While living in Hong Kong from 2010-2012, I caught the travel bug visiting 11 different countries, most of which were in Southeast Asia, except for my trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina during summer break. I wrote about a few of my experiences in my then-blog, Ashley’s HK Experience. As a new travel piece to this blog, I’m reposting my piece on a trip to Buenos Aires where I went to visit my friend Steven in August 2011.
Granted, I live in a country where English is not the (only) official language and I am sufficiently able to survive, but Buenos Aires is not quite the same as Hong Kong. With its signs in letters and characters, Hong Kong is easy on the eyes and brains of travelers and expats alike. Buenos Aires, on the other hand, has signs only in Spanish. Now if you donned a Spanish name, learned to count to 100 starting with uno and how to order a cheeseburger in high school Spanish class, you could easily survive the capital streets of Argentina. But for those of us who sported berets, listened to stories about Pierre et Fifi and watched movies with Gerard Depardieu, Buenos Aires can be a tricky location to find your way around. It’s not that I can’t match street signs to the Spanish words on a map, but asking for directions, ordering lunch or shopping for a pair of new boots can seem to be on the verge of impossible.
My first ever yoga class was my freshman year in college, a hard-to-believe 14 years ago. My dedication to the practice has ebbed and flowed but I’ve always really enjoyed it and have felt the benefits both internally and externally.
I’ve gone to countless studios, been on 2 yoga retreats (with the 3rd taking place over Labor Day weekend, and hopefully a 4th in December), and completed yoga teacher training. Despite all of the hours I’ve spent in downward facing dog, I am an imperfect yogi.
I can’t turn my mind off during meditation.
My feet go numb if I sit for too long.
My hips are as stiff as the tin man.
I can’t turn my neck in the opposite direction as my legs while lying down.
I can’t look up during triangle for more than 30 seconds.
I can’t stay longer than a second in crow.
My headstand and handstand leave something to be desired.
Last weekend, I went on the perfect second date. It was astronomy night at Northerly Island, complete with night walks, telescopes, and nocturnal animals. He packed a picnic with all homemade items and cans of red wine. He picked me up. We laughed a lot. On a walk to watch the Navy Pier fireworks, the sky opened up and poured on us. We laughed more. Soaking wet, he told me I was still beautiful and then he kissed me for the first time. It was perfect.
When he dropped me off at home, I took a full 10 minutes to celebrate in my head. This boy is a catch – smart, funny, attentive, has a good job, etc. etc. Then the doubting girl brain kicked in: “Hey, girl, wtf?! Don’t you go getting excited right now. He’s a boy. It won’t work. They never work out.”
“But,” I reasoned with myself, “we had SO much fun! He’s different. I feel different. He acts like he likes me.”
While living in Hong Kong from 2010-2012, I wrote a lot about my experiences in my then-blog, Ashley’s HK Experience. As a new travel piece to this blog, New Girl in the City, I am re-posting travel pieces. I wrote this one before my bestie, Kira, came to visit me in December 2010.
Traveler’s Tips for Hong Kong
Rubbish bins are optional. Those of us not used to this would prefer you use them though.
Be careful what you wear! You don’t have to match here, but you should steer clear of mini-skirts and high heels…if not, you may look like you belong in Wan Chai (see #3).
Speaking of Wan Chai, unless you want to be the only white girl and the only non-prostitute in a bar, don’t go. Unless, you want good Mexican food, then bring a friend or two.
You don’t need to know Cantonese to survive here. There’s enough English around to help you. You might even learn a thing or two about how to speak like other expats i.e. arvo, wonky, rubbish bin, far out, and mate. Can you guess which countries my friends were from?
Smog is the silent cough-inducer. It’s a little hard to see around the tall buildings, but the second you step out of the city proper of Hong Kong, you’ll notice a big difference. Maybe you should bring a surgical mask…you’d fit in and no one would think you were weird.
You will walk EVERYWHERE! Start your exercise early and often before arriving. Stairs will actually become your friend just so that you don’t have to walk up the steep inclines in your heels.
Unless you’re siestaing on someone’s couch, be ready to pay a ton of money for a closet, I mean a bedroom. It’s quite possible that your bathroom will double as your shower and that your closet will be your bed. Find a friend instead!!
Happy hours are the best mid-week de-stresser. Lucky you if you are stressed after coughing up a lung because of the smog and all the walking because happy hours exist at almost every bar and restaurant in town. Walk along the escalator (the one time you don’t have to walk uphill) from 3-8 and you’ll find awesome deals galore. Take advantage of this because as soon as 8 o’clock hits, you’ll pay a fortune!!
Old Asian people love to exercise, do tai chi, walk to a clapping beat (believe me I know and curse them every Saturday and Sunday at 7 am), slap themselves all over their body, and stretch in the most random places. Don’t fret! They don’t belong in an institution; rather they’re doing it on purpose…and actually believe that it all works and keeps them keen and skinny.
You’ll probably get stared at…a lot. But, trust me, you either get used to it or walk around with a silly grin on your face all day just to appease them. Don’t, I repeat, don’t get mad about it! You’re a different and lovely addition to their day of everyone looking like them.
All of our lives, we girls have been told that big, strapping men are the best. That we will and should fall in love with a man who’s taller than us, stronger than us, heavier than us. So when we girls meet guys who don’t fit that criteria, we aren’t interested. We expect a guy to be able to throw us over his shoulder, carry us over the threshold on our wedding night, and not have to use a step stool to get something off the top shelf.
Biology has a say in this too: we want big strong men because they can protect us. Big strong men can also produce big, strong, healthy babies.
Concurrently, it’s portrayed that our mate will be our same ethnicity and that he’ll speak our same accent-less language. To add to that, I grew up in a small town thats population is probably 95% white and accent-less. Same goes for my college and the town I lived in after college.
Restaurant for Two: a feature where I bring a friend to a restaurant and we write a review together. Sarah, a PR contact, and I had lunch recently at Burrito Beach, a Chicago staple of 20 years.
Burrito Beach, with its 4 central locations, is the perfect antidote to a long work day. Whether its a lunch break or a meal you bring to the beach at 5pm, the restaurant offers delicious, made-to-order, Mexican-American fare.
Their new Beach Body Menu includes a Mexican Organic Quinoa Salad which we topped with grass-fed beef barbacoa. The beef was really flavorful and the grilled veggies added a great crunch to the sometimes-boring quinoa. Continue reading Restaurant for Two: Burrito Beach→
Taking Chicagoland by storm…one date, one yoga class, one salsa lesson, one blog post, one trip, one drink, one meal, one new friendship at a time.
New City Life Adventure 