Mix and match

Game and fun and Hong Kong taxis were both photos I took while ambling around the Mid Levels a few days ago, maybe a week ago, when the sun was bright and the skies, most unusually, were blue.  

Later that day I was happily minding my own business in Life Cafe eating a yummy salad, followed by the most fabulous vegan chocolate mousse cake. I started writing and, as it often does, this required me to stare out of the window for extended periods of time. There, staring back at me was the Plaster Sheep - don't you think, he does, in fact, look like a big old woolly highland sheep?

The glass that shattered/perspectives

Maybe Gecko has taken to making supersonic sounds, but whatever it was, something made the glass on the sideboard shatter today.

It was most startling, I have to confess. One minute peace; the next a pop and glass spraying around the room.

I was momentarily nervous, but then noticed how incredibly beautiful shattered glass is, so I spent a few moments taking photos before sweeping up the shards.

Beauty can be found everywhere.

In a definite mood

Fairy lights of all shapes, sizes and colours transformed the roof into a magical wonderland and an equally varied range of wigs transformed the people into their glamorous alter-egos. Vodka jelly cupcakes were received with excitement (mainly by Brits) or with suspicion and confusion. Amusement at watching people try to down them in a sexy, sultry fashion, only to realise that they required a squish and a hard suck to empty the contents - somewhat reminiscent of watching toddlers learn to eat. A decadent and fabulous night.

The strong breeze only added to the fun, last night, blowing up skirts and turning tops into sails, pushing women to the BBQ to heat their backs and buttocks. Today the wind dried the mopped floors, walls and furniture and the newly washed clothing that had ended up damp with melted jelly.

Definitely a good night; definitely a long day of cleaning today (four hours times seven people); definitely a welcome full English breakfast mid afternoon; and definitely looking forward to steak and film night tonight. Sleep will also definitely be welcomed when it arrives.

I am in a definite mood.

Sadness in my heart

My Mama tells me that my dearest aunt is very weak and struggling to recover this time. Her zest for life is strong, but her body is not. I am so glad she managed to see her sister before the volcano spewed its ash.

For myself though, I feel sad. Again, I face uncertainty and I am not sure when there will be clarity on this one, although, I guess there is always only one certain outcome for all of us. The only question is timing.

I refuse to think about it until it happens. You cannot spend your life worrying about your death. Whatever tears exist behind my eyes will not make it into the open until their flow cannot be stemmed. Life is a celebration and where there is life, there is hope.

Walking in the rain in flip flops

I love walking in the rain wearing flip flops. So much.

My feet were dirty and wet when I got home, but warm too. It's been shockingly humid and hot today and the smell of damp air as it cooled before the rain fell was a wonderful thing. The smell of rain strong in the sky so reminded me of Croatia in summer when I was small, just before a storm. The only thing missing was the scent of the damp rosemary bush behind the front door.

It's the small things that make me happy. The small things and one rather larger thing that stands around 5'6".

Back to HK

My mind has been wandering of late to home and ash. Not surprising I suppose, but I am determined to re-root here, just for another month. Perhaps telling you about my weekend might help?

After three breakfasts on Saturday, I set off on a hike with some friends. Monkeys were important, so we headed towards Kowloon reservoir on the MTR and decided en route which track to take. Feeling rather unfit of late I said "I'd prefer short and hard, to long and easy". Fool that I am. We opted for Needle Hill, so named, I thought, because maybe it might be hard to find (of 'needle in a haystack' fame). Turns out it was so named because it looks like a needle i.e. pretty much vertical.

It was a good hike though and very good exercise (still feeling it today). I started off by taking a photo of a cute little baby monkey, who, as I was taking the photo, decided to launch himself off the tree at me - he paused momentarily on a lamppost, giving me enough time to jump away. They learn young - I didn't even have my chocolate out at this point! A little later on, over the reservoir, we stopped for a bread, salami and cheese break. A rather larger monkey scared one of the girls as he came charging for the remainder of the cheese. A good strong stick waved towards him frightened him off enough to retrieve most of the packaging for the bin, while he happily sat eating the plastic wrapper once he was done with the cheese. We ended by learning some Filipino clapping songs which had me in fits of giggles. 

Anyway, hike over, Saturday night was Vietnamese dinner and drinks, while listening to an English guy with a trilby sing maybe Irish-style songs, accompanied by a cheeky wink and no less than three guitarists, two bassists and a drummer.

Sunday was sailing - my first ever. Now this was not cocktail and bikini sailing. No, this was not even a boat in my world. More of a trampoline on sticks. Hobie 16, I think, if this means anything to anyone. Wicked fun, but rather scary as I spent the whole time alternating between laughing and squealing while half blinded by sea spray and clinging on for dear life, swapping sides regularly to help prevent capsize whenever we tacked. The most fun was when we surfed a wave. So smooth and clean. It kind of reminded me a little of snowboarding, which I do miss and am determined to go next year. I loved the sailing, but have no concept of how easy it might be to do it, say, when the wind is gentle and the waves are non-existent. All I can say is, I am glad I had a life-jacket on!

Sailing was followed (oh joy of joys!) by Lemon Meringue Pie in Stanley, mixed in with whitebait and nachos. I know it's an odd combination, but it worked well. Happy weekend, only marginally clouded by the absence of my lovely man, who I am still hoping might be able to visit before I leave...

My brother Stan and hairy planes

My brother Stan heard his first hairy plane in days today, while we were chatting on Skype. Well, he was chatting, I was being a little sister. He did a good job as GF2 (Godfather number two) today. Spectacular in fact. He has a wonderful way of making me feel better using logic and sensibility. Two elements I do not possess when I am in the middle of possession by the emotions.

Anyway, back to the hairy plane. He lives in Holland. If he heard a hairy plane for the first time in days, this means air travel is slowly returning to Northern Europe. I know the volcano is spewing again, but renewed air travel has to be a good sign. It really needs a GF2. The volcano that is. Mine stopped me spewing. Any volunteers for the job? All you have to do is use a bit of your logic and common sense. It'll work miracles, I tell you.

It is bizarre this situation and I can't quite get my head around it. I cannot imagine what it is like for you guys in Europe. Please tell me that food stocks are not yet depleting. I want to know you are all well fed.

Love to all. xx

PS While I'm mentioning him, Stan has a few blogs. There's one on moving to Norway, his progress with fixing up the old family Campervan and loads of information on  and experiences of cycle touring, mainly in Norway.

My brother Mil on attempts to detonate the internet

Well, I think this merits a mention, because I am rather proud of him. The Telegraph, it appears, likes his writing on why paywalls are so pernicious.

If you want the original, go to his site 21st Century Fix.

Volcanic disruptions

My mind has been wandering down random rabbit holes since this whole volcano thing happened. Last time was in 1821 and it went on and off for a year. Imagine now, if we had this on and off for a year. Then, with no air travel, the impact was minimal except one rather cold summer, paintings of beautiful sunsets and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, among other things. Now, the whole world is affected, one way or another.

I think about economic and life impacts, especially for the Icelanders who lived near the volcano, but, as with most people, I am most obsessed with my own little world. My siblings and European friends are enjoying the peace of a world with no metal machines in the skies, which I cannot quite comprehend and can only imagine somewhat poorly. Others are happy that they are still on holiday (extra free annual leave from work), somewhere beautiful, despite the cost impact of hotels for a longer period of time. I am happy for them, truly I am, as I am saddened for people who are experiencing difficulties and are less happy. Ultimately though, I am thinking of me and I wonder if this is a bad way to be.

My boyfriend can't come to visit me until someone offers him a plane to sit on. Going away for three months at a location that was a 12-hour flight away, seemed nothing in terms of distance. Now I have been made suddenly aware of how far away I really am. If all air travel were to be suspended, it would take me 30 days in a container ship to Rotterdam, then boat or train back, I guess. Or if it remained how it is right now, I could fly to Southern Europe, or Spain it would seem, and then come back overland. Suddenly, I am not 12 hours away. Suddenly I am between two days and a month away. This is so much further and I feel upside down on the wrong side of the world from the people I love.

I feel unable to make plans in the future, in case my visitor is able to suddenly come out and see me, all dependent on the whims of the weather, the cloud and the volcano - and, perhaps, the developments of those controlling air travel. I am living day by day, in a world of no plans. It feels free, but it also feels a little out of control. With no illusion of certainty, my world feels unstable and as I type this, I know, my world is no less unstable than it was a week ago. It is just that my illusion has been shattered. So, for me, this is a lesson in reality, acceptance and perspective.

Nevertheless, despite my new found wisdom and zen-like acceptance of reality (cue mild and gentle sarcasm), I plead with you little cloud, try some dispersion. It could be fun. Why don't you give it go?

Things you shouldn't do

The other day we dragged the sofa out onto the balcony and put on the fairy lights and sat there eating English muffins and parma ham, while listening to some music that I never heard before (not unusual for me). The stars were above us and the evening was warm.

The conversation came round to cameras and we compared SLRs. Of course, his is far better than mine and I tried out one of his lenses. I was amazed. It was like watching a 3D film - everything that had appeared in just two dimensions before, was suddenly in 3D view and amazingly detailed and beautiful. I was so excited with being able to see the detail all around me, that he fished out his binoculars.

Naturally, of course, we eventually found a semi-naked guy. He was wearing white boxers and at first seemed fairly decent. Soon I realised he could not keep his hand out of his pants. I think he must have had an itchy bottom. Then he hoiked his pants up so it looked like he was wearing sumo pants. I couldn't stop laughing. I wonder if anyone ever has the binoculars out on me. I'm higher up than most, so guessing probably not, but I'd better stop dancing around the flat in the buff, perhaps, just in case.