moody meanderings

Japanese white-eye


Olive-backed sunbird

I just remembered a conversation I overheard on the bus yesterday. A woman seated somewhere behind me was talking very loudly on the phone, seemingly undisturbed by the loud and jarring grinding of the straining old engine. Above the din, I was able to make out, "Oh yes, I was planning to go but then my second one was ill, so...." and the rest was lost to the shifting of gears. For some reason, this snatch of dialogue annoyed me immensely. Does a woman have to give up her life when she becomes a mother? Does her life revolve only around her children?

This made me think back to a conversation I had just had with my old friend, Benny, just a few days ago. Somehow, we got on to the subject of "settling down" and he seemed completely astounded to learn that I harboured aspirations to be married with a family some day. He seemed to think (without actually saying so) that I did not have it in me to be a mother. Would I really be willing to settle into a mundane routine foregoing all other leisure activities I love, like Salsa and travel? A heated debate ensued where I insisted that a woman's life and passions did not have to be thrown out the window when children arrived. I suppose it riled me to hear that telephone conversation because her statement seemed to support his view that a woman's life and priorities did indeed, revolve around her kids. Maybe motherhood isn't for me, after all.

My first outdoor excursion of the year.

I was on the noon-day ferry to Mui Wo. It was a late start because I was undecided about where to go. After browsing the internet and reading about a little nondescript bit of field between Mui Wo and Pui-O, I decided I was headed for Lantau Island. I packed my camera, snacks and enough water for the afternoon but was too late for the eleven o'clock ferry. It would have been a slow ferry and wouldn't have gained me much time anyway, I consoled myself.

The ferry ride took half an hour and within minutes, I was on a bus service 7 on the way to Pui-O. By this time, I had changed my mind and was aiming for an easy hiking trail starting from Nam Shan barbecue site rounding Butterfly Hill and back to Mui Wo with a short detour to a waterfall. But I missed the stop and resigned myself to a lazy afternoon on Pui-O beach. And then I saw it. The buffalo field I'd read about earlier in the day and the promised Cattle Egrets. I jumped off at the next stop and made my way to the field.


Less than a hundred paces from where I sat journalling, three adult buffalos and a calf grazed lazily. The hot afternoon air rang with a variety of birdsong -- from the tuneful Red-whiskered Bulbuls, to the gregarious Starlings, to the shy, high-pitched cheep of the Buff-bellied Pipit (I looked the last two up in my bird book). Later, a lone wagtail joined in with its distinctive song which always makes me think it's laughing.


I spent most of the afternoon engrossed in photographing the herd and the egrets. So intent was I on getting a good shot that as I swung around to capture this shot of an egret in flight, I lost my footing and sank one foot, ankle-deep in a murky puddle. Yuck!


The buffalos grew accustomed to my presence and grazed so close that I was able to walk among them to get a closer shot of the birds.


Lunch was a modest picnic of thawed-out bread, cheese, corn and canned olives washed down with water in the shade of a shrub by a gurgling rivulet.

On the hike back to Mui Wo, I trekked down a steep path leading to Nam Shan campsite in the hope of finding the path to the waterfall. No luck there but I was surprised by the size of the campsite. Built on the face of the hill, the site was made up of three levels with at least 15 large plots. It would have been a nice place for my next camping adventure if not for the rumbling of traffic nearby.

The old village path leading back to Mui Wo took me through the village of Lau Tei Tong where a couple of Black-crowned herons and a Little Egret in grey morph were fishing in a wide drainage canal. The egret on its longer legs had better luck than the herons. I watched them until the light began to fade before making the final trek back to the pier. It was dark by the time I was on the ferry home. I was hungry and exhausted and pleased with my collection of photos.

The air erupted in a thunderous symphony of sounds as all along Nathan Road, drivers heralded the new year with loud cheers from their horns. The noise was deafening with the deep bass of buses competing with the shrill treble tones of taxis. And then broke out a soloist, a melodic horn from a disembodied eighteen wheeler, reminding me for a split second of the crazy musical horns of India. I could hardly contain my excitement as I waved to passing vehicles, and shouted into the street, "Goodbye 2005, you wretched year!". A KMB bus driver grinned back at me as he waved his good wishes. A driver from one of the eighteen wheelers from the opposite side of the road waved out of his window, too. There was so much good will all around. The air was electric. Strangely though, the noisy celebration didn't quite reach the pedestrians. On the sidewalk, it was everyday Hong Kong in motion. A stream of unsmiling faces stared momentarily out into the madness on the roads before returning their attention to the concrete pavement or their friends.

M and I had decided only that very afternoon to watch "King Kong" even though the third row corner seats were the best we could get. The movie ended just minutes before midnight and we had only just reached the Nathan Road sidewalk when the road came alive. He was tired and miserable from a sore throat and assignment deadlines hanging over his head, but even he rallied and waved his arms to passing traffic. It was a simple celebration but in those few moments, I felt renewed hope rise within me. Bring it on, 2006!