Returning from holidays means that normal routines need to be re-established. The dogs have been away at their second home. A rural idyll with more than an acre of beautiful landscape to scamper in.
This morning it was very much back to work for them. Hugo hunting seaweed and Lola wrestling sticks. Yesterday I was back bobbing in 12 degrees of Atlantic sea after 42 degrees in Bangkok. Yesterday was a birthday bob for a friend and ex colleague.
It was a significant birthday, marked as they sometimes are with hair growth in all the wrong places.
It was a fun time with catching up on all sides with old friends and making new ones. Bobbing is a very social activity. There has been a massive development, involving our favoured area to swim, Firestone Bay. It has been incorporated as an Official Swimming Zone. Which means the water has to be tested for quality and safety and that certain amenities must always be available close by.
My morning dog walk started at Firestone Bay this morning and it was as beautiful as normal. A film crew from the BBC were there to report on the successful bid to become a designated swim zone. Below is a video of the news clip that will be on National TV for most of today, unless a big news story bounces it into oblivion. The dogs were unable to keep quiet for the whole 6 minutes. And I fidgeted a bit as I didn’t expect the segment to be quite so long.
Such a solid piece of good sense. This popped up on Facebook yesterday. Mostly these positivity posts leave me a bit cold, particularly if they have a religious or new-age vibe. But this one just feels like a pragmatic way to cope with the tough stuff. My dad was a pragmatic, kind person who always stated the obvious in a way that was instantly useful. Although he has been dead a while I still rely on many nuggets of his wisdom and am reminded of him often.
Museum of Modern Art. Bangkok
This painting which I met for the first time last week made me want to walk this path with my dad. I Imagine many people viewing this for the first time would instantly think of their fathers. So often parental relationships are complicated or difficult to explain but this simple straight avenue of trees looks inviting and calm, a place of great conversations no matter how insignificant or indeed life changing.
The after-glow of a successful Open Garden event greeted me yesterday evening. Whilst on holiday in Thailand and Hong Kong I still ran the Social Media posts for a National Garden Scheme, Open Gardens event in Stonehouse. Trusty photographers sent me photos of the plants, visitors, cakes and musicians taking part in the two day event. My Social Media posting was both one step removed and half a world away. On my return last night I took a few minutes,and a cup of mint tea, to enjoy the calm of the space in post-party mood. The space was also gearing up to host a social evening of croquet and nattering in the evening sun.
The events of the weekend were a success and there has been praise and thanks to everyone who contributed their time and skills to making the event a success.
This gardener did not get an email or Whatsapp message of thanks, but they were confidently enjoying the warm afterglow of success on the tarmac path.
This rose, that clambers near the public toilet block, was full of perfume for everyone to enjoy. While the Arum lily enjoyed some evening shade.
Part of the charm of these gardens and Tennis Club is the amazing location.
Even the wild flowers put out a good effort over the weekend and yesterday evening.
As did the daisies in the club itself. Skilful mowing had allowed islands of daisies to play a part in the weekend of horticultural show-offery.
An English garden on a May evening is hard to beat. I wish I could look this good after a weekend of partying.
The last two days of travelling have taken us from the rain of Hong Kong via the crazy temperatures of Bangkok and the cool elegance of Vienna to May sunshine in Cornwall.
Hugo and Lolas holiday destination while we were away.
Given that we have spent much of that time trying to sleep in aircraft we have done a crazy level of steps over those two days. Allowing for time differences there was actually 24 hours of travel. A small amount of walking in Hong Kong on our departure day and a small amount of walking in Windsor after our arrival at Heathrow.
Windsor and Windsor Castle, still in party mood.
25,000 steps over two days when most of the time was spent in the air is remarkable. Some people would describe 12,500 steps a day, as a walking holiday.
Airport transfers are not most peoples idea of an enjoyable hike especially as we only ever travel with hand luggage of about 9 kg each. That’s us excused the gym for a few days. But travel resets the mind, our journey was primarily about meeting our newest family member, Cecily, in Hong Kong and we chose to not take the direct route so as not to overwhelm her parents and sibling with too long a stay.
Something completely unexpected occurred at the very end of our flight into Heathrow. We flew low over South London and our home villages of Crystal Palace and Dulwich. The early morning May sunshine was bright and clear. From my window seat I could photograph London Bridge Station which was my mainline commuter hub when I worked in the City.
St Bartholomews Hospital where I trained and worked.
And The Gherkin and Tower 42 where I celebrated my 60th Birthday.
Then in one final moment of serendipity we flew over Harrow School, 24 hours after leaving Harrow Hong Kong. Touch down at Heathrow and we made a quick exit and off to Windsor for a quick cup of coffee and a cheese straw to fuel the journey home.
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.
Ten, tired, travelling toes, took a trip to Shueng Wan for some pampering. They went in slightly blistered and care worn and emerged one hour later rather glossier than I had anticipated. My toes are brilliantly embellished with chrome! Like millionaire supercars in London during the summer. Despite being decidedly glam they still have to carry me on my travels. Although last night they went to a glam toe appropriate setting. Hutong, Hong Kong for a belated Mothers Day meal.
A postprandial walk by the Walk of Stars gave the toes their final outing of the day.
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.
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