Saturday, July 15, 2006

life lesson #3311973

life lessons hit you when you least expect them to ... very much like wood splinters or amazingly huge, cystic pimples or random tv interviews in the park (more on that if and when i remember to blog about it).

one day last week i woke up early enough to have a proper breakfast. so i treated myself to this little, unknown, hole-in-the-wall restaurant called ... mcdonalds (remember: the setting is HONG KONG. i didn't want to have communication gap for breakfast. sue me).

while lingering over my coffee, i heard something over the radio that made me realize the universal language is not love ... or money (but the jury is still out on that one) ... or laughter.

it's DANCING QUEEN.

yes, the ABBA song. the song that can irritate the most patient saint, the song that any person – regardless of age or geographic region or mental health status – CAN HUM.

do it. you know you want to.

i'm tempted to dive into a discussion as to why everyone knows about the young, sweet, 17-year-old tambourine-wielding dancer on the scene. but i won't because i'm too busy trying to get the damn song out of my head.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

a rolling orange gathers no moss

if there is anything worse than walking up a hill, it's walking DOWN a hill.

and if there is anything worse than walking down a hill, it's walking down a WATERFALL.

today i woke up in a good mood because i was excited to wear my trek shoes (the same ones i wore on my one and only mountain adventure) to work. i felt ready. equipped. psyched to walk the full 20 minutes to the office. was considering skipping to work, as a matter of fact.

the happy mood came to a dead end when i opened the lobby doors and found ...

A MAN WATERING THE HILL.

who does that? what possesses a man to water tiles? was he trying to nourish the moss? more importantly, WAS HE TRYING TO KILL ME???

so there i was – a writer frozen in her tracks, staring at the steady rush of water going down the shiny, slimy tiles of her personal hill.

if i didn't have to work, i would've turned around and sobbed into the bed.

needless to say, i survived the water slide. i did, however, have a few scary wobbles going down. i'm now thinking about wearing a swimsuit, knee pads and a helmet to work. i wonder if they'll mind.

Monday, July 10, 2006

the hills are alive with the sound of crying

aaaaaaaaaaaaand i'm back.

back to blogging, and back in HK, the land that inspired me to once upon a time blog every day. (while getting the url for that link, i discovered that i used to blog MORE THAN ONCE a day. who am i? what have i become???

i arrived late last night and took a cab from central station to the apartment that will be my home for the next few weeks. to my horror, the apartment that will be my home for the next few weeks is practically ON A HILL.

"high on a hill was a lonely goatherd ..."

(i tell you solemnly, i heard julie andrews when i saw the street sloping up to oblivion.)

ok so maybe it's not exactly a HILL hill. but it reminded me of too many mountain memories ... and it was high and narrow enough for the taxi driver to refuse to bring me to the building lobby.

let me repeat: THE DRIVER DID NOT BRING ME TO THE TOP OF THE HILL.

if you had an iota of interest in this story/my travails, you would've figured out by now that THAT meant i had to drag my huge bag up the steep, tiled incline.

"jack and jill went up a hill ... BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO BRING A SH*TLOAD OF STUFF UP THE DAMN LANDFORM"

the almost-overweight bag is my fault (duh.) – in my haste (this isn't the most well-planned trip), i brought ... my whole room. except for the bed. and my extra lip balm.

so anyway, i DID bring the bag up until i found ... STAIRS. leading to the lobby. i left the accursed bag and trudged slowly up the steps.

when the door was unlocked for me, i peeped inside and half-sang, half-whimpered to the man behind the reception desk, "can somebody help meeeeee?"

(you think i'm making this up. you are wrong.)

thankfully, herbert (mr receptionist) turned out to be the mosthelpfulguyinHK. he probably weighed the same as one of my thighs, but he gallantly brought the bag up the stairs and into the lobby. go herbert. my skinny hero.

at 32 years old, i should probably be the type of person who actually LEARNS from past mistakes. well ... no. an hour later, i found myself lugging a total of 4 liters of drinks inside nonfinger-friendly plastic bags up the same incline. dehydration will not kill me. accidental grocery-related amputation will.

i can tell it's going to be a great month.