Vertical Horizon

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So I learned two things about myself today:

1. I’m invincible.

2. Actually, turns out I’m not invincible.

I consider myself pretty travel-savvy, appropriately independent and dang street-smart (well, notwithstanding that time I apprehended two taggers on an LA side street and forced them to give me their markers… oops). I love the feeling of going somewhere alone and figuring out how to get around, I love exploring, whatever that means in terms of wherever I happen to be, and though I’m cautiously aware, I think I am also confident about my inherent safety to a fault.

In other words, I think I’m pretty hot stuff. And I gained a healthy respect for the Unknown out there when I traveled alone in India for a few days before my first tour of duty, last summer. It was tough, it was unnerving, I broke down in tears a couple of times, BUT—I did it! And India (after another minor setback, at Christmas) is now a breeze. And if I can conquer that? –chuh, I can handle anything.

Then today I found out just what a travel pansy I am.

Hong Kong—this year’s Unknown. I had a 17-hour layover on my way to India, so of COURSE I wanted to go into the city or onto the main island or whatever. And a couple of weeks ago I realized I should probably book a tour, even though I’m generally anti-tour, for that layover. That it probably wasn’t a good idea to just go out and find something to do and figure how to get around an unknown city armed with just my wit, a smile and a pop-up map, because of crucial time constraints (probably shouldn’t miss my plane to India because I didn’t realize how far it was to Macau and back) and also because I’ve seen the movie Taken (in the right lighting, I’m pretty sure I could be mistaken for a hot naïve 17-year-old).

So again—pretty hot stuff, this time for figuring out the best plan of attack. Researched and booked a tour, researched and booked an airport transfer to the hotel meeting point.

Then… the airport transfer fell through. Too early, they couldn’t take me.

Then… in the midst of my FANTASTIC business-class Cathay Pacific experience, my PowerBook suddenly died. Wouldn’t wake up from sleep. DNR. That started the downhill.

Then… I hiked back uphill when I started counting my blessings (if it was going to die, better now than in India—at least I could go to an Apple Store in Hong Kong and get repair or whatever)

Then… I found out there was no Apple Store in Hong Kong. What??

Then... I lost it. Sort of.

I arrived at 5:25am, went straight to the lounge to get me some internet, opened up my backup laptop since the PowerBook was still in a coma, found that that battery was almost dead, and that even though I’d Oh So Wisely brought along a Hong Kong plug adaptor in my carryon, it didn’t have a grounded slot for the laptop’s power cord. Argh.

Long story short, I was able to use the backup to video-call my dad and tiredly freak out to him about what had happened, and eventually we were able to get the Mac up and running after multiple bouts of troubleshooting. But THEN, after… I only had a few minutes to spare to make the trip to Kowloon for my tour. And I still had no idea how to get there. I mean, I figured there were taxis and shuttles and all that, but how? How?

I was suddenly rendered useless and incapable of doing anything for myself. A Cathay representative had to come and escort me through Immigration. (Well, that was policy—not because I didn’t know where to go). I was in tears by the time she arrived at the lounge to get me, because I had been waiting 20 minutes and was stressing. She fortunately walked as quickly as I do, and when we got to the immigration area, batted her eyes at an official so I could cut the huuuuuuge line that would have been the ultimate downfall, so THAT was good. She didn’t come through too—during our power-walk I had been pressing her with ridiculous questions like “but I don’t have any Hong Kong dollars-- how do I pay for a taxi or shuttle?” (seriously—it’s like I lost my brain completely), so I think she was not sad to pass me off at that point. I was suddenly alone and scared again.

But on her gentle advice, once I was through immigration, I went to a Thomas Cook desk to exchange money (Ah! so THAT’S what you do…), and the clerk sensed my frantic nervousness when he enquired about my transportation plans to Kowloon, and told me not take a shuttle or taxi, but to take the Airport EXPRESS. I balked. “But that just takes me to Kowloon—how will I get to the YMCA from there??”.   And—.  Really, Jennie? Never heard of a taxi? I’m pretty sure that’s what was going through his head, but probably with an unflattering idiom in place of my name.

All went well from there—made it to the train, and then by cab (who knew??) to the Salisbury Y with a few minutes to spare, and the rest is history. Well, to be told in the rest of this blogpost (via photos).

BUT—I felt like the biggest IDIOT. I know it looks like small beans, but what happened to me back there?? I totally choked. I became That Traveler, the one that looks around with constant confusion and talks too loudly and can’t read signs and stands too close to the conveyor belt when waiting for checked baggage so no one else can see theirs coming ‘round the carousel. (Ahem.) I would like to blame my temporary lapse on fatigue, but I’d had a nice 6 hours’ sleep or so in my private lay-flat bed on the plane. (Pause for pleasant longing memories.)  I think, though, I can more realistically blame it on the fact, that, once we flew over the International Dateline en route to HK, I was simultaneously going both back and FORWARD, in time. Think about it. It was a day later than my life back in LA, and yet as we flew westward, we were at the same time going BACK in that day. TRIPPY. No wonder I was messed up. It was like I was in a LOST episode, jumping back and forth, lost in time—and for those people on the Island, that kind of movement caused their brains to hemorrhage. Hmm. Maybe I should be glad all I did was make an idiot of myself to airport staff and crew.

And, I must say, the rest of the day was JUST FINE. I was in my normal form once I got on the express train, and I quickly learned that Hong Kong IS a place I can get around alone (which I will, on my similar layover during my come-home in August). But I also learned this--while it’s a great feeling, getting around by yourself—empowering!—I have to add a disclaimer. Which is, I don’t WANT to be going around alone. I would much rather have someone who is there to take me to the airport, or travel with me, figure out where we’re going, etc. Wouldn’t that be nice. (Unless they annoy me or don’t like eating local food, in which case I will escape and wander off on my own J.)

So this is a really long post, and probably more info that anyone wanted, you just wanted pictures anyway. So here’s a TON of them—welcome to my trip so far!

Business class. Yes. Oh, yes. (if you know me, you'll know that I am extra-incredibly happy in this picture because that blanket I'm holding on my lap is a DUVET... sigh. Perfection.)

Dinner: Seared ahi tuna salad, beef-something with some kind of onion marmalade and string mushrooms, mini rock s&p shakers, mini goblets to drink out of, and a 15-inch flip-out screen to watch How To Train Your Dragon while eating... 

view of the cabin and lie-flat beds

After a sleep (it was a 14-hour plane ride, after all), I watched Invictus-- LOVED it. Shed more than a few tears. Had to keep pausing it to take notes. Oh, and Matt Damon is hot.

Morning over Hong Kong (somewhere under those clouds)

On the Airport Express to Kowloon

Taxi to the YMCA. The taxis have auto-doors. Auto-doors! In other words, you can't get out until they want you to. Tricky if you're trying to commandeer a vehicle illegally.

My tour guide for the day, on The Land Between Tour (out to the New Territories, etc)

First stop on the tour: Yuen Yuen Institute. Home to three religions, or some'in. I don't know, I tired of listening to the narrative right quick and spent my 45 minutes of freedom wandering and taking photos.

Like of this dude-- we definitely need to bring this style to the States

And of the fish in the waterfall pond-- love the Koi, they look like they're constantly saying "duuuuude-"

Check out the catfish ready to attack in the upper corner. Unsuspecting turtles...

hee hee, turtles kill me. All stuck up n' stuff.

Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue poses. In turtle world. At least, that's what it looked like to me. Remember: time travel. I can't be blamed.

ohhh, turtles.  I have many more shots if you'd like to see them. :)

moi in front of the koi pond. Can't even tell I'm in China. Oh well. 

Really? OX?? Bummer. Tiger would be soooo much more cool. Better than pig, I guess.

Is it wrong to take a photo of someone worshipping? Just looked so cool...

Next stop: a Lookout point for the whole area, down into the HK harbor etc. But it was hazy so there was nothing to see. Except this cool sign letting us know that handicaps are welcome. Y'know, I've often thought that campfire sites were soooo anti-disability...

shooting from the hip as a monk?  worships. Oops this one's out of order, goes with the Yuen Yuen above...

Fourth stop: Bride's Pool Falls. Definitely my fave, except we only had ten minutes so I and a Swedish kid booked it as far as we could along the hiking trail/steps and back within that time while everyone else looked at them from the park entrance. Wish I could have explored all day (and wasn't wearing a skirt)

best self-portrait I could do in 30 seconds once I reached the river/lower falls

Sixth stop: fishing village. Not really. Disappointment.

Back in Hong Kong... I went here. Not to eat, but because McDonald's is the best place when traveling... to find clean 'public' restrooms (and that's maybe my best travel tip). I always feel so typically American when I walk in, though...

I WAS tempted to get the Taro Pie, though... what's not appetizing about a Grimace-colored fried dessert?

Looking at Hong Kong Island from Kowloon side. Those skyscrapers really are huuuuge

Why I left HK at about 4pm to go back to the airport, even though my flight didn't leave until 10:45-- (those bags combined weigh about 35 pounds, maybe more)

The other reason to go back early-- SHOWERS! 

And because I really wanted to spend as many hours as possible in the posh Cathay Business Class Lounge. Very, very happy there. Next time I'm bringing blankets and making a fort so I can claim land.

And so the adventures begin...

the LOST art of conversation

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MAN.

In the eternal (modified) words of Depeche Mode,
   You know how hard it is for me, to shake, the di-zzy...

-that's what's running through my head today. Because

I

am

WIPED.

Completely. 

I was exhausted this weekend to begin with, and have been suffering from gentle bouts of vertigo every time I move my corpse from a non-stationary position... Not my usual, once-every-two-years-or-so MEGA-vertigo, where the room starts spinning like I just got off the Teacups at D-land with an exceptionally strong boy at the unfortunately now-more-stiff-and-no-longer-turns-fast-without-superhuman-effort wheel, and which vertigo lasts for half an hour or more-- no, not that, but just a general heavy wave of dizziness that makes me almost fall down every time I move. Whoops.

And last night's epic finale for LOST didn't help-- it wasn't just long (not the show itself, but when packed with commercials EVERY 7 MINUTES, that was out of control! and then of course I had to watch the News' and Jimmy Kimmel's coverage of it, afterward), not only that, but it was so poignant, powerful and emotional that I am SPENT.

But that's not the point of this post-- maybe I'll get to my inner thoughts on LOST  someday (too difficult right now-- might start crying, it's too soon-- TOO SOON!), can't promise anything though, seeing my recent track record with getting my posts completed, in the meantime you might want to read my friend Sam's moving take on it, -- nope, here's another reason why the finale was so great to me--

I didn't watch it alone! I thought I was going to have to--people I'd normally watch it with were all MIA, as my oldest brother is in Italy on vacay, second-oldest is in Utah, youngest is in the MTC, Sam's on the East Coast, and various other mega-fan friends were all out of town or had just gotten back into town and too tired, etc to view live. WHAT??? I was distraught all last week. How could I watch this, the biggest 2.5 hours of television finale and commercials of perhaps MY LIFE, alone?? It's not that I need company-- I get lost in LOST, har har-- but I needed to have someone to turn to, to freak out and say "WHAT?? WHAT WAS THAT! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" and also "Dude, totally called that." (Said smugly).

But, thanks to the Miracle of Facebook, my nephew (son of said oldest brother) Tanner found out that we were both in the same Boat of Aloneness (and Potential Distress), and on Sunday afternoon we decided to video-gchat it up during the finale. And I mean the WHOLE finale. And

it 

was

AWESOME.

Go technology! I was lying on the couch with my PC laptop (not my Powerbook, it's too old to stream the new-fangled video very well) on a stool to the left of me, webcam trained on my face... Tanner had his underneath the TV... so we could see and wave to each other at any time. We'd just hit Mute during the show, and the second the commercials came on we'd un-mute and say "WHAT?? WHAT WAS THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT?" and of course I called a lot of it. Of course. Oh yeah, and we had puh-lenty of opportunities to discuss what was happening, because did I mention that the commercials came on every 7 minutes?? They did.

(awesome face by Tanner)

But sooo fun to watch it with my nephew like that-- his sister (seen far above) lasted for about five minutes, she's NOT a Mega-Fan-- so it was me and T-Bear the whole way. And when his dad called from Italy after it was over (did you know LOST was aired simultaneously in 59 countries?? He had to watch it at 6am-!), Tanner set the phone down by his computer and Allen and I could hear each other and talk (and review) that way! And Tanner and I could make faces at each other and pretend to pick our noses the whole while. Seriously, Technology? You are the Wind Beneath My Wings.  

Oh, and also-- during the show, when I was feeling the extent of the garlic I'd put into the bruschetta I'd made that night, and decided I needed to eat some ice cream... Tanner and I had a little dessert together, too. And a little whooop.

 Sigh.

the natural order of things

I don't really like going into Los Angeles. Traffic is horrible, people are rude, cement and industry are a-plenty. But there are a few things that can entice me to make the trek, including friends, food and the aforementioned Hollywood Bowl, and -- more than anything-- THIS place: 

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and it always makes my day to go there, but last night was even more special...

There's a big reflecting pool in front of the temple, and when I was rushing by it in the afternoon on my way in, I noticed a Mallard duck just hanging out on the edge of the water. Perched on the cement rim right here, taking a look around as he sat in the shade of the tree. Probably just woke up from a little snooze.

That may not seem out of the ordinary, a "duck near water" isn't a revolutionary concept, but you have to understand-- while the temple grounds are the essence of tranquility and beautifully landscaped, they overlook THIS:

-A BUSTLING CITY. There is no wildlife-ridden Central Park nearby, and even our 'river' has been reduced to cement and a trickle. So how did this duck get here? WHY was he here? Where did he come from? Who tipped him off to the safe harbor of the awesome reflecting pool? (Where would he find food?)

I was enthralled and intrigued and not a just a little pepped up by the sight of a Mallard duck chilling by the pool, but since I had to get inside for my shift, I didn't stay to watch and see what he'd do next. Was therefore left to ponder these vital Life Questions on my own. And sad that we had to part-- figured he'd be gone soon, I mean come on-- there was no real food nearby except maybe some tiny frogs. I sure wouldn't stick around.

So, how great was it to come outside four hours later to see him stepping gingerly into the water just at that moment! and commence a lazy float-around.

And then, not thirty seconds later, as I was picking up speed so I could grab my camera from the car, I heard a loud QUACK and the ruffling of feathers-- and turned my head just in time to see a female hen Mallard come out of nowhere (the air) and land with a splash in the water, right next to the drake.

Dude. That drake has got it going ON, to be able to summon the ladies like that.

But then-- what happened next was priceless. The female may have followed/responded to the male's call, 

but for the rest of the time that I watched, she was nonchalantly swimming around and he was agitatedly following her.  AS IT SHOULD BE.

(and then they started grooming themselves, also appropriate :)

And then look at them here, swimming side by side, floating calmly in companionship, a union of two... don't think it escaped me that this was especially apropos, considering the setting. And don't think a little tear didn't escape my left eye. (It did).

Lucky.

rude awakening

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So this morning's 4:04am earthquake was a 4.4 on the Richter scale. Not a big deal. (Unless, of course, you're my friend Sari's dad, who has a fear of the number 4.) (Or Chinese, so the number 4 means "death" to you.) By the time I realized it wasn't a dream or my roommates fighting or a rumbling truck (oh-so-cliche) and had sufficiently roused myself from a REM-stupor to tumble off the side of my bed into a triangle-space safe position, I only had to semi-consciously ride out about 10 or 15 seconds of the almost-minute-long shake. All was well.

Yeah, or so I thought.

A couple of weeks ago, I thought to myself, "Hmmm... we are probably due for a quake one of these days." Call it a premonition, call it fear due to recent events, call it my inherent love of planning ahead, but I heeded that thought--and decided I'd better figure out what could be in danger of utter destruction from falling. 

And promptly took my sand jars off their shelves :)

Some people collect souvenirs when traveling (waste), some collect magnets (understandable), some collect spoons (never understood the draw), some collect Christmas tree ornaments (sure wish I'd done that...). I personally like to buy inexpensive jewelry for the memory of the country, and if I'm on an island or a significant beach, I collect (take) SAND. And though it hasn't set me back financially more than a few dollars for the jars, the collection is Mastercard-commercial Priceless to me-- when am I ever going to Huahine or Rarotonga again--? so I really don't want to end up with broken glass and scattered grains all over my bathroom counter someday when the Big One strikes.

 (love that black-sand Tahiti one, too...)

So, the jars (in the bathroom, I have many more in safer places) came down immediately, and I found some QuakeHold at OSH a week ago which I plan to use to secure them. The Hold has been sitting on my nightstand in this exact position the past four days, to remind me to actually complete the project. Oh, and the jars have been/are in the exact same position as seen above, and survived today's shakedown just fine. Yay!

But now... let's move on to a different story.

Here's another love of mine: goblets.

I don't like drinking out of plastic, hate drinking out of mugs (unless it's a hot drink), utterly loathe styrofoam, but really love a little OJ and mineral water, or even water (beverage of choice) in a goblet. And my favorite goblets of all-time are a set from Target, and these from Cost Plus.

If you look closely at the goblet pictured, you'll see a big crack in the bowl of the glass. Pro of these fave gobs: Only $1.99 each. Con: Since they are cheap, they are easily cracked. So a week ago, after this innocent vessel suffered an innocent roommate-inspired accident, I got fed up with them being broken and decided it was time to put them away for the time being (since I can't replace any of them-- the Cost Plus ones were a substitute for the Targets, and now neither are being sold and I can't find similar anywhere else). I removed them from the kitchen cupboard and put them on the buffet on the dining room, intending to box them up before I lost any more.

OOHHHH, THE IRONY.

Total, and utter destruction.

(almost)

In this morning's "thrust" earthquake (only one side of the fault line moves), not one thing in the entire house appeared to have shifted even one inch. Except for in the dining room, where one huge heavy mirror decided to hurl itself away from the wall it was leaning against and dive to the floor to take cover, and in the process take down three tiers of an iron plate stand and its contents, a crystal trifle bowl, and two porcelain serving bowls. Oh, yeah, and TEN BELOVED GOBLETS.

The trifle bowl bounced to safety. Four of the eight silver-rimmed dessert bowls were saved. The Apilco porcelain fruit bowl survived, but the smaller Apilco tulip serving bowl suffered an ignominious death. Three white dinner dishes are in splinters.

 And of the goblets? Four remain. Three Targets, but only only one Cost Plus. Sniff.

Rest in Peace, my beloved material belongings.

Oh, and by the way? I hope not all my premonitions are going to be realized, because lately I've been having nightmares about nighttime intruders breaking into my room. (though if you're a potential intruder reading this, beware-- I've also now lately been sleeping with my emergency crowbar-hatchet, and I'm pretty sure I could inflict some bodily damage if startled). Also, a few weeks ago I dreamt that Kelsey Grammar and I were dating. 

So... yeah. Maybe just the quake one.

bring on the water weight(s)

I like to mix up my workout routine (well... "routine") every now and then, y'know, give my muscles a little surprise, so last night I pushed my limits in the high-paced and potentially dangerous sport of ...

AQUAROBICS.

(dramatization, not an actual photo)

SOME people might think Aquarobics isn't hard-core, but they are clearly wrong. I speak from experience, I've been twice now. And I can testify that, in addition to some good cardio and resistance training, it is pretty much a win-win- ( lose) -win form of exercise, all around!

WIN: 

Everyone knows that a swimming pool is the third-best place to feel skinny. The top place is, of course, among the masses at Disneyland, with the second being within 42 feet of a fried-Twinkie stand at any Middle America county fair. But in water, when you are magically defying heavy gravity and the liquid pressure serves to hold in your gut-fat, you feel super-thin, and compared to the standard population that participates in pool aerobics, you look tiny. And a one-piece doesn't create muffin tops, AND you can look super-strong as you maneuver those huge hand weights underwater as if they were made of styrofoam.

WIN:

Sometimes, in other gym-provided classes, I might feel under-par, either because I want to throw up after only 5 minutes of "boot camp" or because the 85-year-old woman next to me can stand on her head in yoga while taking a brief nap.  But compared to the lady in the pink shower cap last night at Aquarobics, I EXCELLED. And my sprints-in-a-circle (knees high) were definitely the fastest in the whole pool, I think it's okay to brag here. And no, I don't think it's just because everyone else gets special discounts at movies and the Sizz', it really is my athletic prowess at this sport... BUT I will admit that it's not bad being the youngest in the group; for example, when a sideliner stopped the instructor to yell encouragingly "I'M A DOCTOR FOR OLD PEOPLE-- AND THIS IS THE BEST EXERCISE FOR OLD PEOPLE! GOOD JOB!", I could smugly not include myself in that group, and pat myself on the back for getting a head-start on my future.

(lose)...
As previously stated, I look HORRIBLE when wet.  Even a marriage proposal in a jacuzzi does not prove/cannot convince me otherwise.

but, BUT, the biggest WIN! is that

old people + water = a good time

We know this because two of the three movies made about old people in the last 25 years-- "Cocoon" and "Cocoon: The Return"-- were based on just that. The directors would have you believe that it was the combined presence of Steve Guttenberg and alien pods in the water that revived the Quaker Oat dude's diving skills and virility (the power of the pods being secondary to Steve's loveable wackiness, of course) as well as giving his nursing-home buddy a reason to live (and dance) after losing everything on Wall Street to Eddie Murphy, but in truth those old guys would have been having fun a-plenty in the water on their own, and this even in the days before pool noodles were invented.

Unfortunately, the other movie out there about old people, "Titanic", is obviously not a good example of elderly aquatic frolicking. I'm pretty sure Old Rose never jumped back in the ocean to splash around for kicks, not even if there was an eternal-life-giving glowing-cocoon-pod ready to birth a translucent alien floating around, since she probably felt forever guilty for telling Jack that she'd "never let go" but hadn't bothered to offer him room on her life-saving floaty-door. Nope, and her final experience with water was to stupidly toss a priceless gem that could have made me a Lady of Leisure FOR LIFE into the darkest fathoms, never to resurface. I would not invite her to my pool parties, she'd probably ruin Marco Polo too.

The other old people of note, having exhausted the cinematic lineup, are of course TV's beloved Golden Girls. Sadly, we never got to see them whoopin' it up in the water (though we know they were because they lived in Florida) but that's because 25 minutes is only just long enough to review all of  Blanche's exploits and Dorothy's sarcastic retorts and add a few seconds of laugh track to each, and back in those days only the Full House girls got to visit the Disneyworld beaches in hour-long episodes. But The Girls' witty repartee is all pretty much the equivalent of a beach scene with skirted floral one-pieces anyway, anything actual would just be gratuitous. Thank You for Being a (Clothed) Friend.

So last night was not just about pursuing a rock-hard bod, it was about hanging with some pretty fun elderlies. They sure know how to have a good time, splashing around there. And were unperturbed when the instructor admonished them to have a salad, that the cheesecake would go straight to their thighs, after one woman yelled out, "I'm gonna go home and eat LASAGNE... and MIXED GREENS... and WHITE BREAD... and CHEESECAKE with STRAWBERRY FILLING... and WHIPPED CREAM..." as she floated lazily in a circle during cool-down. Dude, you can't tell old people what to do. They know, and they don't care. They've got it going on.

Oh, and also great were the masses of on-lookers in the sauna. Just standing there at the window. Looking. Staring. Pervs. Something like this, minus the toucans, and encompassing a distinctly different ethnic majority.

(I sure wish I could take my waterproof camera in with me to REALLY show the whole experience)

Can't wait til next week.

cool.

I love it when the moon does this.

(airplane not negative scratch)

I'm pretty sure the IOC had something to do with this, y'know like a soothing balm to our Post-Olympic-Depressed souls and as a reminder that we are all looking at the same moon and that somewhere out there, beneath the pale blue sky, someone's thinking of just how they too are going to make it to Sochi 2014.