Tai O

We decided to start our mini break close to home yesterday with a trip to Tai O. It's a small fishing village on the western tip of Lantau island and it's renowned for its stilt houses, streets lined with dried fish and sea creatures, and the elusive dolphins that precariously inhabit the local waters.

On the surface it looks like a very traditional Chinese village, mostly untouched by Western influences but it is very much geared towards the hordes of tourists who visit every week. Rumour has it that a local film or soap opera was filmed there and that alone brings a lot of people to the village! Tai O is about 45 minutes by bus from Mui Wo and Tung Chung. There are a number of fantastic hikes down into the village from a few points on the island. It's also a 20 minute drive from where we live, so we drove, but parking is pretty limited. You could also charter a sampan and arrive in style!

Our first priority was lunch. While we drawn to some of the local restaurants offering fresh fish and local delicacies, with two kids in tow we weren't as intrepid as we could've been and when we stumbled across Melt, a western style cafe with a very kid-friendly menu, we sat right down. The boys split a sausage sandwich and an apple juice and we shared a plate of nachos and lime sodas. If we didn't live here we'd feel a little guilty not indulging in local food, but since it's an option all the time we didn't feel so bad! Melt was clean and fresh and the food was just what we needed. It's located next to some pretty cool little cafes and local shops selling food. The Chinese pizza, directly opposite Melt looks delicious, and if the queue was anything to go by, worth a trip to Tai O! The Tai O Bakery sells delicious egg tarts and Chinese donuts, local delights we simply couldn't pass up.

Next up was a wander through a fascinating little village. The boys loved looking at the tanks of fish, crabs, and even eels, for sale along the streets. The smell of incense and dried fish made me feel like I was very far away from home, and took me back to the time I first fell in love with Asia. The click-clack of mahjong tiles and the chatter of everyone around us provided a nice soundtrack, and a relief from the city noises of traffic and construction. There are no cars in Tai O, only boats, and a boat ride is a must. We piled into a small sampan with a handful of other "tourists" for a tour of the village.

The stilt houses are quite remarkable, and after being here for a few typhoons myself, I marvelled at how they manage to withstand such weather extremes. The view was completely lost on the boys but they were both pretty excited to be on a boat!

Before heading out into open water, the boat passed by the Tai O Heritage Hotel. Built in 1902 as a police post, the building was restored and turned into a boutique hotel and granted heritage listing in 2009. We haven't had a chance to visit the hotel, or its famed glass-roofed restaurant, The Rooftop, but we will be making a special trip back for dinner soon. It's only accessible by boat, and is yet another glimpse into a different time and place.

We wound up the boat tour with a brief stop offshore where the local pink and white dolphins are known to hang out. Very few people that we know have actually seen them, and we weren't confident that we were going to be that lucky. There are a number of boat operators taking tourists out to see the dolphins all day, every day, and the spot is littered with debris from the boats. There are also markers in the water so the boats know where to stop, but it is disheartening, especially with the airport not far away and the spectre of the Hong Kong–Zhuhai–Macau Bridge rising out of the sea mere kilometres away, threatening to destroy the dolphin's habitat. Then suddenly we saw a disturbance in the water, a splash and flash of silvery white in the distance. All ten of us onboard gasped in delight, and again when one of the dolphins leapt out of the water, putting on a show just for us. We saw 2 of them playing and one rose out of the water a couple of times, quite close by. It's impossible to take photos as they move so fast but I felt like I was watching something very special. The boat ride costs $20HKD for 20 minutes and Charlie rode for free. Some operators also guarantee that if you don't see a dolphin you'll get a ticket for a free ride next time.

We had a fantastic day but we did get a little sunburnt. Despite the weather being wet and grey in Cheung Sha, it was sunny and clear in Tai O, so my advice for anyone planning a visit is go prepared for all seasons! All in all it was a great day out, and were home having a cup of tea by 3pm. Rediscovering the place we call home is off to a very good start!

Staycation

After our recent trip to Australia, we've spent a lot of time planning our exit strategy. Our time in HK is limited and we have a lot of options available to us, but we want to make sure we really get the most out of living here while we can.

I always felt like I left Sydney before I was ready. I don't have closure and I want to live there again one day until I'm "done."
I have no doubt it'll take 6 months to drive me crazy and then I can get on with living happily ever after elsewhere!

So, with that in mind, I made a list of all the things I wanted to achieve before we leave Hong Kong for good. While "taking advantage of living here," may sound quite vague, it's top of my list. Part of that involves seeing the places we haven't seen yet, and showing a few of those that we have seen to the boys. A ride on the Star Ferry holds a lot more appeal when you're watching the face of a very excited 3 year old! We haven't really experienced much of the local culture and there is still so much of the city we haven't explored.

Dave has 3 weeks leave coming up, and after our very expensive trip down under, we can't afford to go anywhere. So, we're seizing the opportunity and we plan to be tourists in our home town. Join us on our adventure, as I blog, tweet, and update every step of the way - starting next week!

Back

We've just come back from our first family holiday, and it was awesome! Five days in a campervan traversing the south island of New Zealand, five days in Queenstown and five days in Sydney. I spent two weeks in New Zealand, on the north island, when I was 15, but this was the first time I saw it properly. The air was clean, the people were friendly, the food was amazing, and around every corner we encountered jaw-dropping, breathtaking, truly spectacular scenery. I fell in love, completely and deeply, with the place and hope to have many, many more opportunities to visit.

The campervan seemed like a crazy idea, with two kids, a truckload of baggage and no fixed destination at the end of every day, but it was definitely the best way to travel, and we had the loveliest time. It was tough being in it all day and then all night but there were plenty of stops on what we affectionately came to call "Our Tour of New Zealand's Best Playgrounds."

It was the first lot of leave my husband has had in a long time, and certainly the first lot in a very long time that we actually used for its intended purpose. After the year we have had (you know, having a baby in the car, renovating and trips to eye doctors) we REALLY needed a holiday. It was exhausting at times and we filled every minute of every day, not just with the holiday stuff, but with the mountains of washing and dishes and all the other every day stuff you do with small children that never stops no matter where you are in the world. The boys excelled at adaptation to life outside of their comfort zone. We were in some kind of parallel time zone and all of us went to sleep together every night (kind of unavoidable in a camper van...). Being together like that was quite simply delightful.

We had fresh crayfish by the side of the road in Kaikoura and saw fur seals on the beach. We met another Aussie expat family in Blenheim and shared stories of life in Asia and campervan adventures. We drove along the north coast through the Marlborough Sounds, in awe of the sheer beauty of the place. We took a helicopter ride over the Franz Josef Glacier, terrified and ecstatic at the same time to be doing something so different and exciting. We played in the snow on Coronet Peak and sailed on Lake Wakitipu. The boys surprised us again with their patience while we visited a winery and had a bbq with friends in Queenstown. Our trip ended with a sobering tour of Christchurch, a beautiful city whose broken heart is still beating loud and true beneath the rubble.

To say I enjoyed this trip is quite an understatement. Josh and Charlie both grew up so much and while we had our moments, we bonded, in the way I always imagined families should when they're on holidays. Since we got back home a few days ago the real world has been a bit of a shock. Dealing with post-reno issues, paying for the holiday, all the usual blah blah every day crap is always a bummer after a break but apart from that I'm still on a high. I've come back feeling rejuvenated. Not relaxed by any means, it wasn't that kind of holiday, but I feel ready for another big year, a new project, maybe a few changes - and definitely another holiday in the not-too-distant future.

Top Tip Tuesday - The Mini-Break

This week I have holidays on my mind, and I have decided to do a special feature on getaways. Hong Kong isn't exactly the kind of place where you can jump in the car on a Friday afternoon and head to the coast for the weekend. People do, but their idea of the coast is South Lantau and since we live there, it's not exactly our idea of a break. While there's something quite appealing about needing a passport to go just about anywhere else, I've always found it slightly frustrating that short road trips are out of the question. This week I thought I'd do a quick list of places for parents to escape to, without the kids. We've only done this once (see April Antics and Modern Dilemmas) and it was well worth the angst it caused in the lead-up. I really enjoyed having a meal with my husband while wearing nice shoes, waking up when we felt like it, and having adult conversations. Of course I was desperate to get home again but another parent mini-break is on the cards before we become a family of four. If you can't bear to be away from your little ones for a night or two, all of the places I've listed would also be nice if you took them along, but a little less romantic...

Macau - Not overly romantic unless you're into casinos and smoking Chinese men around every corner, but Macau is far enough away that you do feel like you've gotten away, but close enough that you could be back home in under 2 hours if you needed to be. We stayed at the Venetian when we visited, but I'm very keen to check out the new Galaxy (especially the Spa) at some point. Ferries run every half hour throughout the day and if you're feeling really indulgent and romantic, there's also a helicopter service. Make sure you make the effort to visit the old town and experience some of the local culture.

Hanoi - Hanoi (Vietnam) is one of my favourite places in the world. We've been there a few times now and we've seen different sides to it each time, it's a truly fascinating place. Hanoi is only an hour and a half flight from HK and there are several flights a day. I should mention that you will probably need a visa to enter the country, so there's no room for spontaneity, but really, how often can you be spontaneous these days? There are many, many accommodation options with hugely varying prices and standards but for a couples retreat you can't go past the Sofitel Metropole, the best hotel I have ever had the good fortune to stay in. It's tucked away in a quiet part of the Hoan Kiem district, but it's walking distance from all the action of the markets, street stalls and the beautiful Hoan Kiem Lake. But you may not want to leave the hotel...

Singapore - Singapore is similar to Hong Kong in a lot of ways, but so different in others. The Singaporeans do luxury very, very well, and with the city being only 2 hours flight from HK it's a tempting option. Wherever you stay, must-do activities include: a trip to the awesome Singapore Zoo, shopping on Orchard Road, dinner at Clarke Quay and a Singapore Sling at the gorgeous Raffles Hotel. Or book a night at the Marina Bay Sands and stay right where you are until it's time to go home.

Phuket/Bali - While I love the idea of lazing on a beach without a sandy little hand dragging me down to the water (actually, I lie, I love the sandy little hand!), a trip to Phuket (3.5 hours) or Bali (4 hours) might be too far for some, especially if you're leaving little ones behind. We had a weekend in Phuket a few years ago (Friday to Sunday) and it was lovely. The only downside was leaving on Sunday afternoon while our friends were still in the pool, getting home at 11pm and having to work the next day... However, there are loads of hotels catering for couples (check out http://www.tripadvisor.com/) and the flight schedules do allow for a decent break if you choose to just go for a weekend. If an afternoon nap, a lazy swim, dinner and cocktails on the beach, a sleep in and a leisurely brunch before your late afternoon flight sound worth the 4 hour flight, then these are definitely great places to try.

Hong Kong - Believe it or not, it is possible to have a mini-break right here in our hometown. I know a couple who routinely book a night at a nice hotel in the city just to catch up and get a good night's sleep. If it's a special occasion and you can afford to splash out try the Peninsula, Intercontinental, Four Seasons, Mandarin Oriental or the Island Shangri-La. Whether you're pressed for time or you just hate the idea of being in a different city to your kids, a romantic 'staycation' might be the answer. For great hotel deals check out Booking.com.

As I said, this mini-break concept is new to me, so I'd love to hear from you if you have any other ideas or recommendations. Here's hoping some of you are inspired and find some useful information here!

Trading Places

My recent trip to the UK gave my husband and I a unique opportunity to walk in each other's shoes for a week. When he comes back from a trip we're always trying to out-do each other with tales of jet-lag and baby-related exhaustion. He complains about how hard it is to spend so much time on a plane, turn your body clock on its back and then fly back and have to readjust all over again. Meanwhile, after 4 days and nights on my own I'm usually tearing my hair out and ready for a break. Generally speaking we both find it difficult to sympathise with each other.

So, ready to prove him wrong about, well, everything, I arrived in London completely wiped out after 12 hours flying. I didn't even have to work on the flight, but I was still unmoved. When I switched my phone on there were two text messages from home; J had developed a fever after I left and had coughed all night. They were on their way to the doctor. On the one hand I desperately wanted to turn around and come home - it was hard enough to leave as it was - but on the other, I couldn't help but think that it was about time my husband found out that our days weren't all playgroups and cuddles.

J was sick, really sick, the sickest he's ever been according to D. I received updates several times a day and my heart broke a little bit each time my little guy refused to look at me on Skype. Apparently he asked for me constantly and was absolutely miserable. I hated being so far away knowing he was so unwell. I had to concede that my husband had been right about that one.

I did however, think that I had proved him wrong when I managed to adapt to the time zone change almost immediately, and I had as much fun as I imagined him having every time he was away. Once I got into the swing of things, had some time with friends, saw some sights, and shopped up a storm, I realised I'd gone too far to not enjoy myself. I consoled myself and eased my mummy guilt with the thought that J would be just as miserable if I were at home; his father wasn't doing anything that I wouldn't have done myself, and that made being away not nearly as hard as I had imagined. Despite the time zone change and the fact that my hosts had 15 month-old twins, I slept better than I had in 2 years. I didn't have to worry about anyone else, there were no decisions that had to be made about who was going to eat what and where we were going to go or what we were going to do. As I'm writing this my little man is upstairs asleep but the dog is beside me, desperately trying to get some love. At home there's always someone who wants a piece of me, and it was really nice to be away and keep all my pieces to myself. I do not wish to have a job that takes me away all the time, but I do envy my husband for those days he gets to himself. That hasn't changed.

I was, however, desperate to get home and if I could've made that plane fly any faster I would have. When I came back (after a god-awful flight which you can read about here), I was relieved but a little bit disappointed. J and D met me at the airport and my snotty, sweaty little guy didn't run and leap into my arms as I had imagined, he just kind of stared at me and seemed very uncertain about who I was and why I was there. Eventually he wrapped his arms around my neck and didn't let go, but he has made me work hard to earn back his trust ever since. My husband has always complained that it takes at least 2 days for J to love him again when he gets back from a trip, and I've never minded so much, because it usually means that Mummy is his favourite person for that time. But when it was the other way around it was like a knife in my heart. Yes, that definitely sucks.

Then there was the jet-lag. D had warned me that it would harder at this end, something about going east, but I thought that missing a night's sleep on the way back would exhaust me so much I'd sleep like normal. I was so wrong! The first two nights I did pass out at 8pm, but then I'd wake up around 11 and be fully awake for about 4 hours. Then I'd go back to sleep and find it impossible to wake up in the morning. Being the jet-lag veteran, and all-round good guy that he is, my husband had a lot of sympathy and patience for me - far more than I deserved. He took care of a still-sick J, let me sleep when I needed to and dished out melatonin tablets when I was desperate to get back on track. I only ever give him 24 hours grace when he comes back from somewhere and after that he has to get his act together and be a fully-functioning member of the family. I wasn't sure if he was so kind because he knew what I was going through, or whether he was hoping to earn brownie points and more sympathy for the next time he goes away, but either way, he put me to shame.

At the end of it all I had a new perspective on what it's like for my husband to have to travel internationally for a job. It's definitely hard work, and I would hate to not have a choice about it. But, as he succumbed to the same flu that plagued our son, D declared "you win!" He readily admitted that my job is indeed harder. So, while I enjoyed my time away immensely, I'll be leaving the jet setting to the professionals from now on. Because I realised just how much I love my job, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

The Comfort Zone

I am a bit addicted to this whole blogging thing, so I'm always thinking about topics and how I'm going to write about certain things. I really wanted to write a lot about my recent trip to the UK, and the whole time I was there I was on the lookout for interesting things. I had a great time, and I could write pages and pages on what I did, what I saw, my impressions of the place, and my friends, but I'm not sure how many of you would be interested in reading about it. So, what did I take away from the whole experience that I'd be willing to share...? Apart from the vast differences between this trip and the last time I was in London, eleven years ago, there was only one thing that really stood out. There's this little song and dance I do before I go away, especially far away. I do love travel, but I am rather set in my ways, so there are always moments before I go anywhere when I think I would much prefer to stay home. Especially when I'm particularly happy with my home life. Sometimes it's the fear of the unknown, or the sense of upheaval that comes with packing your bags and leaving the familiar behind. Other times it's just sheer laziness, but either way it's a battle to get myself out the door.

Being the first time that I was leaving my son behind this recent trip was no exception, and dragging myself out of that comfort zone caused me a whole lot of angst. I was due to fly out at midnight on Wednesday night but the flights were looking pretty full. Rather than risk not getting on I made a last minute decision to leave on the afternoon flight. I hated the thought of my little guy waking up from his afternoon nap to discover that while he was sleeping his mummy had left the country. I almost pulled out a couple of times but once I was on that plane there was no turning back. The crazy part was that I had wanted this trip. I needed a break, and I've been moaning for months about how hard it is being stuck here while my husband gallivants around Europe and North America (yes, I know it's his job, but it seems so unfair that he has so much fun doing it!). Eleven years ago I travelled because I desperately wanted to be somewhere, anywhere other than where I was. Today I'm living somewhere that feels pretty damn far away from where I started out, but I still feel that same urge to get away. Maybe not as strongly or as often, but the fact that travel is more available to us now, makes me feel like I'm missing out if I'm not taking advantage of it. And yet, at the last minute I really wanted to stay put.

While I was away I read an article where a mum talked about the way motherhood is a series of compromises. She said that there is always a part of you that misses the life you had before children - the freedom and fun and sleep. Then there's the part of you that wants to spend every waking moment with your child, the part that feels like something is missing when your little one isn't with you. You're always torn between the two. I could really relate to that internal battle. In indulging the part of me that needed time out, I was missing out on a week with the little person who is my reason for getting up in the morning. A big part of me was worried that I would miss J so much that I wouldn't enjoy myself, and I wondered whether or not he would forgive me for abandoning him temporarily. But there was also a tiny part of me that worried that I would enjoy being away too much, that I might just decide to hop on a train to Paris and leave the daily grind behind. It was becoming clear to me that maybe it wasn't just the comfort zone holding me back, but the way I was over-thinking everything.

Despite my reluctance to leave I had an amazing trip, and I left to come home feeling like I could've stayed longer.  I didn't have a terrible time but I didn't have such a great time that I couldn't bear to come home again. I think that having a child has made that comfort zone just a little bit more comfortable, but I needed to get out of it to realise just how much I like being exactly where I am. I got a lot out of this trip, but I'll have to fill you in later on how things went down at home while I was away....

London Calling

I’ve written several posts lately about getting away on my own, sans bebe, and I’ve finally committed to doing it. I’m off to London this afternoon and I’ll spend the weekend near Edinburgh with good friends, G and S and their twin girls. This is my second trip to the UK, but given that the first was 11 years ago, I’m expecting things to be a little different.

When I was young, growing up in a small town, all I wanted to do was see the world. I knew it was out there waiting for me, and I couldn’t wait to be a part of it. Three years at uni, learning more about the world, and life, than I had in my previous 18 years of existence, only increased that desire to be somewhere other than where I was. I didn’t have the financial backing to follow through with any of my plans so I worked, and I waited, and at the tender age of 21 I had enough in my pocket to buy a return ticket to London and a 2-week tour of Europe. I did plan to live and work in Ireland for a few months, but the announcement that my 18 year old brother and his younger girlfriend were “in the family way” made me think that perhaps it wasn’t the right time to be worrying my parents with an extended stay abroad…

I left home one very cold September morning, feeling slightly ill at the prospect of finally achieving one of my greatest ambitions. It seemed I had spent so much time convincing everyone around me that I was going to do it, that I forgot to think it through. My mum said I was positively green as we waited at the airport. I said my goodbyes and arrived 12 hours later in Tokyo, where I spent a night before flying for another 12 hours to London. Thanks to a very helpful travel agent my airport transfer and hotel had already been booked and there really wasn’t too much I had to think about. I spent two days seeing the sights of London on my own, and the most adventurous thing I did was buy a ticket on one of those red double-decker buses that travels all day in a loop, and you can hop on and off when and where you like. I was blown away by London, but somewhat disappointed too. I found the people quite rude, and when I was charged 5 pounds (back then the equivalent of $15 AUD) for soggy cereal and burnt toast I wondered why on Earth I had wanted to come all that way.

My first Grand Tour took place in the year 2000. It was a new millennium and it seemed like everyone, everywhere was ready to party. I was 21 and everyone kept telling me the world was my oyster. I had the time of my life on that trip, despite being completely clueless, and I can’t believe that I made it as far as I did back then. I always give myself a pretty hard time about the sheltered life I lead, but looking back I have really come a long way. I was so naïve then that I didn’t know that the airlines offered transfer services from the international to the domestic terminal, instead I rushed out looking for a taxi to get me there for an exorbitant fee. I remember getting off the flight at Heathrow and seeing people heading for the Tube station with their backpacks. They seemed so intrepid and I was envious of their ability to so seamlessly blend in with the locals. I’d never been on a commuter train before, so even something as simple as that was beyond me. I’ve since mastered the Hong Kong MTR and the New York Subway, and it might seem crazy, but I’m incredibly proud of myself for it.

I might know more of the world these days, I’ve certainly seen more of it now, but if anything that makes me more apprehensive about getting on that plane. There’s an ignorant sort of bliss that comes with the naivete I possessed 11 years ago, and it cushioned me while I travelled alone, filled with wide-eyed wonderment. It was a world before 9/11 and the attacks that came after, a world I had very little understanding of but one that seemed benevolent enough. Now the world is a little darker, people are less trusting, and I have a whole lot more to lose. It took a lot of courage (and a pinch of stupidity) to do what I did all those years ago, but I’m feeling pretty damn brave for leaving my boys behind and heading abroad on my own again, even if it is just to the Scottish countryside for the weekend. I can’t begin to tell you how high my levels of separation anxiety are right now!

The first time I travelled there was no such thing as Facebook, no iPhones, no constant link to the rest of the world (which may not have been such a bad thing). I was so thrilled to be on a plane that I didn’t care that I was squeezed between two rather smelly, hungover strangers. I doubt I even realized there were other ways to travel. But today I’m travelling in business class no less. I have the Tube app on my iPhone, pounds in my pocket, and I’ve booked a nice hotel in South Kensington (no more backpacker's hostels or bed bugs for me). And there’s not a travel agent or safety net in sight. I have lunch and dinner plans with friends on Thursday and just the fact that I now know people who live in London feels like an achievement. Turns out the world was my oyster after all. 

Modern Dilemmas

Lately I've been faced with a bit of a dilemma; whether or not to go away with my husband, sans bebe. I think it says a lot about how lucky we are, if this is the biggest thing we have to worry about, so I'm grateful for that. I don't expect any sympathy for the fact that I have to decide whether or not I can face a trip to Milan (oh, poor me!) but I'm sure that most parents, at some point, need to get away and can at least relate to that aspect of my problem. I know if we still lived in Sydney and had a somewhat normal life we'd probably have left J with his grandparents months ago and headed off to the coast for a weekend. The fact that we're talking about an international business class trip might make me sound spoiled, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Before we were Mama and Dada we did a bit of travelling together and I went on two of D's work trips. Back then he was mostly flying to North America and the Middle East so I tagged along to New York and L.A. and we had an awesome, but brief, time. At the time I was working, and spending 32 hours on a plane for a 48 hour layover required more stamina than I could muster most weeks, so I didn't go away as often as I could have. As soon as J was born and I was grounded, D started flying to places like London, Milan and San Francisco, and he's had some incredible travel experiences without me, much to my dismay. As he's due to do his upgrade in a couple of months these trips will soon become a thing of the past, and I'll be a little less envious when he's flying to Taipei and back in a day. For a while now we've been talking about taking advantage of the great rosters and the option of me going to work with him once again, since Hong Kong's proximity to the rest of the world is one of the main reasons why we moved here in the first place. This month D was given a Milan trip with 2 whole days there. We talked about a side trip to Venice, and when we realised that it was a few days before our anniversary, it seemed like it was meant to be. Then we calculated that we'd be away from J for 4 nights, 3 days, and it seemed like an awfully long time to be on the other side of the world. We talked about taking him with us but the thought of a 12 hour flight with a 15 month old and an 8 hour time difference ruled that out pretty quickly. Putting him through that just because we couldn't be away from him seemed more selfish than going without him. We tried to justify it to ourselves in so many ways. It'd be good for us, he'd be fine, we'd make sure everyone in the neighbourhood knew we were away and ask them to check in. We talked to other parents about it and it seemed that everyone felt pretty strongly one way or the other, there were very few sitting on the fence with us. There were those who were quite happy to take off for a few days and leave the kids with the helper, and they wondered why we were even talking about it, "book now," they cried. Others hated leaving their kids for even a day, and wouldn't dream of going so far away without them. Their faces would twist into an agonised grimace as they said, "oh, no! I couldn't do that!" and looked at me like I was clearly a terrible mother for even thinking about it. People with more than one child were more likely to support the idea, and the older the kids are the easier it is to leave them apparently.

I was torn, and then D announced that if we were going to go we'd need to organise our wills and make sure we had decided who would take custody of J if anything happened to us. Suddenly our little trip to Venice took on a whole new light - I pictured the infinite number of ways we could come to grief (those gondolas are floating death traps!), and it suddenly seemed less appealing. So in the end D left last night, without me. He still plans to go to Venice and even though he was trying to appear disappointed, he was buzzing with barely contained excitement as he packed his bag. As it turns out, it wasn't meant to be; I have tonsillitis and wouldn't have been able to go anyway. Surely it's better that I chose not to go rather than being forced not to at the last minute? I would've been bitterly disappointed if I'd gone through all that angst, decided to go and then had to can the whole thing.

I know a certain friend was hoping I'd jump in and take the trip to Milan so that he could use it to encourage his wife to do the same. What I think would be a better solution would be for us girls to go away together and leave the dads in charge (sorry, S!). I wouldn't need any convincing for that kind of holiday; I'd be perfectly happy on the other side of the world if I knew J was with one of his parents. You see, this whole debate has got me thinking about the kinds of travel I really want to do, because these days it's a pretty big investment. I've realised I'm less keen for global adventure, and more interested in some quiet time somewhere else. Top of my list is obviously a family holiday, just the three of us. A parents-only break would be a nice treat if we could tear ourselves away. But deep down I'd really love to go away by myself. Just for a weekend, a few days, to get some sun, sleep, eat a meal without being interrupted and lie idle by a pool. Sounds fab doesn't it? And a lot easier to commit to.

For now we've decided on a trial baby-free getaway, somewhere close by instead, and next week for our anniversary we're off to Macau. We'll be gone for a night and the ferry trip is only an hour. So we could be back in a heartbeat if we needed to be. I have to admit, I'm ridiculously excited about it already, and if it all goes well and we cope without our little man for 24 hours, we'll see what the roster holds in May.

In other news, I've put my time lying sick in bed to good use, and I've given the blog a facelift. I hope you like it.

Bali Hai!

Well, we're back, and it's about 20 degrees colder in Hong Kong than it was in Denpasar so we're struggling a little. I've just been introduced to a new blog (http://talesofataitai.blogspot.com/) and coincidentally the author was also travelling to Bali this week. She wrote about not blogging for a couple of weeks and confessed that it would feel like she was leaving something behind. I have to admit I felt the same way. I left my laptop at home (which felt like going away without one of my limbs) so I wouldn't be tempted to blog but I was thinking about it all the time; what I was going to write about, clever spins on things, tips I wanted to mention - I'm definitely addicted! Anyway, here's the rundown on our fabulous week in paradise (and a few of the lessons we learned about travelling with a toddler, some of which may be obvious to the rest of you, but we're novices)...

First I have to say that J was brilliant, as I had hoped. The flight down (4.5 hrs plus about 1/2 an hour delay on the ground) was pretty horrendous but he coped so well with the change of scene. He slept well, ate well and didn't make a fuss when we dragged him from one place to the other. Instead he got excited each time we walked out the door or got into a car, taking it in his stride as part of the adventure. We were thrilled and loved watching him loving every minute of it. We have been to Bali three times now and have loved it every time. This time was different, and I think if it's even possible, we now love it even more. I can't describe the feeling I get walking out of the terminal at Ngurah Rai airport and taking a deep breath of that warm, frangipani scented air; I instantly feel lighter. However, before being granted that lightness of being, we had to learn Lesson Number One: When travelling with a toddler, it pays to buy your visas in advance. Even though an immigration guy helped us out, the whole visa process still took almost an hour. Not a welcome delay when you've had to contain a toddler on an aircraft for 4.5 hours already.

We had booked two nights in Nusa Dua at the low-budget, but very nice, Matahari Terbit Bungalows (the website doesn't do it justice...http://www.matahariterbitbali.com/). 

We took a gamble, based on reviews on Trip Advisor, and fortunately it paid off. The rooms were huge, comfortable and clean, and being a small resort, there weren't too many other guests. We had the pool to ourselves (at the very unsocial hour of 8am) every morning, and the beach was ours too. The staff were amazing and would swoop in whenever we were eating and take J for a walk around the grounds or into the kitchen. Lesson Number Two: The Balinese LOVE children! Take advantage of this and let them be your pseudo-babysitters if you have any hope of eating a meal in relative peace. 

The weeks leading up to the trip were pretty hectic so we were pretty exhausted and very ready to unwind. We reverted to the old "sleep when the baby sleeps," napping during the day and crashing for the night at 8pm. We did still try to take advantage of our surroundings and the perfect weather, and one of the highlights of the trip was taking J for his first ever swim in the sea. We stayed in the water for so long that he fell asleep in my arms, lulled by the gentle waves. A gorgeous, unforgettable afternoon.

We also put J's tastebuds to the test on this trip. Lately he's been more keen to eat what we're eating so I've stopped cooking separate meals for him. Travelling proved a challenge and we struggled to find suitable meals at times. To his credit, he was willing to try everything we put in front of him, including fish and chips, sate, nasi goreng, noodles and all sorts of unusual fruits and vegetables (and stuff like ice cream and pringles that I would never feed him at home!). There were nights, however, when he wouldn't eat anything other than a safely packaged bowl of pre-made pureed vegies. Supermarkets were hard to come by and in Nusa Dua we had to rely on the UHT milk from the local Circle K, and the hotel's daily fruit basket for J's banana supply. Herein lies Lesson Number Three: No matter how confident you are that your child is a good eater, don't assume that he will be as willing as you are to indulge in the local cuisine: always take food with you!

After two blissful nights we travelled on to Ubud. We booked our accommodation on short notice so there wasn't much in our price range available. Luckily (again thanks to Trip Advisor) we came across the Warwick Ibah Luxury Villas and Spa. I hesitated when I read reviews from couples who had honeymooned there and wondered if we'd be kicked out for bringing a toddler into such a place but I needn't have worried. We were upgraded from a suite to a self-contained villa, and once again the staff could not have been more helpful. The villa was private and secluded, ensuring we didn't bother any unsuspecting honeymooners, but it wasn't so luxurious that we felt out of place with a child (we just wish we'd discovered it before we had a baby!). 

The Balinese massage at the spa was well worth the trip and the staff in the restaurant made such a fuss of J that we felt like we were amongst family. We ate out at one of our favourite restaurants in Ubud on our first night and even managed a lychee martini (heaven in a glass), but J was looking for what we came to call his "backstage pass" and wouldn't settle until one of the waitresses took him to the kitchen. Lesson Number Four: A hungry, tired toddler does not equate to a relaxing night out. The rest of the time we got takeaway or ordered room service and made the most of the outdoor dining area in our villa, when J was already in bed. J ate before us, strapped into his portable highchair, with his Wiggles DVD playing on the laptop. Taking that along was a decision we did not regret once!

When we did venture out with the little guy he surprised us by dancing along to the traditional Balinese gamelan playing in many places. He also developed a penchant for mocktails and fruity juices. Whenever D or I ordered one he'd practically leap from the table shouting "Ta! Ta!" and pointing hysterically at the glass. Poor guy looked like he'd been deprived of drink for days! At least it ensured that we stayed alcohol free for most of the trip...

Apart from missing a nightly mojito on the beach, we also failed to do anything remotely cultural. No temples, no traditional dancing, not even a minute spent running away from monkeys. We were glad we'd already been to Bali and done all that because we would not have had much fun if we'd gone along expecting a cultural tour of Ubud. J is notoriously restless (and a little boisterous), and he doesn't cope well being out in the heat. So we figured, rightly so, that we'd all have more fun in the pool. Lesson Number Five: On your first holiday with a toddler, visit somewhere you've already been so you don't feel the urge to explore every inch of the local area (unless your child has been backpacking since birth...)

One of our days in Ubud we hiked along the Tjampuhan Ridge as far as we could go with a 12kg sleeping baby; our Ergo proving invaluable once again. He woke as we were enjoying an iced tea overlooking some rice paddies at the top of the ridge. It was about as close to a sightseeing trip as we got on this holiday.

I did sneak out on my own one morning to the local market, just to feel like I'd "gotten in amongst it" just a little. My husband compensated for the lack of culture by engaging everyone he met in a conversation. A lot of people approached us and asked about J, how old he was etc, so D turned the tables and asked them about their kids, where they were from, how far they travelled to work. He had some really interesting exchanges with local Balinese people and found this more rewarding than any of the usual tourist traps.

For most of the time we lay by the pool, napped, chased J around the villa, ate copious quantities of mie goreng, and I even managed to read a book, a whole book! It all sounds idyllic, and truth be told, it was, but we did learn one other thing; travel takes on a whole new dimension when you have a baby. We'd been to Bali twice before but visiting the country for the first time with J we saw a different side to the place. It was still one of the best holidays I've ever had but when we arrived at Hong Kong airport at the end of it my husband and I turned to each other and asked "so how was your holiday?" We took it in turns to look after the little guy and didn't get a whole lot of time together; it really felt like we had separate holidays! We have a lot of photos of J and I, and a lot of photos of D and J, but not a single one of the three of us together. I guess if that's the only complaint I have, I'm not doing too bad. Bali is an awesome place and the people are incredibly warm and genuine, and we can't wait to go back.

PS: Regular readers will notice I've changed the look of the blog yet again. I'm having a hard time finding a background that fits, much like shopping for clothes in HK! So I've gone with lanterns in honour of Chinese New Year. Part of my attempt to accept that I do in fact live here...

The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

Once again I've been sidetracked from my original planned topic, but I'm sure you'll understand why today's post has me so absorbed at the moment. We just returned safely from Sydney last night after a great two week break. J and I recovered from our illnesses in time to spend a few days with my parents, visiting family and enjoying the fresh air and gorgeous summer weather. Despite everything I said in my post The Tyranny of Distance, I did need to be dragged kicking and screaming onto the plane. It was very tough to leave, and it was only love for my husband and a reluctance to keep living out of a suitcase that got me through the gate. We cashed in some air miles and upgraded to business class so no matter what mood J was in I'd at least be comfortable. He was a little excited and overtired but it was a really pleasant flight.

The pleasantness of the experience was shattered however, when we arrived at the baggage carousel to find one of our bags missing. It wasn't the small one with the easily replaceable baby bottles and toys, or the porta-cot, nor was it the one with my clothes. It was the largest bag of the lot, the one with J's clothes, many of them brand new, and all our Christmas presents from my family. While I was visiting my parents I took the opportunity to collect some things from storage and I had them in this suitcase too. Also missing are 3 limited edition children's books that I've had since I was 5, a gorgeous blue satin dress, an antique bead necklace that was my grandmother's, J's baby blanket (that he's slept with since he was born), a rather expensive beach towel, my favourite pants, my favourite t-shirt, and the charger for our camera, along with a number of other things that have no value or meaning to anyone but us. Cathay Pacific baggage services have been as helpful as they can be, while Sydney baggage services have not been helpful at all. Cathay just rang at 11pm to let us know they haven't had any luck tracing the bag but will continue looking. It's good to know they're onto it but, to us, it's looking more and more likely that the bag was stolen. So now I can't sleep.

I'm so incensed that someone would consider taking a bag that didn't belong to them, especially at this time of year. The trouble is, it was possibly the first time ever that I didn't lock the damn thing. A large, full suitcase, unlocked and bearing a first-class tag would be very appealing to anyone without a conscience. But, like I said, there was nothing in there that would be valuable to anyone but me. I've tried to be Buddhist about the whole thing and think "it's only stuff, we made it back safely and that's the main thing," but it was MY stuff, and it was all of great sentimental value. It's also the principle of it, who steals a bag of presents and baby clothes, at Christmas! I've just had to email my mum and ask for receipts for the presents she bought us, how Christmassy is that?!? Some of the items I'll never replace, no matter how much compensation we receive.

If there's any good to come out of this, it's an excuse to go shopping. And it's certainly distracted me from my post-Sydney depression. But I'm sad to say I've lost more than a bag full of stuff; a little bit of my Christmas spirit went with it, and that's irreplaceable too.

The Tyranny of Distance

I love Christmas. Mostly the few weeks leading up to it, the day itself is always an anti-climax, but everything else, the carols, the shopping, the food, is the highlight of my year. I've decked the blog in honour of the season and I'll be dedicating a few posts to the good, the bad and the ugly of Christmas this month, but today I want to write about travelling, something many of us do at this time of year.

We're leaving tonight for Sydney and we'll be away for two weeks. I'm stressed and anxious about the flight, I'm not organised enough, and as much as I'm looking forward to the time away (especially given the horrendous state of HK's air this week!) I'd rather just stay where I am. I always go through this trauma for a few days before going to Australia; the thought of repatriating just for a short time always brings up mixed emotions for me and there are times when I think it would be easier just to stay in Hong Kong. They say that home is where the heart is, and I definitely feel like I would be at home anywhere as long as D and J were with me. But there is a part of me that will always belong in Sydney. As much as I love going back to visit I know it can never be the same as it was when we lived there. People have changed, we have changed, and life has gone on without us, but at the same time everything is so familiar and the same. It's strange going back and having to stay in hotels and hire cars, it makes me feel homeless. At the same time I feel comfortable because I know my way around, but I feel like I don't belong. It unsettles me and I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions. I want to stay and pick up where I left off, I want my son to grow up on the street we used to live on and I want our friends to get to know him. For a long time I refused to acknowledge on the Australian immigration departure card that I was merely a "visitor," I always ticked the box next to "resident departing temporarily." I held onto the hope that I would return sooner rather than later, and was in complete denial about the fact that I was no longer a resident in my own country.

I go through this angst every time I go back. I torture myself by window shopping at real estate agencies, and spending quality time in all my favourite spots. Then the reality sinks in and I realise that when we visit Sydney we see her at her best. Our friends all make time to see us, we've saved up so we have more cash than we would if we were paying rent, we don't have to battle traffic or work in dead-end jobs every day. We don't get involved in the politics of the place or rely on the local infrastructure in any way, it's all good when you're just a "visitor." I also struggle at the other end of a trip, when I have to come back to HK, and my husband has to drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane (quite embarrassing sometimes...). On returning to Hong Kong I slip into this depressed fog for a few days; I don't unpack, I mope about the house complaining, "it's not like this in Sydney," and "when I was in Sydney I could buy this/do that/go there/be happy..." (yes, I'm a delight to live with). Viewing a place through holiday eyes is very much the same as wearing rose coloured glasses, and I have to constantly remind myself that if we did stay in Australia life would be much much harder. Not to mention all that we'd be leaving behind.

The fact that our families are there is the main reason we go back as often as we do, but it adds to the emotional wrench I feel at both ends of a trip. It's lovely that people care and that they want to spend time with us. I would complain a lot more if we went back and no one made a fuss. My father-in-law will be meeting us at the airport on Thursday and I'm absolutely delighted that someone will be at the gate to greet us for the first time since we moved here 3 years ago. Of course we want to see as many people as we can but we've learned from experience that it can be absolutely exhausting trying to please everyone. Despite the fact that that's simply impossible to achieve, we do still tie ourselves in knots trying, but we always end up disappointing someone. No matter how much running around we do, we can never see all of our friends and all of our families, and we're often forced to make a choice between the people we want to see and the people we have to see. I always leave feeling as if I could've spent an extra month there and still missed people. Being there reminds me of all the people we're missing while we're away, the babies we don't get to watch grow up, the family members who grow older every day, and whose time is limited. I'm so happy to see everyone but so sad at the same time. Noticing that my father's hair is greyer and my mother is thinner every time we see them, that I've been away long enough to notice these changes, breaks my heart. It sounds completely selfish but one year I'd really like to go back and not see anyone, to avoid the heartache. I'd love to take my boys to a small beachside town and have a proper Australian holiday, just the three of us, another impossible dream.

It's not just the emotional aspect of the journey that takes a toll. It's a real physical and logistical nightmare sometimes. Our first trip back to Australia with J was a marathon effort. We flew from Hong Kong to Sydney, then Brisbane, then Canberra and back to Brisbane again. J racked up more air miles in that month than most people do in a year. We also spent several hours driving to places outside of the capital cities. The poor little guy was so overwhelmed and exhausted by it all that it took weeks for him to adjust when we came home. When we went to Melbourne in June we decided that we'd stay in one place and ask people to come to us. It went well (still completely disruptive for J's routine, just less exhausting) but there were a few family members who couldn't come and see us, and that has complicated things even more for this next trip. If we tried to fit everyone in we'd literally spend most of our time in the country on planes or in cars travelling to and fro, all for a brief visit, where we'd probably be greeted with a comment like "what a pity you can't stay longer."

Unless you've lived overseas and had to return home with a small child in tow, it's hard to comprehend exactly what's involved. Some family members have never travelled and they seem to think it's much simpler than it actually is. "Just jump on a plane," they say. We've had a few visitors come through Hong Kong since we've been living here, and while we wouldn't want everyone rocking up on our doorstep, it would be much easier if more of our family came to us. I don't think you can fully appreciate how difficult it can be to travel overseas (packing, check-in, immigration, 9 hour economy class flight etc) with a baby until you've done it for yourself. It's an exercise on the scale of a small military operation. I'd like to think that there would be fewer demands placed on our time if more people understood how little of it we have and how complicated it can be. Maybe that's just wishful thinking, or maybe that's a selfish way of looking at it, either way a little time spent in our shoes would benefit a few people.

Now that I've done nothing but complain I do have to say that I can't wait to get back to the city I love so very much. I'm going to take my son to Bronte Beach, walk along Sydney Harbour every morning with a coffee and my beautiful boy, I'll shop until I drop in the malls that have everything I've not been able to buy in Hong Kong, I'll eat in my favourite cafes and laugh till I cry with friends I haven't seen all year. Then we'll go and see my parents and the town I grew up in. We'll look out over the vast open plains and breath deep lungfuls of fresh country air, we might even convince Pop to take us out to get a Christmas tree. We'll sit with my Nanna and she'll tell me stories of when her babies where J's age and I'll probably cry when I say goodbye, because she hasn't been well this year and she and I were cut from the same cloth. And my husband won't have to drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane because we don't live there anymore. Hong Kong, for better or worse, is home.

I ♥ HK

Ok, as promised here are my top ten things I like a lot about this city:

1. Diversity: Hong Kong is truly the most multicultural city I have ever lived in. I definitely think assumptions are made about certain nationalities, or groups of people, based on stereotypes, but I've never witnessed or experienced outright racism (which can be rampant in Australia sadly). Our group of friends here includes people from Canada, South Africa, India, Europe, Indonesia, Sweden, Japan, New Zealand, just to name a few. One of my favourite things about teaching here was seeing kids from so many different backgrounds working and playing together, and I love that my son will grow up being exposed to such different cultures and ideas.

2. Contrasts: Despite being a very modern, metropolitan city, there is another side to this place that not many people expect to see. We live on South Lantau island, 25 minutes by ferry from Hong Kong proper. I guess it's what's considered a rural idyll by local standards. We live across the street from the beach and on the other side of us are two large peaks covered in hiking trails and untameable wilderness. Every day a herd of cattle makes their way down the road to feed, and there is a water buffalo habitat 5 minutes from here. It's so refreshing after a manic day in the city to come home and have to stop the car to let an impressively massive buffalo pass. The Lantau Bovine Association have the tough job of making sure these gorgeous creatures are treated well and that they receive veterinary care when necessary. You can find them on Facebook if you want to know more. Another contrast I love is the difference between the summer and winter here. Winter is cold and everything dies off, then suddenly, around April, with a little bit of rain it all bursts into life again. When the jungle's in full bloom it makes me wonder how anyone ever thought that building a city in amongst all that wilderness was a good idea.

3. Shopping: Like a lot of things here, I have a love-hate relationship with shopping. You really have to be organised and in the right frame of mind. I find impulse buying a lot easier because I tend to be disappointed if I go out with a plan. Shopping does seem to be a national pasttime and you can buy just about anything from just about anywhere. I've been introduced to so many new brands, of clothes, accessories, household products, food, that are now my staples and I will genuinely miss them when I leave HK. Whether you're shopping on the street, in a mall, at the markets, the crowds can be overwhelming and I sometimes feel like I'm sitting in a car at an intersection trying to merge onto a busy highway; you just have to close your eyes, move forward and let the traffic take you with it. When you do manage to snag some bargains and make it home unscathed, it's all worth it!

4. Proximity to the rest of the world: Having lived in Australia for 28 years it's great to live somewhere that's so close to everywhere else. I travelled to Europe when I was 20 and it took me two days just to get to London. My return journey from Dublin took 3 days, involved a car ride, ferry, train, bus and 4 flights, and I still had to spend 6 hours asleep in a transit lounge in Osaka. Here I can get on a plane after breakfast and arrive anywhere in Europe/Africa/America/Asia in the same day! We once went skiing in California, for a weekend! Admittedly that was a little extravagant but definitely do-able. The travel is one of the main reasons why we're here, and we can't wait to show J the world that lies just beyond our doorstep.

5. Opportunity: We came here because the company my husband works for offered a package that was too good to refuse. In Sydney we were living simply but still beyond our means. We couldn't sustain the kind of lifestyle we had and move ahead financially. Hong Kong offered us the chance to pay off our debts, buy our own home and still have a life. We're not exactly wealthy but we're comfortable. I've met a lot of people here who have been offered opportunities that they wouldn't otherwise have had if they'd stayed in their home countries. Many have started businesses and are succeeding at things they only dreamt about doing before. There's a feeling here that you can do anything you want to, and I'm finally starting to feel that all the sacrifices, everything we gave up to come here, have been worth it.

6. Blue sky days: I hate the pollution here. I've said it before but I'll say it again, it's the one thing that will make me leave one day. If it's possible to get SAD (seasonal affective disorder) from too much smog, that's how I feel about it. Over the summer we were treated to a long stretch of good weather and clear skies and we saw how spectacular the city could look. It is a gorgeous part of the world, when you can see it.

7. Xiao Long Bao: Chinese pulled noodles in a clear soup with pork won tons (from Crystal Jade, IFC) is on my list of top ten favourite dishes. It's even better when you get seated at a round table with a dozen other single diners all eating an array of mouth watering dishes, expertly wielding their chopsticks and cups of jasmine tea. I have bemoaned the lack of good quality fresh produce here but the abundance of amazing regional specialities is a definite plus.

8. Cleanliness: I've seen people pick their noses, floss their teeth and cut their nails in public here and the throat clearing is just stomach churning! But, it's one of the cleanest cities I've ever been to. Since SARS there has been a massive public education campaign to encourage people to "use cough manners" and keep the streets clean. Public areas are regularly sanitised and disinfected and it's rare to see litter on the streets. There's a silent army of workers out there every day cleaning, gardening, maintaining public areas and doing a damn fine job of keeping the city shiny and hygienic. At the height of swine flu last year we went back to Melbourne. On arriving at the airport I was horrified by the state of the place. The floors were dirty, the bins were overflowing and there was not a cleaner in sight. It really opened my eyes to how clean HK really is.

9. Safety: I feel very safe here. I went out last night and caught a late train home, and at no point did I feel a need to stay in well-lit areas or look over my shoulder. Crime rates are very low and minor crimes like bag-snatching and muggings are rare. People here are just far too honest to consider breaking the law or hurting someone. I really like feeling so secure, it should be that way everywhere. The public transport is also safe and clean. The trains make Sydney's transport system look like something out of the dark ages.

10. The people: The local culture is so very different to our own. The education system has a very different focus and creates a unique mindset which can be infuriating to Westerners. There's a lot that's difficult to understand and there are days when it's impossible to achieve anything because what you're asking is just too hard to explain. En masse, the local people are simply very different to us. I could go on, in detail, but I'm trying to be diplomatic and positive. Despite the obstacles, when you get to speak to someone one-on-one and really get to know them, you find a race of people who are funny, hard working, intelligent, quirky and kind. They have a deep respect for their culture and family, which is at the core of everything they do. They are a full of contrasts, preferring to "save face" rather than risk a confrontation, while at the same time not really caring what anyone else thinks. There's a good reason why China is such a powerhouse and it has so much to do with their work ethics and values. It's a truly fascinating culture, filled with equally fascinating subcultures. I could live here another 20 years and still not fully understand what it is that makes the local people tick, but I would really enjoy trying to figure it out.

So there you have it. I'd love to hear from you if you have something to add to this list. Have a great week everyone!

Out and About - One mother's epic journey from South Lantau to Wan Chai

Some would say I’m lazy or timid for what I am about to admit, but the truth is I believe that life is too short to spend it stressed. So I avoid situations that could potentially send my blood pressure skyrocketing. That rules out a lot of things in Hong Kong including, until today, taking J into town on my own. I know a lot of mothers who take their kids everywhere with them, without help, and I give them full credit. But if I can I save things like doctor's appointments for when my husband's around or I take my helper. It makes life so much easier. J and I have previously been as far as IFC mall on our own (a ferry ride and short walk away), a relatively easy trip, but today we went to Wan Chai for an appointment with the osteopath.

The trip there involved a 30 minute ferry ride and 5 minutes in a taxi. I had J in the stroller on the ferry and transferred him to the Ergo carrier for the cab ride. I find that 90% of taxi drivers in HK are reasonably helpful but the guy I got today was an a’hole. He watched me wrestle with the stroller and didn’t open the boot until I banged on it. He didn’t even open the door for me. For my non-Hong Kong readers, all cabs here are fitted with electric doors so all the driver has to do is flick a switch and the door opens. Very handy for mums juggling babies and nappy bags. I know they're under no obligation to help but most of them at least offer. When we reached Wan Chai a very helpful valet opened the door, helped me out, banged on the boot and took the stroller out. I’m sure if he had known how to operate the quinny zapp he would’ve opened it out for me too. Needless to say there was no tip for the driver. When we were finished with the osteopath I decided to get back to Central on the MTR (train). I had 45 minutes to spare and I thought it would be good for me to work out how to do it with a stroller so I’d know for next time. It also meant I could keep my very sleepy boy in the stroller and skip the Ergo (which might be better for bub’s spine than a Baby Bjorn, but it’s not so good for mine). Here are the lessons I learned today:

1. The elevators inside the MTR stations are the slowest lifts in the world. It’s worth cheating and using the escalator if you can.
2. The wide entry and exit gates, suitable for strollers, are few and far between and tend to be near the elevators. So if you follow my advice in point 1 you’ll need to walk a fair way to get out of the station. You can’t take a stroller through a turnstile apparently…
3. The majority of people in MTR stations and shopping centres will not get out of your way or open doors for you, but a stroller is a very good way of bringing your presence to their attention without hurting yourself.
4. Even when using escalators and running like a madwoman through IFC it takes approx. 48 minutes to get from Wan Chai to ferry pier 6.
5. The 12.30 ferry is very slow indeed.
6. My husband will be taking J to his next appointment with the osteopath, and possibly the one after that.

I have to admit that despite all of this, it was worth the effort and I’m still very glad that we decided to give osteopathy a try. And apart from being a little cranky when he was tired, J was absolutely delightful the whole morning. He slept for an hour on the ferry, and only protested when we stopped moving. Unlike his mother, he seems to love the craziness and noise of the city, and isn’t stressed by it at all. As for me, I am in need of a cup of tea and a good lie down.

Cabin Fever

I have a love-hate relationship with Hong Kong. I’ve never really been at home here but there are so many advantages to living here that I feel like it’s the best place for us right now. One of the most appealing things about Hong Kong is its proximity to just about everywhere else. When I was 21 I went to Europe from Australia and I travelled for 3 days! My husband is currently in London; he left HK yesterday morning after breakfast and arrived not long after I went to bed. Since we’ve been here we’ve been to the States twice, Bali, Singapore, Vietnam and Thailand, with countless trips back to Australia. My husband’s job makes it easy to travel, but Hong Kong is the gateway to a lot of countries that we would not be able to travel to without a lot of prior planning if we still lived in Sydney. For the first couple of years we were here I was travelling every 3 months or so and it was the ability to leave that made it possible for me to stay. While I was pregnant we had one trip back to Sydney but then I didn’t leave Hong Kong for 9 long months. It forced me to explore the place a bit more and to make deeper connections with friends here. I still didn’t love the place but I was definitely more comfortable here after my “confinement.” I was itching to leave as soon as J had a passport and in his short 8 months on the planet we have been to Australia twice.

It has only been about 6 weeks since we got back from our last trip but I am already feeling the need to get away again. I’m spending way too much time at home and so much about Hong Kong is bothering me at the moment. It doesn’t help that last month my husband went to Milan, with a side trip to Lake Como, and next month he’ll meet his sister in New York. At most he gets 48 hours in each destination but, wow, the things you can do in 2 days in a place like New York… Before J was born I had this fantasy that we’d do a lot of travel as a family while he was little. That was shattered the first time I flew to Sydney with him overnight. 9 hours in an economy class seat with a 4 month old on your lap and vomit in your hair do not make for a pleasant travel experience! He travels brilliantly to be fair and I’m sure he’d cope fine with a 16-hour flight and a 12-hour time zone change, but would I? I would love to travel more, my longevity in Hong Kong depends on it, but there’s one small issue. Hong Kong is not easy to leave. You need a passport to go pretty much anywhere else. You can’t really satisfy your craving for adventure with a road trip here, as the furthest you’d get is the Chinese border. Which is a problem for me because I don’t like flying. If you’re at all an anxious flier please don’t read on, as I’m about to confess something that might make matters worse for you. Since J was born and we’ve been travelling with him I’ve had the sudden realisation of what flying actually is. You’re suspended thousands of feet in the air in a plastic and metal cylinder with hundreds of strangers, in the hands of guys who are really just our husbands, brothers and dads. Sometimes you have to fly over the remotest, most isolated and inhospitable places on Earth to get to your destination. Knowing there’s an airport in Irkutsk brings me no comfort whatsoever. If I was ever on a plane that had to make an emergency landing in Siberia I can guarantee I would not be flying out of there, I’d be applying for Siberian citizenship. Either that or I’d have to be heavily sedated in a first class seat with access to A LOT of alcohol!

Maybe it’s this new realisation, or the simple fact that I’m now flying with my beautiful son attached to me by the world’s most pathetic excuse for a seatbelt, but the thought of getting on a plane for longer than a couple of hours fills me with dread these days. So, I’m left with a bad case of itchy feet and no way of scratching them. Does anyone know how long it would take me to get to Paris on a train…?

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Mother Who Hasn't Slept in Months

Yesterday was a bad day. CLP have decided to yet again dig up the footpath outside our house and for the 2nd time this week their jackhammers woke my son. Sunday night had been a rough night sleep-wise and so I was trying to do as the books say and "sleep while the baby sleeps." Well, 20 minutes into our nap and we were woken by drilling so loud the walls were vibrating. Baby J decided naptime was over and I dragged myself out of bed and vowed to try again in the afternoon. The same thing happened! There was a knock on the bedroom door and my husband whispered "are you about to lose it?" By that stage I was sobbing in the wardrobe and called back "I've already lost it!" I think sleep deprivation could be used as a form of torture. It makes people crazy and emotional and disturbingly irrational, well, that's what it's done to me anyway.

Our son started sleeping through the night at 3 months and we thought we had been blessed with a gifted child. A month later we made the mistake of taking him back to Australia where the slight time zone change and different beds had him waking every hour of the night for 4 weeks. It took 2 weeks to get him back to sleeping through when we returned and another month after that we were called home to Melbourne again. We hired a cot this time and stayed in the same place. Still he woke every hour. We got back to Hong Kong and I hoped that sleep wouldn't be far behind. Then a very bad thing happened to some very good people. Our friends put their son to bed one night and he didn't wake up. For a week or two no one in our neighbourhood slept. Torn between grief and anxiety, those of us with children resorted to sleeping on the floor in our babies' rooms or taking them into our beds. Now when my son makes a noise in the night I leap out of bed and check on him. When he doesn't make a noise for a couple of hours I check on him again. It's physically and mentally exhausting! It's not just my worrying keeping me awake, J still doesn't "sleep through". He's now so mobile he spends the night moving from one end of the cot to the other and we often have to go in and help him when he gets stuck with his legs through the bars or his head up against the end of the cot. I'm not sure if anyone told me about this before he was born but talking to people now it seems no one with kids gets a decent night's sleep.

I had this naive notion that the first couple of months would be sleepless but then we'd start solids and it would all fall into place by some miracle. Now I know better. Yesterday when the workmen outside unknowingly woke us up I was so enraged that I wanted to go down there and start throwing things at them. I knew they were just doing their jobs but I was so desperate for sleep that I would've done anything to stop the noise. Not wanting to read about his wife on the front page of the SCMP ("Crazy Gweilo Woman Halts Vital Electrical Works") my husband gave me a set of ear plugs and promised to keep watch last night, I still woke up every few hours but knowing someone was getting up to J I felt much better. Whatever it is that keeps us up at night, colic, teething, anxiety, bed wetting, there's something reassuring about knowing that we're not alone. And I know there's not a mother out there who would condemn me for teaching the CLP workers the meaning of the term "going postal."