Life on Track

For the first time since we moved to Hong Kong, life has fallen into place. Ms RiRi was here last week. On Friday we went to Da Ping Huo for dinner before wandering Lan Kwai Fong and having a drink or two. The next day we wandered what I think of as proper Hong Kong, and walked from Prince Edward down to Tsim Sha Tsui. This took all afternoon at leisure, but with enough sights and sounds to keep us intrigued. The evening ended with the light show and then cheesy movies back at the house. On the Sunday, we had a relaxing day involving movies with Billy Ray Cyrus in them, and some valued R&R.

That Monday, the Hubs and Ms RiRi went to Ocean Park, the Peak and assorted other Hong Kong tourist attractions. We grabbed a quick dinner of Korean barbecue and set off home.

Friday was Michael Buble, who managed to prove that Canadians actually could be hot, without being country and western singers. He didn't have the voice I hoped he would, perhaps because he'd done too many gigs already, though he did manage to sing without a microphone and project across the entire convention hall. He did, however, have amazing banter and managed to entertain the entire crowd.

Today (Sunday), I had book club (The Lacuna and then went to the Hong Kong Literary Festival. This made the week absolutely perfect. We saw "A Festival of Poetry", which was essentially a recital by Evelyn Lau, Arvind Mehrota and Benjamin Zephaniah. After that we saw Constance Briscoe, who spoke about Ugly and Beyond Ugly. It was such a good day. Evelyn Lau was an alright poet, I suppose, though I did feel like I could have written equivalent poetry. Arvind Mehrotra was clearly a great mind and I was happy to let his intellect wash over me. Benjamin Zephaniah, though, was amazing. Apart from being apparently immortal and able to defy the hands of time, he still throws out a great verse. All of which he had committed to memory. He struck me as someone who I'd love to have dinner with, and I must remember to add him to my list of people I'd like to have dinner with. Constance Briscoe was also a wonder. A recorder, barrister, mother, author ... I had to ask her how she fit it all in, and the answer was that she only sleeps five hours a night in the week.

Up ahead is the Hong Kong Artwalk, may this week be as good as the last!