Bad transport in Hong Kong?




Bad transport in Hong Kong? 



First of all, please observe the photo above, that was taken while stuck in a traffic jam.  You have to zoom in to see the kids slumped over in their seats, not a single one awake.

I actually turned to the Captain, who was once again on his mobile phone, and said “Check those kids out!  They’ve been drugged!”  Every single child on the coach was out cold. Their heads either resting on the seat in front, on someone else, or on their own laps/backpacks (the yoga generation).  The Captain, who was busy on a “business/social call” turned to look and started laughing his head off.  Every child was asleep.  These kids were knocked out cold with gas/over-exertion/boredom, asleep.  It’s a good thing the driver was still awake (just about).

Speaking of public transport…. I HATE the taxis in Hong Kong.  Actually, I pretty much hate Taxis anywhere in the world but I really really hate Taxis in Hong Kong. Why do I hate Taxis generally? Well, some drivers think they have some God-given right to drive like they’re part of a Formula One team, despite being totally shit and having numerous near collisions.


The Captain was recently in a Taxi that span out of control on a wet road, while driving to the Southside of HK. Now for those of you who know those roads, they are windy and mostly single lane along the Island road. Imagine losing control and by sheer luck, another car wasn’t coming in the opposite direction.  He was lucky not to have been killed.  He then admitted he thought the Taxi driver had been drinking.  What the fuck gave it away?  The stench of booze under his breath? Or the fact he could barely speak when he picked you up and almost swerved into a lamppost?

Now last year, I took a Taxi to the airport with my 1.4 year old twins, while pregnant and our Helper, heading back to my beloved London.  Our Taxi driver fell fast asleep behind the wheel while it was raining.  FAST ASLEEP!!!  I started shouting at him to wake up and stop the car as he was veering off the road.  Seriously…. I hate Taxi’s here.  The guy then acted as if nothing had happened and wouldn’t stop the car.  I almost head butted the twat when we got out of the Taxi at HK International Airport.  I never feel safe with these idiots.

Just recently, two young chefs from Heston Blumenthal’s famous Fat Duck restaurant (UK), were killed when their taxi collided with a bus in Hong Kong.


I’m fuzzy on the background, but the poor guys got killed because of the dumb idiots who transfer hundreds of people daily by public transport.  The accident was caused by a Bus Driver who “fell asleep” for 10 seconds or something, and rammed into another bus and the Taxi with the two young Chefs, crushing them.

If you see some of the Taxi drivers who pull up, eyes half-shut (and no, not for obvious reasons), head lolling from side to side, GET OUT THE TAXI!  Don’t be fucking stupid.  The annoying thing is that I’m so scared to let the kids get into any Taxis that I have to drive them everywhere myself, everyday.  Can you imagine?  The Captain won’t even discuss a Driver…. selfish git.  I mean…. ok, that’s my only job here really (childcare) but it really does interfere with my week day drinking as I need to be able to get behind the wheel of a car and drive the kids to school the next day.

So, I’ve told my Helpers that if they suspect any Taxi driver is under the influence of drugs/booze/glue/simply sleepy…. when they have my kids with them (I mean, fuck ’em if they’re going on their own and they’re dumb enough to sit in the Taxi) they need to stop the car and get out immediately.  My one Helper then told me that one of the few times she took my kids to school (one morning when I was abroad), the driver fell asleep behind the wheel while driving along the windy Tai Tam roads.  Did she get out the Taxi?  No.  She said she proceeded to talk to him in order to keep him awake. IDIOT!!!

I told her and Number 2 Helper, from now on, if there is ever an issue, to tell the Driver one of the kids is going to be sick or needs to shit and get the fuck out of the car immediately.  They’ll want you out anyway if they think someones going to puke or shit on the back seat.  I mean, you “spoke” to the Driver to keep him awake, with my toddlers in the car?!  Fucking idiot.

Anyhow…. a few chats have recently revealed, The Captain, doesn’t think my “drunken state”, is the right way to talk about HK Life. So…..I am writing this sober… Does any housewife/girlfriend LOVE HK?

I’ll tell you why I suspect not all of you do (and those who do…lucky fucking you. I bet you’re single & out sleeping around. Bitches).  I get told pretty much every time I go out with friends/new people/women, that you hate it here.  It’s always a drunken conversation, but these are not imagined chit chats.  You can’t even put your finger on it. You just don’t like it. How ungrateful are we?

So here’s the coup….

We arrive in HK. 2 months ago. 1 year ago. 5 years ago.  You make friends.  You hate them.  You want new ones.  We get domestic help.  We feel…. redundant.

We like AND hate it at the same time. WHY?  Well…. we are free to go out BUT…..This is our ONE job.  The men go to work, we oversee the house.   We are barely doing that.  We feel redundant.  It makes us feel like shit.  Good times?  I think it IS a shit hole for marriages.  Mine is fine but I hear all sorts of horror stories since we arrived here.  The “grave-yard for marriages”. I thought of Nancy Kissel A LOT when we first moved here.  How SHIT can your life become that you bludgeon your husband to death?  Ok, a shit conversation one night maybe, where he admits to anal sex with a dude in Taiwan… but really…. you kill him?!

I’m telling you… it must have been pretty shit.  There’s never just the one side to any story.  I’m not saying (ever) that she was entitled to do what she did.  I can’t even comprehend sleeping in the same room as a dead body for two days, forget the Father of my three kids….that’s…well, its got be mental illness on some level…eventually… with a good lawyer.  The point is, this place….it’s not good for marriage.  It really isn’t.  Men, change.  They don’t think they do, but they do.  They think they have become GOD (funny how that’s spelt “DOG” the other way around?).

I have spoken to many a housewife who is fed up, bored, and… we have decided one thing…..all of us, moan.  We are not enjoying any bit of this experience.  We are… ungrateful, moany, miserable, credit card spending, pedicured weekly, alcoholics.?  Are we??!

I will tell you what the HK wife is like.

Ungrateful, unappreciative, angry the whole time our husbands work (convinced they are cheating in Wan chai or at some Happy Ending Massage salon you can get back home too). ALWAYS cheating apparently. Some people I speak to actually smirk when I assume my husband is faithful.  They’re like “You dumb bitch, he’s been around the block since he moved here”.

Yes, they have ACTUALLY SAID THIS!  For the record, The Captain has not done  a thing.  He’s ugly and bald.  Unless he was a millionaire no one would wanna touch his penis (not that that would make any difference when you pay for it).  Ok…. I’m kidding. Do I sound like the kind of woman who’d end up with an ugly guy?  He’s not ugly. In fact, he’s annoyingly attractive (“a catch” some would say) and women flirt openly with him in front of me because he’s so fucking brilliant, and, they think they can (which I don’t like).

Actually… this just reminded me of a story.  The Captain and I, about 8 weeks before our wedding, went Cake tasting in a lovely little shop in Putney, SW London.


The girl who “looked after us” was ALL over The Captain from the minute we arrived in the front door. ALL OVER HIM…. in front of me.  Tight jeans, tight arse, tight top.  The Captain pretended not to notice.  I did, because women always notice.  We would notice because we have, at one time or another, done the same thing.

Anyway, she was too obvious. I mean, embarrassingly so, and actually KISSED him goodbye (on the cheek) when we left.  Me, she shoved out the door with a clenched fist whispering “whore” under her breath in her Irish Gypsy accent.  I, may, I hasten to add, had just been “face-raped”earlier (its the only way to describe it) in Harvey Nichols by an over zealous make-up artist who was trying to impress me with Ghetto/Drag Queen wedding make-up (she didn’t understand the “natural look” I was going for). I did my own in the end anyway as I’m pretty good at that shit.  The point is we turned up, me looking like Bozo The Clown and, the Captain may as well have been Tom Cruise (a straight version obviously).  This woman, the cheeky bitch with chutzpah, flirted openly with my man right in front of me.  What would I do now…?  Probably ask her if she wanted a date just to get a reaction…. cheeky fucking bitch.  My wedding cake tasting… not my “18th birthday, oh we might never stay together”, cake.

This is how confident I must be…. that even with Bozo the Clown make-up on…. I didn’t think for one second, my soon-to-be-husband, was remotely keen. I did think, what a cow!!! At my wedding cake tasting! What a fucking cow actually.  But… nope…. don’t care.

Women are mean.  Men don’t even understand how vindictive, harsh and mean women can be.  That’s why we sometime’s go a little “nuts”.…. we know… when someones trying it on, and your Man is all “Oh, Babe, get a grip. You’re so crazy.”

You’re like…. “Hell no…!”   We on the other hand know, “She’s a woman… we are worse than men.  Oh he’s married?  Who give’s a shit?” Women are worse. Bigger cheats. Bigger players and we look more innocent.  It’s the biggest myth in the book.  Women are bigger players than men…fact.


Going back to the point of the whole cheating thing…. we begrudge our once best friend of their ideal role here.  They are working, trying to be great at what they do.  I, just feel, well… like a 1980’s housewife.  Drunk, coked up, leaving the kids with a nanny…. and suddenly, not even caring any more.  Thats when you know, its bad.  Thats when you feel guilty.  And we do…. I’ve had soo many conversations about this since I moved here with women at home, who HATE who they have become.

We are not the women we set out to be.  We are, quite frankly… selfish.  I feel so horrible, moaning the whole time the Captain goes out to work.  I feed us, cook for us, I’m a “Homemaker”.  I still hate that I don’t do it right. IF, it was the other way around, I’d be like “Bitch, where the fucks my dinner?!  I work 12-16 hour days…. the least you can do, is fucking feed me, iron my shirts and suck my cock on demand.  Not that tough really….”

It’s not a satisfying role here.  I can’t put my finger on it.  We  (the women) just don’t “do” anything here. We are redundant.  You have too much friggin Help!!!  The guys find it amusing “Oh… my Helper cooked dinner yesterday…”.... we stand there, wondering…. why didn’t I do that?  (if you can’t cook, then that’s fine)?  We are finding it too easy, and yet, very painful/shameful at the same time.  I am using every ounce in my body to accept that for the next few months, I don’t care. I don’t care what anyone thinks.  I never did.

The Captain recently told me.  “You are accomplished.  You are smart. You are funny.  You are sexy.”  So why??? Why?! Do I not, in this environment, feel so great?  Because I have TWO women also helping me in the house.  These women have in effect, chopped my tits off.  I say “Help” but I use this term very loosely.  I think I may actually be sabotaging one of my staff indirectly.

I don’t NEED help.  None of us women here do.  If you are not working, why the fuck can’t you collect your own kids from school?!  I do. its painful.

What are you doing?  Charity stuff??  Ok… some people here are actually using their time wisely and properly (I know them… one is a very dear, straight, non-lesbian friend)… but the rest of us… we’re not doing shit.  We are recovering from hangovers, doing drugs, sleeping late, and basically feeling like over-grown university students, with C-Section scars from The Hotel Matilda.  Shame on us.  This does not make you feel good.  It makes you feel like a fucking idiot here.

Everyone here is either, walking, trekking, dieting, botoxing, raising funds for Cambodia/Vietnam/Tehran, going on 38 hours treks in the wilderness, kayaking, Dragon boating, starting up a new business…… SOMETHING.  When you DONT do this… you look retarded. Especially on the Southside where all the Yummy French Mums are starting up businesses involving …. well… anything you didn’t think of….usually involving pastry or pate (I’m not generalizing or anything).

Who are these women, these “Helpers” with limitless energy when it comes to our kids?  I hate that our children connect with them and at the same time, I’m so grateful.  I’m tired!

My kids are all under three years old.  Do you even know how exhausting that is!?  Not physical… I mean, mentally.  I am the Mum who sits there and says “ Sit up straight. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Don’t hit your friend. Don’t answer back…” G-d the list is endless and very, very boring.  You think I want to do this? Day in, day out?  My shrink told me, I “manage a department“.  “A department!”  Genius.  No one listens to me, it’s all hormonal women with issues who want to kill me, they don’t listen when it comes to feeding the kids, child safety, food shopping, attitude etc.  Sooo….. this evening…. I sat down with Helper No.2 and talked our shit out.  I’m too fed up of it.

We sat in the kitchen and I asked her, straight out, Do you have a problem with me? or us?  “No Ma’am”.  My response? “Ok then, why are you doing such a mediocre job at the moment?  You don’t, food shop, clean well, cooking is ok, you have 2 sometimes 3 hours off during the days for nothing. So… why with all of this, do you insist on walking around with a miserable face that make me sooo uncomfortable in my own house, that I want to sent you out, just to be away from that face?  If you want to leave, fuck off now.  Otherwise, the minute you wake up, treat this like your office and stop walking around like I owe you.”  We’ve got on great ever since.

I hated working for assholes (and boy, did I work for some real racist bitches in London) BUT, I earned good money, I paid my way… I lived how I wanted to live. Facial, yep!  Hot stone massage? Hell yes!! New Christian Louboutins…. yep!  Three or four (or five) kilos of coke for a quiet weekend at home… ok, why not, I’ve got some cupboards that need organising?  It’s your money!!  * Also, the photo above was taken of a lamb before he was dressed and ready for photos.  The problem?  I got drunk and forgot to photograph him (Norbert, The Lamb), before and after cooking.  He was friggin delicious though… all breadcrumbed with nuts and herbs and cooked to perfection… just a shame, I forgot to take a photo after….I was drinking while cooking.  I’ll do it next time as I cook lamb loads.

I’d be fab for a cooking show!?  Before, and ….. AFTER, she gets drunk…

Anyway… I went to Toys R’ Crazy Us today and bought everything they had on sale. Including this kitchen that took nearly 15 hours to put together (the instructions said 15 minutes).  I decided while making the damn thing to open a bottle of Rose.  It are it more fun, for me.

Thats it for this week folks.  I’m running out of shit to say to be honest.

On a separate note, guess how much this packet of Walkers crisps is in HK?

Go on the British ex-pat lot…. guess….

HKD $9-10  depending on where you shop! ….that’s like 75 UK pence for a packet of fucking crisps?!  Plus…. I’m not a chocolate person.  I’m more cheese, ham, crisps, champagne…. This shit costs money in Hong Kong.

What a fucking liberty…


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About YYTM

A (40++) Punk “wannabe”. London born/bred, parent of 3 children under 18 (twins included). Divorced. A great cook. Shockingly argumentative after 8pm on a Monday evening...

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