moody meanderings

I went out this afternoon and bought myself a diamond and ruby ring as an early birthday present. And if that's not vain enough, I'm also going to get a pair of matching ear-rings. Not usually one to adorn myself with jewellery, much less buy them, I still can't get over how excessive and impulsive I was today. But I'm not going to ruin what pleasure this bit of frivolous expense is bringing to a dull birthday. It was Susan who introduced me to her Jeweller, Rebecca Shop, at Harbour City. I was just going along with her and Tara. I wasn't going to buy anything but ended up with this and an identical one set with diamonds and sapphires for my mom for Mother's Day. My way to ease that prickly conscience.

Despite the SARS situation, there were quite a number of shoppers in Lane Crawford's original location at Harbour City, taking advantage of their removal sale. Most of them masked. Even the westerners, tourists and residents alike, are masked. I haven't got one yet. They were distributing them at church today but I didn't have enough presence of mind to pick one up myself. I am loathe to wear them knowing that they won't serve any protection if the virus isn't airborne. However, there is no conclusive evidence that the virus isn't trasmitted through the air so maybe I really should take to the mask too. The day I don one of those, I'll certainly post a pic here!

Last Friday, a colleague decided not to get out of his home for fear of contracting the virus. He sent an email to say he would work from home. Though I no longer hold a human resource role, I advised him that his reason for not going in to work was unacceptable by standard HR practice. He decided to take the day off instead. However, I found out later that he changed his mind yet again, perhaps because it would be hard for him to explain his being at the HK Sevens game later that evening which was a more dangerous venue for spreading SARS than the office. Apparently, he'd gone to work on a project at HP, a business partner. The irony of it all was that HP had to quarantine one of its offices that evening because one of its staff had come down sick. So it appeared that what he feared came to pass. Fortunately, he was in a different tower from the affected office. I'd feel terrible if he got sick because of my email.

Didn't go to that party on Thursday. Some friends who were at Redrocks ahead of two of us reported poor response. This SARS thing, now known as "coronaviral pneumonia", has brought this city to a near standstill. Malls are near empty. Restaurants usually packed on Saturdays served only the few patrons brave enough to defy the viral threat that has the city in its grip. Some might apply "foolhardy" to these few. Last Wednesday, only twenty such people showed up at Ing. I suspect the dance floor at Regal won't feel the scrape of many spinning heels tonight. I'm staying home on account of a cold that I've been fighting off for days.

And I've been experiencing Salsa withdrawal all evening. Kept forgetting so many times tonight that I wasn't going to Salsa. I'd catch myself planning out my schedule around Salsa before remembering that I'm not going. And I'll probably be home blowing out the candles on my cake alone instead of spinning and reeling at Ing next week. Wish I was home celebrating it with my twin brother and twin nephews who share the same birthday. Which reminds me I haven't got any presents for the boys yet! With the way things are, maybe their parents would feel less nervous if the presents didn't come from Hong Kong.

I should get to bed now. I don't want to miss morning worship service even if only a handful of worshippers show up.

The ubiquitous mask that has become the latest pre-occupation for seventy percent of the population. Taken last night at the MTR station where I live.

I am planning to attend a movie themed pair-off party with a couple of girl friends tomorrow night. Assuming the party is well attended, I imagine it would be ripe ground for spreading the SARS bug. "Protection" takes on a new dimension.

The invitation said "dress for seduction". I wonder if I would look quite fetching in a surgical mask with a pair of bright sexy puckered lips painted on. Perhaps it would even rival the famous Venetian masks. Didn't they used to have the wildest parties?

The train pulls up just as I am coming down the escalator. I hurry my steps determined not to miss my ride and quickly settle into the only vacant seat on the side of the open train doors. Seated on my right, is a young unsmiling woman in her twenties wearing a green sweater. To my left, a man in his forties is engrossed in the local headlines. I catch sight of the photos on the front page - a group of locals sporting face masks or hands cupped over their mouth and nose. I can't read the headline but I can guess it is yet another SARS scare.

I've brought my cold pasta salad again this morning. Leftover from yesterday's picnic which I meant to have for dinner until someone I hadn't seen in six months showed up at evening worship and invited me to supper after service. I slide my laptop case on the floor between my legs and place the container of salad on my lap. The salad which has come straight out of the refrigerator is cold and as the cold slowly permeates the fabric of my pants, I let out a stifled sneeze. The unsmiling woman jerks her hand protectively to her mouth and nose and casts a disapproving sidelong glance at me. Another sneeze follows and I hold my breath to prevent the expected third. As I reach for my tissue in my purse, reflected in the glass on the other side of the train, I notice the green sweater woman doing the same. She is a mirror reflection of me as I bring the tissue to my nose. Only, she doesn't remove it from her face. She now has on a make-shift surgical mask. I smile at her through the reflection. She doesn't notice.

At Sai Wan Ho station, a couple in matching gray suits and face mask board the train. There are only single seats available so they take the remaining two seats separated by three other commuters. The face masks they are wearing are held along the top and bottom by drawstrings pulled behind their ears, exposing their mouth and nose on either side of the mask and between the nose bridge and cheeks. I chuckle at their futile attempts at virus protection and wonder if the mask is supposed to keep unwanted stuff out or in. As if reading my mind, the woman presses the fabric on either side of her face against her cheeks. Someone at the other end of the carriage lets out a sneeze. Her body reactively jerks away from the sound of the sneeze as she hunches over in her seat, bracing herself for the onslaught of malicious atypical viruses on her immune system.

Two stations later, the seat next to her is vacated and she bobs up and down, forward and back trying to gain the attention of her drowsy partner. She finally gives in to the indignity of hollering his name above three heads. He gets up from his seat and slides into the one next to her, leans against the perspect glass and almost immediately resumes his train nap. While she sits with knees tightly locked, and hands in prayerful embrace. Another sneeze is heard from the same direction as the previous and in a reflex action, her body jerks in the opposite direction as her hand cups her face for added protection. Behind the couple, a young girl walks quickly along the platform with a hand cupped over her face as woman in green steps off the train, make-shift mask still protecting her respiratory tract.

As we pull up to Central Station, man in gray suit launches into a bout of stifled coughing. His partner looks on with concern. He mumbles something to her, brings his hand to his forehead, then gestures for her to do the same. Obediently, she places a free hand on his forehead to determine if he is showing symptoms of the SARS virus. If he showed signs of being ill, would she allow him back to their home, their bed? I cast one last glance at this comic couple as I step off the train onto the platform. At Central Station, the odd person can be seen walking with hand over mouth and nose. I can’t help wondering if they'll heave a sigh of relief when all this is over, pat themselves on their backs and attribute their good health to their vigilance.


On a serious note, here's the latest on SARS in Singapore. The tiny island city has been afflicted with 51 cases, 9 of whom are in serious condition.
In Hong Kong, the disease claimed its eigth victim while several schools have suspended their classes.

1) wake up early
2) brush teeth
3) mop the floor
4) pick up the laundry
5) attend actor's workshop
6) go to Salsa party at Regal

things i did
1) finally put up the drapes purchased six months ago
2) wash the bathroom
3) vacuum the flat
4) drop off some laundry
5) do some laundry
6) hang it out the window the way the locals do
7) dance some Salsa at home
8) make dinner
9) watch Birthday Girl
10) prepare food for tomorrow's picnic

While making reservations with the banquet staff of a hotel in Causeway Bay where I'm having a meeting next week, I asked the woman on the other end of the line for her name so I'd know who to ask for next time I called.
"My name is Boogie."
"Boogie?" I repeat uncertainly, sure that I'd heard her wrongly.
"Yes, Boogie", was her unwavering reply.
Boogie-man? "Boogie...as in 'dancing'?" I ask with a chuckle I wasn't able to stifle.
"errr...yah", she hesitates with an embarrassed giggle.
"Thanks, Boogie." I hang up the phone quickly, unable to hold back my amusement.

It was mean-spirited. I know.

Last Sunday, I picked up a big bowl of pasta salad from the take-out place at the Pacific Place atrium. It contained all the ingredients I love like black olives, sundried tomatoes and of course, balsamic vinaigrette. But at HKD55, I figured I'm better making my own. Since then, I've been on a salad binge. Every night that I've been home, I introduce a new twist to the salad. The one from last night is the absolute scrummiest so far. On Al's encouragement, I am noting today's lunchtime recipe for my own benefit as well as for all you salad fans.

mixed vegetable fusili (quantity depends on your appetite)
40g mixed salad greens (mesculun is my preference)
10 large, pitted black olives sliced (ok, ok, I do love my olives)
6 cubes of feta cheese (the ones that come in a jar soaked in oil with olives are great)
6 cherry tomatoes
1/8 roast chicken diced
1 tsp black olives pesto sauce
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar (or to taste)
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil to taste
salt to taste (I use a pre-packaged salt grinder with sea salt, lavendar and some other funky ingredients)
dried mushroom (also one of those grinders with dried mushroom)

I don't think there's a need to explain how it is put together. Remember to toss the fusili in some olive oil after it's done so they don't stick when cool. Bon appetito!

The meetup in Hong Kong finally happened last night. The past three or four other attempts at a meetup got cancelled because of the poor response. Last night's was the first I've known to garner five positive responses (the minimum for a meetup to be confirmed) but alas, the fifth didn't show up afterall. I was the lone female amongst three very socially and politically clued-in men who were quite happy to discuss the absurdities of the war in Iraq, the absurd and vapid TVB Pearl news correspondent in Kuwait, to the inappropriate and politically incorrect extravagance of a certain politician in Hong Kong who blamed his misconduct on his love for his wife. I did not feel very clever amongst such broad minds. My horizon does not extend beyond the tiny confines of work, friends, family and Salsa. In fact, I felt very much like the proverbial blond without the benefit of peroxide dye nor drop-dead good looks. My only take on the war in Iraq is that I oppose bloodshed however well justified one might make it appear. None of the battle-smeared soldiers ever made up policies nor decisions which seem to make the slaughter of lives the best or only solution. *sigh*. I concluded the evening (hurrying off to Salsa) by handing out my business cards (yes, how totally lame and un-cool) and chose not to disclose my url because my pages are just full of inane utterances, banalities and inconsequential ramblings.

I do however, have to recommend Phil's blog (http://www.flyingchair.net) and especially his entry of March 15 which paints so vividly the reason Hong Kong is so famous for its night life. I can't say I have had any first hand experience half as exciting as his (nor do I regret the loss) but I've heard enough second-hand accounts to know his night out in Hong Kong is quite representative of many expatriate males night out. I have just one request: Do not click the above link. Type it directly into a new window or copy and paste. I don't particularly want my link to be discovered through site stats.


I just got news from two mutually exclusive friends who were planning business trips to Hong Kong, one this Friday and another next weekend, that their trips have been cancelled. I suppose in light of the SARS threat and the new war in Iraq underway, air travel is not advisable. Suddenly I have too much time to myself!

We've had fine summer type weather this past weekend. Temperature soared to the twenties. A pleasant change from the low to mid-teens of last week and a ten degree difference too! Unfortunately, this balmy weather is not to last. Tomorrow, the temperature takes a dip to the teens again. Grrrr...

And the panic surrounding the "atypical pneumonia" and resulting deaths continues. I'm just eager for the congestion in my bronchi to be cleared completely. The doctor I saw on Friday said with unexplained confidence, "You don't have atypical pneumonia," which didn't exactly inspire the confidence one would expect. His prognosis was based on my response to his question, "Do you have any problems sleeping at night?". Seems he was satisfied that I was not up all night clutching my chest and gasping for air. Quack!

Concerned friends and family have been urging me to rest and eat well in light of the pneumonia scare. I think I might have taken their advice to the extreme yesterday when I took a nap that went on for three hours! Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn't going to be evening worship service yesterday, I got home from lunch and jumped straight under the covers expecting to take an hour's nap before getting to my pile of laundry. I couldn't rouse myself from the drugged state until a phone call broke the spell twenty minutes before I was meant to be out the door to meet a friend for some Salsa practice. I can't say I felt more rested for it. If anything, I felt even more lethargic! But I have to admit I feel the positive effects of the nap today despite a poor night's rest.

Salsa caliente! A breathless moment with my dance-god.

I went to see the doctor today for the gurgling-clicking congestion in my chest. I'd been meaning to go have it checked out all week but never made the time. This is why I made the time this morning.

Ing was ghostly quiet last night. I think there were no more than thirty people at the club, about one fourth the usual turnout. Most of the good dancers were visibly absent. As were the more average ones whom I usually dance with. I was bemoaning the dismal numbers until it occured to me that I had no reason not to ask the instructors to dance. My usual inhibition that the instructors would probably rather dance with the good dancers than to waste their time on me didn't apply last night. So for the first time since I began my Salsa frenzy, I had five dances with the instructors. The evening ended on a high note with dance-god Ricci who had me spinning, arching over backwards, doing leaps, half-splits and double dips that left me so intoxicated, I could barely walk in a straight line off the dance floor!

I leaned casually back against the bar, elbows propped on the counter. Flanking me on either side were Matthew and Bob. Married Matthew, I learned, has a little girl he adores, and another child on the way. But his infatuation never faded a shade in the four months I've known him. If anything, it has deepened. Bob, stage manager from hell, in his mid to late forties, is recently separated or divorced from his wife who left him for another woman. Must be hard on a man's ego and masculinity. Both men had an arm wrapped possessively around my waist. There was a playful camradarie in their banter as they each sized up the other's stake in the territory, uncertain what relationship either had claim to.

In the bar, there was discussion about moving from Grappas to Curve, a gay bar at Elgin street where the cast party was being held. A young Hong Kong chap walked up to our little party by the bar, addressing the men only, "Are you heading on to Curve?"

Bob and Matthew exchanged playful glances and with a glint in his eye, Matthew replied, "We have our curve right here" and Bob added with an appreciative arch of the eyebrow, "Yes, we have all the curve we need here", as his hand ran suggestively up and back down my side, coming to rest on my hip.
The young man's face twisted with disgust as he retorted, "I'm gay remember? It doesn't turn me on!" and abruptly turned on his heel. Classic.

There's fluid in my lungs or trachia. Not a pretty thought, I know. I sound like I'm breathing underwater or something. I don't know how it got there but I've had it since Friday and it is most uncomfortable. The weather doesn't help either. It was thirteen degrees today. I don't have a radiator. Who buys one so close to Spring anyway? Why didn't I have one to start with? I figured the winters tend to be quite mild here (based on my experience the previous year) and so didn't bother with the expense. I was wrong. Brrr....

I had a dream last night which might have been induced by my "underwater breathing". I was making my way to the theatre for a show I had written the script for, a kind of "Moulin Rouge". And as I walked down the street towards the bungalow where the theatre was housed, there came a huge wave from behind me which swept me off my feet. There was a dolphin struggling against the currents that was sweeping it towards the gate. The flood turned off at the street corner where the bungalow was and I got off at the gate and walked the rest of the way up to the theatre. I stepped into the theatre and found the audience in PJs (Sandra Dee style), sitting up in beds! Instead of actors on stage, a low-grade movie was being screened to the script I'd written. No one paid any attention to the show.

I hate being sick when the temperature has taken a nose dive. It was in the twenties just a week ago when all I had on was a tank top. Today, it is in the low to mid teens and I can't keep warm enough even with a cardigan and coat. I have no motivation to step out of the flat to get food, nor am I motivated enough to cook. Don't want to get my hands wet from doing the dishes.

It is also impossible to get out of bed in this cold weather especially with a body fatigued and drained from fighting with a tenacious virus. This morning, I didn't manage to get out of bed for church until after ten when I was supposed to be at church!

And that's the highlight of my life this weekend.

I'm feeling quite bummed that the show is over. Tuesday and Thursday nights are quiet again. The closing show was so well-attended, there were even people willing to pay for standing "seats". They were literally standing at the back of the theatre throughout the show. Sadly, all the people whom I regard as my close friends in Hong Kong didn't attend any of the shows.

My throat is on fire and I've been running a high fever all night until now. The fever just broke a half hour ago and I finally managed to get out of bed. I thought my skull was going to split from all that throbbing pain. I think that was part of the fever induced delirium too. It sounds crazy, I'm sure, but I'm actually thinking of doing the show tonight even though my body feels like jello now.

I've lost my voice. I can't believe how quickly this bug has taken me. It's never happened so quickly before and I am at a loss now what to do. I so desperately want to do the last two shows, especially closing night tomorrow but it is looking like I'll have to lip sync if I'm to be on stage, or croak! Of course, it doesn't make one jot of difference whether I make the last two shows or not as I'm only one of many voices and bodies. Still, this is my first show ever and I'm mad that I've gone and ruined the experience by being careless about my health. My eyes are burning but I have no tears to cry. The fever has dried up my tear ducts. Very frustrating.

This weekend has been exhilarating, exhausting, frustrating, uplifting all at once. We had a really good show this evening except for a tricky finish to the opening number. The energy level was high despite some injuries and illnesses. One of the principals has an injured knee which makes her dance number challenging for her. Another cast member wrenched her ankle during the Dream scene. While I've caught a bug and am desperately fighting off a throat infection which is threatening to rob me of my voice. Everyone is so thoughtful and concerned, it made it impossible for my spirit to be dampened despite a rising temperature.

Time to rest. But first, check out the latest photos [here's the right link to all the albums]. There's also an album for the HK Salsa Congress which I've been remiss about posting until now.

I'm completely knackered from doing two shows today. We're more than half way through and I can't help feeling a touch of melancholy just thinking that we're halfway over with the party. Speaking of which, we've had an after-show party every night which probably explains the exhaustion!

Pics of rehearsals and parties as promised, are here.