Are you a Mark?

There's something oddly satisfying about waking up hungover only to discover that there there's a Typhoon Level 8 battering down the city. Not satisfying in the sense that people's lives are at risk, but satisfying that I have no agenda. Two typhoons hitting Hong Kong in one week. Typhoon Hato, a T10 followed by Typhoon Pakhar, a T8 four days later. Given the severity of the previous typhoon it was decided that I would not leave the apartment. Not today.

An evening at Taz. A hen's party. A mission to find somebody called Mark. It's the second last weekend before school starts. About to kiss goodbye to my social life I roll over and message the Australian with the thick accent on Instagram. When did people stop getting phone numbers?

Typhoon #1

That feeling, when you wake up on a weekday and there's an observatory warning to stay indoors. Typhoon Hato was hands down the worse typhoon that I have experienced in Hong Kong. Incessant howling of the wind, the perpetual clattering of debris and an endless stream of social media updates: Fallen trees, flooded walk ways and the window cleaner trolley. The T10 signal lasted for the majority of the day, only to be lowered after 6 pm.

Learnt something about Typhoon naming conventions with all the spare time at home. Boy, need to get out of this apartment, I'm starting to get cabin fever.

Annual Healthcheck

Every year, right before my medical insurance expires, I book an annual health check up. There's always anxiety and curiosity around this time of the year. The curiosity manifests itself from the fact that my body is ageing and that a clean bill of health is something indirectly correlated with age and the Hong Kong lifestyle. That and the fact that I've been aggressively trying to eat more plant-based over the last few months, makes me curious as to whether this has had an impact on my innards.

The anxiety, stems more from the logistics on providing the samples to analyse. This includes, a stool sample (you have the prepare this beforehand), a urine sample (you to drink enough water to pee on demand), a fasted blood sample (don't worry, the nurse helps here), toe nail clippings and a loch of right armpit hair (actually, the last two aren't really required). In addition, they scan your lungs, check the lung capacity, take your height/weight, ultrasound your abdomen, test your eyesight and monitor your cardiovascular capacity on a treadmill. After three hours, the collection process is over.

Tell me a story ...

"I'm going interstate this weekend to visit the grandkids. I've taken in your laundry from the line outside. Your dinner is resting on top of the stove, it should keep warm, just make sure you eat it before seven pm otherwise it will get cold". It was 3 pm on the Thursday, Mr Lee was her neighbour that lived in the apartment opposite her's. She had lived in the same place for the last 20 years. Even after her husband passed away she had decided that this would be her last abode; it was home.

The last few years had been tough, she was no longer able to function independently, once a week a caretaker would come by, every other day Mr Lee would check on her. They had been neighbours for years and his situation of being a widower provided her with solace and comfort that she was not alone. Mr Lee, would always go out of his way to purchase some Cinnabon or her favourite cake and always proclaim with exuberance what he had purchased for her. They had developed a bond and their interactions became the highlight of their days.

Weeks later, she sits in the dining room sobbing. "Are you ok ma'am?" asked the caretaker. "Mr Lee is moving out, he wants to move closer to his grandkids" she replied. "You want him to stay don't you?". Reluctantly she nods, I don't want to come between him and his family, but if only there was a way to tell him subtly that I appreciate his company and want him to stay".

One week before the removals arrive to ship his things away. Mr Lee, pours her a cup of tea. "So, are you going to miss me?". "Who's going to bring in my underwear? This is really selfish of you, you know, Im 80 years old, I can't be going commando". "I tell you what, if you leave me underwear to bring this Thursday I may consider staying, we can't have an old lady flashing her snatch". She smiles, "I expect them to be nicely folded".

It's Thursday morning, she hangs her underwear on the line. Mr Lee comes home later that day, he's anxious and nervous, he's hoping that the underwear is on the line. At 3 pm, he goes outside, the line is empty. There's nothing there. Down the road, two kids are laughing, they have stolen some old lady's underwear and are using it as a parachute. Mr Lee leaves.

Inspired by Murakami