Sheung Wandering

It's not been the easiest three weeks for me since returning to Hong Kong. I miss my family more than I can ever remember, and I feel farther away from them than I have at any point over the past five-and-a-half years. That being said, there have been moments that have totally affirmed my love of this place, and ensured me that, as tough as it is right now, this really is where I want to be—and where I still see myself living and working for a decent chunk of my future. 

In fact, when I landed at 5am on May 12, the Airport Express wasn't running yet, so I had to take a bus to my apartment. The sun was rising over the city, and it was a beautiful sight, as if Hong Kong itself was welcoming me back and trying to say, "it's going to be alright."

Then it rained for a few weeks solid, with oppressive humidity battering the masses by day and by night. And I thoroughly needed to remind myself of why I was here. I needed a plate of greasy noodles at my favorite dai pai dong; I needed several bumpy rides on the rickety old tram; I needed waterfront strolls with views of the most impressive skyline on earth; I needed quality one-on-one time with some of my best friends. Having done all these things, my life started to come into focus again. 

But I still owed myself a good Sheung Wander, the designation I've given to the extended, somewhat aimless strolls I've come to taking around one of Hong Kong's most intoxicating neighborhoods, Sheung Wan.

It's hard to single out just one area as my all-around favorite part of this incredible city. However, I do have a short list of top spots, and Sheung Wan is certainly a strong contender for the place of honor.

This morning, at last, I took a long Sheung Wander, starting at Western Market and crisscrossing all over the district for hours before finally ending up in Grand Millennium Plaza. I found a few new back alleys and stone staircases I had never chanced to stumble upon on previous walks. And I had a delicious (albeit spicy) lunch at one of my favorite local noodle shops.

It's impossible to fully capture Sheung Wan in photographs. As a purely visual means of describing something, a photograph can never truly reproduce a living, breathing place, complete with sounds and smells—and Sheung Wan has lots of smells! That being said, I still think it's one of Hong Kong's most picturesque neighborhoods, so I had my Pen in tow today to try to document what I saw.

I've included quite a few more shots than I normally do on these posts, but I hope you enjoy looking through the photos I took this morning, as I try to re-acclimate myself to life here, and summer comes into full swing in the Pearl of the Orient.  

In Memoriam

These past few weeks have been very hard for me, among the most difficult I've ever had to struggle through. My beautiful, loving, life-affirming mother passed away unexpectedly at the end of March.

Back in 2009, I made a decision to move halfway around the world. I always knew that if something like this happened while I was away, I would be devastated. But knowing something will be difficult doesn't prepare you for the pain when it actually materializes.

I don't have many words to say, but I'd just like to post the short eulogy I delivered at a memorial service we held on April 2, about the mom I will always remember. And I want to say thank you for all the love, prayers and messages of support. They have given me, my sister Danielle and my dad much needed comfort in this time of sadness.

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I would like to say just a few words about my mother, Dorothy. We are here to celebrate her full and beautiful life, and so that is what I'd like to speak about. The mom I will always remember, and I hope you will, too.

I want to remember the lady who could talk to anybody. Truly anybody. And she didn't have empty conversations or make mere small talk. My mother had a genuine love of people, and so when she talked to people, it was to get to know them. Even when she came to Hong Kong to visit me in 2010, she made friends as easily as ever. The kids who worked in the local dumpling shop loved her daily visits and practicing their English with her. One night at dinner, we had to share our table with a local couple, and although they didn't speak a word of English, that didn't stop Mom from speaking to them throughout our meal. Like I said, she could talk to anybody.

I want to remember the lady who loved to travel, and who shared that love with me. "Travel" for her wasn't just going to far and exotic places, though she did that, too. As a teacher with summers off from work, she delighted in taking me and Danielle on day trips around New Jersey and the rest of the tri-state area. She loved days spent in Princeton, Coney Island, Atlantic City and Sandy Hook. She loved a day in Manhattan, to see a Broadway show and enjoy dinner at a ritzy restaurant.

She loved weekend trips, and always looked forward to her next vacation in Washington, D.C., which she always said was her favorite city. She adored the monuments and memorials, the history and the beauty of our nation's capital. And she loved Rocking Horse Ranch, Lake George and a little dairy farm in the Amish Country where we spent many happy days eating home cooked meals or milking cows or playing with the rest of the farm animals.

But the three great trips I think I'll remember most are our summer long journey down the coast of California in 2004, where we rented a car and drove from San Francisco, up to Napa and Yosemite, and then cruised along the Pacific all the way south to Los Angeles and San Diego, stopping at many beautiful spots along the way.

When, around this time, early April of 2007, she, Danielle and Dad came to see me in Paris. On that trip, we had the Easter dinner of a lifetime at a famous Parisian restaurant, as the sun set over Notre Dame, and Dad managed to pocket an ashtray as a keepsake. It's a meal I will remember forever. The next day we took off for Normandy to see the D-Day Beaches and eat more escargot, fois gras and soufflés than humanly possible.

And finally, in 2010, when she came to visit me in Hong Kong. For two months. She met all my friends and saw all the sights, but when she thought she had done it all pretty thoroughly, at fifty-four years old, she got on a plane with a backpack, and spent three weeks travelling solo around Thailand. I can't even imagine all the people she met and the conversations she had, but this is the mom I want to remember.

I want to remember the mom who wrote, in fourth grade, "I know I am not smart but I hope if I save my money in the bank I can go to college and try to work very hard I will try my best to be a wonderful teacher." I don't think anybody can deny that her childhood dream truly came to be. She was proud of a lot of things, but surely her accomplishments as a special ed. teacher for the City of New York are among the greatest. And not forgetting her service at Kean University, helping to prepare the next generation of special education teachers who will continue to touch the lives of so many, like she did. And that all harkens back to her love of people, and her genuine interest in helping them. This is all part of her legacy. 

Dorothy Parisi was an unforgettable human being. I'll think of her whenever someone pops a Tic Tac or takes a swig of Seltzer. I'll remember her every time Donna Summer's music comes on the radio. And of course every time I bet on the sixth horse in the sixth race, or see a Hummel or a Lladro.

Mom, I love you and I miss you. But, to close with the lyrics of one of your favorite songs, "I'll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you."