Home, sweet home
Ah, Hong Kong! What a city! Not that I had any time to experience it, but still! The temperature was just lovely. I walked around in a dress and a cardigan, not feeling the slightest cold. And what a bunch of fashionable, good-looking people that live in Hong Kong?! Both westerners and Asians, men as women. The only thing I found weird was speaking English to the taxi drivers and getting a bit of a “huh?!” response every time I tried to speak Mandarin to someone. I would love to live in Hong Kong one day though, it’s a wonderful place.
(And one thing’s for sure, I’m definitely coming back for a “no-work, all-holiday-Hong Kong-trip” sometime in the near future. That’s a city that’s just way too much fun to not experience properly!)
Although my days in Hong Kong were golden, the fun ended when I caught the Hong Kong express (super convenient) to the airport. It started off with my flight being 3 hours delayed. So, instead of landing at a reasonable, 8pm at Shanghai Pudong International Airport, I landed just before 11pm. That was after a rather shaky flight, as the compulsory turbulence managed to hit the plane so sudden and so violently that several air stewardesses fell over. People seemed rather taken (including me, I was vivid) until we got a small box of Häagen-dazs ice cream to compensate for any unpleasant experience, and afterwards it was all smiles and laughter (It should not be “If you truly love her –treat her Häagen-dazs” but “If you want to make them happy –give them Häagen-dazs”).
Once we landed, I moved from the shaky plane to a taxi. Unfortunately, my taxi driver engaged in a game called “driving-as-fast-as-I-can.” At one point, we almost hit another car, which resulted in me yelling:
-What are you doing? You don’t have to drive that fast you know?!
He simply replied with:
-I know I don’t have to, but I want to.
….and drove even faster. Like so many times before, I was clinging on to my backseat, eyes closed, feeling a mix of tired and terrified.
Getting home to my fridge-cold flat was not fun, but at least I was still alive, so no complaints.
And then everything went quite smooth (I managed to brush my teeth and go to bed without a new close-to-death-experience) until I woke up extremely early (and insanely tired) on Thu morning, determined to get to work extra early in order to catch up.
Just as I was about to hit the shower, fresh coffee brewing in my coffee machine, all the lights went out. My flat turned completely black (it was just after 6am and still dark outside). Furious, I slipped on a pair of PJs (gosh, I should throw those out, shouldn’t I?), UGG boots (ugly but useful), and a jumper and rushed downstairs (amazing that I didn’t manage to leave my keys inside, locking myself outside would have been the icing of the cake), yelling at everyone I saw that I needed some help because I’d had a power cut.
Still as angry (and a bit cold) I stormed back to my flat and sat at my table, armed with a flashlight, feeling angry, upset and stressed.
For 20 minutes I sat like that, feeling more stressed for every minute that went by. I even considered having an ice-cold shower, but the thought of stepping out of a cold shower and into an even colder flat made my skin prickle. When no one had arrived after 20 minutes I lost it, and ran downstairs again, this time begging someone to come upstairs and help me, tears in my eyes:
-Please, please, can you hurry up! I need to get to work!
This did it, and 2 minutes later a sleepy but friendly man joined me in the elevator, looking at me curiously (I bet it was my PJ pants).
It took him about 15 minutes to change the fuse and try things out, and for that he wanted 20 rmb. I paid without blinking, feeling like I’d just been granted a second chance to live once the power came back and the aircon started blasting out warm air. I ended up feeling rather grateful the rest of that day, despite me not having time to wash my hair. Never underestimate those little things in life! (and never turn on 2 aircons, 1 heater and 1 microwave at once in my crib).