This snuggly guy was one of the many dogs floating around, this one at Po Lin Monastery at the Big Buddha.  He and the others roaming around had apparently not read the “no dogs” signs.  This one was totally “out” in a tree box.  Kind of how I felt and have felt since getting home.  Jet lag is no joke.  Should have taken a day off work for sure – live and learn.  At any rate I like this photo because he is yet another example of how animals teach us how to totally relax.  He was oblivious to everything around him, happily slumbering.

So.  There were a lot of things about this trip that were unexpected or surprising or that I was dead wrong about and because it’s my blog, I get to write them down!

When one misses a connection to a place on the other side of the world, and one wants to go home in disgust, one should persevere.

The worst part of plane travel is not whether it’s an hour and a half or 15 hours.  It is the packing to go on the trip, the getting to the airport, the going through security (although I now am a “Known Traveler” with TSA so don’t have to take my g.d. shoes off or take my computer out of the bag); the waiting to get on the plane, the getting on the plane, the getting organized on the plane…..and then the getting off the plane, the getting your luggage, the getting to your final resting place for the night.  The one and a half to fifteen hours on the plane is nothing. I am ready for Australia.  Japan. New Zealand.  Having said that, I am starting a little travel savings account so we can at least fly business when going that far.

I did not expect that I would tire of or not enjoy the food.  A patient had told me that happened to her and I was skeptical because I’m adventurous re: food, expect for beets and sauerkraut and other cabbage-ey food, but it just didn’t appeal to me, taste wise.

I did not realize the practice of Buddhism was as ritualistic as it seems to be  – genuflecting and kneeling on pillows, incessant waving of incense, hands in prayer and waving in that position up and down, general groveling.  So traditionally Catholic.  Guess the basic message gets lost in fancy ritual no matter what the religion.

My knees are bad.  I don’t know what I’m going to do about that.  I always enjoyed hiking and up and down with my trekking poles.  The hikes up and down mountain inclines and stairs and the accompanying agony on my knees has me sad and worried.  Yes, physician heal thyself and I will start working my knees in earnest, but man, I’m not ready to stop.  If I have to wear bracing, so be it.  Not done with the vistas quite yet.

Rugby is better on TV.  The better to see the players, my dear…

When you are going on a trip “just to go” and it’s not on your bucket list, beware – you may very well fall in love with the place and have to put it (and surrounding areas) on your bucket list and pretend you were never there so that it can remain unchecked on that list.  I would go back to  Kong and beyond in a heartbeat.  It was beautiful, cosmopolitan, easy to navigate, crazy friendly people, even in the Chungking Mansion which is a building in Tsim Sha Tsui area and which I forgot to talk about. It’s a gathering place/foreign market/cheap housing for minorities from other countries from Asian and Africa.  Al and I went there the last night after dinner (he needed one more t-shirt) and the lower floor is the “main arcade” and so many languages were spoken, but again, a smile and a laugh is a universal language and we had a fun time shopping there in an area of mostly Pakistani men.  Approaching the building, I hear whispered in my ear “copy – watches, miss” “copy – purses, ma’am” many times.  Al heard mumblings about massages…

As a matter of fact, Al told me he was going back next year for the rugby and was, for the second time, surprised that I would be going as well – just not for rugby.  I have more Buddhas to see, more history to learn, real jade to shop for and antique stores to peruse.

Thanks for reading, all.  For some reason it is much easier for me to journal here while imagining I’m writing a letter to someone.  Writing to myself just puts me to sleep…