Another weakened weekend in Hong Kong

We got in late on Friday and had a couple of beers, and so on Saturday I revelled in the fact that I could sleep in past 9am, uninterrupted by children clambering into bed to demand cuddles/poke me in the eye with their diminutive fists. Hong Kong had been in the grip of a heatwave (33° temperatures) but that broke earlier this week and now it was overcast and rainy.

Of course, nobody adjusts their air con settings in light of this, so the dim sum joint we went to in Wan Chai was absolutely baltic, and no matter how much tea you drink you’re still shivering. I ate deep fried tofu, rice, and not much else, and after a few hours stumbled back out to the street.

The street in question, Hennessy Road, has a strange combination of bathroom furniture shops, 7-11s, upmarket restaurants, down-market restaurants, offices, bars full of hookers and bars for men to get alcoholically lubricated in before they hit the hooker bars. Oh, and some coffee shops.
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First day back

I woke up today at six, after eight gloriously uninterrupted hours of sleep. I went for a run, proving to myself for the umpteenth time that fifteen hours of sitting on a plane isn’t a performance enhancer. Still, I managed to jog around a five kilometre loop that ended just by the 24 hour supermarket, where I could load up on milk and fruit. I’ve spent a large part of today eating that fruit, in between filling out forms and going through all the paper that had arrived in our mailbox while we we’re away. Basically, my afternoon was a series of attempts to remember passwords, coupled with massive frustration whenever I needed to reset my password by having a text sent to a phone number I haven’t had since 2008. I wonder how I’ll sort that out.

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Let it snow

I got up this morning, stuffed all my dirty shirts, underpants and socks into my suitcase, and went down to the lobby of the hotel to enjoy for the last time the WiFi network that didn’t actually connect to the internet, and the complimentary rubber croissants they served for breakfast. Outside, a flurry of snow caught my eye; I abandoned my baggage and went outside to take a look.
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Another day of haziness

The haze is back in Singapore, that good old smell of burning stuff. I glanced at an article on ways to beat the haze, and the main suggestion it had was to use a particular brand of air freshener. The brand that was sponsoring the article. I do so like overly transparent adverts for things. Almost as much as clearing particulates from the atmosphere by using Shake N Vac, or eliminating pollution by drinking Sunny Delight, or whatever is the next wheeze.
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The journey is not more important than the destination

Yesterday we walked for a mile or two in search of the French Bakery, a well-concealed bakery somewhere in Bellevue. We didn’t find it, eventually giving up and going to the Fresh Cafe instead, far in the depths of office buildings in northern Bellevue, where the staff told us there wasn’t any WiFi (there was) and then sold us revolting egg-and-cheese-in-croissant concoctions. That wasn’t the beat start to the day.

Still, my wife researched things more carefully and later found the French Bakery, hidden halfway down a block just over from where we’d given up. It turned out to be just another anodyne cafe, not a joyous nexus of Galkic charm, baguettes and men in stripy sweaters.

Today, we continued in our quest for new and wonderful eating experiences, by trying to eat doughnuts for dinner.
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Hungover on crisps

I got home last night after work feeling exhausted, incapable of thought. My wife made me a sandwich and put a few crisps next to it as a garnish. Unfortunately, she didn’t hide the bag from me, and sooner or later the inevitable happened, and I ate an entire bag of crisps, a bag large enough to supply a family with potatoes. Not crisps, potatoes, as in for a hearty meal or two. This would have … consequences.
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Eating is cheating

Yesterday, I made a spreadsheet to track the quality of my diet. I’m following some fairly simple rules, as laid down in Racing Weight, to figure out if I’m eating properly or not. As it turned out, yesterday I ate dreadfully. I think I didn’t eat very different to any other day, which makes things worse: a one-off blowout is one thing, but every day stuffing the wrong things down your gullet is far worse. There were some immediate benefits: today, I ate much more carefully, mindful of how junk would be affecting the score of my daily diet. Usually, even knowing I don’t want to eat them, I’d be stuffing handfuls of Haribo Goldbaren in my gob by mid afternoon. Today, not a single one.
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