You Look Like You Need a Free HK Holiday!

I was busy snubbing my blog because I've neglected myself when I stumbled upon Rye's blog.  Summer break is over but I didn't have a proper R and R so Rye's contest might be the only chance I have to a first class pampering this year.

But I know you're as knackered as I am so why don't we roll our dice at it and see who's luckier?

Point and click your mouse here: Rye's Hong Kong Holiday Contest, read his entry and follow the rules.  You owe me dinner and drinks if you win.


Quick Question of the day: (In honor of the contest,) Who let the dogs out? 

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350: Time Warp

"God, if you're there, here's how I want to go: a heart attack, a tragic car accident, or while I'm sleeping.  None of those long-term cancers that take you to an agony trip for six months before your time is up.  I want it fast and quick," I said to the ceiling because we all assume God is somewhere up there.  And then I looked at Courteney on the sofa, laughing.  "You're weird," she said.

We rehearsed Time Warp tonight.  The number is confusingly fast!  I was trying my best to keep up but sometimes the split-second you take to think of the next step can get you behind.  Time warping abilities would come in handy.
   

It's a jump to the left for slow-motion!

The last few days, I have met some wonderful people.  The chorus alone was a wealth of colorful personalities and in tonight's practice, I finally warmed up a little bit to some of them.  It might be a while before I get chatty with most of them but the introductions will do for now.  There's an Adam, a Matthew, a Caitlin, an Amber and a Jay.  Rye and Jason made me feel right at home of course even when Van missed the rehearsal.   

And a step to the right to fast forward.

After rehearsal, I met up with Van at Derek's so he can introduce me to a friend.  Courteney, is a twenty-year-old dark blonde beauty who refused to be Adele's doppelganger.  Understandable because Adele's fat and Courteney is hot!  (Forgiven?) The three of us were enjoying apple juice and I was inhaling the first gust of second-hand smoke when we discussed death.   

Bring your knees in tight to rewind.

Photo by Van Tengga.  Timepieces pieces time.

Then I remembered something that has bothered me some weeks ago when I was tagged in some college photos.  I found out that I can't remember the last years of my teenage life very clearly.  I shared this with my two bored apple-juice-drinking friends.  They could not be bothered of course but it was quite alarming for me.  Is it normal for a 32 year-old to start forgetting his teenage years?  Or was it because I have been conked out most of the time during my late teens?  

It's the pelvic thrust that drives you insane and drives you back to the present time.

Van and Courteney were kind enough to walk me down from mid-levels to Lan Kwai Fong.  I had thirty minutes to spare before the last bus leaves.  I thought I'd see if I can get lucky in Central.  Let's just say that the last line of Time Warp's chorus can drive you insane indeed.  Next rehearsal, I'm ready to do the Time Warp again.

Quick Question of the day: If you can go to any point in time, when would it be?

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357: Done With Charity?

I can say that I'm a fairly positive person.  I am easily contented and maybe not for my own good.  I rarely get cynical.  But after our trip to Aberdeen, just allow me this one time when I say, I'm done with charity.  I am aware that I put a question mark at the end of my title.  (If you're my future employer, I'm not that cruel).

Aberdeen seems to hold the record for the most junk donated to charity in my book.  It's the third time that I was part of the hauling team tasked to head to Aberdeen and get some items that have been "donated" by "generous" people.  Notice the cynicism slyly expressed with the mere use of quotation marks.

A year ago, we hauled a ginormous TV.  There was also one time when we went there to clear out a whole office space, including their file folders!  Back then it dawned on me that these "donations" were clearly disguises for the more blatant free haul.  Normally, a lease would state that an apartment or office space should be cleared out first before being vacated.  And it's just too expensive to hire a clearing team.  So what does one do to save?  Donate it to charity, as long as the beneficiary is willing to pick up the donation.

So my organization has fallen victim to this for several times.  That's why when the boss called us to pick up a "donation", I wasn't too thrilled.  When he mentioned it was in Aberdeen, I got the joke.

Apparently, the items this time are too hard to pass on.  A "generous" businessman is going to transfer to a new home and he won't be needing the five new air con units that he has in his apartment.  If I'm breaking my lower-back for this, one A/C should end up in my room.

We got to Aberdeen around 6:30 PM, the sun still high and beaming across the ironically hilly Deep Water Bay Drive.  Into the elevator, I had a split-second to look at an A4 size ad which was posted right across the lifts before the doors slid close.  The ad:  For Sale: 5 Air Con Units, rarely used.  Are you with me on this when I say I'm a bit cynical now?

You know it's Ocean Park when you see a dragon tattooed on a mountain.

Apartment 13B in less than 30 seconds.  With only A and B on each floor, you can imagine how ridiculously excessive the apartment was.  The maid's quarters was bigger than my "new" room, and they had their own bathroom!  But what would've sealed the deal for any prospect buyer would be the view because 13B offered 180 degrees of spectacular.  Serene at the balcony on the left with mostly greens, a bit busy on the right with a view of the highway, and, probably the best one, the middle where the lower half of Ocean Park is doing a full frontal.  Glendale Quarters sits like a palace on a hill, magnificent at the same time inaccessible.  I wondered how the electrician will get home after he's done removing the ACs.

Looking at the view, I got to thinking.  I can do this or maybe something close to this.  I'm done being contented.  I'm done with compromise.  I'm done with contracts having to justify my relatively low salary as "part of my charity work".  I can use some selfish in my life even if it means I'll have to starve myself to get to my 13B.

We finished loading the van with all the ACs plus a circa 90s TV and an even ancient VHS Player (I know, right? That's what I've been telling you the whole time, donation my ass).  Just when we were about to leave, the electrician got off the lift and said goodbye to us.  It was dark and public transportation did not exist there so we offered him a ride.  And I'm done with charity.  Hence the question mark on the title.

Quick Question of the day: Do you think real charity exists or are charitable people taking advantage of the less privileged?

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359: Trash or Treasure?

In the process of moving, I had to discard loads of things.  Room 217 was practically half stockroom so I found myself clearing most of it.  The room that we're moving into is also a storage room so imagine the frustration of moving and getting settled in when you still have a lot of things to put out.

Piles of old clothes and toys and kitchenware were thrown into bags.  We thought it was impossible but we emptied the room after two hours.  It could have been faster if we didn't look into those bags.  Early on I already told my housemates that we should not even open the bags and boxes and just throw them out.  But there's always that curious part in us that wants to know whether there could be something useful.

I am not interested in fabric so everytime we open a box full of folded cloth I'd yell out "trash!" but my female housemate would say keep it.  I'm partial to toys so they always get saved.  In the end we only managed to throw half of the things that we have all agreed to dispose.

The stuff that eventually made it to the rubbish stack outside the house were not exactly the kind of trash that comes out of your kitchen so we decided to move them to the refuse area outside the compound.  There, an old woman waited excitedly for our arrival.

The Refuse Site (circled) outside our compound on the right.

The little old lady had the softest voice I've heard but she was far from weak.  She carried each bag all by herself and she made it look effortless.  Each time we got back to her with more trash, she looked more and more like a fisherman reeling in the biggest catch of the day.  I was somehow delighted that we are not exactly putting all of the "trash" to waste.

This afternoon we threw a few more items and as expected, she was there on guard at the refuse site.  She looked a bit disappointed that we didn't bring in as much as we did yesterday but she still gladly took charge of the unloading and said the gentlest "thank you" that I've heard (in Chinese anyway).

Quick Question of the day: Are you a pack rat?  Why or why not?
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360: Leaving 217

"Last coffee in Room 217," I held up my cup and Van and I drank to that.  For five minutes, everything seemed just like any other day.  But of course it wasn't just any other day.  It's the day we leave our flat.

Photo by Van Tengga / 365 Project

It could have been worse.  We could've been fired.  Our visas have just been renewed and in return we were stripped off of some privileges we used to enjoy.  

We began packing like crazy.  I uncovered some things I have completely forgotten about but there was no time for nostalgia.  Books in a box.  Shoes in a bag.  Clothes in the luggage.  There was rhythm in our packing, probably because I blasted Pomatic's mixes just to fill the room with a certain amount of joy.

By 2:00 PM we were done and ready for the van.  We had an hour before the van arrives so we decided to have a late lunch.  Walking to the nearest shopping center, the beauty of our neighborhood flooded back to me.  From the moment I walked out of the building to the time we reached the estate's shopping mall, it was complete bliss.  You pass through a playground when you get out of our building.  Children play under the shade of a huge tree.  Old people chat the day away on benches that line the path of the estate.  A few more steps and you reach the overpass that will take you to the shopping center.  A small building that houses the basics of estate living--a McDonald's, a grocery, a wet market, flower shop, beauty salon, computer stores, restaurants, convenience stores, etc.  Below is an LRT station, the first stop of the train that comes from the station in front of our building.  It is that convenient in Yau Oi Estate.  And I'm sad to leave all of these perks.

When we got back to the flat, we packed our lappies and so we had to stop the music.  The mood became somber.  We were quiet for a while as we surveyed the room.  The room is now almost empty save for the bed, the sofa and the shelving unit that used to hold the TV.  Van let out a shout.  It startled me.  And so the move began.

Room 217 will be greatly missed.  Somehow it was close to our hearts, for me especially, because my mom also lived there.  The walls in that flat have witnessed the way we have grown in the last two years.  Right now, for me, it symbolizes freedom.  Because at least in that room, we could be as we are.  And when you can be as you are in a place, then that's where you are most comfortable--as comfortable as home.

Quick Question of the day: Would you trade privacy for a bigger living room?
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363: No Bull, It's Buses and Trains

"Taurus:  Your emotions are even-keeled today, which helps regulate your energy.  Take some time for R&R.  You've got a new phase of life ahead of you and the next four weeks will be busy!"  Hours after reading my horoscope, a phone call at the office:  "You must leave your flat and transfer to the staff quarters before Monday."

I've never been lucky with accommodations.  The last job I had in Qatar, I had to suffer six months living with the most obnoxious roomies you can imagine.  Eventually, I got the room for myself, which was not exactly a five-star hotel suite.  A room without windows is a closet in my book.  Nevertheless, I have learned to love it, mice infestation and all.

Fast forward to Hong Kong, now.  It's happening again.  No bull, this is real.  I'm moving in three days.  Pack two years' worth of accumulated bachelor junk and move in three days.  Justice is not in this city apparently.  It's not that I haven't seen it coming.  Regardless of the eerily accurate horoscope, I knew I'd have to move within this month.  But, three days?

I suppose I can enumerate the pros of the move:

• A villa flat is more spacious than our minimalist studio-type flat.
• Facilities: Air-conditioning, better cable TV! A fully functioning kitchen, bigger bathroom, spacious living room.
• No more long commutes to school as it is within walking distance.
• The scene: trees, a bicycle path and a porch.

Now let's see if the cons outweigh the pros:

• I don't mind being with my best friend 24/7, but with two other teachers? That's a big one.
• Privacy.  No more walking around in my undies!
• Four people vs one bathroom.  I hate lines.
• I'm sharing a small room!  I was expecting Van and I would each get a room.
• Sharing.  This is going to take a while to master.  From bills to food to chores.
• Faked absences.  With the principal in the same flat, good luck booking dates.
• Vices.  Hide it or leave it out in the open?
• Perfect Vicinity!  No more five minute walk to the mall, park or beach.  
• No more LRT.  With the LRT station right across my building, I can go to any place in Hong Kong effortlessly through connecting trains and buses.  Or buses and trains.  

Cue totally random intermission:

I guess Van was right.  It's a tough deal.  I say, give us each a room and we'll be happy face during our first few months.  And as for the horoscope seers, you've been accurate, you've proven that but please, give me a reading I can actually look forward to.

Quick Question for the day:  What's your worst moving experience?
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365: A Vow

I asked for a sign on my trip to the immigration office. A white dove. Naturally, the whole 45 minutes on the upper deck of the bus, I was wide-eyed, on the lookout for a bird that was probably busy doing a day job in a wedding chapel somewhere.

The first trip hit a snag which could have been avoided if Dodeng Daga simply trusted my visa-processing skills. I have done this twice, after all. When the immigration officer interviewed me, I was a syllable away from being called stupid because of the inconsistent document that I gave them. Said document was the genius plan of Dodeng Daga who, while not really a rat, certainly resembles and thinks like the vermin.

I was given an appointment schedule for the 29th of July, just a couple of days before my visa expires. Surely it was not the sign I was hoping for. The walk out of the immigration office was a long one. I felt lost and rejected even though there hasn't been a decision yet. Still, a landslide of questions were upon me. I dodged the people passing by like a ball in a pinball machine. Each time I hit a passerby, BING!--a thought, ZING!--an idea, TOINK!--a worry. What if I won't be extended? What if I had to leave within two days? What if I can't find another job soon enough? Where should I go next?

With all those thoughts running through my brain, I didn't notice an old friend approach my side. It was Adam. Perfect. I needed a hug. He said two words: "hello" and "wait". He traded me for a phone call so, after ten minutes, I waved goodbye and grabbed some comfort food at 7-11.

By then the afternoon was just making everyone in Wan Chai sticky, irritable and thirsty. I wasn't spared of course as I itched to get on the bus. I savored the trip back home thinking it might be one of the last long bus rides I'll ever have in Hong Kong.

When I got home I can only think of one relief--a shower. And there in my small bathroom, the sign has been sitting there all along. A new bar of white Dove soap. I know we tend to force patterns and meanings into our lives but whether or not it's the sign that I was looking for, it was just what I needed at that moment. I soaped away the sweat, washed away the tears and relieved my tired spirit.

A week later and with a renewed sense of hope, I headed back to the immigration and got my visa for another year.

I had promised a few things to that imaginary dove. And keeping this blog up and running again for at least another year was just one of them. Let the countdown begin.

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Double Deck the Halls

On the bus tonight I kept glancing on my phone and checking the time. In thirty minutes it will be officially Christmas.

I left Van at Lan Kwai Fong just when the masses began their pilgrimage to Hong Kong's nightlife district. Had I gotten major good news from an earlier business appointment, or, at least, had I worn more comfortable shoes, I would've stayed longer. But my spirits were low and my feet were screaming through the fungi so I wished Van a merry Christmas and got on the bus.

My only hope was to make it home before midnight. The 45-minute trip home would usually have me sleeping halfway through. Tonight, however, the possibility of meeting Christmas inside the bus entertained me. Would everyone greet each other?

Seated at the upper floor of the double decker bus, I looked at the passengers near me. A couple and their daughter were at the front. The father busy watching a movie on his mobile, the mother exchanging tall tales with her daughter. Beside me, a woman observed the world disappear into a blur behind us as she listened to her music. Across the aisle, another woman lulled herself to sleep with a 2nd generation iPod probably set to shuffle and beside her, a middle-aged lady clung to her shopping bags. Behind me, two guys were chatting. Beyond that, the themes just recur--earphoned people, chatty people, sleepers, observers and thinkers. There were a few lovers, too. Judging from the crowd, the chances of them bursting into a Christmas carol were very slim.

By 11:30, the bus was already on Ting Kau Bridge, my favorite bridge in Hong Kong. Watching the bridge's cables roll by while listening to the perfect song is sometimes better than sex. It should be another 15 minutes before I got home, I thought. I'd have enough time to buy some crappy food at the grocery for Christmas lunch.

11:50 and the cashier was asking about some sort of "toy". Experience told me that "toy" meant plastic bag (maybe). I didn't have time to be environmentally friendly so I said yes.

11:58 with a few minutes to spare to get the mail from the post box. At exactly midnight the front desk guard greeted me "merry Christmas". I smiled and greeted back. That was nice, I thought.

It was 12:01 when I took off my boots, still wondering whether the other people in the bus also made it home in time for Christmas (if it mattered to them at all).

Clean Slate

Tonight, hungry and weary, I sat on an orange seat in the train as it slowly made its way to the last stop--my stop. It has been my start and stop, day in and day out for the last year and a half here in Hong Kong. Each day I board the train I'm reminded about this blog I used to, religiously, keep--Like Clockwork Orange.

Tonight though, on the train, I caught a glimpse of a seemingly new color. Through the window, out in the darkness, a joyous blue glow caught my eye. A blue Christmas tree with nothing on it except for blue lights.

I have never thought of Christmas until tonight and I have never thought of blogging again until I chanced upon that blue Christmas tree. I arrived home hopeful but still hungry. Should I ditch Like Clockwork Orange completely? Only time will tell. For now, I need a clean slate. A fresh start. It's about time (long overdue, in fact) to allow Hong Kong into my life.