moody meanderings

It was still drizzling when I woke up yesterday morning. But by ten, the sky had cleared and the day looked promising. We decided to meet a half hour later at the Mc D's in Central where I'd planned to pick up a rain-jacket from the marketplace down the street. Even though we had blue skies and white fluffy clouds, I chose the path of prudence, having checked the Hong Kong Observatory website before leaving home.

We arrived at DB at around noon and got as far as three hundred metres away from the pier when it began to pour as we set foot on the trail. We stepped off the path and took shelter under a tree to pull on our rain-jackets (thank goodness!) before making our way back to the pier. Our shorts and shoes were drenched by the time we reached shelter. Half an hour or forty-five minutes later, pouring rain gave way to a light drizzle and we made our soggy way back to the path. It wasn't long before it started to bucket again but it was too late to turn back so we trudged along, intent on the Trappist Monastry where we could take shelter.

Marking the way up to the monastry are crucifixes fastened onto trees, depicting scenes of Christ's Passion. It is The Way of the Cross for Good Friday. We entered the chapel by way of a bridge that overlooks a gushing river. It's probable the river is calmer when it hasn't been pouring for days. A group of about twelve monks, half facing the other on the opposite side of the chapel, were chanting something in Cantonese. It was very hot and humid in the chapel with only one fan at the back of the chapel turned on. The monks in their all white or white and brown robes looked bored and restless. One elderly monk was fidgety and kept casting glances at Tara and I. The three devotees on the pews looked sad and burdened with their heads hanging between their shoulders.

The path from the monastry to the pagoda at the top of the trail was the most challenging. It was steep and slippery with fallen wet leaves. It was also punctuated with huge piles of cow/buffalo dung. I'm told this trail is awfully scenic but I didn't notice much of it with my eyes glued to the path. As we approached the peak, a blanket of fog rolled in so that the pagoda appeared to be floating on a cloud and nothing else existed beyond the pagoda. The fog rolled quickly as the wind gusted around us, driving the rain through the pagoda. On the final ascent to the pagoda, I noticed the trail of dung ended. I figured the beasts couldn't climb the steep steps. I was wrong. On one side of the pagoda was a neat pile perched precariously near the edge of the hill. There was also trace evidence of a job done previously on one of the two marble seats! Talk about being toilet trained. Apparently the steep steps didn't deter them from getting to the summit but it did prevent them from pooping along the way. The hike down was a bit more arduous as it put a strain on my bad knee and calf muscles. Halfway through our descent, in a lush clearing, grazed the culprit herd of more than ten beasts.

It was half past four by the time we arrived at Mui Wo. We stopped to watch a fisherman hauling in his net in the shallows and some others squatting with a pail, digging for clams. We then made our way to the Turkish restaurant M had told us about in the main village by the bus terminus and there, we tucked into the juiciest chicken shish kebab ever. Needless to say, we were famished from our hike and wolfed down everything quickly. After our early dinner, we got on the next ferry back to Central and arranged to meet up for Salsa later that night after we'd had a hot shower and nap. A nap turned into deep slumber as I fell asleep waiting for Tara to call.

This card was left at my gate when I got home today. I dutifully called the Fire Service Department expecting to be asked about the obstructing item but instead received a well-rehearsed warning of further action to be taken should the carton belong to me and was not immediately disposed of or removed to my apartment. He didn't care to ask if it was my rubbish at all, (it wasn't), only to issue a standard warning. Why they asked for a return call is beyond me.

Imagine falling asleep, tucked under soft, thick sheets, lying in absolute silence except for the occasional mournful call of a loon on the mirror lake. Then, waking up at dawn to birdsong and the sound of water gently lapping against smooth rock just outside your log cabin, while the first rays of sunshine, reflected off the rippling waters, stream through a curtain of trees to make playful shapes of liquid gold on your cabin wall. That is the magic of Stony Lake. A magic I will carry with me forever. We kayaked, canoed, swam, fished, camped on one of many uninhabited islands, cooked M's freshly-caught fish over an open fire I made, ate under a canopy of stars, square-danced, participated in a sing-along session, picked raspberries, visited Porthope (M's hometown), and visited with an old friend and her husband who were absolutely fabulous, taking a day off to show us Niagara and Toronto that first weekend! M's parents were simply wonderful, too. Such joyful, warm and generous people with a passion for life. We laughed until our mouths ached whenever we were together. We hugged and kissed as if we'd known each other longer than the brief ten days I was there. I'm as much in love with his parents as I am with M! Haha! On Stony Lake, I fell in love a hundred times.

How quickly time flies. It was exactly a week ago when we returned from Stony Lake, and made our way back to our respective homes and offices. For some reason, today felt special. As we walked through the park near his home early this morning (something we'd only done once before), we were in very high spirits, taking in every blossom and creature in the park and every new tree planted with joy. I felt very alive like I rarely feel so early in the morning. Perhaps it was a residue from Stony Lake. Back there, I was up by six and about by half past. I couldn't bear to let too many minutes of a beautiful day be wasted on sleep. Here, with jetlag still a long way from wearing out, I find myself very wakeful by three-thirty and restless by five or six. This morning, jetlag, compounded by dripping noise from upstairs air-cons had us out of bed at first, at four to complain to the security guards about the dripping air-cons, and again at six as neither of us could sleep another wink. We decided to take advantage of our wakefulness and the first clear day in a week to go for a walk. It felt really good, especially as I've been sick all weekend. That's another story.

As my best friend, Tara, is planning to leave HK before the end of the year, possibly for good, and another dear friend leaves today for a two-week holiday to St Petersburg to "meet the parents", I decided to invite them both over for dinner on Friday. That afternoon, M and I stopped at Park n Shop to pick up some steaks and chicken to put on a new grill I got courtesy of HSCB's credit card gift redemption program. We were careful to pick steaks that hadn't turned gray but when we opened them at home, one of the cuts was turning gray where the price label concealed. I cut out the gray parts and since the remaining piece was quite small, I kept it for myself. Aside from the grill bursting into flames several times from improper use of the grill (neither of us read the instruction which said to fill the lower tray with water when grilling foods that drip), and a slow-cooking chicken leg, dinner was a success. Until two-thirty the next morning, that is, when I awoke to sharp pangs in my stomach. I drifted between sleep and wakefulness, punctuated with stabbing pains in my belly for three hours. By five-thirty, I was writhing in pain and finally woke M up with my near sobs. He stayed up and nursed me until ten when we made our way laboriously, to the doctor's office where I was treated for food poisoning. (The doctor suggested that I consider giving up cooking altogether.) The rest of Saturday, he watched over me as I drifted in and out of sleep. On Sunday, we made our belated way back to his place, stopping first at Yau Ma Tei to pick up a new two-person tent for our next camping adventure and spending the rest of the afternoon at home. Despite the mishap, it was a restful and pampered weekend. For me, that is.

Yesterday was probably the most humid day of the year. Out at sea, the haze that shrouded the city became a thick, opaque mist which made safe navigation nearly impossible. As our regional team headed out towards Mui Wo for our half yearly review meeting, visibility was 20-50 metres, at best. Sometimes, it was pretty much down to zero visibility, too. I couldn't take any photos those times but when the mist lifted (or thinnned) in some sections, what my lens captured was pretty alarming. Like this near collision between a freighter and a passenger ferry.

M is on his way to Toronto. Yet another couple of lonely nights for me before I join him on our Canadian adventure. I'm thrilled! His family owns a cottage on the lake in the Kawarthas. There'll be kayaking and swimming in the lakes, walks in the woods, fishing, camping, excursions to the numerous falls, including the Niagara, visits to Indian reserves and pioneer villages, and much, much more. I'm so excited I think I'm going to burst! Someone at church observed that something must be happening in my life because I was getting more and more beautiful! Something indeed! I'm soooo excited that I'm just about packed and ready to go already. Just a couple more presents for the folks and my friends and I'm done. Woohoo!

Meeting the folks...I'm not sure how significant such an occasion is in Canadian culture so I'm not raising my hopes that the other "happy event" will be following anytime soon. But the fact that he's so excited for me to meet his folks means a lot all the same.

Back to packing...