What a weekend. I meant to do some chillaxing, but I did a whole lot of everything else. I will say that two sunrise ferries in one weekend is probably two too many. But, still, a good time was had by all. The highlights*:
Friday, a.k.a. Cheung Chau Friday
My pal Rosa De Acosta and I met at noon in Central and hopped on the Fast Ferry to Cheung Chau Island. That’s right, folks, I made it a 3-island day**. We stopped first for some delicious seafood. Rosi was thrilled (THRILLED!) to see the scallops in the half-shell (Read her version of the day here.).
After our amazing seafood lunch, we walked to the windsurf shop, where we rented a kayak and befriended Irene, the owner. She assured Rosa that the sharks don’t come to Cheung Chau. We’d later learn that it’s probably because the water quality is so poor. But she didn’t seem too fazed about the two of us setting out to circumnavigate the island, telling she thought it would take a few hours. So, we snagged a kayak, zip-loc baggie, extra bottle of water and a couple life vests, and we’re off!
Turns out, Rosa and I are such badasses that we were back in 2.5 hours, “a record!” Irene exclaimed, arms raised, as we stumbled back up the cement ramp between the boat barn and the cafe. Oh, did I not mention that the windsurf shop doubles as a killer party venue? The flyers advertise it as having “more than 180 degrees” open to the harbor. Well, harbour.
While at sea, we saw more schools of little jumping fish than I can recall (I’d estimate I saw these little buggers jump out of the water in front of us at least 20 times. Sometimes a handful, sometimes a barrel-full). We saw a lot of flotsam, avoided close encounters of the ferry kind (Rosi’s biggest fear, even moreso than sharks), sang American camp songs (can somebody remind me how the song about the old lady who swallowed a fly goes? … You know:
“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don’t know why she swallowed the fly. I guess she’ll die.”
Wait, does she swallow a lot of other things first? I guess I could google it. Regardless, it was an amazing time. If you go to the windsurf shop link above you can see a lot of great photos. Or go to Rosa’s blog for more of our (also great) photos.*
After conquering the sea surrounding Cheung Chau, we two wandered around the village. We were refused the right to buy a pink bun, let alone eat one. Rosa was told she was … well, fat. I’ll just say it because it’s not true. The lady running that shop was mistaken. While we waited for the next Fast Ferry back to Central, we saw a beautiful sunset (I didn’t know it at the time, but I would see a beautiful sunrise hours later).
Saturday
You’ll have to wait to read about Saturday. I need to get back to the store in Cheung Chau where they sell those cool little fish bags (not real fish) and retrieve my camera. I’m going to take a red envelope with a reward in it. We’ll see how that goes. Might just end up buying more bags. Don’t tell my niece and nephews.
* More pictures tk. I sort of left my camera in a shop that sells cool fish bags in Cheung Chau. But I had a nice convo with the shopkeeper, so I’m hoping she snagged it and is awaiting my return. That’s planned for today.
** My day took me on the following route: Lantau Island (home) - Hong Kong Island - Cheung Chau Island - Hong Kong - Lantau - Hong Kong
Overheard on the walk from the taxi stand at Central pier to the pier itself (No. 3), a 30-second walk:
“… beer…”
“Beer?” I repeat, toward the source of the initial utterance.
“Beer. You wanna beer?” says the gentleman, walking ahead of his 2 friends and an obviously drunk lady. I call him gentleman to try to be respectful and not call him older guy. Well, there you have it.
“Yeah, of course I want a beer,” I say.
“Ok,” he laughs, “upper deck. In the back.”
I understand and proceed ahead of his group, down the stairs and through the turnstyles. All of 30 seconds has passed since I left the taxi. For the first time in a month I didn’t put my DB ferry pass in the wallet with my other cards, so it took me some time to dig it out of my satchel (I think of my grandmother every time I say the word satchel). I almost used my Octopus card, which is about HK$6 difference in fare.
DB ferry pass found. Proceed. Upper deck. In the back. Beer.
I reach the upper deck, the back part that’s open. I’ve mentioned before that DB Ferry No. 20 is my fave, because it’s open. So it goes. There is only one couple up there already, seated a seat apart. They just met, I think. The seats are damp from the humidity, so I stand there and wait for my beer. Sure enough, after the group of three Indian gals who didn’t heed my warning about the seats being damp plop down into the middle row of seats, here comes my beer man. He bought a bag full of beers. Tall ones, short ones. He said he’d get me a light beer. To him, it turns out, that means a short one. I’m not complaining.
This is how I met FroZone and the Marks. I suppose I would be remiss to not mention Sanda. She sneezed a lot. That’s all I’m saying. I’d seen her before. I’d seen FroZone before, too. Really, that’s all I’m saying.
If I miss the ferry at all, it’ll be because of FroZone and the Marks. And every other chance encounter. The kids who went “surfing” on the roof. The real kids, as in young people, who were so lovely chatting together and dreaming.
So, FroZone has a PhD. He looks just like the guy from The Incredibles. The Marks are pilots for an airline I recommend to everyone. I told them I recommend it. They said thanks for subsidizing their trips to Bali. No sweat. Thanks for the free booze, dudes. I told them I’m a journalist, but they still told me things about airlines that surprised me. I think I could listen to stories about being a pilot for a lot longer than the 23 minutes the ferry is in motion. The Mark who bought the beers said he only gives two weather reports in flight: Fine and passing showers. You want the former. If you hear a pilot report passing showers, you can translate that as “oh shit.” This comes from the mouth of a slightly inebriated pilot. I kid you not. He went on to say–and this is the Mark who bought the beers here–that sometimes pilots are the most frightened persons on the plane.
To quote my darling 2 1/2-year-old niece, “What da HECK?!”
Anyway, that’s about when she started sneezing. FroZone says, “Where is my super suit?!” He was kidding, because he’s not really a super hero. Not tonight. The other Mark tells FroZone he’ll probably have to take his shirt to the cleaners. I agree. We all agree. We’re all joking. But she keeps sneezing.
The Mark who didn’t buy the beers but who did come back to the Kong today from Beijing, where he was unsuccessful at scoring a ticket to the closing ceremony of the Olympics, offered us all rides home in his rented golf cart that he says is valued at US$150,000. One hundred fifty thousand United States of America dollars.
To borrow a phrase from my darling 3-year-old nephew, “KACHOW!”
After Beijing Mark drove his rented golf cart illegally into the plaza to pick up FroZone and the Sneeze, with Sneeze insisting she would wait for a taxi, they took me straight home. Wished me well: “You’re the best, Emily.”
I’ll forever have the image of a slightly inebriated pilot for a highly reputed airline throwin’ back a brewski with one hand on the wheel of his rented golf cart headed up the exit from the plaza.
I’m home safe, Mom.
Hello.
I love the tram. Look how happy I am! Today was a pretty funny day.
It started out with an early ferry ride to Central, where I stopped in my gym. My first choice of DVD, Heroes (season 1, disc 2) was out, so I picked up “Hot Fuzz.” It was cracked. So I went for The Office, and set the timer for 45 minutes. Laughs galore.
After that came the tram. So much Hong Kong for just 25 U.S. cents. Only you have to pay in Hong Kong dollars, so it takes 2 of those. I snagged some new earbuds at the Wan Chai Computer Centre then made my way to the unnamed repair stand, recommended by my boss, who got the recommendation from her predecessor. More laughs ensued when I presented my pickup slip. I did not share in this because I didn’t know what the three people at the stand were laughing about. I still am clueless. I didn’t pay a whole lot for the work, I thought. It’s a nice bag, so they weren’t making fun. They started laughing after reading the slip and again while trying to locate the bag. The man who took my bag yesterday wasn’t there today, so maybe it was some inside joke. Who knows? I’m glad they enjoyed it. I’ll return there.
Next, food. Peter Jeffrey’s favorite dumpling place. This was my third visit to the restaurant with the green tables (I don’t know it’s real name) and the first during off-peak hours. What a treat! The lady preparing dumplings for the next peak time took a liking to me. While I waited for my boiled vegetable dumplings, she let me watch and we talked about how much work she had to do, how good she is at making dumplings, you know, things like that. We didn’t really talk at all. We understood each other. Her co-worker kept her distance. I’m not sure she meant to, but she wore quite a scowl. I’ll never know why. Maybe because the manager kept telling her what to do. She brought me my milk, then a straw. Then she brought me my dumplings, in a bag with chopsticks and a spoon. I bet that had something to do with it. Not the spoon, but the relationship. I tried. I smiled at her. But the lady making dumplings, she was so sweet. I’ll go back and take her photo, with her dumpling mix, her shells, plate with water, glass of milk and tray with lines of not-so-perfectly shaped half-moon dumplings. And her welcoming smile.
I took my take-away, that’s take-out or to-go, next door to the office. In the “office lift lobby,” as it’s called, there was a woman checking herself out in one of the huge windows. She was wearing tight, black capri-length pants, an oversized white T-shirt and a belt over the shirt. She wasn’t happy with how she looked. She turned around, not paying attention to anyone walking by, checked out different angles. Still not satisfied. We were all looking at her. I thought, “There’s a reason the 80s ended.” I laughed to myself. And I had a pretty good laugh.
All in all, it was great.
A4: you are the best younger brother a sister could ask for. I mean that in a funny way, because you are my only younger brother. And I mean that in a sincere way, because you are wonderful. You’re sweet and thoughtful, you’re smart and funny. When you ask me how I am, I know you really want to know. I know you care. I know you’ll be there for me always. I love hearing all about your work, your play, your cool new house. I miss playing Rock Band with you, and I miss your hugs; you open your arms so wide.
I am so proud of you, Anthony. I love you.
Our dear sister once gave me a huge compliment, and I found it hard to believe because I look up to her so much. She told me that I’m smart and mature and doing well for myself. She said she thinks I’m smarter than she was at my age. Well, little bro, I see that in you. We are blessed to have such a loving family of friends. I love that we laugh together and can just be still… together. I love that no one understands why Aaron and I make each other laugh so much and so randomly. I love how much and how passionately Adam loves Purdue sports. I love that Andrew is into quantum physics (you know, as a hobby). I love how Julie is a rock star in her profession and an awesome mom & sister at the same time. Mom would do (and has done) anything for us. Dad can’t help but be the sweetest man in the world. We have a lot, together. We have everything, together.
Happy birthday, A4. You mean so much to me.
Now, this:
This girl is:
A) glad you had a good birthday.
B) happy to be in the Bubbly Tubby at Ocean Park.
C) actually crying.
D) about to get dunked by the boy in yellow.
If you stand on the top deck of a boat and watch Hong Kong get 24 minutes away, it really doesn’t seem so big anymore. The city has started to feel a little bit like it’s my city. I know how to find my way to the escalator from the ferry pier through the Central Escalator Link Alley (known to the less-experienced among us as the hallway where the Filipino ladies sit on Sundays). I know the best place to get on the train to be nearest the closest escalators to exit a5 once I get to Wan Chai. Then, at the end of the night, I know it’s faster to walk to Gloucester Road to get a taxi than it is to catch one at the taxi stand outside my building.
But here in Disco Bay I feel far away from the city I want to call home. I want to wake up and look out over my neighborhood, over all the other people trying to not feel so small. I want to feel the city sleep and wake. I want to show people my neighborhood, to know my neighborhood and care about my neighborhood.
When I step off the DB ferry at about 2:25 a.m. each work-night, I have two choices. My bus, the No. 7, has
morphed into the No. 2378 sometime after midnight, and the ride takes twice as long as I need to walk. To the right from the plaza (that must be the 23 part), first left turn, up a steep hill, 3-point turn at Clearview and reverse course. Pass back by the plaza, pass La Costa, La Vista, take a right to Verdant, Jovial and Haven courts, pass my street, circle through the “No Names,” where someone usually gets off, then back up Capeland Drive to the stop for Cherish and Blossom courts. Did I mention the air con blasting the whole way? I take the bus if I’m tired, or if I had a really tough workout. Otherwise…
The walk starts out following the water, then cuts by the fountain with angels and trumpets, through a playground with bouncey tiles, across a romantic little walkway between some short palm trees that lets out at Kai To pier. Then it’s up a hill, down a hill and up a hill to the left to get to Cherish Court.
Tropical storm Kammuri left Hong Kong a while ago. Here’s what I looked like when she visited:
*I dedicate this post to Danise Alano, who has a lot to look forward to.
“…She’s always gone to long. Anytime she goes away…”
As usual, you can check out photo updates on my flickr page.
And for good reason!
The rain’s comin’ in sideways, upways, downways! The waves are crashing on my little beach. Granted, they’re not big waves. But I see white! (I think we have a song about ocean foam in the U.S.) It took both my flatmate and me to pry the door open. There’s a reason why it sounds like a vacuum out there. It is one!
But the bus and MTR are running normally. So off to work I go. In the words of one great woman I know, “It’ll be an adventure!”
Hoowah.
Update! 10 a.m. Wednesday: Happy T8! Still a tropical storm, but wind speeds of 63 km/h or more are expected. All joking aside, I’m not really sure what to do about going to work. Ferry service is likely already stopped (they keep it going for a little while after T8 is hoisted, but it was hoisted while I slept). I’m guessing the DB buses are in their resting places. Soo… yeah. We shall see.
Tropical Storm Kammuri is on her way to me. According to the Hong Kong Observatory site, she’s just a little south of here, with her outer arms swinging right over me. How about that. We’re still under the T3 (Strong Wind Signal No. 3) warning, which is said to signify winds of 41 to 62 km/h. It sounds like an Indiana thunderstorm sans thunder and rain. Or, similarly, a windy day. Wait, there was a bit of thunder. Or else it was a sky burp. Or a plane. I’ll give you some background and return later to what is happening outside my window.
First things first: During typhoon season, and every other season for that matter, you should have a jar of Nutella in the cupboard, along with a dipping option or two. If all you have is bread, you might pick up something else because bread can turn pretty quick here. It’s so damp. Other snacks are good too. And water. Everyone does the bottle thing here.
(Holly, this next bit’s for you) (more…)
I love this e-magazine Semiuseful. It’s freaking hilarious. Some of the folks in charge are former co-workers of mine at the Indiana Daily Student. If you have three minutes to spare, read this article on muffin tops (”Half-baked hips”) and hit me if you don’t laugh a little. Thanks, Elise!
It was about 2 inches long, white in color, scurrying around in the hallway outside my apartment. I was going to take a picture, but I didn’t want to frighten it. I’m glad I saw that lizard.
That’s all.
