Hong Kong

Everlasting Birthday

A 2 day, 2 country birthday

I awoke today in Sai Kung, to sunlight and a view of mountains, boats, trees and sea.  And a whole king sized bed, to myself.  No roomies.  No wondering if it was too early to jump out of bed, no getting dressed in bed before emerging into darkness.  What a great start to my day.  And then I cooked on a hob for the first time in a month and made scrambled eggs on toast.  Such luxury and the perfect start a day that could only get better.  A rendez vous at HK airport at 2.30pm to greet Martin from the UK.

Martin (aka Mr P and Wookiee) started his day, his birthday on the 11th December, in Stratford upon Avon, with Tom and Lisa and little Phoebe, but once he boarded the plane to Hong Kong he immediately lost 8 hours of his special day.   So we made up for it here in Hong Kong, and opened all our Christmas cards together, and he his birthday cards and presents.  There were some fabulous cards, But the very best card has to be this one of grand daughter Phoebe.

I may not have found my Mother, who would be 98, but it delights and beguiles me that she lives on a little in darling Phoebe.

Hong Kong

Don’t it always seem to go

you don’t know what you’ve got

Til it’s gone……..

Toni, the female Cathay pilot, who’s renting me and Mr P our little apartment messaged me to say it was ready.  Early.  I’d been working to a 2pm check in, could’ve zipped over, been there hours ago.  Am I, did I?

No.  2.05pm and I’m blogging.  Finding just a little hard to say Goodbye.  I make my last lunch, rice and spinach and sweet potato.  I talk to the newest roomie Ciara, from Northern Ireland.  A teacher, SENCO (Special educational needs co-ordinator), free spirit.  38, about to move to Oz permanently and awaiting visa.  Whilst waiting, quit job to travel.  Climbing bits of Everest (as you do), a month in China, here a night before heading to Vietnam, sorting out her travels on the fly.  And that’s the thing I’m going to miss.  Being part of, by proxy, the travelling tribe.  So many stories and adventures.  Inspirational, and hopeful.  That so many of us want to cross borders, find out how others live, be part of their lives, inhabit their spaces rather than close down borders and stay with what we know and who we know.  Yes, probably the start of contentious conversations, too philosophical for me who should be hitting the road.  (By the way, I’m so out of the loop, what is happening with Brexit, should I bother to come home?)

My very out dated iphone SE, doesn’t take very good pictures.  Which is sad because I want to show you in detail the best bits of the hostel.  The attention to detail that makes it special, my little home of the last month.  Yup, I know I bitched and moaned about it, but it was and still is for the next 10 minutes my home.  Before I came here I was trying to wean self off phone, the screen time reports made hairy reading.  But I wish I had a better camera and have had to fight hard not to succumb to the wonderful Huawei P20 Pro, with 3, yes 3 Leica cameras.  EVERYONE here seems to be permanently glued to large and latest models phones.  This I don’t like.  And I’m not sure with a super duper upgrade, I’d have the willpower not to join this permanently on the phone tribe.  Happened to need to be in McDonalds yesterday – don’t ask!.  Row upon row of people, all staring at their screens, fake grass separating them, eating plastic food from plastic containers, some in little booths with upside down fake grass.  All dressed in black, navy and grey, unlike Ciara this morning in the brightest neon pink, blue, yellow and purple Nepalese silk trousers.  I felt sad for them, sad for the world we are making.  And only a hop skip and a jump away from Ciara climbing Everest and me visiting the refugee huts my Mother fled to from China.  

How does that Joni Mitchell song end….?

You take paradise

and put up a parking lot  (McDonalds?) 

A few snaps of hostel life. Not in any particular order. I’d like to rearrange the pictures so it doesn’t feature the ovens, but I’m WordPress inept.