Focus. Hocus Pocus.

The people who know me well know I've never given two shakes about New Year's, or New Years Resolutions. Don't misunderstand; I will definitely take advantage of the social event and get friends together. I'd love to do this monthly, but life never has time for that, so I'll take the excuses birthdays and New Years gives us for this. Any excuse for a party. But resolutions . .. no. They've never been my thing.

And yet this year, things felt different. I think the reason is that my life now is one that has a very clear schedule, or routine. In the past if someone asked me how my winter was, or what I did over the summer, I'd struggle to have a decent answer. Life at home, home schooling with little kids, meant every day just bled into the next. I never knew if it was Monday or Friday, winter or fall, because it never mattered. We were only beholden to the schedule we gave ourselves. When I got up, what I did all day and who I saw, was forever dependent on the kids and their needs and schedules (or more often, lack thereof). This was the norm for me for over a decade. I would stop and take stock when I could, but little kids, well, there's little time to stop and think. You just try to keep up, and toss in a load of laundry or snatch a chapter in your own novel when you had a minute. And then I dipped my toe into working again, while still being a home learning parent. And I'll admit, while I was good at ideas for home schooling, I was shit at the follow-through. So these past years I channeled the guilt I felt at being 'busy at work' into doing a 'really good job' of home schooling.  I'd vowed to really do it, make things happen, not just dream them up and then shelve them once again for the easier route, which was watching Road to Avonlea and calling it Social Studies, or going to the beach (again) and calling it a field trip. So the past 2 years, when I'm not at work for money, I'm trying to get the girls to a class, or teach the class, or reflect on the class, or plan the next one. And forget the laundry. My new reality is that I am busier than I'd like to be January-December, and so this year I'd planned to sit awhile over the winter break and think. To think about living this fast, this on-the-go, this permanent feeling of being behind, and how I could find ways not to keep letting it swallow me up. The past few years of working and home learning have been brutal.

Here's a pic of a dying plant I found abandoned in the teen's room, to illustrate my point:

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I need more light, and water, and someone to talk to me in soothing tones. Don't misunderstand: Life is good. I love my job and I love being a home schooler, and I love the people I share my home with and the glorious people I'm lucky enough to cal my friends. But I've definitely not found my groove with it all, or how to cope as an introvert with all these darned people around! And my mindset is always of 'survive this' not 'thrive in this'. I am forever stressed, and exhausted. I know we all feel this way. But I don't want to accept it anymore, do you? I cope with stress by never-stopping, by always thinking that I need to get to the next task and then I can relax. And then never comes. There is no down-time. Partly because I don't allow it. If I ignore that email tonight I might miss replying to it tomorrow so I'd best get to it now. Oh and while I'm online, I should look for more ideas on the chemistry class next week. Did I order enough supplies for it? Oh crap, there's a work email, did I do the task they're following up on? (Because I'm actually an 11 year old masquerading as an adult and mother, and I'm desperate not to be found out!). If I were to sit down on the sofa with a gin and my book, I'd be unable to give in to relaxing, because I think there's something I'm forgetting, some task, either work or life-related, that I've missed, and the effects will be drastic if I don't get to it RIGHT NOW. Or I'd think I was being lazy and self-indulgent, and that there was more I could be doing. It's just how I'm wired. Others can relax really well. I'm married to one of them. I feel like they're naturally born relaxers, and that's like a wicked super-power. I want that. Other people, like me, are naturally born go-go-go-ers. There are things that need doing and we're here to get 'er done. We want to be like the other people, the relaxers, but the hamster running on the wheel inside our heads make it really hard to just STOP. The ideas, the tasks, the goals, the many things we say 'yes' to, always about others. If only we could give some of our hamster-anxiety-yes energy to the relaxers, and they could give us some of their chill. Give me a chill pill. In fact I'll take four.

So this fall I kept telling myself I just had to make it to December, and then I could look at things and find a 'better way'. I just needed to survive this year. (I neglected to remember the break-neck speed at which life goes in December; it's hardly relaxing). The week between Christmas and New Years is my favorite, because I feel like it's the one week that I don't have to do anything, or be anywhere, or see anyone. And I can just do what I want. And I wanted to think.

I made lists, and collages, read about efficiency and habits, about balance and bullet journaling, listened to podcasts about work-life balance, and I tried to find a better way to structure my year.

Where could I fit in what I needed: exercise, art, rest, friends, writing? Time with my husband. Time to think and read. Time to dance and time to sleep. Time alone, the balm I crave from sun up to sun down. I needed to schedule these things just like I did work and schooling. Otherwise I'd never make time for them. But is there actually enough time in a day to cover it all?

All of this made me realise I needed to really work and live with intent. To focus on one task at a time, and commit to stopping one task when it was time for the other, equally important task. To treat exercise as importantly as I treated work projects; to treat my own down time as I treated the girls education and social connections. To see myself and my needs as just-as-important as I saw everything and everyone else in my life. It felt like a resolution. One hell of a resolution.

And it's really, really hard. My brain is just running, a mile a minute.

I find I need to regularly remember to focus. Start my day with my list, and really see each task as having value, especially if it's about me. And to leave enough time to get those things done, and only those things. Tune out the voice that says 'check your email, what if you've forgotten something?'. It's impossible for this hamster-wheel girl. I need to stop multi-tasking. I need to just follow my lists today. I need to drink water and breathe slowly. I need to remember Kevin. Be Kevin, girl. What would Kevin do? He would chill, baby, chill.

But I know everything takes practice. And time.

So bring it 2017. I accept the your challenge.

xoxo

C

Saturday means farewell Hong Kong . . . .

I get up and get moving today. My bag was packed last night, so it's just gathering the little bits this morning. I have a few cocktails-in-a-can leftover, so I leave them for the cleaning crew. I check that I've got everything, and head out into the steamy, humid Hong Kong morning. For the first time on this whole trip, I can see the Sun. Could this mean the rain has stopped just as I'm leaving?

I seem to have more to carry than I came with, even though half my suitcase had been full of clothes for Laurie. I bought over-sized oddities that require a tote bag (poster, square mat, and my damn sun hat). I hit the subway post-rush hour and enjoy the emptiness. (Take a minute to contemplate how long and how clean this train is. It goes on forever. The fines for littering are high in HK, and this results in a very tidy public transit system.)

I head to Laurie's hotel, as she's in the Conference all day but said I could use her room as a home base, as I don't fly out until 6 tonight. I'm a sweaty mess when I get there so I crank the A/C and watch the skyline on the mainland. I'm just in time to watch a monsoon sweep in to town. It's incredible.

I'm not sure how to spend this last day. I have hours to kill, but I don't want to venture out to anywhere I'm not familiar with, because getting lost and missing my flight isn't on my agenda. And the rain has returned, so I'll definitely not fit in any outdoor sightseeing on this trip. I'm okay with that. I feel the absurd mama-guilt that I've bought souvenirs for my daughters and husband, but never found anything for my minimalist teen boy. I'd rather give him nothing than something he doesn;t like or want. But I feel like there right gift is out there. I decide to ditch all my bags and head back to Times Square. I'm very happy to wander neighbourhoods for the day if nothing else.

When I surface from the subway, the rain is on full force.

I love this city. It rains all the time, so why not install umbrella-bag dispensers in every doorway, to keep the floors and products dry? Genius. You just stick your wet, closed umbrella into the slot and it falls into a plastic bag. You grab this at the bottom and shove the dry package in your backpack. Done. It's that simple.

Yesterday I hadn't explored the above-ground levels of this mega-mall. It is absurd in it's size. 9 floors of fancy, high-end shops.

Shops like these do not interest me, but then I notice on the list that they have a Birkenstock store on the 6th floor. This changes things. Up we go.

They have sandals I've never seen before. High-heeled Birks,  thick-soled Birks (for the puddles? for shorter people?) and every odd pattern you can imagine. Birks are one of 3 brands of shoes I can wear, so I know this won't be a purchase I'll regret. I limit myself to one pair, but my mind is expanded with ideas for future options. Next time . . .

I had such different plans for this trip. I planned to explore the islands and hike the mountains. But the weather changed all of that. I'm happy with how things worked out, but I was keenly aware the whole time I wandered the crowded, rainy streets full of interesting things, that I was surrounded by beauty that I just couldn't see for the clouds. I could only catch glimpses of the base of the mountain if I looked down the right streets.

The mix of new and old is everywhere, and I hope this never changes in Hong Kong.

My $10 flip flops. I spent the week in these, and they were a lifesaver. Sure I got blisters, but that's just breaking in my feet to get them used to moisture+straps-rubbing-on-bare-skin 12 hours a day. They were the best shoes to bring on this trip, and the only shoes I'll bring when I come back.

Before I know it it's time to head out to the airport. I grab a last sugary Starbucks drink and head for the train. From now on I'll be under cover, which equals dry. This means my feet get a treat on the ride to the airport. New silver Birks fresh from the box. One less bulky thing to carry on the plane.

 

The districts of Hong Kong fly by my window as we race along the tracks. Pockets of towering apartment complexes gathered along the waterfront and hillside graveyards in the spaces in between.

We take off after 8pm, due to a big delay at the airport that has me cranky and hungry. But this nighttime view of the city makes it worthwhile.

My flight is packed full, so my dreams of napping across an empty row are dashed.  I try to sleep but I just can't do it. The tiny islands in the pacific are bright dots in the pitch black sea. I cannot imagine living in the midst of all that ocean.

We race the sun around the globe and as we approach the West Coast dawn appears on the horizon.

The coastal mountains of BC look amazing and stretch on forever. It feels good to see a familiar landscape.

When we touch down in Vancouver I surprise myself, and start to cry. It's okay. I'm exhausted (I've been awake 26 hours) and starving, and I'm also able to relax; this trip worked, I made it home, and I am exhilarated by this amazing experience. It was incredible, and inspiring. It has changed me forever. And I cannot wait to go back.

I make my connection to Victoria and head home.

xoxo

C

Friday in HK = work + play means a really long day.

Friday is the day I was her for, the day of our presentation at the Conference. I put on my 'work outfit', prepared for being sweaty in slacks, and headed to the subway.

By now I'm feeling so great and comfortable with getting around in HK. I have my routes, and I can estimate my time well. But halfway to my subway stop, which is all downhill, I realise I've forgotten the flashdrives for our presentation. Deep sigh. Channel a cool breeze, turn around and walk back up hill to my apartment to get them.

I'm drenched in sweat by the time I get to the Conference Centre. But it's all good. I've spent most of my time here outside. Being in this fancy, massive building, is an experience in itself.

I don't understand this sign. Really. How is this even possible, on an hourly basis? And then to put this info on a permanent sign? I still have so much to learn.

The presentation goes well and my co-workers move on to the rest of their weekend-long conference. I am free to go and so I head home, change into clothes that feel less sweaty (but that's really all in my head. Everything is sweaty) and think about how to use up my last afternoon and evening in HK. Thankfully I can take the mid-levels escalator to get up the hill on my route home.

On my way home all those store fronts that were shuttered at 8am are now open for business. They're selling packaged sandwiches and rice bowls, and the commuters stop to grab one on their way into the subway station. It's a very tidy operation, meaning small and specific, as opposed to clean. :)

When I head out again, my first stop is having one more lunch at Bun Cha, proprietors of tasty Pho, salad rolls and thick mint iced tea that I swear I'll replicate every day next summer at home. I love comforting foods, and want to soak up this small local routine of mine one more time. I need all the memories I can make to take home with me.

In looking at my neighbourhoods map that I've been using thus far, I decide it's time to explore the neighbourhood West of me. Po Hing Fong and Tai Ping Shan. Passing street-level worjsip spots is just the norm now, and I love the variety of each one.

I start wandering and quickly discover I've been right beside the coolest places all week. Every turn in this area provides me with a visual explosion of street art, old buildings, modern meccas and quirky businesses. Just look.

This shop is wall-to-wall craft beer. I miss Kit. I can picture us sitting on these stools and him sampling beers through the side service window. No matter how crowded Hong Kong is, they find simple ways to fit everything in.

All the old buildings have built in drying racks on the outside of them. I love that this city is built for life here. That a drying rack outside your window, above the street, is just a given feature. Like the covered walkways, and umbrella bags inside every store, they set things up to work. And it works.

I love the tall high-rises built around cobblestone streets and ancient-looking stone staircases.

That street signs are often on the corners of the buildings, because there is just no room on the narrow sidewalk for a sign post. Do what works.

A great little antique accessories shop, and an amazing florists. I bought some vintage hair clips and drank in the scent of these flowers. These colourful storefronts at the base of tall, grey and weathered buildings is exactly what this neighbourhood is about. 

I couldn't help myself, this felt too rich. A coffee shop with HIPSTER on the front counter, and a hipster seated behind the sign? You just can't pass this sort of thing up. And check out all the A/C units just for that floor.

I love this photo. The cobblestone steps with tropical trees growing up the middle; the weathered, moldy looking building and signage, simply because in this climate of rain and heat, things just get dirty and worn. And yet these are home to vibrant small businesses that are making life work in modern HK. And doing it all on a really steep mountainside.

The mural outside an organic underwear shop. Yes, an organic underwear shop. I did  not go in. I knew it'd be out of my price range, by about 50 miles.

I love this photo for 2 reasons: the design aspect of this building, that they tiled it in such a way to give it this awesome Escher-esque look. And that there are repairs being done that high off the ground, and it's being done on bamboo platforms. They have no need for a more modern option, this clearly works. 

This is one of the elementary schools in this neighbourhood. It looks run down from the front, but inside the rooms are bright and colourful, all the kids so neat and tidy in their uniforms, their book bags all hung in a row. (I can see all this from the courtyard around the back).

A little rest/play space in the jungle. A bit sad-looking due to the construction, but a cool part of such a vibrant neighbourhood. They just fit little scenes everywhere.

One place I'd planned to go what this little tea shop, Tea-Ka. I'd read about it before I came to HK, and thought I'd make it a place to try new things. But my shyness won out, I felt too much the odd one out, wouldn't know what to order, be standing there forever, holding up the line. So I just admired it from the outside. It was lovely. 

This was one block of pre-war buildings that the city had tried to demolish to build high-rises, but the people protested and so they stayed. I can imagine HK back when this was the norm, without the high-rises surrounding it on all sides. 

This place. Holy hipster batman. I wondered if they built vegans in there or just fed them.

Call me the Lorax, but we need to talk about the trees here. They are massive, majestic and mighty. They grow within a truly concrete jungle; there is no visible soil or grass here. And yet they thrive, and tower over me as I wander these winding roads.

Growing out of cracks in the walls, crevices between buildings.

Their roots twine down to find something to feed on, and they become part of the structure.

Or the city builds a structure for them, once the tree has chosen it's spot. I freaking love this!

I've walked in a rambling square all afternoon, hoping to end up at this place, Lascar Street, or as it's called locally, Little Cat Row. And I know I've found it.

There are many many little trinket stalls in this block, almost like Chinatown in the Western world. Every stall sells similar things; ceramic tea sets, chopstick sets with little ceramic chopstick rests, beads, Chinese brush-script painting sets. I remind myself that I do not need any of these things, that their intrigued in Hong Kong will wane quickly once I'm back home, and that most are available in Chinatown back in Victoria. Just look Caelen.

One shop maximizes it's lure to tourists with Hello in every language imaginable.

One item, though, well, it taxes my brain. It is offensive and just fucking odd. And I cannot figure out what it means. And it's in every shop. I will never ask a shop owner what it is about. Never.

I finish my epic walkabout and head back to my apartment. It's 6pm and usually I would start my evening wind-down routine at this point, as I've been up since 4. Soak my feet in the sink, blog about the day, watch some netflix, and pass out from exhaustion by 9pm. But it's my last night in Hong Kong! I need to go OUT THERE and soak up every last drop of interesting this city has to offer. A quick wardrobe change, and a consult of my maps and notes to formulate a plan. It's my last night, so I should go big before I go home. 

First stop, the very hip bar in the bottom of the PMQ building, The Aberdeen Street Social,  around the corner from me. It is very modern-hip, black and white tiling, Edison bulbs in low-hanging lamps. They have a large cocktail menu, and the most stocked bar I've even seen, being manned by some very cool, drink-savvy looking fellows. I take a deep breath and walk in. To a bar in a foreign city, on my own. I am a woman experiencing the world. Here we go.

I peruse the drinks menu while seated at the bar. I decide on a "Frenchy" which is described as "Generous gin, lemon juice, lavender liquor, homemade peach soda". Gin, which is my thing, and it sounds the right amount of sweet, but light, and not syrupy or heavy. I think Generous Gin means a lot of it. But it's actually a French Gin brand. The bottle alone is amazing. One guy sets to mixing the peach soda, another to getting one giant ice cube out of the bin. After many coordinated steps, they place this in front of me, and I take a moment just to sit with it. And I ask to see the gin bottle.

This drink is delicious. I know I will never be able replicate it, nor get a second one, so I try my best to savour every drop. I throw off the mantle of social respectability when I tip the glass all the way back to get every bit of this moment into my mouth. It will never happen again. I'm tapping into the Buddha. 

That drink cost $26 CAN. Like I said, I'm going big. And now I'm done. 

I head out into the street and remember the shop across from my apartment, that is never open when I'm awake during the day. Imagine this in North America: a second hand shop so cool it's only open at night. I give you Select 18. I bought some cheap earrings. When you see me wearing plastic purple roses, this is where they came from. My brother would love this place.

I've decided to head back over to the huge shopping district that is Causeway Bay, East of here. I head down hill, on my usual subway stop walking route. And I pass what looks like a fresh offering to the Gods. Warm food, clean water and incense. There is no one around, the street is empty and quiet. I just stay with this moment a sec.

Reverence over, I bust a move for the station. When I come out and head above ground at the other end, I'm assaulted by lights and sound. It is so different compared to when I visited in the daylight.

Their double-decker trams are way cooler than ours. Baby blue with rainbows? Love.

I hit all the tourist-y haunts. This Hong Kong brand APE is big with the teens back home, so I check it out. 

I'm not allowed to take pictures inside the store, so imagine a silver room with brightly coloured clothes, all covered in this Ape-face logo, and me, the white mom in her 40's, being followed by at least 2 hip, young Asian staffers at every moment. I got out fast. 

Then I found this awesome shop, underground in Times Square Mall. Times Square is a 9 story mall in HK. Because land is so costly, it is a vertical mall. Plus 2 floors underground. It is massive! And on the first basement level is a shop called City Super. It is fantastic. It's a Japanese store, with a full grocery, deli, bakery, plus tons of shopping space where they stock weird pop-culture stuff and wicked stylish backpacks and gear. I spent ages wandering around in there.

One of two aisles of Japanese candy. I know my park-day crew back home will want me to stock up, so I grad the things that are the best mix of odd-but-hopefully-tasty.

I don't know what these dolls are,  but they're clearly popular, and creepy. I resist the urge to start collecting them. 

Then I head back out onto the street. It is truly dark but the neon lights are so bright, you have no idea what time it is. I see a home decor shop with something amazing in their second-floor window. I must go in.

If I could shrink any one thing down to take it home in my carry-on suitcase, this would be it. Both of them. They're almost $1000 CAN (combined).

There's a sign saying Clearance 4th Floor so I head up, just for fun. More window shopping. When you have old buildings and need modern conveniences (like wi-fi for 50) you get creative. Phone cords snake all the way the stairwell with me.

The walk up was worth the trip. This fan of human anatomy is floored that no one has snatched up this wicked serving dish set. I debated it, for about 30 seconds. But I let it go.

I'm exhausted, and I've been exploring this cool area for hours and hours. It's time for bed. I need to pack up my stuff and head out tomorrow morning. 

xoxo

C