Faster than expected

It felt like we had only just moved into our apartment, but we were already leaving.  I still remembered with clarity the excitement of getting the keys.  The agent walking out of the apartment and knowing that I was living in my own place.  Not a place that I was renting, but my very own place.  I had expected to have been here almost indefinitely (or at the very least for quite a long time), and instead after only a few years I was off again.   It had been a far shorter stay than I expected or planned.

As I stood in the apartment, everything being packed away by the removalists, I felt a strange feeling.  It wasn't the same as previous moves.  I remembered those moves.  In those moves I felt clearly the pang of leaving somewhere that was close and important to me, of leaving my home.

I didn't have the same feeling this time.

I had experienced a lot in this apartment and yet it didn't have the same feeling of home to me.  Was it because I had moved too much?  Or was it that I just hadn't been in this apartment for long enough?

Exhaustion

Well this was a new experience.  It was a level of exhaustion I hadn't experienced before.  I had done all nighters before (for both work and fun), I had been through physical challenges in the past that meant a lack of sleep... but this?  This was an ongoing level of hammering that was wearing away at my resistance.  The first few nights had been fine, with baby still sleeping even if for a shorter period through the night.  Now, we experiencing him waking every few hours.

He was just a baby.  I couldn't blame him for any of this.  It was just a part of the natural cycle of things.  Still, it did mean that I was completely and utterly shattered during the days.  The paternity leave entitlements in Hong Kong were far from generous, so I also found myself in the unenviable position of having to go to work each day after having spent most of the evening feeding and soothing the crying child.

When I managed to calm him.  To put him to bed.  That feeling of success and satisfaction was hard to beat.  Yet it was probably just as much to do with relief at knowing I could get a couple of hours of extra sleep.

A baby photoshoot

 Veronica was completely enamoured with Pickle.  He was so small and delicate.  She wanted to capture every moment of his life.  Our phones were filling up fast with photos and videos, but more was still needed.

Professional support was needed to satisfy Veronica's requirements.  She found a studio online that did at home visits to do baby photoshoots.  I wasn't sure how I felt about it all.  It seemed all a bit much.  I loved having Pickle in our lives, but did we need to go to these lengths to capture these early moments of his life?

We probably didn't, but like with many things in life, "need" is a strong word.  We may not need many things, but that doesn't mean that they aren't nice to have.  The pictures came out well.  The photographers seemed to be baby whisperers, able to calm and sooth at all times, which resulted in some incredible pictures.

A new arrival

I had restless night.

It was nothing compared to what Veronica was going through, but I still felt exhausted.  My friend Christoph had been kind enough to let me crash at his place close to the hospital, so I tried to sleep.  I put the phone next to my head and closed my eyes.  I expected to be woken with a call, but nothing came.  After a few hours of sleep, I woke up and made my way back to the hospital.  Even without the call, I preferred to be there with Veronica.

At the hospital, there was still no major change.  Veronica had barely slept and was still waiting.  I sat in the same cafe downstairs and kept waiting until the call finally came that she was being moved into the delivery ward and that I could finally join her.  I packed up my things and moved up quickly to the private room where she had been moved in anticipation of the labour starting.

Inside the labour room, we were still waiting.  Veronica paced around, the pain of the contractions still intense but with no further dilation.  A doctor had come to induce her and to break her water, but there still didn't seem to be any major progress.  I tried to comfort her as much as I could.  One of the nurses came and suggested some deep tissue massages in her lower back to help ease her pain.  Between us, we took turns massaging her back to try to give her some relief.  The nurses left, and I was alone with her as I tried my best to comfort her through the painful contractions.  Baby had decided that the best place to rest his head was on the base of her spine , so every contraction was doubly painful.  The nurse came back to check.  A sudden flurry of activity began as the nurse declared with surprise that Veronica had gone from being barely dilated to now suddenly being fully dilated.  The baby was coming.

The nurses ushered me out of the main area and onto a seat to the side as they prepared the room for the birth.  The bed was changed and Veronica was helped into a better position.  Once ready, I was led back in to be by her side.  I took her by her hand as she began the process of labour.  Something so many people have gone through before, something so intrinsically part of who we are as humans, and yet something which is so foreign and unique an experience to the uninitiated.   

The intensity and the pain that Veronica went through was incredible to witness and to be near.  It was an emotional experience as I tried to encourage and support her as best as I could from my position to the side.  I held her hand.  I spoke as many words of support as I could think of.  I helped her count.  The nurses urged me to be vocal in my support and so I took on as much of a coaching role as I could.  It seemed apt.  I gave her timing instructions.  I helped her with her pacing.  I gave her unwavering moral support.  What more could I do?  I was deeply invested in this and yet I felt incredibly impotent and powerless through it all.  There was ultimately nothing I could really do.  This was something Veronica had to go through alone, with all of us mere bystanders hoping to be of some minor help.

The time went quickly.  It went very quickly.  From when I was ushered out and then back in, it was only forty minutes.  In that short time, it was done.  With one final push and with the firm hands of the midwife, a new life sprang into our world.  A gentle cry started, with eyes closed and in shock.  I felt a huge wave of emotion.  It was a powerful experience to have gone through.  The nurses checked Veronica, the doctor came to make sure everything was fine and to check the baby.

Then the baby was brought to his mother, placed immediately on her chest.  The warmth and the sound of her heart instantaneously soothed him.

It had been nine months.  Now we would commence the next part of our lives together.
 

Waiting for a new arrival

The baby was coming.  It was very clear that he would be slightly earlier than expected so we needed to go the hospital.  Veronica had been experiencing some terrible nights sleep and by the morning, her contractions had started and were becoming frequent.  At each contraction, she froze in pain and had to lay down.  It was difficult to watch, with nothing I could do to help her other than to offer my support.  I grabbed our prepared bags and we made our way to the hospital.  There, Veronica was quickly admitted to the prenatal care ward.  She wasn't quite ready to be moved to the room for labour yet.  So we would have to wait.  With her being in this prenatal care ward, it meant that I could only stay during the designated visiting times. So instead, I found myself a cafe to camp myself and to wait.

I tried to do some work, to clear up as much as possible as I waited.  It was a strange time.  Full of nervousness, anticipation, and anxiety.  Through all of this, I also felt a sense of complete powerlessness.  As with Veronica's pain, there was nothing I could really do.  Even my ability to be physically close to her as she struggled with this final phase of the pregnancy was now taken from me and I was reduced to being a distant player.

I walked around the grounds of the hospital a bit.  I tried to stay calm and rational.  The fresh air helped, but I thought it best to keep my busy so I went back to the cafe and worked.  There wasn't anything else I could do, so I used this time to deal with open work matters and to close things off as much as I could before the baby's arrival.

Once the evening visiting hours arrived, I rushed back upstairs to be with Veronica.  She had been suffering but was still it seemed no where close to labour.  I waited with her.  We walked around the ward together and as I tried to provide her with as much comfort as possible.  The nurse checked her again close to when it was time for me to go.  There was still a lot of time to wait.  She told me that I should go and find somewhere to get some sleep, she even said that it wasn't time yet for me to be pacing in the hallway!  I wanted to stay close, so I called a friend who lived nearby and arranged to crash at his place.

Pavlova Christmas

I was over the moon to have won 4kg of passionfruit from Cheese Club.  Over the last few years, they had continued to grow in Hong Kong and Asia.  I was a big fan of their service and it made buying dairy products far more affordable in Hong Kong.  Their success had also led them to expand into other areas such as fruit.  With the Christmas period in full swing, they had launched a series of giveaways.  I had signed up to everything I could, and the win of the fruit was a very pleasant surprise.

Still, with 4kg of passionfruit, I needed to think of what to do with it all.  The fruit themselves were delicious, probably the best passionfruit I had ever eaten, but I still had too much of it to just casually eat day to day.

Since it was a festive time, it seemed that the best use of it would be for a pavlova.  This cake from my childhood that seemed to be the specialty of every grandma in Australia was still a favourite.  Making a pavlova was easy, but making a good one usually took a bit more effort and concentration.  I had a good recipe, and now that I had the fruit it seemed to be the perfect time.

Fully decorated, it is a thing of beauty.  After our dinner, Veronica's family all took a slice and quickly embraced it.  Who doesn't love a good pav?

Christmas in Hong Kong

A cold snap had hit Hong Kong at the perfect time just as we all started to wind down before Christmas.  It was certainly not a snowy European winter, but it was still a nice change from the heat of Hong Kong.

Down in West Kowloon, there was a decent sized Christmas market that had been set up.  Again, it wasn't anything near the size of the incredible Christmas markets you can find in Europe, but it was nice to visit on this cold night leading up to the holidays. 

There were stalls all lined up around the Great Lawn area.  For what it lacked in the vibe of the European markets, it more than made up for it with the view.

We made our way over to the large Christmas trees which had been set up on the harbour front side.

They weren't real trees, but instead were ultra illuminated and hyper coloured steel structures.  Again, not very European in feel, but that was fine.  Mere replication and imitation often merely makes you yearn for the original even more.  It makes the imitator seem to be just that, nothing but a poor imitation lacking the soul or uniqueness of the original.  I thought this was far more fitting for Hong Kong.

Sharp Peak

The cool weather called for a hike.

I had been out hiking in Sai Kung country many times, but I had never walked out further towards Sharp Peak.

For the views and enjoyment given, it wasn't a difficult hike at all.  There weren't many sections that were too steep or taxing and there were nice spots to stop to enjoy it all.  Near the top, the views opened out expansively and you could see out along all the breaches and out towards the nearby islands.

We made our way down towards Ham Tin beach for a very late lunch.  Somehow, a couple of our friends managed to get completely lost.  They walked down towards the shore and attempted to circle around the rocky coastline to get to us before giving up and doubling back and over the ridge again.

 

None of us wanted to walk out again, so we arranged for seats on the speedboat out.  The waves started to come in hard just as it was time for us to all board.  Everyone boarded quickly as the boat captain and his assistants fought to hold the boat steady.  For some incomprehensible reason, the last couple to board seemed to ignore all the instructions and refused to sit, just standing at the back of the boat as the captain yelled at them to sit down.  There was a clear stress in his voice as his tried to keep the boat from being thrown towards the beach.  

Heavy rains

The typhoon had come and gone.  So Hong Kong was now back to normal.

Well that's what we all thought.

Instead we were all in for a big surprise.  As I prepared for bed one night, I could hear the rain outside.  It had been wet since the typhoon, so this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.  The rain was getting heavier.  I could hear the rain coming down hard.  It was still nothing out of the ordinary.  Heavy rain can be common in Hong Kong, so much so that there's a system of warnings in place at the Hong Kong Observatory to warning people when it gets too much.  I didn't think much of it as I lay in bed and closed my eyes.  I could still hear the heavy rain.  It was actually quite a soothing sound and I was soon asleep.

I woke up to the sound of rain.

I wasn't sure if I had slept.  The rain sounded as heavy as it had been when I had fallen asleep.  I wondered if it was still early or if I had only been asleep a short time.  I looked at my clock.  There was no mistake, I had slept the full night and it was the morning.  I thought that maybe it was just a coincidence that the rain had been at its heaviest when I slept and when I woke.  Strangely, in the back of my mind I did wonder whether the heavy rain had persisted through the night.

I stepped out of bed and looked out the window. 

It hadn't been a coincidence.  It had indeed rained heavily all night.  We were to find out later that this had been the heaviest rain that Hong Kong had ever experienced.  It was a once in 500 year event that had completely saturated the city and left flooding all over.  There was reports and videos of landslides, flooded buildings and general mayhem.

By mid morning, the waters had started to recede.  Veronica and I went downstairs to look for food and to investigate our surroundings more thoroughly.  Everywhere there was mess and filth.  The flooding had brought with it all the dust and dirt in the city, and caked it all over the roads and sidewalks.

At one drain, we found the remains of an early morning noodle delivery.  It must have been left in front of a restaurant by the delivery drivers only to be carried away by the flooding that came later.

As we turned the corner, we found the biggest sign yet of the true severity of this event.  The local McDonalds, the store that never closes no matter how bad the typhoon, had been shut down by the flood.  Being in the basement of the building, we could only imagine how bad the flooding downstairs had been.  Many of the shops and buildings in Hong Kong are raised a "step", which is normally more than enough to deal with the usual heavy monsoon rains.

This was a different case altogether, and the flooding had gone above that first step which meant a long and expensive clean up for many of the ground and basement stores throughout the city.

Amazingly, the resilience of this city was such that by the afternoon, I could already hear the rumbling of the trams rolling along the routes that had been flooded only hours earlier.

Super typhoon days

It had been years since we had felt in the "typhoon mood".   There had been a few big ones since Mangkhut, but none of them had seemed to impact the city in the same way.  The shut downs that normally come with the typhoons had been short.  The coming of Typhoon Saola seemed like a return to the old days.  The observatory had been warning about it for days in the lead up, with a direct hit on Hong Kong predicted.  Everyone seemed to be awaiting its arrival with a strange nervous anticipation.  It was hitting on Friday and there seemed to be a city wide assumption and agreement that there would be no work done that day.  When the T10 was raised Thursday evening, no one was surprised and everyone was already well prepared for the Friday of work from home.  Shops had been cleared out and everyone had stocked up on the essentials for a weekend in.

The storm started to hit and hit hard.  The city was still shutdown, but it seemed to not be too bad outside.  We went out at lunch for some food and we could see some trees had already born the brunt of the winds. 

We were hungry, so we went and partook in some McDonalds.  Even with everything else is closed, McDonalds seems to somehow stay open during the worst typhoons.  I remember also eating McDonalds the last time there was such a big shutdown.

By the afternoon of the next day, it was gone and the city began the assessment of the damage done.

The worst of it hadn't lasted that long, but there was damage everywhere.  It didn't seem too serious, but trees had been felled and there was garbage and debris scattered everywhere.

What was most amazing though was that everything seemed to be restarting already.  Only a few hours had past since the warning signals had been lowered and everyone was already getting on with their lives.  Chainsaws roared everywhere as the clean up crews were busily dealing with the trees.  We had a farewell dinner planned that night for Rachel.  We had been worried it would be cancelled and yet it all still went forward without a hitch.

A comfortable journey home

The trip was nearly over, but it seemed that the fun certainly wasn't.

On our flight from Rome to Doha, we were informed that there was a change in planes.  So with the new equipment, we were given the chance to try the famed Qatar Airways "Q Suites".

We had enjoyed flying on Qatar Airways on our previous trips, but this seemed to be another level of luxury beyond what we were used to.

Comfortably placed in the middle two seats, after takeoff we were able to push down the middle divider and close the doors to turn our section into our own little private apartment.

As with all experiences so extravagant, I couldn't help but think back to the times I had as a younger traveler.  Simply being able to go overseas in any capacity was already something I had never dreamed would be within reach, so to get to this level seemed to be an absurdity.  I was happy, but also incredibly grateful for it all.  I still couldn't help but wonder what my younger self would think knowing this would occur.

Life changing news

I didn't think it would be so soon.  Ron and I had only been married a few months when we got this very unexpected news.

My immediate thoughts were of shock and disbelief.  It wasn't bad and I certainly wasn't unhappy, far from it.  It was more that this was something which was so far from what I had anticipated.  If anything, I had been expecting the opposite.  I had been readying myself for a struggle and disappointment in future efforts to start a family.  I had sadly been seeing many others around me face the extreme difficulties of trying without success and had assumed that being older that this would be something we would need to deal with as well.  From that perspective, I started to also felt extremely thankful.  That would be a hurdle we would not need to jump and Ron wouldn't have to go through any of those struggles.

Our lives had already changed now that we were together.  Things  were about to change even more.

Coronavirus and it's finally over

I was sitting around minding my own business when I got an alert on my phone.  I normally don't pay too much attention to these random buzzes, but for some reason I picked up my phone and had a look.

 It was over.  It had all "felt" like it was over for a few months now, but this seemed to be the final confirmation that the nightmare of the last three years was now behind us.  Even though it was largely symbolic at this stage, I felt the impact of this announcement.  I felt a bit lighter, a bit happier.  It was a strange feeling of relief, knowing that we were now past the pain and annoyance of the arbitrary and at times draconian restrictions.

Tram Party Fun

With many people flying in from overseas for the wedding, Veronica and I decided to do something special for all the visitors and the people who were kind enough to be helping us on the day.  We had started our planning back when the coronavirus restrictions were all still in place.  The usual thing to do would have been a dinner beforehand, but it seemed to be less than ideal with potential limits on numbers and dividers between guests.  As we sat eating dinner and contemplating, we saw one of the famous Hong Kong party trams roll past.  This seemed to be the perfect option for us.  As a form of transportation, it would be excluded from many of the coronavirus requirements and it was a uniquely Hong Kong institution which could be enjoyed by both the locals and visitors.  For the next few months, I waited patiently for the booking website to update for the date I was waiting for.  When the time arrived, I immediately booked the red one.  It was the most iconic of all these party trams, and being the red one I also assumed it was the fastest (naturally).

A few months later, the guests started to arrive and so did the day of the party.  We gathered out at the depot in Sai Wan.  A couple of people had been on a party tram before, but for most it was a new experience.  I was excited myself.  This was something that was so much a part of living in Hong Kong as you would see it passing from the street.  The tram itself was something I caught almost every day as well, so it felt like I was sharing a part of my daily life with all the visitors.

The touristy attractions can sometimes be a bit of a disappointment.  They are often hyped up and the weight of expectations can be too much to be met.  I was a little bit concerned that this would be the case with the tram.  How good could it really be?  It was just a tram after all.  A standard bit of public transport that we used on a day to day basis.  Everyone started to board.  We had arranged our own drinks and food for the trip and there was a sense of excitement.  Once on board, I began to arrange the food and drinks as most others went straight to the top to look out at the view.  We started moving off and the entire tram was filled with laughing and chatter.  It seemed like everything was going well.

The tram depot is in Sai Wan, close to Sai Ying Pun.  We had arranged a three hour trip that would take us all the way to North Point, and then on a loop through Happy Valley before returning back to the start.  I walked to the top of the tram and joined in the fun with everyone around.  It was quickly clear that this was already a success.  Everyone was drinking and enjoying themselves.  Looking out at the moving scene of Hong Kong at night, the lights and the activity all moving past with the familiar clicking noise as the wheels passed over the tracks.

Going through Central and Causeway Bay, all heads craned upwards.  The bright lights of the city felt different from the balcony on the roof.  I had been on this tram ride countless times, but being out in the open and looking out unrestricted felt very different.  There was a freedom that made Hong Kong feel so much "bigger". 

There were nothing but smiles on the whole trip.  I was immensely happy that this had turned out to be such a success and everyone seemed to agree. For both the visitors and locals alike, this was an experience that seemed to bring out the best of Hong Kong.

Hong Kong Borealis

Hong Kong is feeling more like itself again.  The phrase that seems to be spouted ad nauseam has been "Hong Kong is back".  I'm not sure that's necessarily true and whether that's ever going to be possible, but it's certainly moving on.  For that alone, I'm quite thankful.  The crowds were slowly coming back and the streets were starting to get the old buzz and vibe about them again.  It used to be a bit frustrating at times having to deal with the crush of people in Hong Kong, but the absence of the visitors had gone from being a boon for the locals who wanted more space to a more ominous sign of the state of things in the city.

One of the nice changes was the return of public events and functions.  One of the first to come back to the city since all the restrictions began was the open air installation "Borealis" by the Swiss artist Dan Acher.  It was set up on the big lawn in West Kowloon and it was meant to be a recreation of sorts of the Northern (and I guess Southern) lights.  I read varying reviews of it, but I wanted to go and see what it was like myself.  The mere fact that there was a big public event like this was enough reason to go out and to see it. 

The crowds were back in force.

It felt strange to be out with so many people again.  Many were still wearing masks, but it didn't matter.  There was an energy in the air that you can only get in a huge crowd.  People were walking around looking up, some were laying on the grass, others sat on picnic rugs.  At various spots on the grass, large machines released a fog that slowly rose through the air, catching the different colours of the light be projected across the length of the lawn.  It created a form of "borealis" that we could enjoy here without the cold.

We stood for a while, and we wandered through the crowds.  There was a novelty to experiencing this rush again and it was quite clear we weren't the only people feeling happy about this.  I looked up at the sky, the IFC building in the distance bathed in the coloured lights from the fog.  It all looked very pretty.

We thought about leaving, then we changed our minds and decided to embrace the moment.  We walked into the middle of the grass and sat down.  We lay back and then looked up at the sky, the lights dancing across the moving fog, the noise of our surroundings, the constant shuffle of people.  It felt good that some form of normality had returned.

Guo Dai Lai

There are milestone moments that people go through in life.  Things like starting school, graduation, first job, first kiss, first love.  Most people will at some time or another go through these different events in their life, but there are other milestones that seem more culturally specific.  These seem to be harder to deal with, as the different expectations, understanding and excitement seems to impact how the events are experienced and enjoyed.  As Veronica and I grew closer, I wanted things between us to be more serious and so I asked her the question that is asked in cultures around the world.  This was a milestone moment in our lives.  What followed though were some moments that I was less aware and certainly less prepared for.  Part of the Chinese (and in particular Cantonese) culture for any engagement involves a series of fairly elaborate rituals involving gift giving as a part of a "bride price".  I'm sure it all stemmed traditionally from more a need to show favour and worth (which it seems may still be the case for some), but for me it was definitely more of a show of respect to Veronica's family.

It wasn't something I knew much about.  I was shocked by the amount of items which were considered to be a requirement.  There were fruits, cakes, dried seafood, wines and other assorted random items which were part of the delivery to the family.  Everything was also wrapped up extravagantly in the bright reds that are a part of all things festive and happy in Chinese culture.  Even the process of delivery itself was a bit odd to me, as it couldn't be "me" who delivered everything.  Instead I needed to find a friend who would help me as some sort of representative or herald.  Once everything was accepted, I was allowed in.  There there were further exchanges of gifts to each of the members of the household.  It was a happy occasion, and everyone had dressed for the occasion.  Photos were taken, more gifts were given back to me and then tea and cakes were served.  There was something odd about having to go and give the presents and money to Veronica's family.  I wasn't used to this idea and for me, it was at odds with the idea of a modern world with both men and women equal.  It all seemed to be a bit outdated, but then again I guess most traditions usually are.

Intense pain

I had arrived back in Hong Kong feeling very uncomfortable.  The pain I was feeling wasn't going away.  I had gone into the hospital in Singapore for a check up, but the drugs they were giving me weren't enough.  Sitting for four hours on the flight back had clearly exacerbated my situation.  By the next day, something wasn't right at all.  Somehow, I managed to fight through the pain and I didn't accept the situation I was in until Tuesday.  By then, it was bad.  The first doctor who saw me was shocked, he sent me straight to a surgeon.  At the surgeon, one look at me and he booked me into surgery for that night.  I was in pain at this point.  Most people may have been shocked to hear such a response from a doctor, but from me it was relief.  I was happy that there was a resolution that would coming soon. 

I managed to stumble home to collect my things to go to the hospital.  It was raining.  As I waited for the taxi, a woman with a dog walked out in front of me, took a look at me waiting and then proceeded to jump to the queue and took the next cab.  Given the day I was having, it seemed like a fitting thing to happen.  I glared at her as the cab drove past and she looked down to avoid my gaze.  It had been two terrible days and this felt like the cherry on top of the horrific sundae I'd been forced to endure.

Arriving at the hospital was another relief.  The process for me to be admitted was painfully convoluted and slow.  Between the PCR tests, the forms and the payments required, it took hours to complete.  Even after I was "admitted", I was kept in a holding ward for a few hours until I was cleared of covid.  Finally, I was taken to the ward that I would be staying in to await my surgery.  My surgery was scheduled for 10pm in the evening, so I had a few hours to wait.  I lay on the bed and waited.  I wasn't allowed to eat or drink, and the last few days had been exhausting, so I just tried to rest as much as I could.  Suddenly, a nurse appeared and told me that I was being moved up in the queue and my surgery would be at 9pm.  I had to quickly change and get ready as the nurses busily readied everything for me.

I was shifted from my ward bed to a gurney to transport me to the operating theatre.  It was a strange feeling to be back on the gurney, staring at the ceiling as I was wheeled through the wards and halls.  I immediately thought back to when I had my knee reconstruction.  I remembered the same strange feeling of the the passing scene that was so unfamiliar from this new angle.  I wished I had brought my phone with me so that I could have captured the world moving from this angle, but of course there were more important things to be dealing with at this pint.  It had been a long time since I had experienced this, and I hoped that it would be a long time before I would have to face it again.  Once I was in the theatre, the whole staff were friendly.  The nurses were angels as expected, and the surgeon and anesthetist kept me talking and chatting to keep me at ease.  The needle was put into my arm and a mask brought over my face and soon I was out.  I don't remember much, I don't remember having too many dreams other than a few flashes of colour.  I do however remember waking up as I was being wheeled back to my ward.  I was very disoriented and I twice tried to get out of the gurney, insisting that I could walk back to the ward by myself.  The nurses quickly convinced me to lay back down.  Once I got back to the ward, I was able to get up myself and shift myself over to my bad.  There, I lay back and contemplated what I had just been through.

I wasn't feeling any pain.  If anything, it was the opposite.  I was feeling amazing at this point.  The general anesthetic drugs were still coursing through my veins and I was high as a kite.  I kept looking at my hands and giggling to myself.  I was fully aware of what was happening, so I thought I might as well enjoy it for as long as I could.  Even in this drug addled stage, I knew that there would be far tougher days to come after the drugs started to wear off.

The next day was horrible.  The pain was quite bad from the get go and when the bandages and dressings needed to be changed, I went through the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced.  Even the pain killers didn't seem to do much, as I suffered through the pain as the nurses tried their best to clean my surgical wound.  As I lay on my side, there was nothing to do but grit my teeth and bear it.  The pain seemed to burn with heat.  The doctor had said that most people would cry out, such was the pain, but I decided that I wouldn't and so I refused to make a sound.  After the brutal morning, the food was brought to me.  I had no appetite.  This seemed to be a good thing given how tasteless and bland the food looked and tasted. 

The next few days was just a repetition of the process. Pain, followed by bland food, followed by rest.  The bed was comfortable at the very least, and I slowly got used to it all.  The nurses would come around, ask me to say my name in full, then give me drugs.  Then the whole process would start for the would management, then I would be back in bed.

After a few days, I was ready to leave and the doctor gave me the all clear to go.  I felt weak and depleted, but I still wanted to get out.  I would see the doctor in a few days, and he would check if I was able to manage by myself or if I would need to go back to hospital to be helped.  I had no intention of going back, so I determined that I would deal with the management myself, irrespective of the pain.

World Class Squash

My obsession with squash has taken off over the last few years.  It's been annoying trying to improve and progress during this time as every few steps forward have been curtailed by new restrictions of shut downs that have halted me in my tracks.  By the time things have opened up again, it has felt as though I have had to relearn what was forgotten.  Things were now changing though.  Hong Kong was feeling better and it felt like everything was finally on the right track now.  The restrictions were falling away quickly and large events were coming back to Hong Kong.  One of those big events returning was the Hong Kong Open, arguably one of the world's premiere squash tournaments.  

I had never watched professional squash in person before.  My squash obsession had led me to start following and watching it online, but this would be very different.  As I entered the darkened hall, I was immediately impressed by the speed and sound.  As much as I loved playing, I had never seen this level of play before.  Even watching the very top players in the tournaments I had been to didn't compare to this.  It wasn't really a surprise that the professionals were a step above everyone else, but it was quite amazing to see and hear it in person.

We had chosen to go for the quarter finals.  This was a good day to go since it meant there were eight games in total and each was at a high level.  The stadium itself wasn't too full either, so we were able to move around to get a view of the play at different angles.  

The last match for the day was Paul Coll against the newly minted Englishman Marwan ElShorbagy.  Watching them both play was a pleasure.  The combination and variation of shots, the speed and the skills were all on full display.  What was most striking though was the precision.  The ability for both players to just hit the line so perfectly time and time again.  It was an impressive display.