moody meanderings

Al left for home this afternoon. He seems to have brought the good weather with him. Today has been wet and dreary after five hazy but clear days throughout his stay in HK. In fact, the weather forecast before his arrival had foretold thunderstorm last Saturday. But that changed the night he arrived. Saturday was hazy but perfect, nonetheless, for a traipse along the Lamma island trail. Too bad he didn't leave the good weather behind for us to enjoy.

Since internet became a main staple in my daily diet six years ago, I haven't written a snail mail, not even greeting cards. But my ten year-old niece has brought the charm of letter-writing back for me. Today, I received her third letter in the mail. Here's an exerpt:


...next time could u write 2 me instead because everytime I get your mail I'll have to erase it so...pls could u write instead. I'll be waiting. Love: Leticia (Here's an extra sheet!)

and true to her word is an extra sheet of paw-printed writing paper to give me no reason for not writing. How cute! Made my day indeed.

lunch time at a hawker alley on Stanley Street just under the Mid-levels escalator in the heart of Central. A scene once common in Singapore twenty years ago. Now all is sanitised and flat. This is just one of the things I love (*gasp* did I say "love"???) about Hong Kong - the variety and contrast of old and new, and the mingling of east and west.

I worked in Cheung Kong Centre for half a year but never noticed how pretty its reflection was against the Bank of China Tower.


another Mirror Project effort. This was taken at Movenpick Marche atop the Peak Tower. Melbourne Plaza strobes green in the background.

Sunrise at Shek-O beach, south east of Hong Kong island

the first appearance of the sun. we thought we'd missed it completely so it was awesome to catch it peeking from behind the mountain island.


and a minute later at 6:39am.




I was perched on a boulder, determined to capture an ocean spray while good Al was warning me of the rising tide.

Lamma island


su kho wan village on Lamma island fronted by a stretch of seafood restaurants, popular with locals and tourists alike. Click for a larger view.


a breathtaking view along the trail between su kho wan village and yung shue wan village. click for a larger view.


there are several shallow caves on Lamma island. This one is actually named "Kamikaze cave". The others appear to be nameless but they might just as well be called public toilets as some people have apparently used them that way.

We have no email again! Since the acquisition, we haven't gotten round to solving the email migration problem. It shouldn't even be a problem. Yet it is. Al arrives this evening. I hope it doesn't suddenly decide to kick in right before I leave for the day. And then there'll be a flood of email and I'm on vacation this weekend! A lot of frayed nerves here. Not good.

J is leaving for Bali tomorrow. Makes me very uncomfortable. Though it isn't my place to dissuade him from going, I did try. I hate this feeling of dread and helplessness. I can't do a damn thing if anything were to happen to him and I wish I didn't care so I wouldn't feel so unsettled in the belly. Or is that just my dinner churning...

Temperature has dropped. Quite nice now. Maybe a touch chilly. Guess Fall has finally decided to make its entrance. Actually, it is just the cold front from the north east monsoon, I'm sure. If last year's weather pattern was anything to go by, Fall won't arrive until the end of November or early December. And winter will be too mild for wool coats. Too bad. I like dressing up for winter in smart overcoats and scarves. I'm rambling. I know.

If so, you'll want to read and support the efforts of a group of American Peace Activists in Iraq who are gathering in the city of Baghdad to make a strong statement for peace to their own government. A government hell-bent on a war they deem to be justified. Why? Because they can.

Thanks to my namesake for forwarding an impassioned article by Ramzi Kysia, a Muslim American journalist in Baghdad. I would advise using your own discretion when reading the article and website. I have neither verified the authenticity of the site nor of the journalists involved.

This evening, as I hobbled to salsa class from having my toes stepped on and crushed by a fellow MTR commuter who didn't bother to stop to check if I was okay, I was sure that all I wanted to do tonight was to gripe about it here. But after the lesson with Ricky and Amy, I just have to talk about the crush I have on my oh-so-hot instructor! He's just chopped off his ponytail and looks so cute and boyish now. *swoon*. Made paying attention in class that much more challenging. Looks absolutely, deliciously divine. The only problem is that I tend to stay the hell clear away from someone I have a crush on so I didn't get my share of turns with him as I should have.

And speaking of delicious, I was out with TT on Saturday and while he was paying for lunch with his back to me, I was drooling at his scrummy behind! It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself! rrrrr...

Can someone please tell me what is so holy about any war? And why do the perpertrators of terrorism claim their right to causing senseless deaths on religious grounds? What god encourages killing others for his own pleasure? Why would the Creator of all things instigate his followers to destroy his creation? And why would anyone worship such a god if so? As far as I know, neither Islam nor, Christianity, nor Judaism promote deliberate death and destruction. In fact, these three religions evolved from the same roots in Judaism. So, since we worship the same god, how can followers of each faith claim to be causing terror in the name of God Almighty? What man who loves his god would go against the precepts of its faith? And what utter madness is this that world leaders keep calling for war and bloodshed? How about some tolerance and grace for a change? I'm ranting because of a documentary I watched last night about the war in Chechnya. Freedom fighters were Islamic militants fighting a Jihad. Again.

This morning, I woke up to a need to talk to someone. You know the feeling? A feeling of unexplained sadness and a need to connect with someone not to talk about the sadness as much (since you can't pinpoint the source of it) but just to feel the comfort of the kind and gentle words of a friend. The person I really wanted to speak to was out of the question. And I'm not sure I would have been comforted speaking to him since in some ways he was a contributing factor to my current mood swing. So on my way to church this morning, I decided to give T a wake-up call to see how he was doing. The phone rang for a really long time and I was just about to hang up when a woman's sleepy voice came on. Then I hung up. I don't know why but I was crushed. Perhaps it was the reality of being replaced hitting home. I'd been so busy playing brave and supportive friend in his newfound love that I never really allowed myself to give in to the anger and pain beyond the first couple of days when it first happened. Suddenly I don't feel so brave and supportive anymore. Perhaps more vulnerable than when I started out this morning.

And still on the subject of vulnerability, the contractor came by again this evening to fix the tiles in the bathroom. He had earlier replaced the tiles that had to be ruined when fixing the pipes with white ones. My bathroom tiles are cream. My landlady made him remove the new white tiles. Anyway, I was alerted to his arrival when I heard the rattling of my door latch catching. I assumed it was my landlady trying the door as she has my spare keys. But when I opened the door, only the contractor stood in the hallway. The guy had tried to open my door without announcing his arrival! I let him in thinking my landlady was close behind. She wasn't. He closed the gate behind him (I had left it open before), followed by the door which he locked. I was gripped with terror especially since he arrived with a can of beer in hand. God knows how many he'd had before that. I ran straight for the door, throwing it wide open and did the same with the gate while mumbling incoherently something about not needing to close the door, and then immediately rang for my landlady to hurry. Hey, I was in a panic. I wasn't really thinking enough to realise a seventy year old lady wasn't going to protect me from a strapping young contractor if his intentions were ill. There I was feeling intimidated in my own flat with a disgruntled contractor who had had a few drinks and what did I do? I put on some music hoping it would distract him from any bad thoughts he might have. DUH!

At Oliver's Super Sandwiches, I try to order a hot baked potato topped with Teriyakki chicken. The young man behind the counter cuts my order short and hurries away with an armful of freshly-made sandwiches. He doesn't return immediately from the other end of the counter. In the meantime, a young woman takes his place behind the baked potato counter. I wait patiently for her to take my order but she acts like she can't see me. She busies herself, picking this or that up from the counter and walks away in the direction where the other staff went. By now, the other end of the counter is crowded with staff just loitering about while the baked potato counter is completely unattended. I finally catch the young man's attention and he walks slowly over as if begrudging the disturbance. He takes my order, picks up the potato, removes the foil it was baked in and cuts it open to receive the filling. All this he does with bare hands! "Excuse me, I don't want that potato you've been touching. Can you please get me a new one and leave the foil on." He looks at me but doesn't seem to understand. "You've touched it with your hands now. I don't want it" I repeat. "You don't want this?" he asks in disbelief, pointing to the potato he's been handling. He walks away again, and pulls out a pair of disposable gloves he should have worn from the start and takes his time to put them on before sauntering back over to pick up a new potato. Yet another example of Hong Kong's questionable service culture.

That's me. Totally. Now that I'm less busy compared to the last couple of crazy weeks, my thoughts start wandering off to him. He stalks my waking moments, showing up in my thoughts unbidden. The most mundane objects and activities can set my mind off. I could be deeply engrossed in a task and as I look up a moment, I catch sight of the phone and my concentration is lost to fighting off the urge to call him. This is what caffeine addiction must feel like. Until I give in to the urge, my hand continues to involuntarily reach for the phone.

Tonight, I was invited to a Ballroom and Latin Dance show at the Elizabeth Stadium. The performance was awesome with some spectacular acrobatics from a South African couple who performed a contemporary dance that was neither Ballroom nor Latin. Towards the end of the first number titled "Pearl Harbour", his fly broke free and he only noticed it as he was throwing his navy uniform costume back on and quickly brought it down to the gaping hole. After a quick bow with his hand and shirt awkwardly and strategically positioned, he ran off the dance floor in utter embarrassment, leaving his partner on the dance floor confused at his sudden exit. Another couple from Argentina could perform only one dance - Tango Argentine. Their performance was lacklustre but you can tell that Tango is a Hong Kong favourite from the appreciative applause and whoops they received despite.

Of course the Tango numbers brought on a mental distraction once more. To our first "date" which was at a Tango class. We were clumsy but we were a perfect dance couple. And when he laughed, his eyes danced too. He raised my hand and I twirled obediently. It was surreal. I laughed and I remember the laughter as wind chimes. I twirled once more and he caught me in a sweetheart hold and held on a moment longer before spinning me back out and then back in to a dip. And as his hand caught my neck, he caressed it, tangling his fingers in my hair. It was surreal and now I'm convinced it was just a dream.

If you scrutinise your site stats like I do, you may have been amused and maybe annoyed by the keyword searches that have led some people to your pages. Well, Sarah addresses this in her current post which just made me fall off my chair with my sides splitting.

Yesterday, a year ago, I landed in Hong Kong. I thought it would be a milestone for me but the anniversary came and went unmarked. I survived 365 days away from friends, family and all things familiar for the first time in my life but my only pre-occupation was work and my sister. She's decided not to take any action for now. I guess it is the fear of uncovering the unknown that keeps her from doing the laproscopy. I remember having a gastroscopy done years ago but never kept the follow-up appointment because I really didn't want to know what was wrong with me. But my sister has chosen to wait out a couple of months in prayer for the tumour to flush itself out or miraculously dissolve into nothingness. I believe in miracles but I'm also a skeptic. Is that possible? Well, I join her in prayer for a miracle all the same and invite you to join me whether you call on Jesus, Allah, Mother Mary, Yahweh, or...

Three independent medical experts have detected a growth in my eldest sister's reproductive organs. The first medical expert identified it as a fibroid in the uterus, the second was uncertain of its nature and the third has pinpointed its location outside the uterus. She will now have to undergo a laproscopy to remove the growth so it can be tested to determine if it is malignant. If so (and please pray that it isn't), her entire womb and fallopian tubes will be removed on Friday! She is naturally upset as the procedure only guarantees one thing: her inability to ever bear a child. My sister has very little possession or desires in her starkly minimalist life and lifestyle. She never finished her education and has not been employed for the most part of her life. Her forty something years have revolved around caring for my brother and I as kids, my parents and then caring for my sisters' kids. She's never really had a life of her own. Any possibility of that happening was unlikely as she devoted herself to the care of my mother and my sisters' kids. But with surgery, what was unlikely would suddenly become plain impossible. It is most unfair.

As I consider the reality of my sister's plight, my mind wanders into a self-absorbed panic. My sister is only ten years older than I am. What if this happens to me before I meet my soulmate? Before we start our own family? Should I start making plans to have a child now with any willing male specimen? (note: the sperm bank is not an option for me) How does a single female in her thirties go about enticing a man to part with several million wriggly things in order to create life? I'm suddenly reminded of a song that once sent shockwaves down my spine when I finally understood its lyrics - "All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You" by Heart. Any donors? *sigh*

I could barely get out of bed this morning. I think my body decided to give in to the flu bug because it figured I had time to rest and recover since I'd gone to bed earlier last night. Also woke up with an incredibly stiff neck so I look like I'm wearing an invisible neck brace. And on the plane, all four of us ended up squeezed together in middle seats as the plane from Shanghai to Hong Kong was chocabloc with passengers who apparently checked in hours before the flight while we checked in an hour and half before (which is a lot earlier than our usual). And on the way from the airport express station in Central, Bob and I shared a cab back but as his was the first stop, it was up to me to pick up the tab (and claim it later). What I'd completely forgotten was that I only had two HK dollars left in my wallet for a HKD106 fare. Thankfully, Benny who lives two blocks away from me was home this quiet Saturday afternoon. When we got to my flat, the place was a right mess from the renovation that was going on to replace all the rusty pipes. There was no way I was gonna get any rest in my flat. I took Benny up on his offer to spend the rest of the afternoon at his place until it came time for him to meet his girlfriend for dinner. He offered me Clarinase so now I can breathe again and my head doesn't feel like it's about to explode from snort attack. Back in my messy flat, we finally get it cleaned by offering one of the workers some extra money if she'd clean the place properly. I offered her the dinner I'd bought for myself while the landlady and I went out to dinner. An hour and a half later, the place is a bit cleaner. We offer her HKD200 which is a lot for just over an hour's work but she insists on three! I finally get to use my shower and discover that the shower head holder has been modified so that it no longer holds anything! It is just a protrusion from the wall serving absolutely no purpose at all. Now my hair is dry and it's time to sleep. And then it's Taipei after church. Things can only get better.

I can tolerate being stood up if the it was a result of some unforeseen, uncontrollable circumstance. But when someone's made elaborate plans with me and when it comes time for us to meet, casually responds as a by-the-by that she's made alternate plans because her friend rang a little while ago and was now waiting for her at the hotel lobby but [enjoy] the evening anyway, that just throws all feelings of camradarie fostered earlier in the day out the window. Grrrr...

Ok, now that I've simmered and seethed a little, I'm trying to look at the positive outcome of having been stood up so here it is. I've been ill for a whole month now since September 6 and though I've had a couple of days of recovery in between, the bug never really left my body. Well, it's been aggravated with this very aggressive travel schedule I've been on where I'm in a different [city] each day and I find myself having to check my schedule to remind myself which city I'm in. Add to that the pollution that characterises Beijing, and the coal smoke that has the city in its grip, and the chain smokers that make up our guest list in the small confines of the hotel meeting room, and only a few hours of sleep each night and you have one hell of a sick dog. C'est moi. So if you're wondering where the silver lining is in this ramble, here it comes...I get to sleep tonight and hopefully in doing so, nurse myself back to health. Not quite silver but sometimes you just got to take the silver plated with the sterling.

Took the the Asia Pacific tour on the road today, kicking off in Singapore. Session went well with some very positive feedback from the attendees. That's a relief. Nothing more to say. I'm dog-tired. In KL tonight. Tomorrow, bright and early, it's more of the same.

I've never really regarded myself as a cutie. Mainly because I've always considered "cute" = "shallow" and I don't want to think myself shallow. But lately, I've found myself having to reconsider my interpretation of "cute" because I get that a lot. Maybe I could come to terms with "cute". What does "cute" mean to you?

And how shallow am I with this ramble anyway? Hah! I'm such a cutie afterall.

I'm one of those very rare individuals who doesn't need coffee in the morning. Having not tasted that dark liquid until quite late in life, I never acquired a dependence nor a fancy for it. But whenever I do drink it now, watch out! I get such a serious buzz it isn't funny! I talk faster than my lips can articulate. I am extremely jumpy and yelp at the slightest start. I type really fast (that's a good thing) but the tremor in my limbs means I'm hitting a bunch of other keys than the ones intended (and that's a bad thing). So here I am, more than twelve hours later but still feeling the effects of the cuppucino. buzzzzzzzzzz...

And I'm also experiencing a version of hangover without the headache. Just a lot of jitters and guilt.

While searching for change for my takeout lunch this afternoon, I was reminded of a kindness shown to me by a taxi driver two nights ago. When it came time to pay my fare, I realised I only had a HKD500 bill for a HKD36 fare. I rummaged for all the coins I had but came up short. The driver kindly accepted with a smile what I could dig up as his fare. My faith in mankind is renewed once more.

I'm so dog tired I don't know night from day anymore. It's after midnight but I'm not yet ready for bed. There's still work to be done. And when morning comes, I'm practically dragging myself out of bed. This morning, I actually jumped back in and tucked myself under the covers after using the bathroom!!! But I was re-visited by flashes of the dream that I'd nearly forgotten. Brutal murders and prison duty with the psychopath. I can't remember much of the details now, but it got me out of bed at last. And this evening, while riding the train home from the office at 11:15, I had a nagging feeling I'd forgotten something. And I was gripped with guilt when it suddenly dawned on me that I had stood up my brother-in-law's 75-year-old father whom I was supposed to meet at 8pm to buy my brother's Compact Flash cards! But it was too late to call him by then. I'll have to remember to call and meet him tomorrow instead.

Oh! I've been plugged. Thanks, James!

I best be getting back to boring budgets.

I was blogsurfing and came to this site with some really amazing photos. This one [sorry. link doesn't work but you'll see it on his site] made me hungry for fruit loops. So off I went to grab the forgotten near-empty box of breakfast. It had gone flat but I thought what the heck. I should photograph it before I eat it too.

My nightscape photo for the mirror project, and...


...my very own Personals ad. Actually, the hand-painted mirror was a going-away present from T a year ago. I took the shot for the mirror project but decided it was kinda tacky to post this on a very public site. Well, we all could use a reminder sometimes.