Corporate whore

I am in Hong Kong, staying at the sort of hotel that, when I came to Hong Kong last as a backpacker, I looked at and thought, "I wonder what sort of person stays at a hotel like that?" Well, now I know. Me!

I have a lovely view of Victoria Peak (which I ascended on my last trip here for its amazing panorama of... fog), and I'm right in the middle of everything. I don't have to pay for my own food or worry about finding a laundrette. I'm totally spoiled.

Yet it really does seem less of an adventure. Last time I was in Hong Kong, I did an awful lot of walking, and at some point, my knee decided it had had enough. Crunch. That was literally the noise my knee made, though it was also slightly drowned out by the sound of my screaming. It didn't get any better.

However, I was off to Sydney in just a couple of days' time, so decided to try and wait it out, rather than seeing a doctor in Hong Kong where I was likely to face language difficulties. But the pain really was excruciating. I hobbled to Tsim Tsa Tsui and thought perhaps I should embrace Eastern medicine... get a massage.

So I did. Except, oddly, the masseuse seemed to be based on the second floor of what looked like a block of flats. But a lot of businesses are like that over here, so I didn't think too much about it.

In I went for my massage, carefully putting my geeky money belt on the floor in front of the massage chair where I could see it. The masseuse gave me a towel and told me to change into some slightly strange boxer shorts. I obeyed, and covered my top half with the towel. She started to do her massage thingy. I hoped it would help my knee. After a while on my legs, she pointed at the towel covering my top half and asked me, "Is this OK?" She didn't speak much English, but I assumed she was seeing if I was comfortable.

"It's fine," I said.

So she whipped off the towel and started kneading my breasts. This was unexpected. But technically I'd just agreed to it, so it felt a bit churlish and impolite to stop her. I tried to think about other things as she tweaked my nipples.

(Apologies to my parents if they're reading this.)

It's very hard to think about other things whilst someone is tweaking your nipples.

After the massage, she called me "beautiful girl", kept stroking my hair and gave me her card which informed me she did "home and hotel visits". Had it not been clear before now, there was no escaping the fact that I had just spent an hour with a prostitute.

So I haven't done that this time, yet. But walking through Tsim Tsa Tsui earlier today, I did stop, smile and fondly remember when Hong Kong was an adventure, not just work and a retracing of already-trodden footsteps.