We were running side by side on the sea-view promenade, a path that traces the coast of the South Chine Sea on the south side of the island. The soles of our sneakers hitting the pavement together make a nice harmony -- slap, slap, slap.
"Do you like it here?"
The hypnotic rhythm of our strides is interrupted. I look over at my husband who is looking at me from beneath the brim of his blue baseball hat. He puts his hands out, palms up, and shrugs his shoulders, waiting to hear my answer.
Do I like it here? The question whirls around in my head. I can almost see the words swirling around my mind, bobbing up and down like a wooden spoon in a pitcher of lemonade.
Do I like it here?
It's a good time to be asking since it's now been a year since I first set foot in Hong Kong. It has been a year since I had all these crazy notions in my head about what my life, what our lives, in Asia would be like.
I thought that my life at The Lily would be much like college dorm life that I, as a commuting student, never experienced. I imagined I'd click with a group of gals and we'd just kind of have our run of the building, apartment hopping after the kids had gone to bed, standing coffee dates after the kids boarded the morning school bus. We'd run together on the treadmill, lounge by the pool, pour a glass of pinot and hang out in the wicker chairs by the barbecue area. Guess what? Never happened.
I met women in my building but never made that kind of connection with them. There was a lot of "we should go here together' and 'we should check out this place some day', but those days never happened. Just talk, lots of talk. And it is weird, like the agony of being back in high school, we you start to see females in the building making those coveted connections, seeing them peel off together for tennis matches, shopping excursions and ladies' luncheons. And it's awkward to smile and wave them good-bye while wondering "why not me?".
Don't pity me yet, I had a few moments. We had a night out with a couple over in tower 4, but that would-be friendship quickly fizzled when they found me a lightweight drinker who had to go home (heaving) early. And another women invited me to come shopping with her for the girl scout Christmas gift drive. On the way to the Wan Chai market she confided in me her disappointment in not being invite to be a speaker at a local women in business meeting. "I'm a venture capitalist," she stated proudly. "Oh, um hmm, are you?" I nodded as she spoke. Over tacos that night I asked my husband, "What's a venture capitalist?".
But other things have happened that I did not expected. Like I have connected with wonderful women. Women who I do meet for coffee, who challenge me in mahjong games, who text me when something funny happens and asks me "can you do me a favor" as only a good friend would. We say things like "we should check this place out" and you know what? We do. Our husbands know each other. Our kids play together. When the boys travel we look to each other to pass the lonely time and to lean on shoulders. They are the friends I imagined I would discover. The only difference between what they are and what I thought they would be, is that their address is different.
It's so hard to answer the question of liking it here. It's not black. It's not white. It's totally gray, a big ole gray blob of good and bad. There are things I thought I'd hate, that I love. Things that I'd thought I'd love that I totally despise. There are some things that I adore one day and curse the next.
For example, I envisioned that I would love Repulse Bay Beach. Our apartment overlooks it; it's what I see every night before I close the shades and every morning when I rise and shine. During our countdown to departure back in Holly Springs, I would daydream about wandering over to the beach in the mornings, sunning myself golden. Guess what? Never happened. The sand on Repulse Bay Beach is of the rocky variety, not exactly what you want to lay upon to relax. What's more is this beach is a major stop for tour buses. It's a steady flow of bus after bus, squeezing through the narrow road, groups of mainlanders following the orange flags of tour guides, tromping through the rocky sand in the oddest variety of clothing you can imagine.
Public Transportation. There's a serious love/hate relationship going on with public transport here. I love that I never have to worry about a designated driver. I love that when I go into town I have a variety of options in getting home. But, without fail, anytime I'm late, in a hurry, it's raining, or I'm hauling 50-pounds of groceries on my shoulders, all public transportation options cease. Mini buses hang their little "full" sign in the window. Red taxis zip by, lights off, "for hire" signs hidden. Just today I took the kids to the beach only to have a storm break out. Standing in the pouring rain on a busy, narrow island road, trying to keep two little ones safe and close, while hauling a beach bag, a basket of sand toys and a blanket totally saturated with rain water, not a ride to be found. You find yourself fighting back tears, reminiscing about soft, gray leather seats, Rock 92 on the radio, children strapped in safety seats just over your shoulder.
But there are things that I've discovered here that I absolutely treasure, so much, in fact, that I worry about my reaction once they are lost to me back in the US. Like the streets of Soho lined with restaurant after restaurant after diner after bar after coffee shop. Gene and I pick a street and work our way down, Italian one night, tapas another, and check out this new champagne bar! They squeeze eateries into any available space, some places just have a half-dozen tables for patrons. Sometimes I wonder how I will stand it, as I'm home with sleeping children on a Friday night, knowing my friends are bar hopping, dancing to cover bands, doing jello-o shots at Als. Will they wish I was there? Will they know part of me will be wishing myself there?
Other Hong Kong loves? Mahjong. I've been schooled in mahjong by one of the best and enjoy it so much I had to buy a table and my own set of tiles. Food! I've been introduced to cuisine I've never sampled before like Thai curry, and Filipino pansit and don't get me started on the wonders of Indian food. In the winter, I love stocking up on sugar tangerines from the grocery store. And now in warm weather, small mango kidneys. "Do you think Harris Teeter carries these?" I ask Gene hopefully and he just shakes his head, "Afraid not".
So, you see, as much as I like things to be cut and dry, when it comes to this place, this island, it's not. There's no easy answer. No right or wrong. It's all circumstance. All based on my comfort, my likes, my dislikes, my moods. It's not black. It's not white. It's a big ole gray blob.
I feel fairly certain that I will never look at Gene and declare that I love it here, that this is my home and I never want to go back. But for now, as we run side by side by the sea, I know that this is a wonderful adventure, an opportunity that not everyone gets, and it's a chapter in my life story. So I look over, into those brown eyes, the same ones I gazed into and promised for better or worse, and smile and say, "I'm ok". And I am really. I'm ok.
