Clock Strikes 27

Dear Mr. Net,

Greetings.

I'm pleased to inform you that the clock of my lifespan striked twenty-seven yesterday, and I'd like to tell you how I spent my birthday.

Around noon Mom woke me up and asked if I want to have lunch with her and Aunt Fanny at City One Plaza. I went. At the "Purple Ivy Garden," a Chinese restaurant, we had melon & rice in soup, stir-fried vegetables, Shanghai-style steamed pork dumplings, steamed rice-rolls, and "Baiyun"("White Cloud") chicken feet.

At a quarter to one, I took the 62R bus to Kowloon Tong MTR (the subway in Hong Kong) station. Sitting right opposite to a nice-looking teenage girl, who stared at me in quite an unfriendly way for more than a few times as if she's wondering why on earth a guy in his late twenties, wearing sandals and dressed up in a blue polo shirt and white shorts, is listening to the radio on a walkman on a bus on a weekday afternoon, I tried my best to avoid eye-contacting her and looked to the left over my shoulder, spotting the other five remaining passengers. A little girl sitting alone. On the opposite side sat her little toddler sister and their mom. In front of the toddler sat a middle-age woman, and in front of her sat a thirtyish man.

Then I took the subway to Cheung Sha Wan, while I was reading Neil Simon's "The Gingerbread Lady". Right when I was about to exit at the gates, a short, cheerful, white-haired, old woman came up to me asking for directions to the C1 exit, which happened to be my exit as well. While I was leading her and her grumpy-looking friend, an old woman wearing a strawhat and treading slowly far behind us with a wooden cane, out the station, the smiley, old woman explained,"We could've hired somebody to take us to our destination, but we don't have the money, so I guess we might as well go by ourselves." The minibus station they were looking for appeared right in front of us when we came out of the station. I stayed with them while they were waiting for the 45M minibus that goes to the Caritas Hospital where they'd have their eye-examinations. The grumpy one was rather impatient, so they eventually got on a taxi and left. The cheerful one and I waved to each other and said our goodbyes.

The time's almost ten to two now, and I had an engagement at two at an elderly community centre nearby where I was supposed to coach a group of elderly in preparation for their road safety skit contest, held later in October, so I picked up my feet and looked for it in quite a hurry. Past the market. Across the street. Up the stairs. There. There's the entrance.

Door's locked.

Tried to force it open. Still it's locked. Then when I looked through the glass window of the door, there's a lady pointing. "The other side," her finger said.

Still to come...

The coaching session till four.

A walk with Aunt Ling plus a dial to home.

Subway to Tsim Sha Tsui while finishing "The Gingerbread Lady".

Pool closed.

A long wait for a vanilla-turned-strawberry shake at McDonald's.

Train to Shatin.

Walk to the pool.

Swim. Swim. Swim.

Dial to home.

National Geographic's special Africa edition at the library till 1930.

Chiuchow-style dinner.

Another walk with Aunt Ling.

Solitude plus last call at the UA Shatin cinema.

Surprise Cantonese opera at a Chinese Ghost Fest Fair till 2340.

Back to solitude by the Shing Mun River.

The two guys sitting and the two guys biking.

Lemon Coke light at home.

The call from Corinna.

The blog.

Till later.

Yours sincerely,
B. H.