Update on slimming - not for the faint hearted

After some more research, I found complaints dating back several years which were totally consistent with what was being reported in the press, and echoed by callers on radio phone-in shows. I was only surprised there weren't more.

Janice Vidal fronting the 'Janice' therapy

This report published in Apple Daily (蘋果日報) in February 2008 revealed that Perfect Shape (必瘦站), Dr. Louis, and the now defunct So Easy (瘦得起) are all controlled by the same individuals. Easy Fit (纖得掂), endorsed by Miss Hong Kong Pageant, and Royal Body Perfect (皇室纖形) fronted by Carina Lau, are in fact group companies; further proof is that both websites feature the same 'Fit Fit Club', and the same two customer testimonials!

So Easy was once endorsed by "Twin" Gillian Chung (鍾欣桐). After being out of the limelight for the best part of the year following appearance of the Edison Chen photos, Gill is back with several lucrative endorsement contracts. There are posters of her everywhere, and she looks stunning! However, unlike her fellow "ambassadors" (see previous entry), it was disclosed that she would get a 7-figure sum for the endorsement of Botox treatment clinic. I am wondering if she will get a free supply of botox...

The allegations of wrongdoing I read about at one of these chains are quite serious, and the other chain doesn't seem much better. The practices occur because they are either not strictly illegal, or are difficult to prove. Sometimes, the sales reps manage to intimidate and bully the client, who may not relish the court fight over a few thousand dollars. I'd also guess that many Chinese would hate to admit publicly that they had been cheated. The Apple Daily exposed practices at one such chain:

• Baiting and switching - the widely advertised 'Janice Vidal promotion' was denounced by sales staff as 'too cheap to be any good', the punter is persuaded to take a more expensive plan
• upselling - once on board, sales rep proposes enhancements or more treatments
• badgering/harassment - constant attempts to calls and harry, messages aimed at increasing spend.
• fraud and deception - attempts to sell expensive but ineffective or medically unproven products; consultant tells client her lymphatic system is blocked, and needs lymph drainage
• financing - applying for financing of tens of thousands on behalf of clients to pay for treatments
• overcharging - personal hygiene products (e.g. Nioxin shampoo) sold at twice the going rate compared with other shops.

Apple's stable-mate Next Magazine recently ran an exposé which accused the chain of

• illegally cold-calling - people have been called on their mobile phone, telling them they had been selected to be ambassadors - it's often clear the caller knows not who is on the other line.
• misrepresentation - advertisements and sales reps verbally guaranteeing weight loss, while the small print of the contract stipulates "療程不保證任何成效" (results not guaranteed); disclaiming any verbal warranties given ("無任何口頭協議").
• intimidatation - refusal to sign up results in scoldings and insults
• unsustainability - their dietitians propose short-term and potentially dangerous crash-diets

Another complaint alleges:

• refusing to give customer copy of contract signed, claiming confidentiality
• confidence trickery - "Trust me...", "We are a big reputable company...", "The contract is there to protect you..."
• using inaccurate scales which overstate weight loss

This complaint alleges a variant of the bait and switch:

• Customer is lured to the salon through advertising for "limited special offer"
• Sales rep tells client special offer quota is filled
• client proposed a contract with "special offer" $380 treatment (supposedly 90% discount); client asked to pay $380 before treatment
• demands payment for $3,800 (full price) after treatment
• explains breakdown is $380 for treatment, $1,500 for body fat analysis， $1,500 for consultant's fee，$420 for contract admin fee
• on refusing to pay, client was told she was in breach of contract, therefore no refund would be given. Client told to 'get the hell out of here.'

Perfect Shape, which claims to be the #1 slimming centre in the territory, was the subject of controversy in May 2008 when the undeclared controlled anorectic drug Sibutramine was detected in samples of its product 'More Slim', which the chain was selling without prescriptions in violation of the law. Four months later, as a result of customer complaint, authorities found 'Ener Day', another product containing the same compound had been routinely given to clients as part of their slimming regime.

Slimming

Hong Kong Consumer Council warned last week about sharp business practices by slimming salons. There had been complaints of slimming centres offering free sessions, endorsement contracts to lure the woman hopeful of shedding a few pounds in an effortless and costless way. To get something for nothing has an obvious appeal. We are told that endorsement contracts had too many unfair strings attached...

In Hong Kong's famously free-wheeling economy (once described as "positive non-intervention"), consumer protection is not up to European levels. People conduct their everyday lives in a rather naive belief (perpetuated by the government, in my view) that the level of transparency of our economic system is sufficient protection. What is more, concepts like 'false advertising' do not seem to exist. When incidents like this come to light, it becomes apparent where the balance of economic power in Hong Kong lies. The prevailing [sympathetic] view in the city is that the government is fearful of upsetting the powerful cartel of property developers, who are incidentally the biggest deceptive advertisers of them all; the unsympathetic view is that the government is actually in cahoots with big business – "官商鉤結" (collusion) is a very commonly used term. Unsatisfied customers are often simply reminded of the caveat emptor principle. If they make enough fuss, complainants may get a refund from the offending company subject to no admission of guilt and total confidentiality.

The director of a digital-imaging agency I met once told me that most of his revenues are generated from the beauty and property sectors. Celebrity endorsement is considered highly effective in Asia, and the public is quite accustomed to seeing Miss Universe and French chateaux marketing the latest condominiums repeatedly on prime time. The pervasive advertising featuring glamour girls, singers and film stars corroborates the 'bigness' of the "beauty" business in Hong Kong. All salons' advertising jostle for the public's attention. Ubiquitous posters featuring images of a busty Chrissie Chau offer bust enhancements, those of a svelte forty-something actress Carina Lau clad in bikini offer slimming solutions all around town. The website for Lau's boutique even streams a video of the bikini-babe writhing about like some soft porn actress. Another chain has a cross-promotion deal with The Miss Hong Kong Pageant, which offers paid endorsement contracts to pageant winners as one of its prizes. There is also one targeted at recent mothers, proposing treatment which will shed them 20 pounds (compared with their gestating weight)!

I understand that those seduced into becoming "spokeswomen" must put down a deposit of tens of thousands of HK dollars that can only be reclaimed after sustained weight loss of the agreed order is demonstrated. My wife went for a free session a while back, and discovered some of the practices which were also mirrored in the complaints: once the punter is secreted away in a treatment booth, and the "therapist" has hooked up the treatment apparatus, sales staff go to work on the [often naked] victim. During the 60-90 minutes of therapy, in which the client more or less immobilised on the apparatus (肉在針板), they have your undivided attention. Here, if asked, she may disclose the carrot-stick nature of her remuneration. In general, the carrot is the strong variable component in her package; the stick is that she has ambitious performance targets each month, which she fails to meet at her peril. If warning bells in your head start ringing at that stage, you may raise your guard in time. For the immobilised client, committing to a course of treatment worth HK$10,000 (US$1,300) might seem an acceptable ransom for your freedom, your clothes and other belongings; the contract may bring the sales girl up to $4,000.

I googled these two testimonials which pre-dated the Consumer Council warnings:

"At first, they said I need 80 treatments which would cost HK$ 38,000 but I could pay it in installment of $ 1000 which is fine. So they immediately got my bank card and input that amount which I didnt have and which I didnt know. Then I said I have no money, then after negotiating for such a long time, $ 8000 so I gave in and they deduct the money, after getting a free trial, they said Sorry the manager does not allow so I felt so frustrated and I said I cannot afford it, lets cancell it and then she said ok ok $ 16000. Then yesterday, the messager said I need lymp drainage and I was convinced so I paid $1000. I ask how many times I shud do it, she said 20 times which I said I cannot afford it, she said its ok have cheaper plan and the story goes that all they talk about is Money. I did not get the plan."

"I had the same story but i usually reply harshly to them and tell them to get out of my way and stop selling these things to me again and again. They are disgusting, 2 woman will enter your treatment room and start to tell you that you're fat here and there and you need so and so. I had about 6 treatments and i quitted. But i only paid about HK$5000."

The testimonials strongly suggest that the hungry money-grabbing tactics are common within the beautician profession. I had suspicions that other service sector professions had similar cultures, which my visit to a yoga studio in Tsim Sha Tsui confirmed. The staff were obviously on commission. There, I endured very highly pressured sell which lasted from 8:30 p.m. (after the free class) until 11 p.m, during which they insisted I signed up on the spot. The negotiations reminded me of the expression - "marchand de tapis" (carpet trader). The positive outcome from my not succumbing to their hard sell, was finding out actually how much below their first offer the merchant was prepared to sell his carpet to me for. When the sales rep finds you too difficult, and you start negotiating face-to-face with the head carpet-seller, that's when it starts to feel like you are riding on a magic carpet.

Day tripper

After a late start, my wife and I spent a whole afternoon traipsing around the city of Shenzhen while the children were at their grandmother's. We travelled miles on buses, metro and on foot, from one bookstore to the next like on some sort of treasure hunt through recommendation by the staff of each store. One such destination we were directed to was a massive complex named 'Shenzhen Book City', located in a new area called Shaonian Gong (少年宮站), literally 'Children's Palace' currently at the end of Metro line 4. The Book City is the largest of its type in Asia, and comprises 42 thousand square metres of retail space in a lowrise building. Most of the floorspace is occupied by a huge book hypermarket the likes I have rarely seen; there were other apparently specialist booksellers within the same complex, and fast food outlets to cater for hungry bookworms.

After 12 bookshops and about 25km, including an hour stuck in traffic, we decided to call it a day. Incidentally, the legendary traffic in Shenzhen is being exacerbated by roadworks caused by the extension of the Shenzhen Metro. It was already past 7pm and were still one volume short of our quest. I was hoping for a good meal but not expecting a gastronomic experience, for all my previous experiences in Shenzhen (other than in the top hotels) were always lacking in some way.

We fortuitously came across the Lao Shaoxing Restaurant (老紹興酒樓) tucked away in the courtyard of the Qinghua Hotel, near the Science Museum (科學館). I was attracted by the prospect of Zhejiang cuisine in a relaxed setting, despite the restaurant being fronted by a gaudy neon quite typical of Chinese restaurants. I cannot deny that the bright lights caught my eye.

The main restaurant upstairs was busy with diners when we took our seats. We were presented with a menu which was disguised as a book of culinary photography replete with images of traditional Chinese riverside villages and flowery text about the geographical context to whet your appetite. In the past, I have found a poor general correlation between the care with which the menu was assembled and the quality of the delivered product so I still wasn't holding my breath. At least the restaurant was clean, and the other diners behaved with decorum.

The menu of the Lao Shaoxing Restaurant

When the food arrived, I was therefore surprised to see that the photography had been faithfully replicated in the presentation. The lamb we ordered was attractively set on beds of deep-fried noodle fragments; the fish, sea bass prepared to Shaoxing style, came on a hot-plate en papillote; our eel was a careful visual coordination of colours and textures which my photography failed to do justice.

Eel (left); lamb (right)

Lamb is one of my favourite meats, but is not widely consumed in China except in Moslem cuisine. I have been severely disappointed elsewhere in the past, by the culinary treatment with heavy spices and salted in abundance, so I ordered it in trepidation. Fortunately, the first taste immediately revealed expert preparation – dishes which were delicately flavoured and seasoned to perfection. The hints of herbs and spices therein remained subtle, never threatening or overwhelming the savours of the principal ingredients. I have always been a fan of the Shanghainese preparation of eel; this variant with prawns certainly did not disappoint.


To top it all, the meal came to a total of RMB138 yuan (about US$20 at today's exchange rate), which I'd say represented extremely good value for money.

Uncles of the world

It may seem bizarre to westerners, but in Hong Kong, mainland China and many other places in Asia, people routinely use a form of address for people they know, as if they were family. Children are taught these notions from an early age. Whilst 'Mister' (先生), 'Miss' (小姐) and 'Lady' (女士) are unambiguously polite and can be used when in doubt, they are by no means the most commonly used. When we were invited to stay with some good French friends near Paris, I told my boys they could address them simply as 'Jean-Marc' and 'Hélène'. Although I'm sure our hosts would have thought our usual protocol cute, I strongly suspected they would hardly notice or object to deviation from it.

Children learn that they belong to one big happy family when addressing friends, and occasionally strangers. Boys are addressed as 'Gege' (哥哥), and girls as 'Jiejie' (姐姐) – older brother and older sister respectively. Men are most commonly referred to as 'Shushu' (叔叔) or 'Bobo' (伯伯) – both meaning "uncle" relative to the age of your parents; women are similarly addressed as 'Ahyi' (啊姨) – generic term for "aunt". By extension, elders from the generation of one's grandparents are addressed 'Gonggong' (公公) or 'Yeye' (爺爺) for "grandpa", or 'Popo' (婆婆) for "grandma".

Even complete strangers we meet daily, such as bus and taxi drivers, merit the courtesy as '司機叔叔' ("driver uncle"); policemen are '警察叔叔' ("police uncle") – note the profession added as a prefix is not an obligatory feature. However, out of reverence for learning, teachers and doctors are always referred to only by their professional titles 'Laoshi' (老師) and 'Yisheng' (醫生) respectively, without any claim to kinship. By all that reckoning, my boys should have addressed my friends as "Uncle Jean-Marc" and "Aunty Hélène".

Anthropologists have coined the term 'fictive kinship' to describe the concept, which is defined as "the extension of kinship obligations and relationships to individuals specifically not otherwise included in the kinship universe" In plain English, this means those ties not established through blood or marriage. It is said that "fictive relationships may mimic the ties they copy, but they are defined in their own terms." From my observation of and experience with the protocol in China, it incorporates the reverence of old age, a Confucian value which firmly equates chronological maturity with wisdom. Unlike in western cultures where old age symbolises the past or people past their prime, offence is never perceived when someone is referred to by the more formal 老先生 or 老太太, 'Lao' (老) meaning 'old'.

The protocol transcends adulthood. From the notion of 學師 or apprenticeship, those who have shared a common learning experience always refer to each other as Shixiong/di/jie/mei (師兄/弟/姐/妹) when a number of years separates their experiences. In the everyday work context where there is sense of camaraderie/bonding, female colleagues are collectively referred to as jiemei (姊妹), meaning "sisters"; males likewise use the term 'xiongdi' (兄弟), meaning "brothers". One has the option of addressing your friends' parents (or your parents' friends) as 'Uncle [C.Y.]', 'Aunty [Chen]', or similar variants, although 'Mr and Mrs [Chen]' may be used. Proximity is the usual benchmark, so they are not likely to be offended by either form of address, although 'Mr' or 'Mrs' may be considered a bit stiff. The formal Chinese term is 世伯, meaning literally 'worldly uncle'; reciprocally they would refer to you as 世侄 or 世侄女, 'worldly nephew' or 'worldly niece'.

A good example where a well known individual has applied this concept to himself is Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao when he referred to himself as "Grandpa Wen" while on public-relations missions in Sichuan following the earthquakes last year; Hong Kong billionaire property tycoon Lee Shau-kee is affectionately known as "Uncle Four", being the fourth-born in his family.

"Grandpa Wen"
(photo courtesy of the World Economic Forum)

Although the concept is prevalent, it is a social tool in reality. Up until recently, Chinese extended families living together under one roof was the norm, and titles exist for all relatives imaginable within this scope. It is impossible to confuse who is or is not a relative. From the forms of address alone, there is never any ambiguity as to whether a relative is maternal or paternal, or whether the relative is so by blood ties or by marriage.

The Encyclopaedia Britannica cites the existence of fictive kinship, and its practice in India between individuals of the same village belonging to the same caste. In Europe and the United States of America, the concept is usually applied with more restraint. Westerners appear generally to make clear distinctions between kin and non-kin. Nevertheless, modern television has familiarised us with black Americans usage of "brother". In France and Britain, I have never experienced the use of fictive kinship. The closest I've heard is the expression "mon pôte" - 'my mate'.

MTR vs Paris Métro

On returning to Hong Kong, I experienced the hottest day of the year. On 2 August, temperatures reached 34.6°C; one street-sleeper died, possibly due to overheating. Although Parisians complained of the heat in Paris this year, it was generally cooler than in the tropics; it's the stifling humidity which makes the temperature unbearable here. Having said that, however, the heat is worse in the Paris Métro despite its ventilation. European construction and infrastructure are poorly adapted to the heat, just like ours is poorly adapted to cold weather. As the system is quite old, its catacombs and trains are not air-conditioned, and some stuffiness during hot spells are to be expected, particularly during the rush hour.

In contrast to the Paris Métro (except for Line 14), Hong Kong MTR (Mass Transit Railway) tunnels and trains are brightly lit and are air conditioned; and there are safety barriers which prevent potentially fatal falls from railway platforms. Again, except for line 14, these are not the norm in Paris, although I noticed on my last visit that some had been erected at Pont de Neuilly, on Métro line 1. MTR's gleaming carriages with their stainless-steel seating are probably twice as long as Parisian metro cars, and I guess that the entire train is more that twice the length of its Parisian cousin.

Hong Kong's M-train, with stainless steel seating
(photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

What is also noticeable is the total absence of beggars, buskers. Parisians, however, are familiar with beggars and assorted itinerants who work the trains from carriage to carriage (I am informed that since the accession of Romania to the European Union, the numbers of Romanians on Parisian streets has noticeably risen). A typical spiel starts something like this:

"Bonjour, Messieurs/dames, excusez-moi de vous déranger. Je m'appele ~~~~, j'ai ~ ans, je n'ai pas de travail et j'ai deux enfants a mon charge..."
(translation: Hello Ladies and Gentlemen. I apologise for disturbing you. My name is ~~~~, I am ~ years old, without work and have two children to feed at home...)

After that 'classic' introduction, the beggars will add their very own customised sob-story or witticism, and finish by asking for some pièces de monnaie (coins) or that ubiquitous French dining voucher, the Ticket Restaurant. Akin to the Luncheon Voucher (in fact, they are both owned by Accor), the "Ticket Resto" is universally accepted in restaurants throughout France. Unlike the Luncheon Voucher, whose popularity dwindled in the UK when tax breaks on it were removed, the state has sustained the viability of the system in France by obliging employers' to supply the midday meal, or equivalent value, to their employees. Larger employers usually have a workplace canteen which offers subsidised meals; companies without such facilities give out the TR.

Paris métro train
(photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

However, if one is lucky, instead of being distracted by a straggly beggar, your métro experience will be enhanced by the music of a skilled accordionist, playing a tune with a tango beat.

Busker on the Paris Métro

Taste of independence

The first days of school were an interesting experience for our boys: they joined the summer school where everyone speaks French only. Actually, that was the whole idea that they would be totally immersed in French for 5–6 weeks. The absence of anybody to indulge them in English ought to speed up the learning process.

When I brought them home the first two days, they feigned not understanding what I was saying when speaking to them in French. I capitulated after about half an hour of exchanges during which I spoke in Voltaire's language and they in Shakespeare's, but I could tell they understood more than they were letting on, and this was after just two days. I heard the elder child singing the cacahuètes (peanut) song to himself in bed one night.

My boys reported to me on their interactions with some of the other children: they already found out which of the orientals could speak Chinese, and which could not. They also reported that they were involved in a dispute with a girl over a toy frog on their first day, and began showing some misapprehension of blacks. I had to remind them to share, and that 'good' and 'bad' were uncorrelated with a person's skin colour.

After their second day, they complained to me that some black child(ren) were behaving very aggressively. Of course, this is all alien to a child schooled in Hong Kong, where 95+% are ethnic Han; there may be one or two Indians in my children's school, but no blacks. Furthermore, most Hong Kong children are very well behaved; teachers survey them like hawks, and playground bullying is usually nipped in the bud. Boys, being boys, will have aggressive tendencies. Away from the rarefied Hong Kong atmosphere, I hope they will understand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of aggression at the tender age of 4 and 6, so as to learn to handle their own disputes better in the real world. To that end, I am glad that they have both been learning judo. I always remind them it is not something they should use as a first resort, but something they can use, in extremis.

Le Tambour

This bistrot, situated at 41 rue Montmartre, was introduced by my friend Maria, a music journalist. It's a regular haunt of hers as the bistro is popular with the musico types which her job demands her to talk to from time to time. It's a stone's throw from Les Halles, and the Sentier district which was once the centre of the Parisian rag trade.

Many restaurants in France are individual enterprises not belonging to chains; I particularly liked the inside the bistro, where there is an artistic decor including a collection of modified street furniture, and a recursive sculpture of its own bar in a display case. There were no musicians here that I was aware of, but it was lunchtime in mid week, so many of these types would be scarely out of bed, but there we go. Strangely, I never discovered it in the years I lived here, although I would certainly have gone past it. Paris is a bit like that – it's an agglomeration of villages and you often find such treasure through friends.

I am told that it takes on a different ambience at night. The restaurant has has been family owned for two generations (according to Maria), and has recently been sold because the owner had grown tired of the hard work running an establishment which is open 24-7. The new owner agreed not to change anything, to preserve its atmosphere. To that end, the entire staff have also been retained. Maria only found out it had been sold when she asked where the owner was. Anywhere else, the new owner will not resist asserting their ownership by making a few "improvements"; in Paris, this stands a better chance of remaining untouched.

The menu is pretty classic French bistro fare, and not expensive by Paris standards. All the perennial favourites are on it. There is, of course the Hamburger à cheval, which my wife took literally. In fact it's not horsemeat at all, but a minced steak with an egg (sunny side up, naturally) on top. I was very tempted by the croustillant de chevre (toasted goat's cheese), which looked the business. However, my carnivorous tendencies took over in the end, and I had the Magret de canard (duck fillet) for EUR14. For another EUR8, I opted for the Tarte Tatin – an apple pie cooked upside-down then flipped over so the pastry is no longer on top.

Summer school

Maternelle at rue des Trois Bornes, Paris 11e

An IPSOS survey cited in a magazine article I read indicated that half of French families would be staying home this summer, implying that half would still be going away despite the financial crisis. Knowing how étatist the French are, I was only slightly surprised to learn that the state sector provides summer school for children in école maternelle (kindergarten) and école primaire (primary school). A small number of regular education establishments in each arrondissement are kept open during the traditional holiday months of July and August to cater for those parents who wish for their children to be kept out of mischief. These schools, designated Centre de Loisirs (Centre for leisure), are kept open by rotation. There is a weekly timetable, with outings and visits to the local swimming pool, and day-trips to parks etc. Under the school's auspices, children as young as 6 can be enrolled on excursions to farms or seaside resorts which last for 5 days or more.

The week's planning at summer school

These institutions have to observe strict staff:student ratios. Children are put into small groups, and each staff member (called 'animateur') herds them off into separate activities. The distinction is not subtle, as 'teacher' is called enseignant or instituteur/~rice. This nomenclature underlines the fact that the school takes on a different role, that of 'leisure provider', as the name implies. Parents enrol their children on a per diem basis. The staff work there on a month basis – it is a handed over to a different team in August. The IPSOS survey cited implied that the numbers going on holiday were down this year, so the number of children staying put would certainly be higher than last year.

Fees are charged according to a sort of means-testing, and daily fees range from EUR1.20 to EUR40 per child. Luckily, we had paid some taxes in 2007, which entitled us to benefit from the educational facility for a reasonable outlay.

When we put the kids into a nearby Centre de Loisirs on Tuesday morning, we got an insight into the logistical issues in trying to manage the operations which depend on a random number of arrivals each day. The centre ostensibly has capacity for 288 children. The day we took our boys in, we learned that there were 88 children under her care in the nursery section that day, to 8 staff. While we were filling in the paperwork – it only needs to be done once for each child – the centre's coordinator was busy calling in her numbers for the day's staff provision and meals.

Like in many inner-city areas in the western world, there is a diverse ethnicity. The Centre coordinator cited that over half the children were of non-French ethnic origin. Apparently, 40% of the children in the adjacent district, Belleville, were of Chinese extraction, of whom many did not speak French when they first arrived. Of course, there are also many 'magrebains' (North Africans), 'blacks' (Negroes) and 'beurs' (Arabs).

Touchdown

Touched down on time at Roissy-Charles-de-Gaulle Airport, back in familiar territory. The first thing noticeable was how clear the sky was. Being used to the smog-ridden skies of South China, it was easy to forget that the sky is actually blue. Never mind the real pleasure to rediscover clean air, and how it was a comfortable 15/25°C.

Taking the Roissybus into the city centre, the second thing noticeable was how quiet it was. Of course, it's the end of July, and the Parisians are starting to leave for their summer holidays, if they haven't left already.

This is one place where the locals abandon the city, leaving the tourists to their own devices. Businesses, usually the family-owned variety, close down for the summer while the owners head for their holiday homes by the sea. Middle-class Parisians often have second homes in Brittany or Normandy - within 3 hours' drive of Paris, and start populating these second homes every weekend as soon as it starts getting hot. This is all possible because the social welfare state is a massive disincentive to work even without the Loi Aubry which gave the French the 35-hour week, and there is no more RTT (Fr:reduction du temps de travaille). Still, employees typically get 20+ days' annual leave a year, compared to the 11 or so days that us Honkies get.

As many Brits discovered before the crisis, property in France were affordable, and a house would cost no more than a bedsit in Bognor Regis. The ownership demographic shifted radically from the 1990s, to the extent that many locals started complaining about being squeezed out by the Brits, thanks also to Ryanair which opened up provincial airports like Rennes.

The holy sabbath is the other reason why the city seemed deserted, of course. Almost everything was closed when we arrived at noon, and getting a toothbrush was a minor logistical headache. There are the traditional Sunday markets, and certain supermarkets in town are allowed to open, to close promptly at noon. Although there is apparently a draft law to liberalise Sunday trading, it's not here to benefit us yet.

Since I was last here, the ticketing system for the RATP (the autonomous Parisian transport system) has changed somewhat. Gone is the fidgety monthly coupon which resides in a plastic sleeve, which you have to take out and put into the turnstile. They have now adopted the Navigo, an electronic pass a bit like our Octopus card system. It was being put in place when I left five years ago, based on the same monthly fee for unlimited travel within certain zones (like in London). I see all the locals using it now, although it hasn't reached anywhere near its potential as e-cash.

One of the typically Utopian projects which the city Paris loves is a system of bicycle renting called Vélib', funded by the taxpayer; many roads have been made narrow by the cycle lanes. The idea is that you can pick up a bike from one station and return it to another, only renting the bicycle for the time you are on the road between stations. It's priced to encourage short hops and is very popular because the first half hour's use is free. When people started putting their own locks on the cycles to "reserve" their bicycles, employees were mandated to cut the locks.

Lounging around

On our way to Paris, we transited in the beer capital of Europe. I was expecting an abundance of beer. I wasn't entirely disappointed, for I there was a bar which served German beer, and a shop which sold all manner of Münchner paraphenalia, including traditional German biersteinen.

A vending machine in the men's toilet sold the hope or fantasy of a mile high experience, or perhaps just a way to while away a few hours in the transit lounge.

"Travel Pussy – die künstliche vagina"

Then there was the "Private Shop" in the transit lounge, a "beauty shop" in the domestic depatures terminal owned by the same chain. Of course, these may or may not give an insight into the Germanic psyche, or they could be just a sign of my failing memory. I was in Munich back in 1996, and I am pretty certain these things would have attracted my attention back then.

Another curiosity I saw, Camel and Winston (R.J. Reynolds) had commissioned 'smoke lounges' at its transit lounge. I had never seen this before, probably because I have not been in Europe for a few years. This may be a sign of a supply side measures to boost the tobacco industry since the widespread banning of smoking. The concept fits in well with my libertarian principles. Although I despise cigarette smoke, there was little odour from the noxious fumes from these hermetically sealed chambers.

Scary typhoon

Tropical cyclones were much scarier when I was a child – feeling the strong winds battering and shaking windows, seeing the unsecurely fixed objects flying through the air in those days. Thanks to regulations and better building, these are almost a thing of the past, and I actually feel a lot safer.

Although Typhoon Molave threatened Hong Kong on 19 July, it wasn't the strong winds or possible physical damage which frightened me. The prospect of having to delay our holidays, on the other hand, was alarming. We had visitors in town in the form of the human swine flu. School has been out since 12 June because of it, and kids have been going wild with cabin fever, so our long anticipated European holiday was much needed on that front.

It was touch and go: Typhoon Molave set on collision course with Hong Kong. The Observatory predicted it would be on top of the city at 2 a.m. Our flight was scheduled for 23:40. We checked in in good time, and it was nail-biting until the moment LH731 took off. I'm glad to be escaping these 30°+ temperatures.