HK'D
It rained and rained in Hongkong and in case I forgot to say I was there, I'd also add that lately had been a time for mini travels because soon I'll be going to Davao just as I was recently in Bohol. I barely have pictures to show for these junkets, as usual, and in that way I'm an irresponsible blogger. Even deviations from my typical housewifely days do not elicit interesting blogposts with pictures (from me) for the reason that I'm really not savvy with my crappy phone camera (and lets not even get started with a real camera), apart from the fact that I'm normally, spectacularly lazy.
A blurry view of an HK subway through a rainsoaked windshield.
So I was delighted to be in HK a few days because the last time I was there was even before the British turned the place over to China, when botox wasn't even heard of, not that I've ever gotten a few shots myself, thanks to Nicole Kidman's frozen look, but what I'm trying to say is it was that long ago.
Anyway, a major epiphany I got out of post-British HK is that one can go to heights of hallucination for duck craving, whenever one gets anywhere near Hankow Rd. during lunch or dinner where we discovered the hole in the wall Guangdong Barbecue with a big lifeless (obviously) picture of a roast duck at the front to beckon you, and it didn't turn out to be a canard. You have to understand that once tasted, the scrumptious roast duck starts to become all these people you find walking on the street, marching away from your plate, and when you're being wolfishly hungry, this could possibly drive you mad with desire. Mmm .. To imagine the aggregated cellulite accumulated by all who line up for a quicky with juicy dripping cholesterol from other various roasteds like fatty chickens, goose, pigeon, asado and suckling pig on top of a hungry estibador's portion of steaming white rice in Guangdong is truly staggering, so I'll stop. After all, not even having recently seen The Devil Wears Prada stopped me from enjoying the food that couldn't bring me any farther away from the movie's standard size 2. Who cares? I was never a size 2 anyway. At least I'm not bitchy and hungry.
As my feet bear witness, I walked and walked and walked, and even with my most comfy ipit flipflops, my feet were heavily band-aided by day 2, as any HK shopping lover worth her salt would understand. Not that I'm a shopping lover -- far from it. I was just walking with my shopping-loving husband and daughter so I got as much exercise as them, the better to eat my worth in noodles with.
What I can say, apart from the above is that I had a great time. Four days worth of walking, shopping bags, dimsum and roasted duck with a happy extended family casting of myself, my husband, my sembreaking daughter, my stepdaughter who flew there for work, her mother, my mother-in-law and my aunt and the rainy afternoons didn't dampen our spirit, but only raised our caffeine tolerance for all that tea and coffee we consumed that came along with talk about the ones who were not around, when we were stationary, which wasn't really often. Some people may have bitten their tongues from all that talk about them but if it's any consolation to them, that also took time away from more shopping bags that might have been for us, which is a fair enough exchange I think...
Filed Under: Flavors
So I was delighted to be in HK a few days because the last time I was there was even before the British turned the place over to China, when botox wasn't even heard of, not that I've ever gotten a few shots myself, thanks to Nicole Kidman's frozen look, but what I'm trying to say is it was that long ago.
Anyway, a major epiphany I got out of post-British HK is that one can go to heights of hallucination for duck craving, whenever one gets anywhere near Hankow Rd. during lunch or dinner where we discovered the hole in the wall Guangdong Barbecue with a big lifeless (obviously) picture of a roast duck at the front to beckon you, and it didn't turn out to be a canard. You have to understand that once tasted, the scrumptious roast duck starts to become all these people you find walking on the street, marching away from your plate, and when you're being wolfishly hungry, this could possibly drive you mad with desire. Mmm .. To imagine the aggregated cellulite accumulated by all who line up for a quicky with juicy dripping cholesterol from other various roasteds like fatty chickens, goose, pigeon, asado and suckling pig on top of a hungry estibador's portion of steaming white rice in Guangdong is truly staggering, so I'll stop. After all, not even having recently seen The Devil Wears Prada stopped me from enjoying the food that couldn't bring me any farther away from the movie's standard size 2. Who cares? I was never a size 2 anyway. At least I'm not bitchy and hungry.
As my feet bear witness, I walked and walked and walked, and even with my most comfy ipit flipflops, my feet were heavily band-aided by day 2, as any HK shopping lover worth her salt would understand. Not that I'm a shopping lover -- far from it. I was just walking with my shopping-loving husband and daughter so I got as much exercise as them, the better to eat my worth in noodles with.
What I can say, apart from the above is that I had a great time. Four days worth of walking, shopping bags, dimsum and roasted duck with a happy extended family casting of myself, my husband, my sembreaking daughter, my stepdaughter who flew there for work, her mother, my mother-in-law and my aunt and the rainy afternoons didn't dampen our spirit, but only raised our caffeine tolerance for all that tea and coffee we consumed that came along with talk about the ones who were not around, when we were stationary, which wasn't really often. Some people may have bitten their tongues from all that talk about them but if it's any consolation to them, that also took time away from more shopping bags that might have been for us, which is a fair enough exchange I think...
Filed Under: Flavors
<< Home