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.

Singapore Stopover

We arrived in Singapore early in the evening.  I'm generally against day flights for long haul flights, it seems like a bit of waste of a day.  Going the overnight flight seems to be the most optimal use of travel time given you'll be sleeping anyway.  We arrived early evening in Singapore, with the three hour time difference, it was very late in Australia and we were feeling a bit tired.  We were hungry though and I didn't want to waste any opportunities to get some food in Singapore.  We had booked a stay in Tanjong Pagar and so we were only a short walk to Maxwell Food Centre.  I missed living in Singapore, and I missed nothing more than the food in Singapore.  The blend of cultures in Singapore is an incredible thing, possibly one of the greatest achievements of Singapore as a country.  The food culture that has developed as a result of the blend is probably one of the greatest benefits they have reaped from this.

We spent the next few days visiting friends and eating.  The last few years of no travel had deprived me of the Singaporean food fix that I craved and I was keen to rectify this as much as possible.  We went around to different stalls, getting chicken rice, char kway teow, prawn mee, all the favourites I had missed.  Everything was always washed down with a strong kopi or a fresh lime juice.

With Chinese New Year approaching, we also got to walk around the night markets that had been set up in readiness for the festivities.  I had fond memories of Chinese New Year in Singapore.  The food was of course always great, but there were the extra special Nonya desserts and snacks which started to pop up around this time that I loved.  The little biscuits and the pineapple tarts would appear on tables around everyone's homes and it was just a happy time to be in Singapore.  

We also made sure to spend some time around some places to get some of our old favourites.  For me, I've always loved the simple Singaporean breakfast of kaya toast, poached eggs and a kopi.  It is a simple combination of foods, but the intensity of the flavours matches the tropical surroundings.  I feel the heat of Singapore as I sit there and the taste of the food and drink seems to cut through it all.  Veronica on the other hand wanted one thing and one thing only, and that was her beloved bak chor mee.  Twice she found herself at the famous bak chor mee stall near Lavendar station.  One of the first ever small hawkers in the world to be awarded a Michelin star, the flavours are intense with the vinegar sauce, and the noodles are cooked to give a perfect balance of bite that still yields.

As we were walking around Singapore, I found myself walking along the underpass that went from Orchard Station all the way to Ngee Ann City.  I must have walked along here dozens of times over the years.  One thing caught my eye as I was walking, it was the "Famous Amos" store!  This store had been here since I was a kid.  It must have been here for well over 20 or 25 years at this point.  Everything else around it had changed and shifted, yet somehow this store had remained strong and consistent throughout all this time.  There was a nice feeling of consistency and nostalgia to see it still here, and so I bought a bag of cookies to munch on back in the hotel.

On the day we were to leave, I wasn't feeling great.  I had been trying to tough it out of the last couple of days, but Veronica convinced me to go to the hospital before the flight.  There the doctor gave me drugs and painkillers to try and deal with the issue quickly.  I felt a bit relieved, but I still wasn't feeling very comfortable when I got on the plane back to Hong Kong.

Manly

I rarely went to Manly when I lived in Sydney.

Living in Coogee, there never seemed to be much reason to go North of the harbour.  I had everything I needed in my self contained suburb, so the idea of spending over an hour and a half each way to go up to Manly seemed unnecessary.  The few times I was in Manly was for a specific event or because there was a particular reason.  Otherwise, I was perfectly happy to stay in the South.  On this trip, there was more reason to make this treacherous journey North of the Bridge.  One of the best things to do when visiting Sydney is to spend some time on the ferries in the harbour.  Riding on the ferries give some brilliant views of the whole city, as well as the Opera House and Bridge.  Going further out into the Harbour, you also get the impressive view of the Sydney Heads which guarded the entry into the Harbour from the Pacific Ocean.  Since we had the time, I thought a ride out to Manly would give us the best views we were looking for.  We jumped on one of the fast ferries, and after only half an hour we were at Manly.  When you arrive at Manly, there are some small beaches next to the ferry terminal.  I remembered years ago that my old housemates had made a trip out to Manly and complained that the beach there was "so small".  I was confused by that, until I realised that it was this small beach next to the ferry terminal which they thought was the "famous" Manly beach.  Thankfully, I knew that this was not the big beach.  We went for a short walk through the Corso and were soon standing on Manly's long beach.

The beach at Manly really is incredibly long.  It doesn't have the same size and scale as Bondi, but it stretches out to be an even longer beach.  It was a very full day down at the beach.  I had been quite surprised this summer by the newfound love of the cabanas.  Being sun smart had always been an important part of Australian culture since I was a kid, but the next step had clearly now been taken.  It had been a strange sight to see, the Australian beaches covered with the cabanas instead of the beach towels.  It was probably a good thing all things considered. 

We went for a swim, though with the tide out, we had a wade quite far out before the water started to rise up enough for us to enjoy the wave jumping.  The waves were rough and inconsistent.  I wanted to go a little bit further out, but I was worried about Veronica who was still a novice at dealing with the Australian surf.  We decided to head back in and found a nice cafe for coffees and some very late breakfast food.  Eating my bircher muesli full of fruit felt nourishing and satisfying.  Everything just tasted so fresh and I was already starting to dread the thought of going back to Hong Kong, with everything shipped in.  After this relaxing time, we decided to head back to the city.  We took the slower ferry this time.  We switched back and forth between the front and the back, looking out towards the Heads and into the city itself.  The sky was blue and the views were uninterrupted.

It had been a nice day out in Manly.  I enjoyed the trip, but I remembered again why I used to never visit.  It was such a long distance to travel.  I thought about friends like Jon who used to live out in Manly and who would do the daily commute into the city.  These long commutes were something I didn't miss about Sydney.

Reunion tour

Being back in Sydney was lovely.  The weather was good and the air smelled fresh and sweet.  Walking around the city with Veronica had been a great trip back to my past life in this city. It was nice to see how Sydney looked, but at the same time I only lived in the city itself for a brief time.  There had also been quite a lot of changes to the city centre which made it less like the Sydney I remembered.  The removal of traffic down the middle of George Street was a positive change, but it wasn't the memory of Sydney I had in my mind.  In any event, most of my time had been spent out in Coogee and along the coast.  I wanted to show Veronica a glimpse of the life I once had so I thought a mini reunion tour of my old home was in order.

We woke up mid morning and took the tram towards Coogee.  Taking the tram out towards Coogee was already a strange enough feeling.  I left Sydney around the time when the construction started and so I missed all of the pain suffered by residents.  The tram itself seemed to take a good route, but it was slow.  It took us past Royal Randwick racecourse where we would go for some days out, past UNSW where I did my masters and then past Prince of Wales Hospital where I once ended up.  It was already a nice little tour down memory lane and I pointed out each to Veronica.  She gave me a wry smile each time, as it really wasn't that interesting.  Once we arrived at Randwick junction, we started to walk towards Coogee.  The first stop on the tour I had planned was the Spot.  I spent countless hours lounging around the Spot, usually at my favourite cafe Kurtosh.  We sat down outside at my "usual" table and ordered some coffees and cakes.  Looking out at the familiar view, this felt more like home.

After this break we continued to walk towards the beach.  I took us down the side street rather than down Coogee Bay Road.  This took us directly past my old apartment.  I looked up and pointed at the top floor to Veronica, to this place that I spent so many formative years of my life.  My old housemates were now all gone from Sydney, so there was no link left with the apartment.  It was strange to think that I had now been gone from the apartment as long as I had lived in it.  I had some amazing memories from that time there, there were tough points and disappointments in life then, but living in this locations was always a positive point in life.

We kept walking and we were soon at Coogee beach.  This truly did impress Veronica.  To be only 400m from such an amazing beach was something most dream of and it was the life I used to live daily.  I thought back to the summer days living in Sydney, waking up early for a swim before work and the constant feeling of salt in my hair.  It was very appealing thinking back about it and I started to think about whether returning to Sydney was something I wanted or not.

I took Veronica into the water.  She still didn't like the cold, but she was more willing to jump in now to enjoy the waves.  The Coogee shore break dumped like it always did and Veronica was soon covered in sand.  We stayed in the water for a while before I decided to move us on.  I had been prepping Veronica for a bit of a walk.  Since had the time and we were here, I thought there was no better time than now for us to do the Coogee to Bondi walk.  This walk consistently gets rated at the top tourist attraction and activity to do when visiting Sydney.  It's something that even when I was a local I used to do frequently and it was always worthwhile.  We rounded the Northern parts of Coogee, and I took Veronica out to some of the secret spots I knew to look at the view.  We went down towards Gordon's Bay and decided against a swim there.  We kept walking until we reached my favourite part of the entire Sydney coastline, Clovelly.  After all the recent travel in Europe, I did feel that this really was the most "European" of all the beaches and swimming spots in Sydney.  It was very crowded and I thought back to Capri.  Everyone laid out on the hot concrete and baked.  I jumped into the water and floated for a bit.  The moment I jumped in, I realised I had forgotten to bring any goggles.  It would have been nice to go searching for the blue gropers, but that would have to wait for next trip.

We took a short rest here.  Up at Sea Salt we lounged around with some food and drinks.  I ordered a strawberry milkshake, the last thing I ordered when I was leaving Sydney and hanging out in Clovelly.  It was a taste of childhood, but Veronica was unimpressed by what she thought was milkshake that wasn't thick enough.

We kept on walking.

Each part of the coastline gives spectacular views up and down the coast.  It was hot, but we were lucky to have a strong cool breeze giving us some relief.  We kept stopping frequently as there were views to be seen at most spots.  We got to Waverly Cemetary and I explained to Veronica how we used to have to walk through the cemetary before they built the walkway on the edge of the cliff.  The walkway was a great addition to this walk, but I'll always still remember the strange sights you would see of bikini clad girls wandering through the cemetary.  It was always a strange contrast to see.

After passing by Tamarama and Bronte, we finally reached our final location of Bondi.

I never liked Bondi much when I lived in Coogee, it was always too busy and full of tourists for my liking.  Being here now with Veronica, I could appreciate it from a different perspective.  It was easy to forget just how enormous it is as a beach.  We arrived just as the last heat of the day was fading and so there were already less people on the beach, but it was still full of more than enough people enjoying themselves.  As we walked around, I heard the familiar sounds of a multitude of foreign languages.  Bondi always did attract the travelers from around the world and whilst it created a crowded tourist scene, it also did make for a great mix of cultures and peoples.

We didn't feel like a swim, it was getting a bit cooler now and we were hungry.  Tacos seemed like the best idea here at Bondi and so we walked up to the Northern side of the beach.  There was sat at the window of a restaurant, eating our tacos and drinking our micheladas as we watched the sun slowly setting, throwing a golden orange hue over the beach.  It had been a tiring, but very worthwhile day in Sydney.
 

Fancy New Year

The days in Newcastle went quickly.  I didn't feel like we had done much, but the time past quickly in the comfortable settings and with the relaxed lifestyle.  After a week, our visit had come to an end and it was time for us to go.  I could have happily stayed in Newcastle for longer, but that wouldn't be right for Veronica.  Being in Australia for the first time with Veronica, I wanted us to experience a bit more during our stay.  So we said our goodbyes to my family and headed back to Sydney.

In Sydney, I had planned for us something special.  New Year's Eve in Sydney is always a big event.  Over the years, I had gone to many parties and spent many nights out in the public parks with friends to watch the fireworks.  However, I had never been to any of the prime locations to watch the fireworks.  The prices had always been astronomical and it hadn't been something I had considered.  On this trip, I had different plans.  If only once, I wanted to go to watch the fireworks from one of the best spots.  Looking online, there weren't many places with any availability left.  I picked one of the few spots with anything left and with a knot in my stomach, paid the exorbitant price.  Early in the evening on New Year's Eve, we set out towards the Royal Botanic Gardens.  Our section of seating didn't open until 6pm, so we thought we would start making our way over at about 5:30pm.  In hindsight, this was a bit too late.  When we arrived, we found ourselves confronted with a long line of people that would take almost 45 minutes.

Once we successfully navigated the line, we rushed with the others to try and find a spot.  The best spots had all been taken, but we were still able to get a good spot at the very front.  We would be here for the next 6 hours, so we threw down our blankets and settled in for some relaxation as we waited.  We were curious about whether such a long time would become a bit of a drag or tedious.  It seemed to be a long time to just be waiting around on the grass, so we came prepared with extra battery banks for our phones, books and magazines.  I lay back and settled into the next few hours of reading.  It was crowded and were surrounded by people, but it was still a relaxing time.

As the sun set and the skies darkened, the colours and lights of the harbour awakened.  Ships full of partygoers circled the harbour, completely covered in bright lights themselves and they sounded their horns to the delight of everyone on shore.  The sedate and relaxed mood of the early evening changed, and there was a vibrancy which had taken over.  Down closer to the habour, the party at Opera Bar was kicking off and people were screaming along with the bands entertaining the party.

At nine o'clock, the first set of fireworks started.

These were the "children's fireworks" which happened every year.  They were timed to allow the families with the younger children to see some fireworks without having to stay the full evening.  It was a good idea.  Everyone's heads craned up as the sky lit up and we were given this short appetiser to the bigger even that was come at midnight.  After this short show, I looked around and no one moved.  I'm sure there were some who would leave after this display, but given the prices paid for our area, it seemed that everyone here would be staying until the final show.

The next three hours flew by.  It was too dark to read now, so we just lay back and chatted as we drank our wine.  Surrounded by the buzz of activity around us seemed to give us all the energy we needed.  Occasionally, one of us would wander off to the bathroom or to get more snacks, but nothing much happened.  It was a good way for us to rest and relax.  The last few weeks had been a bit hectic with the travel and with the family reunion, so I enjoyed spending this time with Veronica.  Soon, the noise started to increase.  People were staying to scream and shout as midnight started to approach.  The lights on the bridge changed and soon numbers appeared to commence the countdown.  At midnight, there was an enormous cheer and the sky glowed with fireworks.  A waterfall of flames streamed from the bridge, one of the signature sights done every year.  The Sydney new year fireworks always go for a long time, this year was no different.  The sky was filled with fireworks for nearly fifteen minutes.  I had seen the show before, but this was special.  To be directly in front and to have the view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge was an experience I would remember.

With the fireworks finished, everyone began the slow procession out of the Botanic Gardens and back into the city.  The streets were crowded with people and it was a surreal sight to see the thousands of people filling the normally quiet evening streets.

Was it all worth it?  It's hard to say.  The price for the night was steep.  Yet the experience was certainly something special.  Even after seeing the Sydney fireworks several times, this was still without a doubt the most impressive and enjoyable of all the experiences.

Being home

It was relaxing and refreshing being back in Newcastle.  I didn't want to do too much.  The simple tasks of life and living were what I wanted to experience.  It was what I wanted to show to Veronica whilst she was here.  We went about life as I had hoped.  We visited the local restaurants.  I took her to the markets and shops.  Something as simple as the wonderful produce in Australia, I wanted her to be able to see and experience all of that.

At home, we enjoyed and embraced the simple delights.  The fruit was fresh and sweet.  The dairy was rich and thick.  My parents had bought six enormous mangoes for Veronica.  When she first saw them, her eyes widened with delight and surprise at their sheer size.  She lifted up the platter that sat on and breathed deep, with their fragrant smell filling the kitchen.  Outside, we walked in the nature reserves and out around the neighbourhood.  The familiar sounds of the birds made me think of childhood, but they were all new and novel to Veronica.  My parents went outside to the balcony daily to feed some of the visitors they had.  After some encouragement, Veronica also happily joined in to feed these cheeky new friends.

Most importantly, whenever there was any spare time, I took Veronica to the beaches and the water.  My best memories of life in Sydney and Newcastle were always near the water.  This was what I remembered the most and I wanted to show this lifestyle to Veronica.  I had described it to her, but my words weren't enough.  You had to experience it, the power of the waves, the strong cool winds blowing across the water.  There was nothing like it back in the enclosed islands and harbours of Hong Kong.

Taking Veronica into the water was also a hilarious, but fun experience for us.  She was only used to swimming in the warm waters of the tropics and was shocked by the cold.  It was warm outside, but the waters of the Southern Pacific still held there bite for a few more months.  The shock of jumping into the water was invigorating for me, but it took a bit of coaxing to get Veronica to join.  Eventually, after a lot of convincing, she joined me and the rest of the swimmers in the water.  She had never gone wave jumping before and delighted in this new activity, though not without some first time difficulties.  After one particularly big wave, I turned to check on her and saw two upturned feet as she was swept back towards the beach.

We kept enjoying this lifestyle for days.  Sitting in the cafes seemed to be particularly enjoyable.  It was something so part of the day to day life that I didn't think I would miss so much.  There are now more and more cafes in Hong Kong and the coffee culture is growing, but there aren't too many places in the world where I can so happily sit with a coffee looking out towards such a soothing view.

On our last night in Newcastle, I took everyone out for dinner.  Some of the restaurants I had wanted us to go to were closed over the Christmas period, but there was one new restaurant which was still open during this period.  We drove into the centre of the city.  Unlike most cities in the world, parking is never an issue in Newcastle.  Even if you park "further" away, you're never more than a five minute walk away from your destination.  

It was an odd feeling to be sitting in a fine dining restaurant overlooking the harbour in Newcastle.  The city has changed a lot from when my family first moved there.  I still remember the first time I visited after my parents moved there.  It was a sleepy little town and very much a bit behind in terms of development.  To now be sitting in such an upmarket and fancy restaurant made me think about how far this place had now come.  Much of the downtown had been redeveloped and many of the rougher edges were being polished out.  Closer to the water and the harbour, it was all becoming quite nice.   I could never have imagined that my parents would end up staying so long or that it would become my defacto home in Australia.  For a place I have never actually lived, there was a strange sense of home to being in Newcastle.

Heading Home

It had been more than three years since I had been back to Australia.  The coronavirus restrictions in place in both Hong Kong and Australia had made travel difficult.  Hong Kong was particularly annoying.  The rest of the world had made the decision to open and move on with life, yet Hong Kong and China were reluctantly holding onto restrictions.  However things were now moving in the right direction.  Hong Kong had dropped almost all the restrictions, most importantly the travel restrictions.  Now was the perfect time for me to finally go home.  There was another important reason to go to Australia as well.  It was time for me to introduce Veronica to my parents, and she was extra excited because she had never been to Australia before.  I started looking into flights for us a few months ago.  The direct flights from Hong Kong to Sydney were outrageously price.  Outrageous to a level that I decided I wouldn't fathom paying such prices.  After a few hours of playing around with different combinations, I worked out that if we flew first to Singapore, we could actually fly from Singapore to Sydney return on premium economy, and the total price of the trip would still be the same as if we had gone direct between Hong Kong and Sydney.  This also included the added bonus of a short stay in Singapore on the return leg of the journey.

We flew out late morning and reached Singapore mid afternoon.  We had a few hours so we caught up with some of Veronica's friends for a quick bite and a catch up.  It had been the first time I had been to Singapore since the pandemic and in that time, the beautiful new "Jewel" had opened.  It's an impressive new building at the airport, but ultimately it's still just another shopping mall.  It did make it easier to catch up with people though and so we were able to wait until the last moment before going back into the terminal and boarding our next flight.  The flight was uneventful.  I slept well and woke up just before landing.  As I heard the in flight music of "I Still Call Australia Home" playing, I started to feel a bit emotional. Looking out the window, I could see the familiar sights of Sydney in the distance.  After getting off the plane and taking the overpriced train into the city, we were in Sydney.  It was extremely early and we still had some time before our next train to Newcastle so we found a cafe and waited.

It was just Central Station, but even sitting here and drinking a coffee with Veronica felt amazing.  The air smelt clean and fresh.  There was a light hint of eucalyptus smell.  I just felt refreshed being there.  It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders finally being here.  After the brief rest, we boarded the train for Newcastle.  I was feeling to happy to rest, but Veronica was soon asleep.  The train from Sydney to Newcastle is painfully slow, but it's a picturesque trip.  Up around the Hawksbury River in particular, the slow ambling of the train gives all passengers a lovely view of the scenery.  For this trip, it was fine, but I still remembered how annoying it was being on these trains as they crawled towards Newcastle and back. 

After more than two hours, we finally reached our stop new Newcastle.  My parents were waiting for us at the platform.  I hadn't seen them in more than three years and they looked older.  There were happy embraces and my parents looked truly delighted to meet Veronica.  We quickly loaded up the car and headed back home.

As Veronica took some time to freshen up, I stood and looked out towards Mount Sugarloaf from the balcony, I once again felt a strong sense of relaxation.  The fresh air, the sunlight and the peaceful surroundings were the tonic that I had needed.  It felt as though the annoyance of the past few years was finally coming to an end. 

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.

Yayoi

There was a big new exhibition for Yayoi Kusama being held at M+.  With our memberships, Veronica and I were able to get discounted tickets to attend.  It was a nice feeling walking through the crowded halls of the exhibition.  The coronavirus restrictions had been largely rolled back and so there was an increasing feeling of a return to normality.  Everyone was still masked up, but it was nice to be amongst the crowds again.

The Antony Gormley exhibition was finished which I felt was a bit of a shame.  The near endless sea of little figures looking up at you was quite a dramatic and moving exhibition, but it was also good to see new and famous exhibitions slowly cycling through Hong Kong.  I had been to some Kusama exhibitions in the past in other cities and I was always impressed by the scale of what was put together.  She has always had an eye for scale and some of her more interactive pieces were always quite fun.

I was a bit surprised by this exhibition.  The previous Yayoi exhibitions I had been too had focused almost exclusively on the large installations and the pumpkins.  These were her signature pieces, but there was little else on display.  This exhibition however was far more expansive and tracked her entire career over 70 years.  It was an impressive collection of works to have all in one place and showed how she had developed over the years.  There was only one pumpkin to be found in the entire exhibition, with far more focus being placed on some of the more edgy ideas she worked with when she was young.  One thing that was surprising was her young obsession with sex and phallic objects.  

Seeing piece after piece, covered in phallic objects was not what I had been expecting.  Kusama has become so heavily embraced by the mainstream media with its focus on her polkadots and pumpkins, that I (like many others) had grown to only know her on that basis.  It meant that my entire image of her was a very clean cut and child friendly version, which it seemed was a very far cry from the reality of who she was and what drove her earlier artistic endeavours.

Downstairs in the basement area, we joined a long line to see one of her big installation works.  It was a large mirror room full of her trademark polkadots.  This was more of what I remembered.  After a long wait in the queue, it was our turn.  We were only given 20 seconds inside the mirrored room, but in that short amount of time we were able to embrace the reality warping experience of the infinity mirrors. 

It was a surprising exhibition, it didn't deliver the usual expected "Kusama" pieces that most people have come to embrace.  Yet this was probably more unique and insightful than any of her other exhibitions I had been to in the past.  This look back through her long catalogue of work was a far better explanation of who she was as an artist than the other exhibitions which had provided only a narrow range of her work as an artist.

Tate and the Thames

It was my last day in London.  I didn't think I had anything left to do, but it turns out that some final farewell activities had been arranged for us.  I had arranged a catch up with my friend Sarah in London so it would have to be an early morning breakfast.  I dragged myself out of bed and headed towards the Tube.  The depth of the London Tube stations is always impressive.  Heading down the escalator on this early Saturday morning, it was close to empty.  As I slowly walked down the escalator, I could hear my steps echoing in the tunnel.

Sarah had made a booking for us at Millie's Lounge at the Ned.  Being right next to Bank station, this was apparently a restaurant commonly frequented by the banking and finance staff in the area.  I walked into the large Ned hotel and made may way over to Millie's Lounge.  Sitting inside the grand foyer, it was an impressive place to be having a quick and simple lunch with friends.  It had been years since I had seen Sarah, I think the last time may have been when I stayed with her in Bondi.  This was a long way from her apartment overlooking the water.  The prices were high, but understandable given the location.  Looking at the menu, we were all suddenly overcome by a strange desire for some simpler and more comforting foods.  Eggs and soldiers were ordered, and I decided to go with the porridge.  With the cooler weather, it all seemed to make sense.

I wanted to stay longer, but I needed to go to the work event.  Sarah and Tom were kind enough to walk me over.  Once we got to the Millennium Walk bridge, we said our goodbyes and they went on their way.  I started my walk over.  It was raining a little bit, and the bridge became slippery.  I was late, but found myself trying to rush whilst not falling on this bridge.  I remembered the first time I crossed this bridge when I first visited the UK.  The bridge seemed to then represent everything amazing about the UK and its ability to integrate the new with the old.  Now, it just seemed to be a public hazard.

I arrived at the Tate Modern a bit late.  Everyone was already inside.  There was a special exhibition for Paul Cezanne and tickets had been arranged for all of us to attend.  Given all the work which had been done, I needed to attend just as a simple thanks and out of respect for the organisers.  There was also the fact that this was the Tate Modern.  Years had past, but it was still my favourite landmark in all of London.  Walking through the main turbine hall, I still felt a bit of the excitement I felt when I first arrived as a backpacker.  It seemed busier now.  There were more people around and there seemed to be more of a sensory overload with the way in which everything was set up.  Maybe it was just me and the way I had changed.

I went straight upstairs to the Cezanne exhibition.

Walking through the enormous crowds of people, it was a strange to see the sheer number of paintings that were from his period in the Cote d'Azur.  I laughed a bit to myself.  To be standing here, looking at these impressions of the place I had just been.  It seemed a bit strange to be confronted with this, almost like it had been an intentional event created to conclude my trip.

I enjoyed the exhibition, but it was the rest of the Tate Modern that I really wanted to visit.  The turbine hall and the adjacent rooms are as impressive as they always have been.  Walking through, I felt a sense of insignificance at the sheer scale of it all.  When I moved to Hong Kong, it was spaces like this that I had longed for.  Things in Hong Kong are improving in this area now with the opening of galleries such as M+, but this would still be the original for me.  It would always be the Tate Modern that opened my eyes and mind to this world that I loved so much.

After our time at the Tate Modern, we were brought to another private dining location.  We got lost on the way several times as we walked until we realised that the location was actually inside the security section of a modern looking office building.  There were people downstairs waiting for us.  We were taken upstairs to a room with a balcony overlooking the Thames river.

It was getting a bit much now.  There had been a lot of work, but at the same time the constant kindness shown to us was also excessive.  There didn't need to be so much of it and I felt like it wasn't necessary.  Still, it was important to be grateful for everything we received, and so with another glass of champagne in hand, I looked out towards London and decided to enjoy myself one last time.

With lunch finishing, everyone slowly started to depart.  There were planes that needed to be caught and everyone was flying off to all ends of the earth at different times.  I jumped into a cab with some of the Italians that were flying around the same time as me.  We laughed and chatted on the cab and train ride to the station.  Before long we were there and I said my goodbyes as I got myself ready for the long flight back to Hong Kong.