Had I known this existed, I would have come sooner. But it’s that un-rushed, nonchalant, exquisite emptiness that makes Peng Chau island so special.
It’s a 20-minute ferry ride from Central’s Pier 6, about the same time it takes to get the lay of the land.
It can get to you. The daily grind, the pollution, the cars, the jackhammers when you wake up in the morning, the blinking neon signs, the race to make more more more money, the living in an expensively shitty apartment, the people, the chaos, the life, the pace, the pulsating energy-guzzling monster that is the city of Hong Kong.
But 30 minutes away, life is drastically, languidly, gloriously different.
I am standing alone in the middle of the ocean on a platform – used as a rest stop for swimmers or simply a place to relax like blubbery black seals on a rock, away from the busy shore – looking at the sky turn this shade of tangerine. Joe is swimming just below, content at having tackled me into the ocean twice. And I wonder why I don’t live here, on Cheung Chau island.
I trust my own palate, but sometimes it’s good to consult someone who grew up with the regional cuisine – which is why I used my half-Spanish date as a barometer of whether or not Catalunya‘s food was as exquisite as everyone says.
Growing up, I thought fantasizing about reporting from a conflict zone was pretty noble and brave. Also, bad-ass (Read: The Girls at the Front).
I still nurse that dream – even if my frivolous wardrobe screams otherwise, less loudly than my mom when she says I’ll probably end up jailed, dead or in labor camp.
But given how I get really excited, heady and ego-drunk from trips to places associated with the terms “regime” and “isolated” and “fledgling democracy,” I probably would make a better disaster tourist than I would an earnest, thoughtful and humble conflict reporter and peace journalist.
|The “news” channel in our hotel room at Yanggakdo. The anchor sounded like she was always about to cry, and it’s pretty close to the Tumblr,
Kim Jong-un Looking at Things. Photo from me.
It was on holiday in Penang, Malaysia, that my boyfriend and I put our year-long (give or take) relationship to the test.
This was our first out-of-Hong-Kong vacation together and I was worried that we wouldn’t get along in the end, although both of us said we were pretty easy travel companions.
Funny enough, we argued the moment we set foot in our hotel and were faced with an extremely beautiful receptionist at the Shangri-la Golden Sands, Continue reading
Like IKEA for cooking, Secret Ingredient, a DIY cooking service in Hong Kong, comes up with gourmet recipes for you to replicate at home by delivering carefully marked ingredients and an instruction manual. But no guy with a power drill.
It comes in handy when you want to impress somebody but don’t have time to chop, skin or marinate, let alone follow that original recipe. It’s also good if you’re lazy or don’t trust yourself in the kitchen.
A friend of mine said this was failsafe (although I’m sure someone’s fucked it up once or twice, not for lack of detailed instructions). Continue reading
If you’re in Myanmar, I highly recommend a trip to Bagan, an arid and beautiful ancient city, just for the spectacular sunsets and the peace.
My guide in Yangon had expressly avoided taking me to too many pagodas and stupas (there is a difference – the former is used more as a place of worship, sayeth the locals), warning I would get more than my fill in Bagan, which has more than 2,000 of them. Continue reading