Role Reversal

The husband and I appear to have undergone a strange role reversal since my arrival in Hong Kong.  This became apparent this morning when I was rudely awoken by the irritating, repetitive alarm tone David has set on his phone at 6am.  This was followed shortly afterwards by David leaping out of bed and diving into his gym kit, before disappearing out the door, not to return for an hour.  During which time I was able to fall back into a deep slumber, only to be woken again by a bright and sprightly David slamming the front door shut to triumphantly announce that he had been for a hike up The Peak - oh, and he had also done a magnificent set of press-ups and tricep dips at the top.  Mumbling 'well done dear' to encourage this new-found morning energy, I managed to catch a further forty winks while the slightly smug David jumped into the shower.  He left for work before I had even lifted my head off the pillow.

This is a far cry from life back in Hamble when it would be me getting up as the alarm sounded at 6am and disappearing off around the airfield with a bouncing Winnie, while David snuffled into his pillow like a content piglet.  It would be me returning, usually drenched, windswept and muddy, and me jumping into the shower while David grunted dissatisfaction at having been woken up again before his alarm sounded at 8am.  In the old days, I would have left the house for work before my husband had even stirred properly from his slumbers.  How I am enjoying this reversal of roles.

I will caveat this by saying that this has only happened on one morning so far and it will be interesting to see how long it lasts for.  I would also hasten to add, that I can guarantee that if we actually need to be somewhere by a certain time in the morning eg collecting our ID cards from the Immigration Department, I can pretty much guarantee that he will continue to lie in bed hitting the snooze button until I am ready to throttle him!

Time on my hands

One of the best things about following your husband to a faraway country for his job is that while you find your feet and find a role for yourself, you have time on your hands to explore, research, write and read.  Yesterday I spent a blissful day moving from my bed to the sofa, reading Becoming Mrs Kumar on my Kindle.  This is a book that was launched yesterday and written by an old friend of mine from London advertising agency days - Heather Saville Gupta.  Heather was my boss for a while and an excellent drinking and partying partner-in-crime with an eclectic and fun group of friends.  When she turned 30 she abandoned the security of a well-paid senior role in a multi-national advertising agency and went travelling for a year, ending up in Bangkok where she picked up her advertising career again.  After a couple of years she transferred to Mumbai where she is now settled having met her husband and had two children.  Becoming Mrs Kumar is loosely based on Heather's experience of finding her feet in an alien country, getting her head around the customs and traditions, and ultimately the quest to find Mr Right.  For anyone who loves a good  chick lit read - I highly recommend the book.

Obviously for me, the subject of relocating to another country and coping with finding your way in a new place is particularly pertinent right now.  I could relate to Heather's descriptions of the constant assault on your senses as unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells both bombard and fascinate you on a daily basis.  The desire to fit in and to respect and understand the local culture and not to be simply swept up into the comfortable and cloistered expat lifestyle.  The irritation combined with pity at meeting expats who gave the impression of having been dragged kicking and screaming to the country and had nothing but negative things to say, yet had made no effort to embrace the many positives of their exhilarating surroundings.  And the new experiences and opportunities that are presented to you as a result of moving out of the comfort and security of your homeland.

Unlike the character in Heather's book, I have arrived in Hong Kong following my Mr Right - which labels me as a 'trailing spouse' - a title that does not sit comfortably with me.  I have always prided myself on being an independent woman.  I have never relied on a man to support me and I have never been attracted to a man for the size of his wallet, his job title or his social standing.  Therefore, to arrive somewhere with 'dependant' clearly stamped in my passport and to be seen by many as the little wife who has trailed along behind her successful husband is aggravating.  It is also becoming apparent that the job market in Hong Kong - while buoyant if you can communicate in both English and Cantonese - is more limited to the expat English only speaker.  While I am sure that an opportunity will present itself in time, it is unlikely to be in the next few weeks, so as time passes and my savings dwindle, there may become a time when the title in my passport will finally ring true.  However, I am not going to worry about that eventuality just yet, and I will continue to explore, research, write and read and enjoy this time in my life when I have no work stress and some money in my bank account!

Pampered pooches

Over the past 2 years since I have been the proud owner of Winnie dog, I am certain that many of my friends have read my Facebook updates with derision.  Like a proud new mother I have religiously posted photos of my little darling simply looking adorable, wearing a new outfit or surrounded by the aftermath of one of her more destructive moments.

Adorable Winnie

New outfit Winnie

Aftermath of destructive Winnie

I have gushed endlessly about my unconditional love for her and how in my eyes, no matter how naughty she is, she is still undoubtedly the most perfect pup imaginable.  Leaving her behind when we moved to Hong Kong was very very tough - see my earlier blog.  However, very soon after arriving here it became apparent that the Hong Kongers are even more bonkers about their dogs than us Brits.

Living in the hustle and bustle and forest of concrete skyscrapers, I would never have thought that I would see quite so many pampered pooches on a daily basis.  It crossed my mind that there would be a few yappy handbag dogs being lugged around in Louis Vuitton's by pristinely manicured and coiffeured ladies of leisure, but I have been staggered to see the sheer quantity and variety of dogs being trotted triumphantly around the streets of Hong Kong.  I have witnessed every imaginable breed from westies to weimararners, chows to chihuahuas, poodles to pomeranians, corgies to collies, beagles to bulldogs, and of course countless mutts and mongrels.

As I have been breathlessly scaling my way to the top of The Peak, I have plodded passed domestic helpers trailing after collections of dogs, armed with newspaper and bottles of water to pick up and wash away any 'mess' the dogs make.  I have witnessed several skillful helpers manoeuver pieces of newspaper underneath their canine companions' rear ends as they 'assume the position'.  And I have watched panting labradors refusing to take another step as the helpers desperately try to coax them up the steep concrete pathways.

Some of the more bizarre sights I have seen include dogs wearing shoes - and I'm not only talking about miniature dog breeds - I have seen a golden retriever sporting colourful trainers.  I have observed spaniels with their coats cropped short apart from a skirt of fur half-way down their bodies, making them appear as though they are wearing tasseled rugs across their backs.  I have held back the laughter as I have passed by Yorkshire terriers wearing orange nail varnish on their claws.  And I have rolled my eyes in disbelief when I have discovered leaflets advertising animal communication lessons and dog reiki workshops.

Dog in shoes

Dog communication and reiki workshops

Perhaps the best thing about living in a country of dog lovers is that there is always a dog in the bar that I can stroke and pat when I am missing my Winnie.  There are also countless dog owners who give the impression that they are more than happy to be bored by our stories and photos of wonderful Winnie.  Enthusiastically they tell us about the Hong Kong dog rescue centres from where they saved their dogs and they helpfully suggest that perhaps we could do the same.  This is usually followed by me gazing pleadingly at David while he asserts that I will never be permitted to set foot anywhere near to one of these rescue centres.

My new friend from the bar last night - Harry

So while I spend a lot of time wishing Winnie was here with us so I could buy her shoes, paint her nails and enrol her into a dog reiki workshop, I am happily surrounded by countless four legged friends to help fill the Winnie shaped hole in my life.

Food glorious food

David and I love our food and our bodies are testament to this!  Hong Kong is definitely a place for foodies with over 10,400 restaurants.  In the short time we have been here we have sampled a fraction of these numerous restaurants and the different food options, but today's blog is a picture gallery of some of the amazing food that we have eaten.

Lots of noodles

Curry

Dumplings

Fish shao mai

Nasi goreng

Grilled seafood salad

Looking at all these pictures I am feeling very guilty... I must dash, I  have a mountain to climb!

Unruly hair and shiny faces

In my first blog I expressed some of my concerns about moving to Hong Kong and one of my more shallow worries was how my hair would cope with the humidity.  Having been here for almost two weeks, I am now qualified to officially confirm that the answer is - not very well.  I am fast resigning myself to the fact that, in Hong Kong, there is no such thing as a good hair day, instead some days are less bad than others.  Yesterday was a particularly bad hair day as not only did the humidity make my hair into a frizzy, unruly mess, but to add insult to injury, I was caught out in a downpour, creating a rather hideous lank, frizzy effect.  The only way to cheer myself up was to hang-out in the Apple store in the glossy IFC mall and let myself be persuaded to buy a new iPhone 5.

It is not just the bad hair days that a girl needs to worry about, the humidity also lends itself perfectly to shiny face syndrome.  As a woman, there is nothing more irritating than spending time getting your make-up just right, only to walk outside into the heat and for it to melt off your face in an instance, leaving a bare, sweaty eyesore.  This situation is becoming an every day occurrence for me, and as much as I try to convince myself that I look fine au-naturel - I know in my heart of hearts that I need all the help I can get.

This morning I set-off on my morning walk up to The Peak and I noticed that I was feeling much hotter and finding the walk far harder going than previous walks.  It was only when half-way to the top and I had almost finished my water, my clothes were soaking, salty sweat was stinging my eyes, my hair was sticking to my head and my entire body was coated in a glistening layer of sweat - that I realised it must be exceptionally humid today.  It was with great relief that eventually I plodded the final steps to the top of The Peak and found an empty bench to sit on so I could cool down and get my breath back.

Within seconds I noticed a group of uniformed Kindergarden aged Chinese children and their minder staring at me and then to my sweaty dismay, they headed over to me.  I still had water trickling down my face and I looked one big 'hot mess' but not in the good sense.  The children's minder turned out to be their teacher and he asked if the three boys could ask me some questions in English and have their photo taken with me.  It crossed my mind that they wanted my photo as they had never in their lives seen such a large, panting, sweaty European woman before.  After  enduring the humiliation of posing for a series pictures with the boys, I vowed that I would never ever become famous to ensure that the photos couldn't appear on the cover of Closer or Heat accompanied with the headline 'SHOCKING photos of Adrienne Walder before she made the big time'!

The three little boys:

After the photo session the boys disappeared into the crowd of tourists and that, I thought, would be the last I saw of them.  How wrong I was.  Five minutes later the three boys reappeared and presented me with a fan - prompting a strange combination of emotions - I was touched yet humiliated all in one go.

My new fan:

So all in all - it is fair to say that the Hong Kong climate is not well-matched to my European genes.  However, I will just have to become a little less vain and man-up or stay inside under the air-con!

The art of man management

Yesterday, when I asked David for his opinion about my blog, he said it was a bit too nice and girly.  Fortunately, he has provided me with sufficient material in the past few hours to ensure that today's blog will neither be nice nor girly.

My husband has many attributes - they just don't immediately spring to mind today - however his three biggest flaws, in my opinion, are:

1. His ability to faff
2. His inability to understand how much time things take to do (as a result of flaw no 1)
3. His propensity to be late (as a combined result of flaws no 1 & 2)

David would probably claim that my biggest flaws are:

1. I'm not a morning person
2. I nag too much
3. I am bad at leaving and arriving at places

I would argue that these flaws did not pre-exist my marriage with him and in fact all of them are a direct result of his own deficient behaviour.  This morning's activities give me the perfect case study to illustrate this point.

We had an appointment at 9.45am at the Immigration Department to apply for our Hong Kong Identity Cards.  David set the alarm for 7.30am, I set my alarm for 7.45am.  I got out of bed as soon as my alarm went off,  jumped in the shower and gave myself sufficient time to apply my make-up, dry my hair and decide what to wear.   As usual, David hit snooze repeatedly and after about 45 minutes, by which time I had had a shower and finished applying my make-up, he started to stir and moan that his back hurt and I would need to massage it better so that he could drag his corpulent torso into the shower.  When it became apparent that a back massage was not forthcoming, he then started rasping that his throat was hurting and he believed he was developing the crippling and debilitating disorder that strikes down male members of the human species - man-flu.

With a heavy-heart, I offered him some Strepsils, which he refused to take - making me suspect that perhaps this was not a terminal case of man-flu - and gently coaxed him to get in the shower so we could buy a coffee and make our appointment on time.  After a further futile attempt to persuade me to massage his ailing back, and a few pathetic sniffs - David finally got out of bed and took himself off for a leisurely shower.  While he was busy luxuriating in the warm water, I was watching the clock wondering how much longer he was going to be and whether I would have time to get my coffee before reaching the Immigration Department.  Occasionally I would ask practical questions of David in an attempt to expedite our departure  - such as 'where is your application form?', 'do you know where we need to head to or should I look it up on google maps?' - all of which were met with a terse, condescending response, the tone of which said:  'Listen you silly little woman, I have everything under control.'

Eventually David emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam asking me if I was ready to leave - which I had been for a good fifteen minutes at that point.  Then he proceeded to painstakingly set-up the iron and ironing board across the entrance to the bedroom - preventing me from entering the room - while muttering that had I ironed his shirt for him, we could have left by now.  I dared not point out that we could hardly have left while he was still parading around in a pair of saggy boxers.  I patiently waited while surreptitiously glancing at the clock to see we were fast running out of time to grab my critical morning coffee, before heading for our appointment.

After what seemed like an eternity, David was dressed and ready to leave - and still deluded enough to believe that there would be time to sit down and enjoy a 'relaxing' coffee in the Mid-Levels before heading to our appointment in Wan Chai.  When  - quite reasonably - I suggested that it would be a good idea for us to arrive in Wan Chai, see how much time we had left before our appointment, and then go for a coffee - I was snapped at and arrogantly assured that it would only take 20 minutes to get there by the MTR.  

Just as we had stepped into the lift and appeared to be on our way, David snapped that he had left something behind and ordered me out of the lift again.  As he fumbled for his keys, I inquired as to what had been forgotten and I was aggressively  told that it was the Strepsils I had offered him earlier but he had refused to take.  After collecting the Strepsils, David went to lock our apartment to find that the lock had jammed open, leaving us unable to shut the door, let alone lock it!  Having experienced this issue before, I hurriedly grabbed the screwdriver, trying desperately to avoid looking at the clock that was fast ticking down the minutes to our appointment.   Having rammed the screwdriver into the lock to no avail, David suggested we left our apartment with the door open as, and I quote 'we have our wallets and our passports with us'.  I didn't have the time or energy to point out the two lap tops, two iPads, TV, DVD player and jewellery enticing any potential thieves to come on in and nick them.  Realising that I was not going to leave until we could lock the apartment, David set to work dismantling the lock.  Miraculously, this was clearly a simple task as he managed to un-jam it fairly quickly and once again we were on our way to our appointment.

Still desperate for a coffee, but realising that I was going to have to forfeit it, I headed at pace to the escalator towards Central MTR, while David dawdled behind and then suddenly disappeared from view.  Scouring the crowd of people I finally heard an irrate voice ordering me off the escalator and down on to the road where he was standing looking furious.  It became clear that David had decided that there was no longer time to get the MTR to Wan Chai and we were now going to get a taxi instead.  As this had not been communicated to me, I was a little perturbed to receive a penetrating scowl for forgetting to switch on my psychic skills.

Finally, we arrived at the Immigration Department with a few minutes to spare and hastily managed to grab a take-away Starbucks before scurrying up eight floors of escalators to our final destination.  Now David would argue that he got me to the appointment in time and I got a coffee.  I would argue that although we got to the appointment on time, the whole process from waking up to getting there had been unnecessarily stressful and rushed.

So, let us go back to David's flaws and my flaws - just in case you had forgotten:

David's flaws:

1. His ability to faff
2. His inability to understand how much time things take to do (as a result of flaw no 1)
3. His propensity to be late (as a combined result of flaws no 1 & 2)

My flaws:

1. I'm not a morning person
2. I nag too much
3. I am bad at leaving and arriving at places

Now, let's take a look at the above case study and analyse my flaws:

1. I'm not a morning person:  actually I am, I wake up quickly and get up as soon as my alarm goes off.  My only pre-requisite is that I get a good cup of coffee before I start my day properly.
2. I nag too much:  if I didn't nag, David would faff even more and would never arrive anywhere on time.
3. I am bad at leaving and arriving at places:  there is nothing I hate more than being late or being kept waiting.  To avoid this I have to nag David to stop him faffing and to help him understand how long it takes HIM to do things - which inevitably ends in an argument, and arriving flustered with no time to spare.

So David - I hope you find today's blog a little less nice and girly, and also realise that your wife is in fact flawless.  You will also note from the photo accompanying this blog that your flawless wife was sufficiently well-prepared and organised to bring some Man-Flu remedy from the UK to Hong Kong especially for you.

Someone old, someone new

Anyone who knows me well will know that I am a fairly avid Facebook user.  One of the many advantages of Facebook is that it helps us stay in contact with, and follow the lives of, friends who we may otherwise have lost touch with over the years.  The value of Facebook has definitely come to fruition on my arrival in Hong Kong, as it has allowed me to know the whereabouts of old friends, and contact those who are now living in Hong Kong too.  This Saturday I met up with an old (not in the ancient sense of the word) friend from London, Nicole, who I hadn't seen in 10 years.

You know a good friend when you can meet up and it feels as though no time has passed since you last saw them, and you can pick up seamlessly from where you left off.  Seeing Nicole again was exactly like that.  It turns out that we are living within two minutes of each other in the Mid-Levels and there is something very reassuring about having a old friends living so close at hand.

Besides having a great catch-up, filling each other in on the past 10 years of our lives, Nicole also proved to be an accomplished tour guide!  She took me on a tour of Sheung Wan pointing out gorgeous boutiques, hidden-away cafes, the most popular street food vendors and secluded parks.  However the highlight of my day was a visit to the aviary in Hong Kong Park.

When Nicole suggested  we visit the aviary, I think she could tell from my facial expression that I was slightly perturbed that she considered me the bird-watching type.  Once we arrived in the aviary, high-up in Hong Kong Park, over-looking the city skyline, with the sound of water rushing through and stunning rare tropical birds surrounding you - I got why she had been insistent on a visit.  It was a stunning, tranquil oasis in the centre of the hustle and bustle of the city - packed with some of the most gorgeous brightly coloured, unusual birds that I have ever seen.  The aviary is now high on my list of places to take visitors to.

Here are some photos - but my camera was not good enough to actually capture any birds!

While Saturday was spent catching up with an old friend, Sunday was spent with our new friend, Lars who David had met on one of his first weekends here.  At this time of year, when the weather is still relatively cool, the population of Hong Kong spend much of their leisure time hiking - if they aren't eating or shopping.  Therefore, in an attempt to fit in with the locals, we threw on our walking kit and set-off with Lars for Stanley on the south side of the island.

Despite the fact that no walk in Hong Kong appears to be complete without an abundance of steps or steep hills to scale, the hike to Stanley was stunning and we definitely earned our beer and lunch when we finally arrived there two hours later.

Here is some of the scenery we passed through en-route:

And here is the final destination and my reward for hiking:

So all in all, we have had a great weekend, spending time with old friends and new and gradually exploring a little bit more of what Hong Kong has to offer us.

Family matters

My family is terribly important to me and I am extremely fortunate to have a very big and very close extended family.  Back in my London days I had eleven cousins and my two brothers on my doorstep who I met up with regularly for dinners, theatre trips, to watch the Six Nations Rugby, to sing Les Miserables with, and to perfect together our Britney Spears 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' dance moves.  Mum and dad would often travel to London to visit me and my brothers and treat us to dinner, along with a group of our friends and our current boyfriend/girlfriends.  At the time when I moved to Hamble, my brother Tom moved to Barcelona and many of my cousins moved out of London, making spontaneous nights out with family a little harder, but we still managed to meet up - it just took a bit more planning.  Also, my parents still visited me regularly - especially in the summer - when they would appear on their yacht Moonbeam and would invite me and my friends for 'drinkies' on-board.

When the idea of moving out of the UK was first discussed with David, I was genuinely concerned about leaving behind family and living on the other side of the world without my family support-network close at hand.  However, last night David and I were taken to dinner at the prestigious members club - The Hong Kong Club - by my Uncle Neil Maidment, who has lived in Hong Kong for many years.

The first and only other time I met Neil was 19 years ago when I was sent to work in Hong Kong for a few weeks in the run-up to the World Cup of Golf held at Mission Hills Golf Club in Shenzhen, China - when I was a lowly Events Assistant (aka General Dogsbody) in my first permanent job.  He had very kindly taken me for a delicious dinner at The Hong Kong Club - which made a pleasant change to a liquid dinner at Joe Bananas flirting with young ex-pat bankers or cold gyoza in my hotel room at the YMCA!

Joining us for dinner last night were Neil's brother-in-law Paul and his niece Olivia who are both Cantonese.  Paul and Olivia have very kindly offered to teach David and I the useful Cantonese swear words so we can understand when we are being cursed at, to show us how to cook with the unrecognisable Chinese vegetables that we see on the market stalls, and to take us for Dim Sum.  So, as of last night, my family has extended further and it feels both comforting and reassuring to know that I still have family right on my doorstep.

The repentant Walders

When I lived in London, all too frequently that 'one quiet drink' after work turned into several, and before you knew it you were dancing until the early hours on a Tuesday night, conveniently forgetting about the client presentation you had to give the following day.  Living on the south coast of England things changed a little as everyone drove to work, which meant that 'one quiet drink' with colleagues always was just that.  Already I have witnessed plans going awry in Hong Kong with a foreboding sense of deja-vu.

On Tuesday night David and I met up with a friend of David's who was visiting Hong Kong for a couple of days.  The plan was to go for a civilised dinner in Soho and then head home at a sensible time.  Things veered off course when we were sitting outside a bar having a pre-dinner glass of wine when Dave's new friend Lars happened to be passing on his way home from work, and decided to join us.  One drink turned into two and then our stomachs insisted it was feeding time.  After a fantastic Chinese meal accompanied by copious wine, it seemed too early to call it a night, so we paraded back to a lively bar for more drinks.  Needless to say, once that bar shut, it still seemed too early to head home, so we dusted off our dancing shoes and took ourselves off to a fine Hong Kong late night drinking and dancing establishment - which came complete with a DJ who was stuck in the 90's and a plethora of hookers.  It was only after we had demonstrated to Hong Kong that we had the dance moves of Justin Timberlake - and the place closed around us - that we took our weary legs back home.

Waking up at around lunchtime, I was overwhelmed with drunken remorse and reluctantly donned my gym kit to drag myself up The Peak.  I'm not going to lie to you - it hurt... everything hurt... but I did it nonetheless.

To compensate for our night of excess, David and I decided to have an early night last night so we could get up at 6am to walk up to Pinewood Battery.  Fortunately, last night we managed to avoid bumping into any bad influences and the repentant Walders stuck to their plans and made it to Pinewood Battery before David headed to work this morning.  Here is the evidence:

Already I can see that as we make new friends here in Hong Kong, the likelihood of bumping into people we know on our way home on the escalator is going to be a worryingly common occurrence.  Therefore the need for an iron will is going to be mandatory for David and I to avoid repenting our way up The Peak, regularly, first thing in the morning.  Wish us luck - I think we are going to need it.

Waking up with Psy

Well I think you can safely say that you have had a good night when you wake up to find a Psy 'Gangnam Style' dancing doll in your handbag the following morning!

It is strange that what seems like a fantastic idea/purchase after a vat of sauvignon blanc seems a little odd in the cold light of day.  However, I am sure that Poppy and Bertie will be delighted with my drunken shopping once I can find a post office so I can send it to Spain.

Home sweet home

The quest to find your perfect des res in the world's third most expensive city after Monaco and London, is a daunting challenge.  We knew when we were planning our move that we were going to have to downsize considerably from our three bedroom detached house with a garden, to something far more compact, for a far higher price.  Before my arrival in Hong Kong I spent many nights dream scheming and investigating the best areas for us to live in while we made friends and found our feet, and exactly what we could get for our money in these areas.  From browsing the property listings, it soon became apparent that things that we take as a given when we are moving into a new home - are considered a luxurious attribute here.  Such as 'bathroom with ceiling thermo ventilator' or 'bedroom with wardrobe'.

It wasn't until David arrived here and made the mistake of telling me that he was at a loose end one weekend - that I gained my 'on the ground' guinea pig - who I could email details of rental properties I liked the look of and cajole into arranging viewings.  Rapidly it became clear that the words 'cosy' and 'boutique' are simply estate agent acronyms for tiny and minute.  If an apartment is advertised as '2 bedrooms' - it doesn't necessarily mean that there is room to cram a bed in the second bedroom.  And we soon realised that key words to seek out were 'queen size bed', 'lots of storage' and 'new deco'.

So after a couple of false starts David finally found our new home with a queen size bed, lots of storage, new deco - and not forgetting the bathroom with ceiling thermo ventilator - on Peel Street in the Mid Levels.  In my opinion it is 'cosy' and 'boutique' but the location is perfect and I think we will be very happy here.

The queen size bed

Lots of storage

New deco

Pounding up The Peak

When I packed my gym kit and trainers in the luggage I brought with me on the plane, even I wondered why I hadn't just sent them in the shipping boxes as they were taking up valuable suitcase space.  Besides, I knew they wouldn't actually be used, well not until I got a job and could afford to become a member of a swanky gym where I could trot on a running machine while watching MTV and pretending I looked just like Jessica Ennis.  So, it was with consternation that I found myself pulling on my jogging bottoms and trainers on day one in Hong Kong.

When David had suggested a walk up to The Peak I had leapt at the idea as I had never made it up there on my previous visit to Hong Kong.  What I had failed to grasp was that The Peak was called 'The Peak' because it is 'the top of something', and being 'the top of something' this would involve enduring one of my least favourite things in the world - walking uphill.  I suppose I had envisaged a gentle road winding its way to the top and David said nothing to suggest otherwise - I was misled.

The one redeeming factor was that the weather was cool.  Having said that I had broken into a sweat after the first set of steps before we had even reached the road leading to the trail to take us to The Peak.  Being alone for the past couple of months David has had plenty of time to fill and has clearly kept himself occupied by hiking up the many hills of Hong Kong.  So while he pounded up the steep path with relative ease, I plodded behind trying not to listen to my breathing getting heavier and heavier.  Feeling plump and self-conscious I attempted to gulp for air quietly as a steady stream of fitness fanatics jogged smugly past my lumbering carcass.  And I kept my head bowed, hiding the salty sweat streaming down my face, as the slender Asian's snaked back down the trail without so much as a bead of sweat between them.

To add to the humiliation I had David jogging on the spot beside me and 'cattle-prodding' me up the hill, as I heaved myself up the slope.  Every now and then I would stop to point out that the wooden signposts indicated that we were still too many thousands of metres from the top.  And just as I was on the verge of physically abusing my husband for making me endure this torture, the path evened out and we were walking along a flat road and the high-pitched wail of Chinese music could be heard drifting along from The Peak.

As the pheromones engulfed me and I could breathe normally again, I forgot about the hell of scaling The Peak and was overcome by a satisfying sense of achievement.  I rewarded myself with some fish shao mai from Seven Eleven.

I've decided that walking up steep hills must be a bit like child birth because when David leapt out of bed the following morning and suggested that we walk to Pinewood Battery - I happily agreed.  Thirty minutes later as I was scaling endless flights of stone steps, my thighs were burning and sweat had plastered my hair to my head, I wondered how I could have possibly forgotten how excruciating this uphill exercise is.  However the thought of the fat melting from my elephantine thighs and my bum becoming pert kept me going, and once again I was rewarded with an overwhelming semblance of accomplishment.

So today, as David set-off for work, I put on my gym kit for the third day in a row and headed for the trail to The Peak.  For the moment, while I am in temporary early retirement and have no excuses, I intend to do exercise every day - so while it is cool and the humidity is low, I plan to trudge up the trail to The Peak every day.  And I hope that each day it will become a little easier and each day my thighs will get a bit slimmer.

The Romantic Reunion

During my sleepless dream-scheming nights, in my run up to arriving in Hong Kong, I had visions of David and my romantic reunion in Hong Kong airport's arrivals.  In retrospect the vision of David arriving early in eager anticipation of meeting my flight, armed with a bouquet of flowers, was ill-conceived.  David is not known for his punctuality and the romance fled our relationship the first time we farted in front of each other.  So, true to form - I cleared immigration, picked-up my luggage and passed through customs before my husband had even made it on to the train from Hong Kong to the airport.

When he did finally arrive - I was slightly disappointed at the absence of any flowers.  However, brushing the disappointment aside, it was lovely to see David again after our two month separation.  And after my first lychee martini - the disappointment was soon forgotten!

Blubbing in Caviar House

One of my highlights of travelling by air tends to be the couple of hours spent pottering around the shops and deciding where to eat, once I've cleared security and before boarding the plane. This time round was different and I was completely overwhelmed by such a vast range of emotions that my time was mostly spent crying in Caviar House.

I could see the other customers' furtive glances, trying to work out my story. Maybe they were wondering if I was crying because I had just said goodbye to a lover or I was escaping abroad from a broken heart. Maybe they assumed I was laden with illegal drugs or fleeing from a nasty crime I didn't mean to commit. Or just maybe they had guessed I had kissed and hugged my parents and my perfect pooch goodbye, unsure of when I would be seeing them again. Or that I was reading heartfelt text messages from my friends or an emotional email from my husband who I hadn't seen for over two months. Or perhaps they knew I was upset that security had rifled through and ruthlessly unpacked my hand luggage, man-handled my teddy bear and my clean knickers, checked EVERYTHING for explosives and then left me, humiliated, to repack the entire contents while other travellers looked on in sympathy, amusement and/or fascination. Or maybe they could see it was the shock of receiving the extortionate bill at Caviar House after imbibing half a bottle of wine and a sea food platter for one.

Unlike any previous trips abroad, it was with some relief when I was finally able to board the plane, take my seat, hide away from people's prying eyes and focus on arriving in Hong Kong after months of dreaming about what it would be like.

Goodbye my furry friend

Besides the tough farewells to family and friends, today I have the horrible task of saying goodbye to my naughty little furry friend Winnie. Once more my brain has sprung into action at 3am, cruelly to remind me that today is the day I have been dreading for this very reason. Having had Winnie in our lives and by our sides, through the good times and the bad, for the past year and eight months, leaving her behind is a wrench for David and me.

Carie and I collected Winnie and Bear from Kent on a gorgeous sunny August day and I remember our excitement, tinged with guilt, as we drove them away from their mum and other brothers and sisters, to Hamble. Neither of us were fully aware of quite what we were letting ourselves in for. No one had mentioned to us about the sleep deprivation during the first couple of weeks when we had to get up regularly throughout the night to let them out to pee, to get them house trained. We didn't know that you couldn't leave them alone for two minutes without them scattering the contents of a bin around a room or shredding apart a new loo roll - like a possessed Andrex puppy. We hadn't considered that we may feel guilty when we locked up our playful puppies in their crates and left for work as they pawed relentlessly at the clanging doors, hoping to be set free to create more havoc. Yet despite our lack of mental preparation, neither of us would have changed our decision to get our Winnie and Bear.

There have been the lows - when I discovered Winnie had chewed my pink suede heels, followed by my red patent leather heels, and to my complete disgust, my Irregular Choice heels. There was the 'nest' I discovered under our bed which consisted of the shredded contents of our bathroom bin. The time when Winnie murdered a rabbit during a walk and then refused to drop it or come back to us when we called, until she had finished skinning and eating it. When we arrived to see a cousin's brand new house and Winnie chose to 'christen' the pristine carpet with a very liquid and pungent turd. And a particular low was returning home from a boat trip to discover the entire downstairs of our house carpeted with feathers after Winnie and Bear had chosen to have a tug-of-war with a cushion in our absence.

But her plus points have always far outweighed these 'minor' defects. The way she knows when I am feeling down and she will jump up on my knee and cuddle me - her way of telling me everything will turn out fine. How she paws me when she wants me to carry on stroking her or to share my food with her - and incidentally, she is the only person/ animal that I am prepared to share my food with. The way she digs in her food bowl to hint that she is starving and needs more, and how she literally howls with excitement to see me when I get home from work at the end of the day. The way she drags me to break into a trot when she is on the lead and the springy gazelle-like jumps for joy she does when I walk her through the woods. And her endless patience when she is bribed to do 'high-fives' and 'spins' to keep children entertained.

In the same way that a parent believes their children are the best - I am convinced that Winnie is the best dog ever. I love her unconditionally and I am going to miss her so much. Also I love my parents so much for offering to take on our perfect pooch while David and I live in Hong Kong. This has spared us the heartbreak of rehoming her and means we can be reunited with her when we return home. Thank you so much Marge and Rickster, and Annie, who has kindly relinquished her role as only dog daughter.

When dream scheming becomes reality

Dream scheming:  Random nights where thoughts and ideas flood your mind, and you suffer by not being able to fall asleep and turn the thing off.

The dream scheming started nine months ago when David first mentioned that he had been approached about a job selling yachts in China.  It appeared like a hand dragging us free from an ocean of routine, grind and tedium that had gradually become our working lives.  Until the opportunity was presented to us, neither of us realised how much we craved a change and were ready to grasp that hand and let it lead us into the unknown. 

For months I have woken up at around 3am with my brain whirring aggressively into action, relentlessly circulating thoughts, concerns, ideas and worries around my head - keeping sleep firmly at bay.  How could we leave the comfort of our home in the UK?  What would we do without our close-knit group of supportive, caring, naughty, fun friends?  Who would look after our dog, Winnie?  How would we deal with moving somewhere where we only knew each other?  Would we be able to learn Mandarin?  Was there an established expat community?  What would I do for a job?  Where would we live?  Would I have to pretend to be a good corporate wife in front of David's customers?  How would my hair cope with the heat?  Where would I get my highlights done?  Did they sell  fake tan in China?  

You name it, I've thought about it, dwelled on it, investigated it on my iPad and obsessed about what our new life in China could be like - at 3am.   And then David finally got offered a job in Hong Kong six months ago... and the dream scheming belligerently continued.  Would we be able to learn Cantonese?  Where did the expats live?  Would I get a job without being able to speak or write Cantonese and Mandarin?  How could we afford to become members of the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club so I could pretend to be a good corporate wife in front of David's customers?  How frizzy would my hair go in the humidity?  Was there a Toni and Guy?  Did they sell  fake tan in Hong Kong?  

Now finally, the dream scheming is almost a reality and I still don't know the answer to half of my questions.  What I do know is that nothing could have prepared me for the reality of saying goodbye to my amazing family and  wonderful friends.  So many have revealed just how supportive and considerate they are.      There have been those that have been there in person or at the end of the phone whenever I've been tearful and tearing my hair out at the scale of what needed to be done to downsize our lives and move abroad.  Those that have sent me comforting text messages to check that I was coping after David left in January.  The ones that dropped everything to help me dismantle wardrobes, sofas and tables, that have driven me to my parents with furniture.  Those that have taken me out to dinner or invited me to the pub and plied me with wine and lobster.  The ones that looked after me and lent me a car the day I locked myself out of my house. The ones that have put a roof over Winnie's and my head after the tenants moved into our house.  The ones that have shared their sausage casseroles, polenta, chilli con carne, pasta, pork belly and scallops with me.  Those that have sent me daily emails full of  banter and have mopped up the tears when the reality of leaving eventually struck.  And everyone who made the effort to come to the pub to see me off and have written me cards with messages that I still can't read without choking up.  You know who you are...

And so the dream scheming continues and the next chapter begins.

"Friends are like stars - you don't have to see them to know they are there."