After four years away from Asia, a day of lasts. Last day of the shiny toes reflecting a Hong Kong horizon first thing in the morning. Last snuggly cuddles in the morning.
And the last delicious snuffles of a sleepy baby.
But other lasts are not of the flesh and blood type. Last good coffee before 26 hours of airports and aeroplanes.
Last Star Ferry ride, on the Rainbow one.
And after 10 days of fabulous art exhibitions we topped off with Joan Miro at the new West Cultural Centre in Hong Kong Harbour.
Lasts are all well and good but goodbyes get harder. Covid did some dreadful things to the world but isolating us from our close loved ones and our far ones has stripped me of my British stiff upper lip, and mine was never the stiffest. Bits of me ache thinking of how far we are all spread. Other bits will join those emotional aches as we hop from Asia to Europe. But aches are the price we pay for love.
One more last, surely the funkiest image of the new King of England. One week on and he is a blushing teacup.
Funny image to end a blog so I’ve wheeled out some junk. The last Junk
‘A city can be many things, it’s people and their stories, urban experiences and how it is represented and seen by others. A place is made up of these qualities and impressions and is larger than the sum of its parts.’
This was the starting point, or inspiration for people leaving an exhibition about architecture and art in Hong Kong in the seventies and eighties. Members of the public were encouraged to use words or pictures to explain their relationship with Hong Kong, and then create a wall of art. It also seemed, to me, a good way to start a blog.
My starting point for Hong Kong was always Victoria Harbour, Chinese Lanterns and The Peak. When I was young I had an Uncle who travelled. Occasionally he would come home with gifts. Notably a night light featuring Victoria Harbour in the 1960’s. 10 years ago when I first travelled here Victoria Harbour was as exciting in real life as it was when I was 5 and the lights on the Pearl River were represented by pinholes in a lampshade.
Victoria Harbour May 2023
Chinese Lanterns because my jewellery box featured a large Pagoda with many doors or lids that had little lanterns as knobs.
The Peak was harder to replicate from my childhood memory. My travelling Uncle gazed wistfully out of a hilltop rainforest, in the black and white photos we had in our house, to remind us of his distant existence on The Peak. I have been to the Peak many times in the past 10 years and failed to quite replicate that feeling. But global warming has changed the weather for May and we found a trail we had not done before, along the Lugard Road. The Rainforest and the rain were suddenly recreated.
Hannah’s story begins with her birth and her parents, who had lived in Hong Kong and Asia for 16 years. Not for them the Peak and its aspirational dwellings but the hourly burly of Sham Shui Po.
And now, for the past 10 years Hong Kong has become the home of our family.
We come here, when there is not a global pandemic as often as we can.
Which ties this blog up as neatly as this aerial root in the Rainforest.
Who could guess how long ago someone tied this root in a knot. Many years ago when it was soft and pliable. Now it is rock hard and helps to hold a high tree on the rocky edge of a precipice.
And so we are in Hong Kong and wall art presents us with two quotes. One, possibly more useful than the other. The one above is the more useful. Below is one that is not quite so immediately thought provoking.
Beyond quotes we plunged immediately into authentic Hong Kong life. Authentic because we were in Sham Shui Po, Hannahs’s birthplace, authentic because much of the architecture is protected and the area is unlikely to become over-developed, and authentic in an @theoldmortuary way because it is the home of independent and intriguing coffee shops.
Colour Brown, Sham Shui Po
Even Tatler talks about Sham Shui Po and that’s fairly rare for genuinely working-class areas.
Accompanying us on our daytime adventure were our growing family, one of whom danced with delight last night when we touched down at Hong Kong airport just after 7:30.
There is also the promise of a trip to an exhibition by Yayoi Kusama. Expect dots later in the week.
Fit to burst, the image above was a rusty post box, not my actual flesh.It exactly replicates how I began to feel after a 16 dish tasting tour of the oldest land market in Bangkok. Nang Loeng Market. Another day of being overwhelmed in Bangkok and still avoiding the tourist traps. 42 degrees (feels like 50) is, possibly, not the best temperature for gastronomic excess.
Another downer for Gastronomic failure is my sensitivity to shellfish, something I have loved since childhood when my grandparents pub was visited on a Friday by a local fishmonger with fresh cockles, mussels and whelks. 30 odd years of shellfish love cascaded from me after a dodgy Oyster in Plymouth. There had been an earlier 6 month sensitivity in my twenties. The trouble is I love seafood. I continue to be a seafood lover with some degree of caution.
Our first dish, of the 16 was mussels.
A moments dilemma, these were cooked by the King of Thailand’s seafood chef. It would have been rude not to, and no ill effects were suffered. 16 dishes later there was definitely a sense of gastric disquiet caused by gluttony and not a seafood toxin.
The Michelin Guide of Thailand.
The other 14 courses will get their moment in the blog but today just 1 and 2.
Nothing is quite as it seems in Bangkok on a Public holiday weekend. With the King himself elsewhere. The city is decorated for a party but there are no additional public celebrations. People do indeed seem to be taking a break and the city seems quieter than we imagined, Businesses and Temples are closing earlier.
The Thai King and Queen are in London this weekend.
Our evening explorations are proving to be unpredictable. Daytime yesterday we achieved what we set out to do and I thought I knew what this blog was going to be about. Based as it is on a daytime event. Our day was planned to be spent at Moca, The Museum of Contemporary Art which it was. And then I was going to write about it. But one of Asias largest collections of Contemporary art blew my mind a bit and I feel lost as to where to start. So much so that we are off to a different art gallery today to try and get a bit of context and maybe distil my thoughts. Even my trusty phone camera was baffled. The top picture is by Yayoi Kusami. Not her traditional Polka dots, this 2021 painting is still part of her Infinity Nets series. The painting is a yellow and black image displayed on a lime green wall. Nothing I did could replicate the acidity of the combination. A fine metaphor for the rest of our visit really. So this blog is not going to be about the art we saw but more about how we felt. I am going to share two proper writers reviews of this collection of contemporary art because my inane witterings will not do it justice.
Please read them, they really will better prepare you for my over-sharing of our responses.
The first one I need to get off my chest, pun intended, is that I was exhausted by perfect perky breasts and smooth, mostly hairless bodies. Traditional and cultural stories, visually explored even in contemporary art seemed very much aimed at the ‘ male gaze’ market.
Goddess of Earth, Chatawan Rodklongtan
Goddesses are perhaps excused perfection but goodness me it got exhausting.
Some images were, to me a little troubling. One, certainly traditional in subject matter, represented young girls, just at pre-, puberty preparing for traditional Thai dancing. What was unsettling to my Western eyes was that so many of them needed to be topless and also, due to the skill of the artist, seem to lock eyes with the viewer.
Much more to my taste was the one below that represented more natural older women.
It is going to take me and google quite some time to research the meaning of this in Buddhism but these are just my early response.
Sundays seem to be the day instagrammers are about. There were several groups of people, one at least with a professional photographer, anxious not to see the art but to ‘be seen’ with the art.
Not that I am immune to the lure of the ‘gram’.
Is this not the most beautiful Lemon Meringue Pie ever?
I have no shame in sharing that it appears on my Instagram grid.
So much more art to discuss, so little time. Arty witterings for many future blogs.
Giddy times. Our passports are out and about. Last night for the first time we needed photo ID to vote.
Voting in the romantically named, St Peter and The Waterfront Ward
Today we are off, leaving Britain before the big party. Nothing says peak celebratory cuisine any more succinctly than a motorway services stop.
Not that I am completely turning away from Royalty. My travel books are accidentally aligned to the theme of the weekend
This one should be finished in the airport and left for a different life with someone else.
And then out of the blue this ebook dropped onto my virtual library shelf last night, after a considerable time on a virtual book waiting list.
I am about a chapter in, so for now, I have no strong sense of what I am getting into. Queenie, the actual paperback, is a really good read. Whoever picks it up will get a treat. It is a travelling book. I picked it up on International Womens’ Day at a glorious gathering of interesting women, and one man, who shared stories, laughter, tears, cake and books. The end of a week, tomorrow will be quite a different blog.
We had a little lunchtime trip to Mount Edgecumbe on Wednesday. A day off from house moving stuff, exhibition stuff and tennis club stuff. The weather around the Wisteria was deceptive. We were blown about when we later walked on the parkland but none of that is the subject of this blog.
The glorious Wisteria sent me searching in my photo archive for a series of photographs of a special Wisteria spider that I photographed on my own isteria some years ago. My apologies to spider haters but I was really thrilled to get a photo of the spider actually making the silk for her web.
This should have been the focus for the blog, but while searching for the spider I found a cat.
I have been looking for this image in my archive for years and never been able to find it, despite using all the right key words. I took this picture a few years ago in Brixton Market and couldn’t believe my luck in getting such a brilliant piece of visual wordplay. No words can express how happy I am to have finally found this picture again.
I knew this photo had to be somewhere, I am so very pleased to have located it again. Suddenly Thursday has been gingered up!
A spring morning and the fish are swimming, this is always a good sign to wake up to. Sunshine streaming in through the blind and creating sharp fish shadows. This last week has been busy, but I am winning the tasks v time battle. Some paintings sold at the weekend which is always worth a skip and a jump.
At the risk of repeating myself I also took a photograph yesterday that makes me really happy.
If I were the sort of person to ever go anywhere posh enough to wear an outrageous hat, then this image might be my inspiration. As it is this photograph may end up as one of my art greetings cards later in the year. After a week of toil, today, Wednesday is almost a day of rest.
My fingernails are no longer ravaged by packing and unpacking, decorating, or framing art and took themselves off to a nail bar yesterday. There is a huge flaw in my rest plan though. There has been a large amount of seagull poo deposited on my car. Neighbours had suffered a similar fate over the weekend but we had been lucky, not so yesterday. There are parts of my red car that would be camouflaged and easily hidden in Antarctica. Nobody needs a photograph of that. So here we are, ‘hump’ day, enjoy the slide towards Friday.
What to ponder on a warm Bank Holiday Monday. This fabulous painting by Oonagh Glancy is the nugget of this ponder. It symbolises a coming together. For the first time since Covid, Drawn to the Valley also threw in mass catering at their Spring Exhibition. Coffee, tea, cakes and other treats were served at a huge communal table. It was the highpoint for visitors, simply sitting down and talking between artists and visitors, old friends, new friends, complete strangers and hungry bowling escapees from the Bowls Club next door. Competition whites smudged with spring-green grass stains.
Sally O’Neill Asheltor Woods
Everyone was talking about how much they loved the communal snack table. Isn’t that fabulous. The art, of course, covered all the faces of the Tamar Valley and was as glorious as has come to be expected of the first exhibition of the year.
Julia O’DellLynn Saunders
Artists of the Tamar Valley also get further afield.
Michael Jenkins St Ives HarbourJane Athron Looking Towards Lancaster Gate.Julia O’Dell Godrevy Lighthouse
And some of us stick close to home.
Juliet Cornell Tidal Pool
There was so much to contemplate and consider, what a great exhibition.
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