There is so much I want to share with you because it has been just so long since I had a chance to write. I finally broke my promise to not open WordPress at work because I got sick of not writing.
I am busy. I am busy all the time and I don’t mean that as a complaint. I say this to Ike all the time – I am busy because I am living more than I ever imagined possible. I am always low on sleep because I am trying to make the most of every hour in the day and sometimes that means sacrificing sleep.
So I have embarked on a fantastic experiment that I am convinced will fundamentally change the way I live. And if that’s not a dramatic enough start, I don’t know what is. I am taking on a new habit, if you willl. The Fit Habit, I call it fondly.
Come sit down, let’s watch the stars
I am so excited I am beside myself. So is Ike. We just made an offer to rent an apartment together and we are desperately hoping that it comes through. The apartment is old and I don’t mean pimped-out-loft-in-old-walkup-old. I mean literally an old apartment in a 55-year old walkup. After five years, I may live in an apartment without an air conditioned lobby, elevator or most importantly a bathtub. But I guess at least some of those things have never been that important.
I love my current apartment – it’s in a great neighborhood, it’s well kept, it has a balcony and a bathtub and gas hobs. Believe you me it is hard to find an apartment with the proverbial “everything” and in Hong Kong the expectations are already pretty low. But like a dusty town in a western, this sheung wan pad ain’t big enough for the two of us (and the furniture and my extensive wardrobe and my shoe collection and Ike’s shoe collection).
So we know we have to move. Continue reading
The airport lounge: by far my favourite place to write. I have missed you. I have missed Juice.
Life has gotten in the way of writing. Work was insanely busy till a few weeks ago. Ike is still filling my existence with new meaning. And I have embarked on a new challenge to get myself fitter. More on this later. Continue reading
If you’re already clutching your pearls, rest assured, I am still very much with Ike.
Ben had a beat-up 40 year old Citroen; you read that right, four zero! It was a beautiful, parrot green amie-8 model complete with all its original meters and gears and resin seats. I loved it instantly. I named it Lorita (after Loro or parrot in Spanish). Ben picked up me at the lake house at 3 pm and we set about to explore the 50 km circuito Chico that passes through a few of the seven lakes in the region and the beautiful llaollao hotel. Ben asked me if I lived alone in Hong Kong which was a nice way of asking if I had a boyfriend. I told him about Ike.
I will fill you in later on my long journey from El Calafate to San Carlos de Bariloche (Bariloche for short). What you need to know for now is that it was a long, excrutiating almost-29 hour bus ride that ended with a fantastic downpour that delayed me further due to darkness and low visibility.
I had rented a beautiful house on the Nahuel Huapi peninsula and because my host is currently traveling, his parents were due to pick me up at the bus stop. No sooner did I descend from the bus did I spy a really cute octagenarian couple (nona? I can’t be sure) holding a sign with my name.
No big deal, just a wooden cottage on a lake surrounded by an apple orchard
Last year I purchased a couple of impractical and expensive pairs of jeans from net a porter…one of which were these pretty dusty pink jeans
from Citizens of Humanity. In the last 6 months, these poor jeans have suffered greatly under my (lack of ) care. Now a week into my Argentina trip, they look pitiable. It starts with the mud and moss stains at the bottom, progresses to massive bicycle chain grease on the shins and ass, more dirt and even some blood for good measure (as I am the duchess of wipe outs) and finally the erstwhile carefully placed areas of distress turn into actual rips and holes. You can’t get this in a store.
What nice jeans should NOT look like
That reminds me , I better get some laundry done when I get to bariloche.
So let me tell you how I ended up ruining my jean, or as I like to refer to it fondly, the worst bicycle ride of my life.