Where are all the good pho restaurants in Hong Kong? Why is it that everytime we think we find a possible good one, it turns out to be fake pho because the restaurants use he fen (the flat noodles) instead of proper vermicelli? I miss good pho so much, especially the ones back home (Pho Filet! Come to me now!)
After class, Peter wanted me to tag along with him to go pick up his suit at the tailor’s. Of course, you need a woman’s touch to see if the thing looks good on you, I know. And you know what? It looked good. I don’t mean to only have a picture of his butt, but he was too busy looking at himself in the mirror to give me a good shot of the front side. Let’s just assume that the front was just as good as the back, nicely fitted. Now this is the definition of classy, NOT taking pictures drunk.
We went to The One to roam around the plaza and find something to eat, and found a pho restaurant in the food court. It looked decently priced and we were both really craving it, so we called Chin to meet us for dinner. Meanwhile, while we waited for Chin to arrive from his school in the boonies, we went to check out the the bar on the 18th floor called Cocky Bar to see what it looked like. Happy Hour was over, and the regular priced drinks were too expensive, so we walked away with our tails between our legs.
We passed by a sushi restaurant, which was undergoing a photoshoot. Hot damn, I want to eat here for the view. That’s Victoria Harbour in the horizon. The menu was way too hefty, and we totally didn’t belong there with our backpacks and casual wear, but the view was just so fantastic.
Chin finally came, and we had noms at the Pho restaurant. I had to take a picture of the menu for you, Jesada, because it wants nobody, nobody, but you.
Much to our disappointment, the noodles we got in our pho was he fen. Everything else was just mediocre, so we have yet to find a good pho place while in Hong Kong. Part of me wants pho so badly that I’m willing to travel to Vietnam one of these weekends and stuff myself silly with legit Vietnamese food. I can’t convince Peter to go visit his Asian roots, but maybe I can get Chin to go.
Peter was still sad about not being able to drink anything at Cocky Bar, but he found a loophole: a coupon in a free booklet that he got downstairs! The coupon was for a regular priced drink at happy hour price, which was perfect for us. We bounced back up to the 18th floor, and were seated in the balcony area, with a perfect view and a cooling breeze.
I know this is probably nothing compared to the sights I’ll see at Victoria Peak, but this itself is still so amazing. This picture of Peter would have looked a lot better if that glass wasn’t in the way, but I’d rather not sacrifice safety for beauty (although Peter probably would).
Artsy black/white version:
Everything looked so small from where we were; I felt like a giant in a toy town. I want to bring my DSLR and photoshop some tilt-shift pictures.
Chin’s emo shot:
The drinks we ordered finally came, which looked super fancy. Guess which drinks are whose? Here’s a hint: Chin complained that his drink looked super girly, and he felt emasculated holding it.
Peter’s drink was the one with red wine, mine was the blue one, and Chin’s was the girly one (I think it was called 21st Century Cocktail). I liked the way Chin’s tasted a lot better than mine, so we traded. Obviously, I liked the pink one not only for its strawberry flavor, but because I couldn’t taste the alcohol. Yay!
Chin got buzzed from my blue drink really fast. He had the Asian glow in this picture. His face is red not only because of the lighting, but because of the GLOW. Peter and I were glad he didn’t order Peter’s drink, which had a crapload of alcohol and red wine.
We were worried that Chin wouldn’t be able to make it home safely, so we walked around a bit in Yau Ma Tei so that Chin could sober up. As we walked across the street towards a building, we smelled something incredibly delicious, similar to Korean BBQ. Peter followed his nose and left Chin and me behind, ignoring me each time I called his name. Now we know what he loves the most.
For a while we couldn’t figure out where the smell was coming from and Peter began to freak out because he really wanted to know, but we eventually found it in a beef jerky store, where the workers were making fresh jerky.
They freaking have BACON jerky. SO good. No, I didn’t get some because I was too cheap, but I’ll probably break down and buy some before I go home.
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