I went to Hong Kong and they had grits

Last weekend, I got out of town for a little bit. Nothing major; the onus was a doctor’s appointment on Monday because it was a holiday.

Clearly, it wasn’t all that exciting because I totally forgot to write this blog entry yesterday.

Hong Kong is a cool city and definitely a good place to visit. There are lots of things to see, but since I’ll be here two years I didn’t really feel the need to see everything.

Which is fortunate, because really, I didn’t see much.

Mostly, I wanted to just relax a bit. I’ve been pedal-to-the-floor for awhile and it was nice to do nothing. I stayed in a hostel – which, like Hong Kong itself, was expensive ($40 a night) – and chatted with the people there.

Three of us went to breakfast on Sunday at an American place named the Flying Pan. I had darn good bacon, eggs, toast and grits. I have to say the grits weren’t all that good, but they were grits. I couldn’t believe it.

I’d planned on going back on Monday to have the country fried steak, but I got lost.

Anyway, I and two guests at the hostel – a younger German guy and an older American lady – went to a late breakfast and ended up staying until 1:30 or so.

The American had been a teacher in Yemen and had lived in multiple countries teaching English, which included being in China years before. She had lots of stories and was extremely talkative, so mostly the German guy and I just listened.

She’d been evacuated from Yemen, which was a fascinating story to hear because of where I work; the embassy there had called her one day and told her to pack her bags. Long story involving a kidnapping hit list; I won’t go into it, but all turned out well but she had a bad experience with the embassy.

After breakfast, the German guy hit the museums and the woman said she was going to get a massage, did I want to go, too? That had been on my “maybe do” list so I did.

It was quite painful! Oh, my, it hurt. But I slept good.

She’d gotten both the body and foot massage and I only got the body – I don’t like people touching my feet! – so I finished first. I’d thought about going to a movie and asked her if she was interested. She’d been in Yemen for four years and they don’t have movies, so she said yes.

After going back to the hostel to research what was playing (sadly, “American Hustle” was not), we fixated on “Saving Mr Banks.” Once at the theater, though, it was sold out and we opted for “The Butler” instead.

It was OK; Forest Whitaker is amazing and John Cusack made a fantastic Nixon, but nothing memorable. It was a VERY weird movie to watch in China, though.

After the movie it was about 7:30 or so and time for dinner. We went to some Thai place she’d mentioned at breakfast and lo and behold, the German guy was there.

On Monday, I went to the podiatrist to get fitted for new insoles. My feet do not like me right now. The elliptical kills me after about 45 minutes. My feet just start to tingle and burn.

The office was different than any I’ve experienced, too. First of all, it was on the eighth floor of some random building in downtown Hong Kong. I went in and they had a little drink bar, like at a hotel at breakfast. Tea, juice, coffee, water. Apples and crackers, too.

Internet was available, which was cool since I was about half an hour early. I sat down, though, and started on an email and some guy came out for me.

It was the doctor. No nurse at all. I only saw the doctor, who was British. He did everything, including slapping the plaster on my feet to case the new insoles. It was just very odd compared to what I am used to.

The only remotely touristy thing I did (besides gather brochures) was take the ferry instead of the metro across the harbor. That was fun, and once off I headed to the train station. When I passed a tourist office I went in for information and learned that they have a big red bus tour. That sounds cool, but when I investigated the price, I found that it was exactly the same as Disney!

I have to go back to Hong Kong on Presidents’ Day to pick up my new insoles. I’ll do the same as I did this time and get there on Saturday (only this time I won’t miss my train like I did this time!), play on Sunday and go to the doctor’s on Monday.

So Sunday … let’s see … Big Red Bus or Disney?

Such a no-brainer.