My new neighborhood also has a McDonald’s, a French delicatessen, Thai restaurant, fresh vegetable stand, wet market, three grocery stores (in a two-block span of my street), and I’m a block away from Hollywood Road Park. Not bad, eh?
Also in March…a trip to one of the last remaining maker of hand-made wooden chopping blocks! Kevin and I walked there after my Sunday morning soccer match. Here’s some proof!
A 35-kilometer hike in the Vietnam heat can be harder than a 100-kilometer hike in the Hong Kong cold.
Take good care of your mother. She’s important.
Since I last wrote in August, I’ve had a few adventures. Shed some tears. Laughed with my whole belly. Made friends. Conquered challenges. Here are just a few shots of recent adventures. More soon, possibly…
Kids on the beach in Amed, Bali
I spent the good part of a week scootering around Bali, Indonesia in August. I spent three days in the SamaSama guesthouse in Amed, on the northeast side of the island. Then three days in Ubud. Think rice terraces, monkey forest, mountain biking. It was excellent. According to Indonesia immigration, I spent eight days, but it was literally less than seven. That cost me US$25, which was more than I paid for two nights in Sanya’s House in Ubud. Can’t complain.
The kids in the photo above were hawking their wares (necklaces, kites, good-luck boxes) and playing with the ball in the photo when I got home from an outing one day. I asked if they’d like to play Frisbee then fetched mine. We had a blast. Then I bought them Cokes and Fantas and suddenly there were twice as many kids, and they were all so thirsty. And, they figured, if I had enough money to buy them drinks, I surely had enough money to buy their trinkets. Lesson learned. I bought one necklace from the tallest fella in the photo. I don’t remember any of their names, but I remember the one standing at my right introduced himself as Barack Obama. Nice. I had a blast hanging out with them as the day wound down, sitting on the black sand beach outside my hotel.
Have banana, will climb.
After Amed I got a ride to Ubud, which was about 100 times more commercialized and civilization-like. And very cool. Have I mentioned the amazing food in Bali?
My trip after Bali was to Danang, Vietnam. This was supposed to be part of a three-day 100-kilometer adventure race through villages and remote areas near the border with Laos. However, a typhoon wiped out many of the bridges and roads and damaged villages where we were supposed to go. So we ended up in and around Danang. It was hot, and I don’t do well in the heat. But the race was great training for the one-day, 100-kilometer Oxfam Trailwalker I was signed up to do Nov. 20-21. That deserves it’s own post.
Here’s Danang:
I ran across those bridges pictured way below.
Here’s me finishing day 2 of the race. I decided to sit out day 3. My aching joints got a well-deserved rest.
It was so hot out there!!!
After Vietnam, I had a quick trip home to surprise Dad for his 60th birthday party. It was great — all six siblings were there, too, plus Mom and Non! A quick trip, but a great trip. On our way back to Hong Kong, Mom and I stopped in San Francisco to catch up with Annemarie (aka my very best friend) and the always-awesome Marilyn and Deb. Of course, I don’t think any of us took pictures (again).
That brings me to today, roughly. Yes, I’ve purposefully left out mention of the fishbone incident.
Yesterday Kevin took Mom and I on a tour of Macau. (flickr set begins here) Now I’ll be able to show people around there too (hint, hint, Anthony). We ate. Boy, did we eat. That really is ideal, to plan a daytrip around food. It helps when the food is fantastic.
I’m the nicest person in Hong Kong, he said. Then he qualified, necessarily: I’m the nicest person one can hope to meet in a week in Hong Kong. It started with a beer and ended in Times Square.
A healthy contingent of America’s finest arrived in the waters off the Kong two or three Saturdays ago. They checked into hotels and started the routine. At first the curiosity and excitement of new places is motivation enough to see more than whatever bar is still open after the one you’re in closes. There are sights, there’s local life. Every city is different, but only for so long. After 10, 20 stops it had long ago started to weigh on them. The routine changed. Maybe it was gradual. Maybe it was a snap decision: The flip of a coin. However long it took, the S.O.P. rewrote itself to focus on drinking while awake.
I come into this picture by following my own S.O.P. Late nights at work, followed by generally quiet walks home. I change the route often, either following the water to the east to start or heading south before turning east. I always share my walk home. I wonder where they’re coming from, where they’ve been. I chuckle that I should pay attention to their shoes. None of them have ever talked to me before, and I’ve never talked to them.
This Tuesday in November I accepted an offer of a beer at a bar near my office. The Bridge is open 24 hours, and I’ve never found it empty. Sometime in the course of two beers (I bought a round too), this gentleman said he found Hong Kong quite boring. I wouldn’t let that thought leave the island. I love Hong Kong. But if all you see are the late-night bars, of course it seems devoid of character and the same as every other city’s late-late scene. So I offered a daytime tour the next day to correct his point of view. He seemed interested, and we left off agreeing that he’d call if he wakes up, and I’d answer if I wanted to answer.
Mike called at 0845. I answered and made my way to meet him on Kowloon side, a 20-minute taxi ride from my apartment. Then I took him on a smashing tour of the Kong. First, the Star Ferry: a must-see for every HK visitor. We made our way to the little-used viewing platform in IFC 2. The office of the Hong Kong Monetary Authority has a fairly foreboding security presence. Visitors must present ID and obtain a pass. But from there, the friendly staff guides you to the 55th floor where you have a great view of the Kong. Then we walked via elevated walkways and escalators to Soho, where we stopped in one of the usual weekend haunts for me and my pals, Divino’s. We rode a tram, another of Hong Kong’s wonderful and unique means of public transportation. He showered me with compliments. I pinged him with questions. We talked about how similar our lives are right now. We both feel that life is, at least in part, on hold. But our adventures will forever be part of whatever future life is in store for each of us. We ate egg tarts. We walked through an open-air market, a great park in the middle of huge banking towers, a cathedral. He said he was amazed at it all. He said his friends probably were still in their hotel rooms.
For a few hours, I gave back to someone whose contributions to freedom leave me forever grateful. No, by himself Mike isn’t keeping me safe or free. But he is part of something greater. We are all part of something greater. It’s only when two lives intertwine and affect each other that once-blinding differences fade to reveal how small we all are, and how important we all are. Connections are our lifeblood. Knowing my connections around the world are out there looking after things … that helps me sleep at night.
Mike and I stood in Times Square and took it all in. People streamed past, left and right, walking fast, walking slow, walking the way only Hong Kongers do. They kept going, but we parted ways. I think I’ll remember that Tuesday in November for a long, long time…
The other day while walking to work in broad daylight via the Sun Hung Kai Centre and China Resources Building, I found myself contemplating my self-defense skills. I wasn’t feeling particularly threatened. The man walking in front of me started holding his hand out to passers-by as if asking for spare change. I don’t think he said anything to them. My first thought was, “that’s a silly way to bum a dollar. Who carries a coin in his hand while walking just in case an oncoming pedestrian has his hand out?” That brought me to the conclusion that this guy must be at least slightly off. And I was carrying a cake.
Meanwhile, I am jamming to Motorpsycho. Jamming.
Then the guy stops, steps to the side of the walkway and turns so he’s facing perpendicular to the lines of people passing by. I pass. I think I hear him make a strange noise but dismiss it as just some old slightly off dude making a strange noise. “That’s Hong Kong,” I say to myself. I say that almost daily. But there’s something to this encounter that brings me to thoughts of self-defense. It was the strange noise, sort of a moan or audible gawk. It was the slightly eery feeling of his eyes following me. It was not knowing whether he stepped back into the flow of pedestrian traffic to follow behind me after I passed. He didn’t put his hand out toward me, and I pretended not to notice.
“What would I do?” I asked myself. First, I’d drop this cake. Wait, I wonder if I could throw the cake up, spin around, and sweep the feet fast enough to spin around and catch the cake as it drops back down. I’d have to toss it up pretty high. And it’s a heavy cake! Anna baked it for MinJung’s party. A delicious cake. I don’t want it to fall to the ground, likely busting the cake transporter and ruining a delicious cake. And there’s the issue of my bag. I love this bag. My sister gave it to me. I’m also carrying two bottles of citron tea that MinJung left at my place. So the bag has some weight to it, too. Then I start thinking about my footwork. By this time, the old slightly off guy has probably asked 20 more people for money and forgot I ever passed, but I’m still thinking about the best way to take him out.
He’d probably tap my shoulder or grab my right arm with his right hand. He asked for money with his left, but that was only because people were passing on that side. Odds are, his right hand is dominant. So if he’s grabbing my right arm, I would spin clockwise, stepping back with my right foot, hopefully creating a little space between us with a push from my right hand. So, I switch the cake to the left hand. Hell, I gotta drop the thing. If I throw it in the air, it’s sure to drop on my head. Dropping from a lower height reduces the risk of a broken carrying case. Yes. After turning around, right foot first, pushing him backward a bit with my elbow or my hand depending on how far away he is. That’s when I sweep the feet. Scrawny guy, he might fall from this. Worst case, he’s a kung fu master and we fight to the death. Best case, it takes him down to one knee and he puts his hands up as if to say, “holy shit, lady. I surrender. Hey, can I have some cake?”
On an entirely different subject, I met the cutest kid last week. My pal Dan Reimold was visiting from Singapore where he acts as local hot shot. We hopped the Star Ferry to Kowloon side and wandered into the HK Cultural Centre while waiting for our junk boat cruise. Here’s Ken:
I love this child. And he loves me. I can still hear his adorable voice, smiling, “Good-bye, Emily…”
New friends Ken and Em pose with Ken's art displayed in the Hong Kong Cultural Centre.
I’m not sure if it was before or after the Ken encounter that Dan and I crashed “someone else’s wedding.”
Dan and Em pose with a wedding party outside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre one lovely November afternoon.
And while I’m at it, I might as well show you where I learned my kung fu.
Bruce Lee and Em ready for battle at The Peak. Watch out!
Picture this: I’m in Hong Kong. It’s about 70 degrees. Sort of sunny. Comfortable. A slight breeze from time to time.
Got that? Nearly perfect, right?
Would you believe that at the same time, Hong Kong’s Central Library is packed? Packed, I say. Young and old gathering and devouring information of all sorts. The most extensive nondigital periodical selection I’ve seen in one place. That is, real newspapers and magazines not on the Internet. English-language books including novels, neuroscience and Classical Civilization. (I was tempted to list Norway as the third item in that series, as it’s always fun to alliterate. Alas, I give a shout out to a couple of my history-buff brothers. Unlike Derek Zoolander, I’m talking about my real brothers.) The library was an adventure in escalation. A real gem. There’s a kids’ zone, cafe and book stacks accessible by elevator just like old IU. I can’t wait to return tomorrow with my proof of residence to claim my very own library card.
Victoria Park, with Central Library in the background:
After the magical library tour a la Carlos y Nora, we walked through Victoria Park. Located in Causeway Bay, it’s one of Hong Kong’s oldest parks, Nora said. Or perhaps she said it’s Hong Kong Island’s biggest park. Either way, it’s great. Fields for playing football (that’s soccer), tennis courts, swimming pools, a roller derby rink (yes, roller derby), swings, fountains, lawn bowling, lawn big enough for kickball (duly noted, Carlos?), remote-control-boat pool, chill outdoor terrace bar, jogging track, y mas awesomeness. I shall return early and often. Best part? It’s 5 minutes’ walk from my building in Wan Chai.
Stay tuned for updates on my soon-to-be-started kickball league. Or maybe ultimate Frisbee.
Look! I’m transitioning into a different topic.
Last night, I’ll have you know, I threw my first Hong Kong party. In honor of MinJung’s surviving her first year in Hong Kong, we celebrated in truly international style. The guest list represented four continents. If you count wine as a guest, and I sometimes do, that takes our continent count to five. Hello, Africa. But wait, there’s more: Homemade chocolate cake. I was happy to give Anna a reason to bake, let me tell you. She said she used a whole can of cocoa. I applaud her effort and hereby issue a standing invitation to all future parties for anyone who bakes. Or brings Belgian beer. Or bread. I have such swell friends. And I’m easy to please. All this and we didn’t even hit Club Morrison, the 3rd floor hangout spot in my building.
I now know enough aboutDr. Sun Yat Sen’s history as it relates to Taiwan to sound knowledgeable should the topic come up at a cocktail party or during a game of Diplomacy (or a real-life diplomatic meeting, for that matter). This is thanks to a friendly English-speaking tour guide in Sun Yat-Sin Memorial Hall in Taipei. That Grace was such a sweetheart. After my traveling-partner Anna and I watched the changing of the guard, dear Grace approached us and offered her assistance. She was a splendid guide and presented us with gifts after we completed surveys. And Grace was not the only local to offer to help make our trip a memorable one (in a good way).
Themes of a weekend spent in Taiwan: Hospitality, gifts, fun, funny.
The hotel gave us beers and “fairy tale” face masks. After we visited the National Palace Museum, our cabbie took us to his friend’s tea house before dropping us off at the famous Din Tai Fung dumpling joint. The detour, free-of-charge, was both unexpected and wonderful. I sampled the best tea I’ve had in my 26.5 years on Earth. Anna and I learned the following, thanks to Lin the cabbie:
Mainland tea - “not too good, not too bad, so-so.” Or, in Mandarin, “mamahuhu.” I don’t know how correct that is, but Lin sure got a hoot out of us repeating him. He also had some fun things to say in his comparison of Americans and Japanese. I’m glad to be the former, at least for the purposes of that cab ride.
Yes, eventually we wound up at Din Tai Fung and I ate the best dumplings in the world. I don’t need to eat another dumpling to prove it. There simply is no way a ball of filling and soup steamed in a perfectly shapen noodle can taste any better than it did the two times we were there.
Other highlights of the trip: break dancers in Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall; pork pepper buns at the Shilin Night Market; watching the cat-and-mouse game between cops and night-market vendors; lovely lattes at the SPOT Film House; never making it to another tea house (it wasn’t in our destiny); signs that made me LOL (pictures tk); damper babies in Taipei 101; Monster Ice; a highly interactive Wooly Mammoth Exhibition; pigs in the street…
I was going to title this post “In case the world ends today,” but that doesn’t really make sense. If we’re all dead, no one will read this. At least not unless the Internet archive is preserved in the black hole and some extra-terrestrial being discovers it and learns that Emily, of the Eating Healthy With Emily blog, loves her family and friends and wishes them well in whatever’s up next.
Oh, and I’d like to pass along my favorite joke to said extra-terrestrial being:
Where does a king keep his armies?
(See comments section for answer. If comments section was dessimated in black hole created by Large Hadron Collider, sorry. Figure it out for yourself.)
Yesterday, that’s Tuesday, I conducted a test of the Hong Kong medical-care system. Outpatient only. I’ll tell you now, in two words, it passed. Now I’ll tell you, in more words, why. Then I’ll leave it up to you to compare with the medical-care system wherever you may be. This is a survey based on only one hospital and one ear, nose and throat specialist. First, the hospital.
Adventist Hospital, No. 40 Stubbs Road, is easily accessible via taxi from Central pier. It’s situated on a mountain near the building that Bruce Stanley described to me as looking like a wafer. Its wafer-like qualities are obvious: A thin building that looks like it could snap when presented with a strong wind or chance Godzilla encounter. The hospital, meanwhile, is more sturdy. If I’d looked closer, I might’ve seen that it is nestled into the mountain. But I didn’t look closely. I just walked in. So maybe it’s a wafer too. The ladies behind the information desk helpfully pointed me to the outpatient clinic, for which I saw the signs upon entering the lobby but doubted a trip to the outpatient clinic could be so easy. Note, also, that I made an appointment at this outpatient clinic, with a Dr. Maria Wong, about an hour prior to hopping in the taxi that would take me up the mountain.
“Second window on the left, past the cashier.” Thank you.
I produce my insurance card and Hong Kong ID, agree to fill out one page of registration information and then wait in Area 1. There isn’t anyone else waiting in my area, or in Areas 2-4, which reside in a curved hallway past the water dispenser that doesn’t have hot water, “for the safety of the children.”
I was 20 minutes early for my 3 p.m. appointment, so I figured I had at least 30 minutes to kill. So I dial my pal Dan in Singapore to reschedule our 2:30 conversation. How kind of him to agree. My calling from a hospital seems to stir in him a tinge of worry. I’m fine. My throat is swollen. It’s a nice hospital, I say. Next call, to a colleague to obtain directions to the ENT specialist he recommended. Sounds easy enough. I know exactly where Pedder Street meets Queens Road Central. I’ll take a taxi.
Ah, nurse Tina is ready for me. She’s the nicest lady. Sympathetic, encouraging. She even ordered me to take one week’s holiday. Why isn’t she a doctor? She compliments me on my blood pressure. I guess my temperature was ok. She didn’t say otherwise. A few minutes later, I’m talking to Dr. Maria Wong. I have to keep reminding people that my throat is just swollen, not sore. This is about the sixth occurrence in three years. Antibiotics. Get more rest. I warn Dr. Maria Wong that my throat really doesn’t look so great. It took her less than a second’s examination to agree. She then proceeded to fill out the reference sheet required by my insurance. I have tonsillitis. “Go to bed before midnight.”
I smile and nod. I leave work at 1:45 a.m.
A stop at the cashier on the way out (remember, I passed it on the way in?) was so easy that I doubted they’d really processed my visit. My insurance had been billed. Thank you, byebye.
The ENT visit wasn’t as fun as the hospital, but it was still “good-plus.” Again, it took the doctor (Dr. Lap Ching Wong, specialist in Otorhinolarynology) less than a second to agree with me that there is something wrong with my throat. Tonsillitis. Got it. If it happens again, we both agree, we’ll turn those puppies into medical waste.
Monday morning I woke bright and early for a couple reasons. First, it turns out my bedroom faces east, and the morning sun is quite hot even with the A/C on all night. And because I’m without curtains at this point, it’s also pretty freaking bright. Second, I decided to go on a walking tour of the Kowloon markets with a colleague. He found the tour through Walk Hong Kong, and it was worth the $$…
Flower Market in Kowloon
While we were walking through the Flower Market, I decided I want an apartment above it. How sweet would it be to go downstairs every day and see such beauty? Mom, you’ll like the 4-foot-tall orchids. (Sweet!)
We also saw all sorts of birds in the Yuen Po Street Bird Market. They sang beautifully, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them for being in cages and not in the sky.
Next, it was off to Tin Hau Temple, a tribute to the godess of the sea. Roger the tour guide said the temple used to look out over the sea. Not anymore. There are several blocks of reclaimed land now scattered with high rises and residential towers.
There were coils of burning incense hanging from the ceiling. These coils burn for 10 days. I got a little artsy. Watch out!
