Ozone Bar - World's Highest Bar

As I sat down and prepared to write something about the Ozone Bar I noticed that Joyce had just blogged about it.  Bad.  Why should I choose a topic that a NYT writer had just written about?

Me and the other three gang of four went to the newly-opened Ozone Bar yesterday.  A fellow member of the gang managed to reserve a table in a quiet corner.  (The place did not take reservations and I had no idea how he managed to reserve a table. Didn't ask.)  As I was  early I ordered a drink and went to the open-air deck.  Before I reached the deck a waiter came to me and very politely asked for my credit card. Fine. Not an unreasonable practice given that people were moving around.  When I was admiring the view from 480m above ground, the English gentleman to my right turned to me and identified himself as Keith McGregor, the author of An Eye on Hong Kong.  He pulled out a MacBook Pro and showed me his work, which only got me to WOW, AH, OMG.  One of the photos of which he was most proud was the one that he took less than two years ago from where we were.  It was a stitched panorama of 28 photos of the Victoria Harbour that he took with a Nikon D3x from the top of ICC, which was then still under construction.  "I just sold it to Mr.X [it sounded like someone I should know but, sorry, I did not register the name] for US$X". Shame that the Hong Kong Tourist Board did not buy it", he said.  And he added, "It's not ordinary Photoshop stuff.  The software cost me an arm and a leg and I spent many nights on it."  We then chatted about photography, cameras, travelling, wine and old Hong Kong (he lived in Hong Kong for some years before the handover).  Half an hour later my friends arrived and I returned to our table.  A lovely little chat with an interesting man.

What about the Ozone?  Service is good and the atmosphere is excellent.  Food is so-so but the drink list is impressive.  Not cheap but not as pricy as one may think.  My only complaint is the elevator connecting the hotel lobby on 103/F and 118/F, where the bar is.  It is tiny by any standard.  And its high ceiling only serves to make it look more creepy.  I can imagine that people with claustrophobia will refuse to walk into that elevator.

"Lady Blunt" Sold for US$15,894,000

A new record is set.

After a brief reunion with the Messiah at the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, the "Lady Blunt", a Stradivari violin that is named after Lady Anne Blunt, one of its previous owners, grand-daughter of English's poet Byron, is sold in an online auction for US$15,894,000, over four times the previous record set for a Stradivari violin.



Lord Menuhin plays the ‘Lady Blunt’ from Tarisio on Vimeo.
 

What strikes me most is not the price (everybody watching the auction is expecting a new record), but the fact that the new record is set not by Sotheby's, Christie's, Bonhams or Bromptons, but in an online auction.  Well done Tarisio.

The rising online auction house is named after Luigi Tarisio, the "Violin Hunter" as he is called, who lived the most extraordinary life.  There is an interesting book about him: The Violin Hunter: The Life Story of Luigi Tarisio by William Silverman, which, with many facts about the mysterious man though, reads like an adventure story.  If you like violins and stories, you won't, I guarantee, put it down after reading the first few pages.

(Bad) Telephone Manner

I must admit I have the worst of all bad telephone manners - I don't answer calls.

Ever since the first day I got a mobile day I have permanently left my phone on vibration mode.  Don't know why but I absolutely hate my phone making a sound.  The result - I always miss calls, a lot of calls.

As one of my self-imposed, crazy, nonsensical, Monkish and annoying to everyone but myself rules that I adhere to religiously, I don't answer calls when I'm having a conservation, in a restaurant (any restaurants, be it McDonald's or one in the Michelin),  or traveling in a bus, MTR, ferry or whatever means of public transport.  Incoming calls are intrusive.  I hate being intruded and avoid intruding into people's life.  The Blackberry/Android/I-Phone have come to my rescue.  I can sms/whatsApp first to confirm it is OK to call.  And I can tell people they should sms/WhatsApp/email me instead of calling me.  Love it.  Great.

Parenthood is tragic

A friend of mine, a very tough and strong looking man, is sending his little girl to boarding school.  He sent an email to a close cycle of friends this morning telling us how he bawled my eyes out last night just thinking this will be the last week he will be driving his girl to school.  Must be due to something in the air - it triggered a wave of replies and almost drove some moms and dads into tears.  This little note from a mom struck a chord: 

Parenthood is tragic - in no other relationship would anyone work so hard to push the ones that he or she loves so much to go so far away ... and we're so unprepared when we succeed ... 

 How true it is.  Parenthood is tragic.

Planetary Pegs for Violin/Viola/Cello

My daughter is big enough to use a full size violin.  Excepting tuning with the pegs part, the transition is a very smooth one.  I don't like four fine-tuners on the tailpiece.  They looks ugly and add unnecessary weight to the tailpiece, which may dampen the sound.  Finally I decide to give the internally geared pegs a try.  There are two products in the market - the Perfection/Knilling/Pegheds pegs from the States (they are the same thing marketed under different names) and Wittner pegs from Germany.

The Perfection/Knilling/Pegheds and Wittner have different gearing ratios: 4:1 and 8.5:1 respectively.  The difference is not as big as it sounds.  I have tried both in real life and found them equally functional.  I slightly prefer the Perfection/Knilling/Pegheds as they look more pleasing to my eyes and are a little lighter.  These pegs look exactly like traditional wooden pegs.  Without close examination you cannot tell a violin with planetary pegs from one with wooden pegs.  They work most charmingly and make tuning a completely effortless, almost joyful thing to do.  Installation is easy.  All that you need is a reamer, a small saw and a piece of sand paper or a file.  It took me less than 2 hours to finish the job, and that includes the time going through the detailed installation guide, which is available online here.  Living in Hong Kong where relative humidity can rise from below 50% to over 90% in a day, these pegs are godsends.  They are especially useful to children who don't have the fine motor skill and physical strength to turn traditional wooden pegs.  Will they cause any damage to the pegbox?  I don't think so.  The friction and tension caused by traditional pegs probably exceeds that caused by these pegs.  At least  there is no erosion of the wood from constant turning.  If known violin makers and collectors like David Burgess, Michael Darlton and Giovanni Gammuto say they are fine, I bet they are.  See the discussions here, and here if you are interested.

By the way, violin shops in Hong Kong don't carry these pegs.  I got my set from Gostrings, which I cannot recommend highly enough.  Their price is unbeatable and their service is simply superb.

Must Must Must

Whilst I'm happy to see Isaac Asimov's "The Roving Mind" appear in yet another "Must-Read" list, I find myself gradually running out of patience with those "Must-Read", "Must-Do", "Must-See" and "Must-Have" lists.  What do people mean by Must?  So what if I have never read or heard of any of them?  Should I consider myself under-educated or a fool simply because I have read or not read all of those Must-Reads?

I am inclined to think that all those "Musts" only serve to create a sense of deprivation, insecurity and a void in the mind.  The fact is, finishing another "Must-Read" list, watching all the movies in another "Must-Watch" list and going to all the places in yet another "Must-Go" list simply does not make any difference.  At the end, I am bound to miss almost everything.

Let's say I read a serious book a week (which is not quite possible).  That lets me finish say 50 books a year.  If I am lucky enough to have sufficiently good eye sight and health for a sufficiently long time, I can probably finish another 2,000 books.  That doesn't sound a lot, does it?  Compared to the vast number of books out there that are worth reading, the number 2,000 has no significance.  It is just a pale gray dot in a space full of books.  And, that's books alone.  I am going to miss a lot of excellent music, films and literature.  Statistically, I will die having missed almost everything.

So, my dear, I'm not going to give a dame to all those Musts.

Google - Hong Kong First Guide Dog

8-month-old Labrador guide dog Google

A friend of mine, another ISF parent, is fostering Google, Hong Kong first guide dog (guide dog trainee to be precise).  As its foster owner, she has to take Google with her wherever she goes to familiarise it with different places and different means of transport.  Most of the time Google is very well received, but occasionally a restaurant owner or a security guard will stop it at the door.  When that happens, my friend will give the restaurant owner or security guard a lecture about the use of guide dogs, how valuable they are to the visually impaired and how really nice they are.  Google is indeed a very nice dog.  It's always calm, confident and well composed.  Never will it beg for food, jump on people or get distracted by things in the street.  It is now 8 months old and will be with my friend for another year or so before it is ready for advanced training.  When the time comes, I'm sure it'll hard for them to kiss each other goodbye.

Join the Hong Kong Guide Dogs Association's Facebook page.

Back to Blogging

As one of the self-absorbed narcissists who is able to swindle himself into thinking that he is making some kind of difference just because he's found a wall in the cyberspace on which to spray-paint his graffiti, and having decided not to let this little blog be a place to let go of the negative energy that I have accumulated in real life, I did not blog as often in the last few month.  With some of the negative feelings gone, I'm back to blogging.  Here comes Sorlo.

Arrogant

When I'm humbled by the vastness of the universe and awe of nature and not fearful of being tiny, and finally able to concede that the entire universe is not designed for me and that I'm too small to be an image of God, people say I'm arrogant.

A More Peaceful Way to Solve Political Deadlock

After 241 days without a government, Senator Temmerman, a gynaecologist turned politician, is calling for a sex ban over some of her colleagues.

It sounds like a good line to take: "Fix it or go fxxk yourself".

Some People Never Change

I wrote about my cousin not too long ago (People change, myself included).  How embarrassing it is that I have to correct myself so soon.  Some people never change, never ever. 

I just can't believe it.  The whole re-establishing a connection thing turns out to be part of my cousin's and her dear sister's plan to dump their mother.

My dear elder cousin called my father from Australia.  After 10 minutes of nonsense he told my father that he and his sister had had enough of their mother and decided to relocate her to Hong Kong.  He informed us that he had planned to let her stay with us for "a period of time".  What the hell!  You did not call for 20 years and suddenly you ask us to adopt your mom?!  You may well consider your garden house in Sydney suburb too small for a family of four, or you don't have any money left after buying a house as a wedding gift for your son, but your mom is none of our business.  YOUR mom is YOUR mom, not OURS.  WE ARE NOT GOING TO ADOPT HER.  END OF DISCUSSION.  PERIOD.

I am a pianist; I'm not a politican

The whole "Let the Bullets Fly" craze has actually killed my interest in the movie.  There must be a "Let's-See-Who-can-Find-More-Hidden-Messages" competition going on between some Americans and the hotheaded Chinese boys?

The Joy of Being a Parent

"Dad, I want to play something new", the little lady stopped practising the Accolay and called from the study.  I handed her the music of Csárdás by Vittorio Monti that I'd been working on for weeks.  She tried it for 10 minutes, and, holy cow, she could play at twice my speed!

It feels soooooo good to be outperformed.

People Change, Myself Included.

Went to a family gathering this evening. Didn't want to go but am extremely glad that I went.

I very briefly mentioned my uncle here.

When was the last time I met my cousin?  Must be some 20 years ago, probably during my uncle's funeral. As my uncle had determined not to work, my father took care of his two kids.  After graduating from college and becoming a physiotherapist, my elder cousin moved to Australia.  Since then I haven't talked to or met him.  I was always mad with him.  My father paid his college fee, brought him clothes and offered him things we didn't get, and he just vanished. Not a note of thanks, a phone call, or an email for nearly 20 years.

A few days ago my father received a phone call from my cousin.  He was coming to Hong Kong with his wife and kids.  My father was overwhelmed with joy.  He called me and my brothers and sister three times a day to ensure that we would attend the family dinner today.  It sounded like the greatest news to him in many year.  Not wanting to spoil my father's mood, I went to the dinner, reluctantly.

Surprise. Surprise. I enjoyed the gathering, very much, a lot.  I actually felt happy to meet my cousin, his wife and children. Wasn't I supposed to be filled with hatred, disrespect and a feeling of annoyance? Honestly I wasn't. Not a bit. My cousin is now living a good life and has a lovely wife and two wonderful children (one is, like his father, a physiotherapist and the other is a medical doctor to be).  Not in a million years can I imagine that it can be so satisfying and joyous to see someone who are somewhat blood-related to me becoming polite, well-mannered and wonderful young man and woman.  Filled with joy, I thanked my cousin for breaking the ice and coming here to visit us.  I meant it.  A big thank you indeed.

On my way home, I kept wondering how foolish I was to let myself be blinded by prejudice and close-mindedness.  If only I had taken the first step and contacted my cousin, I'd have had all the joy of seeing my niece and nephew grow.  I'm glad that it's not too late.

I have been telling my daughter that doing something that you don't want to do may bring you some totally unexpected joy.  I am right.

Vivian Maier

Not sure whether this humble nanny would like to be known, but she is bound to be referred to as an unknown Henri cartier Bresson, Robert Frank, Eugene Atget or Garry Winogrand.





More examples of her work are available here and here.

Looking at these vintage photographs, I can't help but wonder how many other Vivian Maiers are left undiscovered.  Street photography must be Vivian Maier's second nature that she did not realise what an incredible eye she had.  Living in a man's world and probably a bit introverted, she might find it easier to stuff the negatives and prints under the bed than making an effort to show them to people.  Some critics say that her work does not stand out from other street photographs. "Not enough irony or wit, and, not keeping a distance from their subjects", they claim.  What?  Since when has getting close to the subjects become a vice, and adding irony or wit a virtue?  The greatness of Maier's work lies in her connection with the subjects, not any calculated irony or wit.  I am pretty certain that she never pre-contemplated a ironic or witty scene, and waited for the perfect magic moment to come; she just brought her Rollei to her eyes when she saw something interesting and pressed the shutter. That was it.

If the purpose of life is to create something that will last, she successfully achieved this very purpose.  Her work is going to last.

Good that there were films and nothing digital half a century ago.