Prolific Immigrant

PLEASE GROW YOUR HAIR, SAMSON.

Love of God, you’re killin’ me.

xxo
Maha

PS Recently…
M: I need to buy a pair of night goggles.

“Friend”: What? Why?

Why not?

Seriously. Why?

They seem like so much fun. Like…if I could get a unicorn, I’d get one of them too. Not for any discernible reason, but just because. Who doesn’t want a unicorn? Or, like, a Care Bear to always give me hugs?

What are you talking about?

IMAGINE THE FUN I COULD HAVE WITH NIGHT GOGGLES!

Only if you’re planning on taking out insurgents…
(pause)
You need help. Like, so much.

You. You need help. You? You are never allowed to play with my goggles. When I get them. Which…I don’t even know where?

Please stop talking. Adults are coming.

Awesome. They’ll totally know where I can score a pair…

etc.

It was the first morning that Dianna and I awoke in Scotland. Since we were to travel overnight, we’d not made any plans for that first day, instead getting to know Glasgow at our leisure. We were at Mrs. Morrison’s Craigielea Guesthouse (highly recommended: 35 Westercraig’s Street) in one of the second floor’s largest rooms.

The floor of the entire B&B was covered in soft furry plaid carpet and there were at least 100 different pieces of artwork lining the walls from ceiling to floor, because Mr. Morrison is an artist.

With a stand up shower, sink, fireplace, dining table, two queen-sized beds pushed together, several dressers, a massive Chinese lantern hanging from the ceiling, two reading chairs, a television, 11 hung paintings, and different coloured walls, our room was confused as to its purpose.

And for this, we loved it.

Unless sleeping next to an open window, I become claustrophobic. During all times of the year, the window remains open. Mrs. Morrison’s window had no screen and was enormous, with a thin sheer white curtain beneath three heavier ones.

Having left the window open, we pulled aside all heavy curtains and left the sheer to roam. It was the sound of rain which woke me, but it was something else which kept me awake. Incredibly, our room had become filled in a mist so thick, I couldn’t see the wall across from me. I had never before, nor have I since seen anything like it.

I stayed in bed breathing very quietly, eyes wide open, and with very little movement as I didn’t wish to scare away the mist. Lush Scotland was giving us a warm hug hello with her most notorious character, and I have never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

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You may find Mrs. Morrison here; it appears that she has (sadly) redecorated.

Several years back, Alisa & Ryan were married at Lake Placid. Baby Jane and I stayed at the Trail Head’s Inn in the Bigelow Room, then owned and run by a young couple from Australia.

By circumstance, I ended up with our room all to myself. The room split into two areas, one side of which was the ‘Adirondack sleeping porch,’ once a balcony with an old, squeaky and washed out grey wood floor and a very thin steeply sloped wooden roof. The railing of the porch was a faded white painted wood, and all open areas of the balcony covered with a thin fine green mesh.

It held a queen-sized bed with white bed coverings & a duvet, a small old and worn rug purchased from a Moroccan market, one forest green reading chair, and a beautiful antique cherry wood night table.

This room sat on the opposite side of the entrance from where the family lived, and so was completely silent. Due to the height of the balcony, I couldn’t see anything but the forest’s tree tops as I sat on the bed.

It poured over the course of the night and into the next morning, leaving me drenched in the aroma of rain falling through trees. Nothing existed beyond that space, and I was immersed in overwhelming peace. There wasn’t a feeling beyond the rain, whose misted cool breeze seduced me beneath the duvet far into the early afternoon.

Eventually, I said a humble thanks to God for such a perfect morning, and tip-toed my way across the frozen porch and back into reality.

Sensitivity is the heart to make peace with the most awe inspired of all for the love.

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

They have a way with English words here, and then to ensure the most awe inspired of all for the longevity, they print these lego’d words on to t-shirts. The above was one such t-shirt which I followed around for 12 minutes in order to write down the full message because calling it a ‘sentence’ seems a stretch. (In my head, the stalking seemed less offensive than taking a photo.)

I think I am in love with Taipei. On that note, I may be delirious as I have been outside since 9 am being awe inspired by…everything.

One of the things which astonished me about Hong Kong was the density of its population, with regularly seen apartment buildings stacking over 10,000 people.

To my surprise, this is not at all the case in Taipei. In fact, the areas which I visited today barely saw a dozen individuals in one given moment.

I did some research and discovered that this is because the entire population of Taipei is in fact at the Taipei Zoo. And by “I did a little research”, I mean that I decided to visit on a Sunday, the eve of a holiday. I am filled with many stellar and awe inspired ideas such as this.

Added to the list of things which I dislike? A crowd. Specifically: a crowd more than half of which are small children. I would like to tell you about my experience at the Taipei Zoo, only I am still recovering and do not wish to relive the trauma of earlier this evening. Suffice it to say that I ran out as quickly as possible, once I was told that the Panda Show (it’s a show? It’s a show!) was finished for the day.

Also the Gondola, about which everyone speaks, sits outside the Gates of Hell the Zoo, and it was to be a 4.5 hour wait before I could hang above Taipei from a string. I decided to instead come back into the city center, but not before climbing (yes. Climbing.) over women and strollers on the metro.

Upon exit to fresh air, I immediately went to my happy place since the last 24 hours: guava fruit. Guava fruit the size of lovely silicone breasts. I have been eating and drinking fresh guava at every moment possible. When guava is most awe inspired of all for the love, no one can resist.

My first guava juice I found at the Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall which is, like most traditional buildings here, absolutely massive; and, unlike the other buildings, populated with students practicing dance routines. Michael Jackson is popular here.

His popularity only rivaled by the Buddhist monks I watched and heard sing (is that what it is? Maybe it is prayer?) in Longshan Temple. I had thought that the Temple I saw in Hong Kong was gorgeous until I set my eyes on Longshan. I have no words to describe…wait…oh, yes I do. Longshan is most awe inspired of all for the love. Definitely.

For all intents and purposes, it is an ocular feast. While taking in the rapid explosion of colour and design of the Temple, I surely looked as though I was experiencing a seizure. I believe the only reason I didn’t was because my eyes would occasionally focus on the buffet. (Not really a buffet, but in fact tables of offerings…for Buddha? For the Temple? Do monks eat cookies and chips? Believe it or not, I am honestly asking, so feel free to email my dumb self an answer or two.)

The National Theater came next, as did the beautiful gardens surrounding the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall and the Hall itself. This is where I spent the most considerable part of my day, enjoying the gardens, the changing of the guard and the little kiddies making peace signs ready for the cameras of their mums…

Great day overall, which only got better when I accidentally found a park of lanterns…and then even better when they all lit up as I was sitting beneath them. Truly, their lighting was most awe inspired of all for the love.

Note 1: I keep wondering why they are celebrating Easter early, but only until I remember that it’s the year of the Rabbit. Hitchcock would have had a field day had he seen the hundreds upon hundreds of faux bunny rabbits all over the city.

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After work, I said a last goodbye to the harbour, and sent a large hug across its body to Luna Park in return for the warm embrace it gave me last weekend.

Before heading home for the night, I spent my evening locals-watching, in hushed tones hearing …we are now looking at what in many parts of the world is known as an Investment Banker. The IB is recognizable by its dark suit, cuff-links and crisp tie, often found pecking at the savings carcasses of others, while their bellies only expand. They are to be approached with the greatest caution, and some argue better left alone as their extinction could lead to global recovery…, and sharing my food with a homeless man who sits ignored by most.

If you have time, food, and / or change to spare, please find him at the beginning of the pedestrian only area of Pitt Street. He has a small red blanket on which you may place anything you would like to share.

This evening was my favourite of all.

Thank you, Australia.

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Thank you all for your amazing tips, tricks and concern re my puff, my favourite remedy that of rubbing tomatoes on my person to alleviate the sunburn. The overdosing on antihistamines has done the trick. I no longer look as though I am gunning to replace either the Gerber Baby or the Michelin Man.

My skin is also no longer lobster red, but rather almond. This morning, I peeled off my forehead (yum!) as I worked. Honestly, at the risk of taunting skin cancer, my burnt off and peeled skin has given way to new baby smooth skin.

And FYI: I am now clinically terrified of the sun. Like, I see the sunshine and experience an immediate gag reflex when considering the recent pain of my sunburn. All I can think is once reading that the most painful way to die is to be burnt alive. (Hi there, Gag Reflex.)

Enough about this, and back to Sydney. After work today, I enjoyed an early evening stroll along both George and Pitt streets (with umbrella and dodging the sun’s rays, performing wild zigzags across streets to hide behind shade). There is a portion of Pitt St which is for pedestrians only and it is filled with live musicians; strong rec that you stop in if in Sydney, and find the drummer. Follow the beat to be mesmerised. I have taken a short video which I will upload upon my return home.

Every single person – including toddlers and premie babies – in Australia engages in happy hour / after work drinking. All pubs and restos past which I ran (with my umbrella) were overflowing with folks enjoying a drink. Why have we classified the poor Irish as drunks, when clearly, it’s the Aussies who will run over their grandmother for a pint?

Maybe this is why I have dubbed them the nicest people on earth…that they are drunk?

No matter. What matters is tonight I watched a performance of Carmen at the Sydney Opera House, and was afforded the opportunity to learn one very critical bit of info about myself: I do not like opera. Nor do I like live theatre which is being surtitled on a jumbotron above the stage.

However, I do love it when a man and a woman opera at the same time and overlap. There’s an official word for this, but I don’t care enough to Google, and so have decided that opera is now a verb. Honestly, if one of the genders rang through a “kaakaa” while the other boomed a “poopoo” into my ears, I (a) wouldn’t understand what they were opera-ing; and, (b) would love it.

Tomorrow: more sun dodging and Saturday travel to Taipei for the last leg of this trip.

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Canberra,
where the streets are pristine and the lawns manicured;
Canberra,
where there’s nothing much to do.

(At least not in terms of what I like to do while visiting a new spot.)

I return to Sydney later this evening, after another day at the High Commission in Canberra.

My Sunday in Sydney placed me on the earliest bus to Bondi, and woke me by a swim in the waters. My rest of day was spent at the Bondi outdoor market purchasing art work, noshing on pasta salad, and drowning myself in fresh fruit smoothies. I also had the pleasure of wandering around the houses in both Double Bay and Rose Bay neighbourhoods.

Creepy or exploratory? You decide.

I went to sleep in Canberra that night, and woke up to eyes the size of eggs; tuesday, the size of watermelons; and this morning, the size of small infants.

I have developed allergies to something. Possibly the sun, or its rays or the weather, the heat, people, oxygen, pillows, dunno…

To these sudden and severe allergies someone yesterday observed how the swelling made me look of a different nationality.

Offensive or imaginative? You decide.

A lovely colleague this morning bounced me over to a pharmacy where the Pharmacist cleverly said “The puffy swollen eyes are not due to the sun. You are puffy because of water retention. Maybe. Maybe you are having an allergic reaction. Canberra is good for that. Maybe. I dunno. G’Day. Take some antihistamines.”

Antihistamines I took; 50 mg of the behind-the-counter drowsy sort. First 30 mg, and then 20 mg.
Essentially, I am high and drowsy while typing.

Thankfully, the 50mg are doing the trick and my forehead is no longer looking like that of Nicole Kidman’s.
I once more have facial expressions extending beyond the oft used sad and confused bloat face.

As a treat to my sorry and sad puffed self, I have a ticket to and will be tomorrow attending Carmen at the Sydney Opera House. (Hurrah!)

Note 1: Aussies are, quite possibly, the friendliest and warmest people in the world. It appears that they were placed on this earth to provide the rest of us with warmth and kindness. Except for those among them who would like to see a return to Australia’s White Policy.

Note 2: Approaching the High Commission (HC) on Monday, I noted that the fence around the HC was engraved with maple leafs, and I was over the moon (though under my umbrella) to see Canada represented. This is a recurring reaction when I am abroad and see my home. Missing you very much, Canada. Even your shitty shitty shitty cold weather.

Note 3: Koalas are fkn scary and creepy. Additionally, they are not bears, but rather they are a marsupial. If I were smart, I would know what that means.

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Though to post later, I currently type this while seated on the ledge of the pier alongside Luna (amusement) Park. After breakfasting at Kings Cross organic market, lunching at the The Rocks market (where amazingly, I ran into someone I knew), hanging with koalas and kangaroos, visiting the Sydney Opera House, and all day feasting on fresh figs and mango fruit, I decided to spend the rest of my day among children.

And children I found at the Luna Park amusement spectacular. Of note, four year old twins Eva and Lily, with whom I rode the ferris wheel. Chestnut skin, hazel eyes and long golden brown hair they have. Eva is the cautious one who kept requesting that we “don’t look down, please. It’s very far…”, while ensuring that her minnie mouse doll was sitting properly as Lily jumped and climbed over the seats and bars (their father was with), repeatedly sitting on minnie, much to the upset of Eva. The difference illustrated further when their father pointed out a kayak in the middle of the harbour, the sight of which had Eva declaring “he shouldn’t be doing that”, and Lily instead standing, jumping, clapping and requesting “Can I? Can I, dad?”

Beneath a blue sky, along the harbor, amidst a heat wave, a late afternoon of ferry crossings, carousel, roller coaster, and ferris wheel rides feels wonderful on the skin; watching the sky darken across the harbour wonderful on the heart.

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Having decided to completely nerd it out yesterday, I took The Big Bus Tour of Stanley Market and sat on the upper deck where I almost fell into a state of hypothermia, making a new friend named Baden.

Baden is an 85 year old Australian, residing in the Phillipines for the last 22 years. When we exchanged names, he said to mine “…like Maharena”, and so I became Maharena for the duration of the two hour ride. Role playing with an 85 year old Australian man in Hong Kong; who knew?

My favourite part of the ride was when Baden yelled “MOON!” and pointed at the sky. He was truly lovely, and when he yawned, he finished with a flourish of “OH OHH AWWWOOOHHH”s.

Must recommend that for anyone coming to Hong Kong, they really spend as much time as possible out at Repulse Bay. The water is a beautiful shade of azure, and it sits quietly at the bottom of these massive mountains / rocks / cliffs / islands. (This photo I did not take.)

A particularly interesting site yesterday was of the terraced slopes of the Aberdeen cemetery. I love cemeteries and am fascinated by how different worlds enshrine their dead, so this was an incredible site. Although I couldn’t manage a proper photo, the one to which I here link does not do the cemetery justice because it must be seen in full, and from atop so that one takes in the thousands and thousands of grave stones dropping down along the cliff. (Again, not my photo.)

Today is my last day in Hong Kong and I managed to hop on the Star Ferry to cross over to work (landing at the Consulate at 8 am, a full hour before my expected arrival…and that of anyone else’s, hence my ability to deliver this entry before beginning work). While boarding the ferry, I giggled and photographed the warning about safewalking across the gangplank, which to me sounded dirty and left me wondering is this like the time they asked me to recycle my “cum”? (Chill. I have a photo of the recycle box on which it was written “litter, cum, plastic, paper” and am not here mocking anyone’s enunciation. I often default into a language all my own, and so would not trespass that line of rude.)

As I am neither pirate nor sailor, I didn’t know that a gangplank is, according to Google, a board or ramp used as a removable footway between a ship and a pier. Something I know now, but not at 7.30 this morning when I was standing dangerously close to the gangplank, on the wrong side of the gangplank, attempting to take a picture of my pretty coloured ferry while the gangplank nearly made off with my toes.

The official who was ushering us on to the ferry came over and said “危险！移动!”, which I – judging by his expression and gesticulating – am pretty sure translates to Are you kidding me? We have twenty seven warnings in English for dumbasses like you and STILL? STILL! You ignore the damn signs and stand all over the place in danger of being hurt by THE GANGPLANK! MOVE!

Needless to say, I made it to work safely and without further incident, and will be heading back to the hotel at noon in order to wrap up, have lunch and get ready for the airport as it is a nine hour flight to Sydney.

Inshallah, I will one day return to Hong Kong (in either May or June) to visit the following, missed this time:
- Ocean Park, where there are Pandas. PANDAS!
- Big Buddha.
- The Peak, for the view.
- Lamma Island, where the preferred means of transportation is foot or bicycle.

Note 1: I have been eating myself into a state of coma. Daily, I ingest enough soya and linseed bread, teeny tiny roasted peanuts, dragon fruit, and apple / cucumber / mint drink to nourish a small colony of ogres.

Note 2: Whenever I look up into the sky, there are several massive birds circling, with very long wing-spans. I don’t know what these are, but suspect they may be dragons.

Note 3: Dear Hong Kong: Thank you for your warm welcome and your incredible food. You are Janey’s favourite City outside of Halifax. As such, you are by extension a favourite of mine. xox m

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Last night, my cousin’s girlfriend – Mingchao, who resides in Hong Kong – and I tumbled through the SoHo district, though it was only I who on several occasions nearly pitched head first into unnoticed ditches and drainage ways. (Ultimately somehow remaining upright.)

For the above to make sense, I wish I could for you spin a web made of ice, copious amounts of local liquor, ramen noodles, and discussions of communism as religion.

Sadly, I have no such tale to hand you. Rather, the reality that I was merely jet-lagged in an area where ‘Beware. Street uneven’ should in fact be expressed as ‘Achtung! Falling off pavement highly probable’.

We visited Man Mo Temple, and storefront peeked at the gorgeous antique and art galleries across SoHo on Hollywood Rd, finishing our evening at Lil’ Siam (a place I highly recommend, as it is among the top three Thai restaurants I have experienced). I had pomelo salad with sliced shallots and dried coconut, while Mingchao feasted on a tofu peanut salad and a drink the size of her head. It was an entire fresh coconut, the inside of which had been shaved and crushed into a drink mixture; they leave a thick enough layer which you can work through with a spoon, in order to eat whole fresh chunks of coconut. The logistics of this drink are very complex, but well worth the effort. Have it at street address G/F, 38 Elgin Street, SoHo, Central.

Last Mingchao and I hung out was in Tunis, and so it was quite a wonderful night filled with the warmth of friendship and distant family.

Tonight brought visits to both an absolutely stunning Buddhist Temple, inside of which I said a little prayer and planted some incense, and the largest Masjid (mosque) in Hong Kong.

The Temple was breathtaking in its attention to detail, and fun as it was surrounded by over 70 stalls of fortune tellers (none of whom I stopped to visit, as I am entirely disinterested in knowing anything beyond what is present).

What was most interesting, however, were the multitude of deities I saw inside of the Temple, some of whom were animals. As I had always understood (in my own little way) that Buddhism was essentially a tradition of monotheism, with Buddha at the acme, I wasn’t certain what I was seeing.

For those of you who are regular readers, you already know that I attempt to see connections and similarities rather than differences; this is a key part of how I approach faith traditions, and so I was excited to learn that the represented deities were in fact different representations of the one Buddha; for me then, monotheism stands.

Kowloon Masjid, on the other hand, was nowhere near as ornate, but it was beautiful to me. I performed a small prayer – something which I have not done in months, sadly – and then made my way down to the harbor front to watch Hong Kong’s famed Symphony of Lights Show, before capping the night off with spicy kimchi and green tea ice-cream (the former I loved, the later too bitter for me).

Tomorrow evening, I am hoping to find a panda…or four.

Note 1: “Hai”, pronounced as the English “Hi, hello!” means “yes”, something I did not know until earlier today. Suffice it to say that my late discovery of this word’s meaning has made for a multitude of interesting, warm for me, creepy for others, and relatively confusing moments over the course of the last five days.

Note 2: The FKN escalators here function at break neck speed. A speed so high that it’s in fact nauseating, and ACHTUNG! worthy. If I suddenly stop updating, please note it is because an escalator ate me.

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