills, shooting everything and anything that had the possibility of being visually interesting. My old legs were about to give out when I decided to head down to the waterfront area that was the breeding ground for the glass and steel Temples of Chance. My legs held out long enough to get to the Grand Lisboa Casino. I should have gone inside, but I was just too tuckered out. I got into the taxi queue and within five minutes, I was on my way back to the ferry landing.

At the transport center, I showed my return ticket and was assigned a seat and ushered into the customs area, where after a few questions I was passed through to the boarding area. The ride back to Kowloon was about the same as the ride over, but clearing customs was a little longer because the guy in front of me was traveling with a young child and the immigration agents did an exhaustive check of the baby's documents.

INFO: Customs at both ends of the trip can add a good hour to the length of the trip.

I exited the ferry building onto Canton Road, an affluent avenue home to most of the top European specialty shops in Hong Kong. From Chanel to Prada, ample opportunities to acquire the right overpriced embellishments line the road. As I walked back to the hotel I was shooting away; the high-end store fronts were spectacular. I just wish I could have afforded something from one of them.

It was near 6 p.m. when I used the card key to trip the door lock to my room. I got a snack out of the refrigerator, flopped down on the bed, and used the remote to surf the different offerings, looking for something that would hold my attention.

Just after 7, I got up, dressed for an evening out in the wind, grabbed my camera bag, GorillaPod, and hat, took the elevator down to ground level, and left the hotel by the Nathan Road entrance.

It took 15 minutes of walking to reach the promenade. It was already packed, so I headed down a block or so till I found a space at the rail. I put down my bag and wrapped the GorillaPod around the cross member till it felt secure, then used the fast release mount to attach the 5D to the railing. I bent down and lined up the shot, making sure it was in focus, and then locked everything down.

Hong Kong's Symphony of Lights takes place every night at 8 p.m. The show is accompanied by a music and narration track delivered in a different language depending on which night you are there. Tonight it's in a Chinese dialect, the name of which I can't remember.

Five minutes before 8 p.m., I made sure the 5D was in movie mode and hit the button. About a minute into filming, a boat pulled up in front of my location and the boat's mast and flag were in the center of my shot. (I found out later that the flag, a red field with a five-petal white orchid-tree flower in the center, was the flag of Hong Kong. After editing the footage, I found this accident made the sequence.) It was too late to reframe, so I just kept rolling.

The light show itself was a bit underwhelming, so when I ran out of card space, five minutes into the show, I didn't bother changing the card.

After the 10-minute show I was frozen. I packed up and headed for the Spaghetti House to warm up a bit and have dinner. It was later than the last time I was there, and I got a table straightaway. After bolting down my food and drink, I headed back to the hotel, hoping to get a full night's sleep.

Hong Kong: February 21, 2011

2011-05-04T14:04:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

On today's agenda was an exploration of Hong Kong's subway system and tram lines (trollies).

Normally, I'm up early and out the door for the morning light, but it really didn't matter here. The skies seemed to be painted a permanent gray, so sleeping in a little seemed perfectly reasonable. It was 9:30 when I hit the stairs that lead down into Tsim Sha Tsul subway station. The station is laid out something like a hamster's habitat. There is the main station, then a series of underground pedestrian arteries that act as feeder arms to the main concourse. The closest entrance was on Mody Street, just to the north of my hotel. I took the stairs down to the start of one of the pedestrian walkways. I consulted a diagram of the station layout and located the main concourse, and found it was a ways away. Following the example of my fellow commuters, I stepped on the moving walkway and was carried in segments to the main concourse. The "walkways" are pretty cool; they change direction depending on the time of day, and have large overhead changeable signs that tell you if you're going in the right direction (green light) or against the flow of traffic (red light).

I got to the main station and used my Octopus card to get past the turnstiles. Then I had to ponder a bit; but after watching the flow of riders, it became obvious that I should take the escalator down to a lower level. The train level was graced with a series of electronic signage that instilled a certain amount of confidence and made it easy to select the correct train.

Tsim Sha Tsul station is only two stops north of "Central," so by the time the south-bound train gets there it's packed to the gills. It wasn't easy, but I squeezed my bulk on-board and was off to the island of Hong Kong. Central is Hong Kong's transportation hub, very similar to New York's Grand Central Station, so it's a very active place. Once we arrived and the train doors opened, it was a mad scramble as the masses split up and headed for their appropriate exits, while the visitors scratched their heads and looked for an egress up to street level.

I just guessed at which exit to use and headed out. INFO: After you use your ticket at the entrance turnstile, be sure to hold on to it. There are exiting turnstiles at your destination where you need to re-insert your ticket or Octopus card to trip the device before you can exit the station.

From the station I walked up Man Yiu Street till I got to Connaught Road. This area is like trolley central — all the different trolleys use this section of Connaught Road as part of their route. After a bit of hesitation, I threw caution to the wind and got on the east-bound "Causeway Bay" trolley.

You enter the trolley at the rear and have the choice of either sitting on the bottom deck or taking the spiral stairs to the upper deck, which is what I selected to do. Upstairs, your view isn't hemmed in by the surrounding cars and buses and you get a much better feel for the cityscape.

I sat in the rear of the car, across from a young man who was holding a camera. His horn-rimmed glasses and server hairstyle gave him a definite style that was hard to place. We spoke a bit, and I learned that he was a photography student on his way to class. We exchanged pleasantries and then took turns taking photographs of each other.

INFO: If you're new to Hong Kong, just riding the trollies "end-to-end" is a very cheap and entertaining way to get to know the city.

I stayed on the trolley to the "Times Square" area and got off. To exit the tram, you leave through the front, paying your fare on your way out by dropping a $2 (HKD) coin into the tram's collection box.

I began to walk east hoping to find some interesting visual details to document, but things look much more enticing as you are zooming by. Once you're stationary and staring at them, they lose a lot of their luster.

I walked east for a good half-hour but saw nothing really special, so I decided to get back on a trolley and head back west towards Kennedy Town. I was guessing that as long as I was moving east or west on Connaught Road, I couldn't get lost.

I rode a few blocks past Central and got off. I wondered around for a while just looking for something to inspire a bout of picture-taking, but alas.

Yesterday I had spotted an intriguing statue that I'd love to have, but the store had been closed. Since the scenery was dull, both from a composition and light stand-point, I thought I'd return to the shop and see if I could make an inquiry as to the item's cost.

After climbing several flights of steep stairs, I was back in the area of shops I'd seen yesterday. I spent a few minutes looking through shop windows before I located the object of my desire. I took a deep breath and opened the door, tripping the buzzer.

The owner was a few years older than myself and walked with a bit of a hesitation. He spoke very little English, and since I don't speak Chinese, I pantomimed my request to know more about the statue. He moved it from the window and placed it on his desk. Using a chart, he pointed out that it was made in the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD) and that it was very cheaply priced at $2,500 USD.

If it had been three or four hundred dollars, I would have snapped it up right there and then, but at twenty-five hundred dollars (US) it was well above my comfort level. And, I really couldn't tell if it was from the Tang Dynasty or made last month; regardless, it was a thing of beauty but beyond my means. After lengthy pantomimed conversation, I cajoled him into letting me shoot a couple of pictures, and he even furnished a wrinkled yellow cloth to use as backdrop. I left, thanking him for his hospitality and wishing that the dollar's exchange rate hadn't fallen so far.

It was a weekday, and the crowds at Man Mo Temple were of a more manageable size, so I was able to get inside and shoot. This place is visually famous for the giant spirals of incense that hang from the ceiling. Also, it's famous for the settlement of disputes that couldn't be solved using British Law in the past century. The solution involved a series of rituals: first the swearing of oaths, then the formalization of penalties if the oaths were broken, then the sealing of the compact with the spilling of blood from a sacrificial animal. The written compact was then bloodied and set on fire so that the smoke would carry the binding agreement up to the heavens.

From here, I walked east looking for something interesting to shoot and to find the Central–Mid-levels escalator. The escalator is the longest outdoor covered escalator system in the world. The series of escalators are 2,625 feet long and elevate the passenger up 443 feet. The escalator moves in a downhill direction between 6 and 10 a.m., and uphill from 10:30 a.m. to midnight. The escalators might have been a great boon for local commerce, but after riding them to the top and walking down, I was unimpressed. It might be a god-send for the imbibers who make their way from establishment to establishment, but for me it was just so-so.

Near the bottom of the escalator, I photographed a beautiful banana seller plying her trade using her makeshift scales. The moment was so fragile that I didn't ask permission. I was afraid it would change the plane of reality.

I made my way the rest of the way downhill and walked back to Central. Without much trouble, I got the north-bound train to Tism Sha Tsui. It took about 10 minutes to pass under Victoria Harbor and emerge back in Kowloon. It was 2 p.m., and I grabbed a fast lunch and went back to my room. I changed my clothes and left for my fitting at the Raja Fashions at 3 p.m.

When I got there, the place was semi-deserted (see my advice on fittings, February 19 episode) and the salesperson said he'd take care of the fitting. Luckily, the real tailor showed up and redid all that the salesman had done. I kept telling them that I wanted the American cut and that I had giant shoulders and big arms. The jacket was just too tight. They wanted me to come in the next day, but I told them I'd be in Macau then, so we settled on Wednesday the 23rd. All in all, it was a very unsatisfying exchange.

The fittings are a little more stressful than you'd imagine, so I headed back to my room to watch a little TV and veg out till it was time to walk up to the "Temple Street" night market.

I should have taken a taxi, but I was being frugal and decided to hoof it. I headed north on Nathan Road. Nathan Road runs the gamut of human activity, from religious institutions, to every conceivable branch of consumer capitalism, to ladies out to represent the pleasures of self-employment. Because I was in a sauntering mode, it took more than half an hour to reach Jordan Road.

I consulted my map, took a left, and walked down a couple of blocks to Temple. According to the guide books, somewhere in the night market there was supposed to be a group of soothsayers that would forecast my path into the future. I walked the market several times but didn't see hide nor hair of the fortune tellers. Either I was too early or this wasn't one of the nights they frequented the market.

To me, the night market was little more than an American swap meet. The vendors didn't want any photographs taken and were rude in their vehemence. In my opinion, the market is one attraction that can be skipped.

I headed back. I wanted to be in bed by 10 so I could be on my way to Macau early tomorrow.

Hong Kong: February 20, 2011

2011-04-22T23:41:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

This morning, when I walked out of the Holiday Inn at 8:30, I was surprised to find that it was Marathon Sunday in Hong Kong. The race starts here in Kowloon, just up Nathan Road a bit from the hotel, so the streets were humming with anticipatory energy. I snapped a lot of shots as runners jogged up to the starting area in their dressed-to-impress running togs.

The side streets seemed to be mostly deserted, and I had no trouble zipping in and out of BK to get my usual HKD 23 breakfast. After this sunny meal, I was all smiles as I made my way past the American and European high-end boutiques that lined Kowloon's streets on my way to the Star Ferry.

Last night, I had perused the day's take and wasn't happy. A lot of my images needed to be reshot, because they weren't up to my usual tack-sharp standard. In HK, it's extremely difficult to use a tripod, because in most places there is hardly room enough to stand. So even after I boosted the camera's ISO up to 6400, the long exposures were still creating a myriad of problems.

Over on the Hong Kong side of the bay, I got another Rickshaw Bus day pass and headed back to Hollywood Road. The skies were still slate gray as I stepped down from the bus at the Man Mo Temple stop. The temple was again overflowing with visitors, so I headed west on HR (Hollywood Road), trying to remember where I'd shot what.

I used all the tricks they teach you in school: take a deep breath, let half of it out, very gently squeeze the trigger, sorry, I mean button, and hope for the best. I reshot everything that was on my list, then left HR and headed down to Cat Street. CS is really more of a lane or alleyway than a street. It's also more appealing to most casual visitors than Hollywood Road. One of the greater advantages is that you don't have to break the imaginary plane of reciprocity by opening the door to a deserted gallery and dealing with an expectant merchant who comes wearily out to greet you. Most of the Cat Street merchants display their wares on tables out in the lane, so you can peruse to your heart's content without requesting an audience.

I was browsing amidst the different tables when I came across what looked to be a commercial poster from before World War II. It must have been 70 or so years old, but the image of a "Shanghai Girl" was still in great shape. I wasn't sure what the poster was advertising — either beauty products, Camel cigarettes, or both — but I was sure it would make a great gift for a snow-bound friend of mine. I bargained with the owner, and finally we settled on a price that included photos of her holding up my purchase. I counted out the HKD 55 and she shyly held up the poster as I moved her around to get the best light. This is one of my favorite shots from this trip; she and the poster look amazing.

I shot for a while longer, then it started to rain harder. I dashed back to the bus stop just as the purple and pink metal behemoth was pulling up. I thankfully climbed into the lower deck where I and my camera were semi-safe from being soaked.

It was hard to see much through the fogged-upped windows on our 30-minute ride back to the dock area. I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't want to go back to the hotel to sit in my room, so I decided to get on board the H1 bus and see what that part of HK looked like.

I was the only passenger on the lower deck for the next hour or so as the bus cruised through bouts of on-again, off-again rain, past the many shopping areas that HK is famous for but that I really didn't have any interest in visiting.

I don't mind the rain in the tropics, but when it's cold I hate it. I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West, afraid I'm going to melt into a slag heap of self-pitying tissue.

It was only drizzling when I got back to Kowloon. On the ferry, I made sure my camera was dry and zipped-up tight in its rain coat before we exposed ourselves to the elements again on our walk back to the hotel. A couple of blocks from the Holiday Inn, I sighted a stationery store and stopped in to purchase a mailing tube for the Shanghai Girl's journey to Minnesota.

Diagonally across the street from the stationery store was a branch of The Spaghetti House. Since I hadn't had any lunch, I walked over to grab an early dinner, but unfortunately, when I got up to the second floor, I found there was a line out the door, so I headed to the 7-Eleven to load up on more junk.

I spent the evening transferring files, doing maintenance on my equipment, and snacking on yogurt drinks and sundry other bad things.

Hong Kong: February 19, 2011

2011-04-16T19:09:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

Gray again this morning.

I made my way up to the same Burger King as yesterday and had the same inexpensive (HKD 23/$2.96 US) breakfast. As soon as I'd finished, I headed for Raja Fashions, the Bespoken Tailor on Cameron Road. I had decided to give them a try, there was something about Sam's Tailor that was a bit off-putting (just a guess — there's really no telling until you commit).

I walked the few blocks over to Cameron Road and loitered on the corner for five minutes so that I'd arrive at the stroke of 9:30 for my appointment with Andy, the sales representative I'd spoken with the night before. Raja Fashions has been located in this smallish storefront for the past 40 years. The place must be 15 feet wide by 45 feet in depth; luckily, it has a high ceiling so it's not totally claustrophobic.

Inside, I asked for Andy and was told that he was out sick but that another tailor would be assigned to take my measurements and handle my order. Opinion: This is a sales ploy used by many tailoring establishments to shirk responsibility. You never deal with the same person twice, so any deal you make with one salesperson is totally denied by the next. Which can make the whole process very cumbersome and quite disagreeable if you are unhappy with the end product.

The whole process took about 45 minutes. During that 45 minutes, we agreed upon a style, price, suit material, jacket lining, shirt material, and, most importantly, a timetable. My first fitting was in two days.

Info: If you are unfamiliar with the "Bespoken" process, you should do some research and be a lot more informed that I was. Don't rely on the Bespoken staff to guide you to what you want, as you'll end up in an unpleasant dispute when you see the results. It is a little stressful to tell them to get fucked, that they can keep your deposit, you're leaving if they don't make it right, and then stick by your guns until you are satisfied.

Info: For fittings, I found it best to arrive between 5 and 7 p.m. During those two hours, most of the establishment's staff will be present and the whole process will go much smoother. If you come before or after, the staffing will be hit-and-miss, and so will your fittings.

I again used my Octopus Card for the ferry passage. After landing, I walked over to the Rickshaw Sightseeing Bus (www.rickshawbus.com). They have two routes that cover the same territory as that of the Big Bus (www.bigbustours.com) but without the recorded descriptions and at a third of the price. I purchased a day pass for HKD 50 ($6.14 US) and hopped on the H2 bus. I was off to search for antiques that I couldn't afford.

I got off the bus at the "Man Mo Temple" stop (the temple is a tribute to the God of Literature [Man] and the God of War [Mo]). The place was over-crowded with visitors, and smoke from the incense was over-powering. No way to get a clear shot, so I left and walked west on HR (Hollywood Road). It was still early, and most of the shops hadn't opened yet. The shop windows were filled with great objects that I was able to photograph without the hassle of store owners yelling at me. Photo Hint: If you can place the front of your lens directly against the surface of the glass, you will eliminate the reflections from the surrounding area.

I got a few great shots, but in most cases there just wasn't enough light to get a clear (non-shaky) image. At the west end of HR, the road makes a looping hairpin to the north. Just as you are beginning the turn, you come upon Cat Street, where "antiques" are less than old. This street is much more free-form than HR, with lots of flashy stuff to take home for gifts.

One of the first dealers was a seller of photographic reprints. I'm always looking for reference material, so I spent a while going through his stock. He had lots of shots of Hong Kong at the turn of the 20th century, and I was attracted to a large print of parked rickshaws. The shop owner's disposition reflected the weather — a little overcast — and it took a while for our conversation to take on a more congenial tone. We finally agreed on a price, with the proviso that I could photograph him with the print. I think it's a great photograph, and it truly reflects the tone of our transaction. I could just hear him thinking "Goddamn Tourist."

Opinion: It's a delicate thing to pursue someone to let you take their picture, and make it known that you're not trying to humiliate or degrade them in any manner. I try hard not to practice "photographic imperialism" (just because you have the means doesn't mean you have the right to capture other people's images); that's the reason I try to ask and pay a little something. But sometimes an image is so irresistible, I can't stop myself.

After my purchase, I continued west to the end of the street, then made the jog up some stairs back to HR. I continued west, stopping at Edmond Wong Antiques. The store window had opium paraphernalia displayed in it. The pipes were especially beautiful, made of silver, ivory, and ebony. I stepped inside and waited until the shop's representative appeared. She said there was a 60%-off sale going on. I priced several of the items, but they were still way beyond what I could spend. She let me take a couple of pictures and I left.

Tip: Antique reproductions in Hong Kong are so good, it's almost impossible to tell them from the genuine article, so if you're not an expert, find someone who is. When the asking price is thousands of dollars, you want to make sure you are getting the real McCoy.

Info: When I was younger, I'd seen lots of Hollywood movies portraying the inscrutable Chinese dragging the naive Westerner down into the "White Lady's Lap" of opium addiction. But in fact, it was Westerners, with the use of military force, who brought commercialized opium production and addiction to China. England, Portugal, France, the United States, and many other nations used the opium trade as a means to enslave a large portion of the Chinese people, allowing the foreign Taipans to accumulate massive fortunes and to export much of China's riches back to their home countries.

I went back to the Man Mo Temple bus stop and waited for the Rickshaw Bus to make its circuit. I showed the driver my day pass as I re-boarded and then climbed the spiral staircase to the upper deck. It was a few more stops until the bus got to the "Peak."

I had to use care crossing the road to get to the tram ticket office. Once I had made it past the rushing autos, I paid HKD 36 for a round-trip ticket to the top of Hong Kong's highest hill. The tram car was just arriving as I got in line. Almost immediately, the tram was full. I grabbed one of the last seats just as we began to chug up the hill. The view from the tram wasn't auspicious, and I suspected that I was wasting my time.

The "Peak" is one large commercial endeavor: a shopping mall on multiple levels connected by a series of escalators. When you exit the tram, you're on the lowest level, and to get to the much-advertised view of the former British colony, you must run the gantlet of every kind of souvenir imaginable, priced at least double that of what you can find them for down below. I finally found my way to the vista, and it was totally socked-in. I took several shots of the fog/cloud-bound facilities and headed back down.

I was wet and cold when I got back to the Star Ferry. I switched the Canon 5D over to movie mode and filmed a little of the ferry crossing back to Kowloon. The seas seemed calm from the dock, but once you were on the boat you got to experience the real power of the waves.

After exiting the boat house, I walked past a giant ground-level billboard for Baume and Mercier watches and through the darkening street, back to the Holiday Inn to dry off and change.

I had a snack of Diet Coke and chips and then got the camera and headed back out to see if I could find something interesting to shoot in the chilly Kowloon night.

Hong Kong: February 18, 2011

2011-04-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

(Tip: Click on photos to see a larger version, or go to: www.ronalddunlapphotography.com.)

Up at 7:30 and out of the hotel at 8:10. It was another dreary, lacking-in-light day. I guess I'd brought the shitty weather with me. I slipped the camera into its rain coat and made a small wish for some better shots than yesterday.

I needed a cheap breakfast, so I walked north on Nathan Road looking for the golden arches. It seemed like there must be at least a couple of thousand Mickey D's in the city, but in reality they opened only their 218th restaurant last year (but breaking their previous record for outlets in any one city).

After a block or so, a yellow neon sign pointed me down a side street. Four hundred yards to the east I found stairs that led down to a below-ground outlet. At the top of the stairs, two ladies were waiting. They looked great in front of the intensely red and yellow sign, and I couldn't resist asking if I could take their picture. They shyly agreed. I fired off several shots, then turned the camera around so they could see the display screen and their pictures. They were giggling as I walked away.

The exterior of this franchise looked very Las Vegas-y. Stairs descended from street level into a shining example of consumerism. I got in line, but from watching the customers in front of me, I soon realized that they weren't selling Coke this early. Since I couldn't start my day without one, I got out of line and headed back up to street level.

Up top, I found that a third lady had joined the other two, and they asked if I could take a new picture of them. I happily agreed and took another five or six shots. They were pleased with the images but disappointed that I couldn't give them prints. I hope that through some twist of fate they would run across this image on the internet.

Still hungry, I spied a Burger King on the second floor of a building across the street. I took care negotiating the crossing and climbed the stairs of this very well-branded BK store.

I ordered a Number 1 (scrambled eggs, sausage, croissant, and Diet Coke). I handed the BK associate HKD 100, and he handed me back HKD 77. (While McDonald's accepts the Octopus Card, Burger King does not.) You have to move to the side and wait at the counter while they prepare your order, but it only takes a few minutes. Soon I was searching for the right table to enjoy my meal.

After eating, I continued walking north on Nathan Road. I was enjoying the juxtaposition of things that seemed both familiar and strange at the same time. By 10 a.m. the weather was still overcast and cold, so I decided to head down to the promenade ("Walk of Fame") to catch the "Big Bus" Kowloon tour. The low level of lighting made shooting precarious, so I decided that I might as well get to know the lay of the land.

Heading south I encountered several streets that don't allow you to cross at street level. You have to find a subway passage that will take you below the streets that local authorities consider too dangerous for pedestrians. These "safety" passages inevitably lead you to underground shopping areas that you must transit through to get to your destination.

By the time I got to the "promenade" I was tired. I'd been walking all morning, so I found a bench where I could take a breather. As I watched Hong Kong's water traffic plow by in front of the city’s skyline, I was approached by several other visitors to the city asking if they could have their picture taken with me. "Sure," I said, "as long as I can take your picture in return." An agreement was reached, and then we proceeded to snap away.

For some reason, Korean women seemed to be fascinated with my appearance. I must look like some ancient figure of good luck in Korean mythology, because I was constantly (maybe 10 times) asked if they could take a "good luck" picture with me.

Rested, I got up and strolled to the eastern end of the promenade, where I found the Big Bus shills pushing tickets for the Kowloon tour. The next bus didn't leave for another 20 minutes, so I walked over to Starbucks and got a hot chocolate and a cinnamon danish for HKD 46/$5.92 U.S. I was cold and this helped warm me a little. Just before 1 p.m. I paid the HKD 180 and boarded the bus. It felt a little like the Arctic as the bus pulled away from the curb and into traffic.

The tour takes about an hour and a half, but there's nothing really spectacular to see. I did find that the Temple Street Night Market was within walking distance of my hotel, so that was one good piece of information I gained from the tour. Other than that, not much — so I don't recommend this branch of the tour.

By the time we got back, I was frozen and in need of something hot in my stomach. I found that spaghetti is a popular meal in Hong Kong, and that there is a chain of spaghetti restaurants scattered throughout the city. I located one on the way back to the hotel and experienced their fare. I was back in the hotel at 4:30 and took a nap for an hour.

Hong Kong is famous for its custom-made suits, and even though it's not as cheap as it used to be, I was going to take a chance and have one made. I had the address of two "Bespoken" (made from scratch) tailors. I hadn't owned a suit for over 30 years, so I thought it was time to take the plunge.

I had done some research online, and I selected both Sam's Tailor and Raja Fashions to evaluate this evening.

Sam's Tailor is located on the ground floor at 90-94C Nathan Road. It took me a little while to find the place because it’s not right on the street. You have to enter the Burlington Arcade and go down a hallway till you are able to spot the place. It has a couple of windows filled with mannequin torsos wearing plaid jackets and a bunch of framed photos of celebrities (Presidents Bush, both George and George W, Bill Clinton, travel personality Samantha Brown, thespian Kevin Spacey, etc.) all being fitted by Sam. I'd read a couple of reviews, and the feeling was if you weren't famous you didn't get first-class treatment. I spoke with a representative and said I was out interviewing a few tailors this evening and that I would make my choice later.

Raja Fashions, at 34-C Cameron Road, was a little more flashy, with a neon sign out front that was almost as big as the whole place. I spoke with a salesperson named Andy Zaiq, and he assured me that they could fit a man with my odd proportions. We chatted about fabrics and styles for a while, then I left trying to decide which tailor to go with.

I walked around for another half-hour looking for something to shoot and got back to the hotel at 7:45. I'd stopped at the 7-11 across from the hotel and picked up some Diet Cokes, yogurt drinks, small breakfast cakes, and a few bags of BBQ chips.

I put my purchases into the room's mini, then started charging the camera batteries and transferring the pictures to my laptop. I finished at 10:15, locked up, and jumped into bed to make a few notes on the day's activities, then switched off the lights and tried to sleep.