"Hi, we're having a problem with our Internet service....it's sometimes very slow and I'm having trouble opening up pages...."
"That's probably because of the typhoon outside, Madam," the man at the hotel front desk told Emily.
In a sentence, we learned that the rain outside was not just the standard one hour tropical rain and that we have really been out of touch with the news.
The typhoon hit Hong Kong about about 8:45 last night as we were finishing dinner in Wan Chai. We grabbed a taxi, headed back to the Central docks and had a choppy ferry ride back to Lantau.
We awoke to strong winds and torrential downpours which have been intermittent all day. Looking out at the rough waters, strong winds and wet hotel windows, I didn't feel much like going into town. I had intended to go alone while Emily hung back to maximize her work time. But a quick check of the news, and I decided this was the wrong day for a 30 minute boat ride across Hong Kong Harbor and no better a day to walk the streets of the city.
Although tropical storms are typical to the region this time of year, parts of Guangdong and Fujian have flooded and more than 280 are dead.
Here in the tiny beach cove town of Mui Wo - as throughout Hong Kong - drainage seems fine. However, any good Los Angeleno knows, rain kills - stay inside - be very afraid. So, Emily and I have holed up in our hotel room and watched the storm while working. Internet has continued to fluctuate, reminding us that we probably have it good compared to many of the other places and people facing this typhoon.
While we are dry and safe inside, storms still lurk on our horizon and in our hearts. As of late last week, the reality of heading home has begun to hit us. Like a typhoon, it came on mildly and over the subsequent days grew stronger and more blustery.
To our surprise, it isn't the sadness of ending our trip or reflections on the impending change in lifestyle that has been stirring us up - although those things are present - but the amount of things to do and handle from here forward.
It starts with something as simple as losing more than 24 hours during the workweek when we travel to New York on Monday. Emily has several classes coming to an end, which means extra heavy grading and she's losing a workday while running up against deadlines. That means getting a little more done this week than she would otherwise have to do.
Then we have three days in Boston visiting friends followed by a four day holiday weekend wedding extravaganza in Vermont - which is fantastic in and of itself. But work and deadlines don't stop for either of us and more importantly, it's a very disjointed reentry. Three days here, four days there, buses, taxis, rental cars, endless activities - good times, but sort of a whirlwind. And we'll be living out of backpacks more so than we do on this trip. It's like we're finishing a year long trip with another trip in our own country - which is actually a little more challenging in some ways.
All of this is just a prelude to the sound of life - or our life at home - politely pounding on the door.
As we have begun to think about upcoming events and necessities, we've realized that there's far more to do than we had really considered. The driver's license I renewed online somehow never arrived anywhere. I have to go in - and as long as I'm at it, I have a vehicle registration to attend to as well.
There's also collecting my car from my mom - who we want to see anyway - and then having some maintenance done including the installation of a new $300 xenon headlight. Time, money - fun.
Car insurances need some changing and higher coverages again. Cell phones need reactivating too. There are appointments too - doctors, dentists, chiropractors, pedicures and probably several others Emily doesn't tell me about. We have dogs to retrieve, people to see, birthdays to attend, babies to hold and a year's worth of mail to sort.
I need to get to work with my independent healthcare recruiting, while also working on getting some writing published. Emily has her classes as always.
There's not a single horrible thing - except maybe the DMV. Somehow, the thought of it all is causing some anxiety and trepidation.
We have conversations that go like this:
"Who's going to make our bed every day? And who's going to do and iron our laundry?!"
"What are we going to do when there's no street food and no cheap massages?!"
"Do you realize we'll have errands again? We'll have to go to places like the grocery store, the dry cleaner and Target again...."
We've led a charmed and spoiled existence for a year now.
Last night Emily identified another important change and discovery. Aside from Bali, we haven't had to drive for a year. Emily hasn't driven at all. Even when I drove, we didn't have to commute or run around to live our lives. If we wanted to stay at the compound all day, we could. Los Angeles involves a lot of 30 minutes here, 20 minutes there and 40 minutes to get to that. In the course of a normal day of work, errands and seeing people - there's a lot of shuttling. Emily isn't looking forward to that. Being without the running around is nice.
The truth is that coming home will have some culture shock, but even more lifestyle shock. We haven't been in any one place (except maybe Bali) long enough to really immerse ourselves in the culture and environment, but we have developed a lifestyle that has become part of our year. In a sense, we've formed our own culture that capitalizes on wherever we are and whatever we find.
Going home is going to be a big change.
Naturally, we're ready for some of those changes. We have people we miss. There are great times ahead to share. We miss our dogs. In my experience, there's also always something you miss about home that you don't realize until you arrive. No matter where you go and how great it is, there's a feeling of belonging and happiness about things you love - both big and little - that you haven't seen or felt in awhile. For me, it has sometimes felt strange or disorienting to come home after being away a long time, but it's never unhappy or bad. Usually, it's extra special.
Only sitting on the other end of the world at the end of a long, extremely wonderful journey, it's hard not to feel like a typhoon is gathering. We have that anxiety, that electrical twitch you get before a storm - or what our grandmothers and Linda Richman refer to as shpilkes.
As the days pass and we get closer to the East Coast and then home, people have asked us what we miss - often foods we haven't had or perhaps conveniences and creature comforts. To our surprise, there's really nothing.
"People don't realize, we can get anything. Aside from good Mexican food and Q-tips (brand name) which I had my mom bring me in Bali, there's really nothing we're missing," Emily said. I would add Papermate pens - which her mom also brought me in Bali.
Perhaps it's because we're not backpackers this time around. We earn money and have a decent living budget - so we can get afford whatever we would at home. In fact, in some ways money has been easier abroad than it was in LA. We have far fewer bills right now.
However, the greater lesson is that stuff is just stuff. This brand of shampoo or that one - it doesn't really matter nor do dinners at trendy restaurants or thick, plush towels (America has the best towels in the world, hands down). What we miss are the people, moments, connections - the sharing of life and love that comes from being together. You can't hug someone from the other side of the world - and the truth is, it's never as easy to console or celebrate someone through email, over the phone or even through Skype.
Today, we often focus on special moments as being the most meaningful. We remember specifically the births, deaths, sicknesses, triumphs, heartbreaks, celebrations, losses and joys and pains. They stand out like bookmarks in the volume of our lives.
Those are important and they count.
Nonetheless, I believe it's the forgettable time, the mundane, the parts of life we share without trying and without hoopla that matter just as much if not more. Kids don't just remember the events of their childhoods, but the feeling of it - which comes largely from the unquantifiable effect of time spent around the people who raise them. It's knowing mom is in the next room, reading a book with a grandparent, family dinners, the car ride to school, help with homework and being tucked into bed that matter as much as anything. Just like it's the glances, touches, and knowing looks that are as much or more a part of a relationship than any moment or event.
In the end, the Fox and the Little Prince had it right, "It is the time you have wasted for your rose, that makes your rose so important."
"That's probably because of the typhoon outside, Madam," the man at the hotel front desk told Emily.
In a sentence, we learned that the rain outside was not just the standard one hour tropical rain and that we have really been out of touch with the news.
The typhoon hit Hong Kong about about 8:45 last night as we were finishing dinner in Wan Chai. We grabbed a taxi, headed back to the Central docks and had a choppy ferry ride back to Lantau.
We awoke to strong winds and torrential downpours which have been intermittent all day. Looking out at the rough waters, strong winds and wet hotel windows, I didn't feel much like going into town. I had intended to go alone while Emily hung back to maximize her work time. But a quick check of the news, and I decided this was the wrong day for a 30 minute boat ride across Hong Kong Harbor and no better a day to walk the streets of the city.
Although tropical storms are typical to the region this time of year, parts of Guangdong and Fujian have flooded and more than 280 are dead.
Here in the tiny beach cove town of Mui Wo - as throughout Hong Kong - drainage seems fine. However, any good Los Angeleno knows, rain kills - stay inside - be very afraid. So, Emily and I have holed up in our hotel room and watched the storm while working. Internet has continued to fluctuate, reminding us that we probably have it good compared to many of the other places and people facing this typhoon.
While we are dry and safe inside, storms still lurk on our horizon and in our hearts. As of late last week, the reality of heading home has begun to hit us. Like a typhoon, it came on mildly and over the subsequent days grew stronger and more blustery.
To our surprise, it isn't the sadness of ending our trip or reflections on the impending change in lifestyle that has been stirring us up - although those things are present - but the amount of things to do and handle from here forward.
It starts with something as simple as losing more than 24 hours during the workweek when we travel to New York on Monday. Emily has several classes coming to an end, which means extra heavy grading and she's losing a workday while running up against deadlines. That means getting a little more done this week than she would otherwise have to do.
Then we have three days in Boston visiting friends followed by a four day holiday weekend wedding extravaganza in Vermont - which is fantastic in and of itself. But work and deadlines don't stop for either of us and more importantly, it's a very disjointed reentry. Three days here, four days there, buses, taxis, rental cars, endless activities - good times, but sort of a whirlwind. And we'll be living out of backpacks more so than we do on this trip. It's like we're finishing a year long trip with another trip in our own country - which is actually a little more challenging in some ways.
All of this is just a prelude to the sound of life - or our life at home - politely pounding on the door.
As we have begun to think about upcoming events and necessities, we've realized that there's far more to do than we had really considered. The driver's license I renewed online somehow never arrived anywhere. I have to go in - and as long as I'm at it, I have a vehicle registration to attend to as well.
There's also collecting my car from my mom - who we want to see anyway - and then having some maintenance done including the installation of a new $300 xenon headlight. Time, money - fun.
Car insurances need some changing and higher coverages again. Cell phones need reactivating too. There are appointments too - doctors, dentists, chiropractors, pedicures and probably several others Emily doesn't tell me about. We have dogs to retrieve, people to see, birthdays to attend, babies to hold and a year's worth of mail to sort.
I need to get to work with my independent healthcare recruiting, while also working on getting some writing published. Emily has her classes as always.
There's not a single horrible thing - except maybe the DMV. Somehow, the thought of it all is causing some anxiety and trepidation.
We have conversations that go like this:
"Who's going to make our bed every day? And who's going to do and iron our laundry?!"
"What are we going to do when there's no street food and no cheap massages?!"
"Do you realize we'll have errands again? We'll have to go to places like the grocery store, the dry cleaner and Target again...."
We've led a charmed and spoiled existence for a year now.
Last night Emily identified another important change and discovery. Aside from Bali, we haven't had to drive for a year. Emily hasn't driven at all. Even when I drove, we didn't have to commute or run around to live our lives. If we wanted to stay at the compound all day, we could. Los Angeles involves a lot of 30 minutes here, 20 minutes there and 40 minutes to get to that. In the course of a normal day of work, errands and seeing people - there's a lot of shuttling. Emily isn't looking forward to that. Being without the running around is nice.
The truth is that coming home will have some culture shock, but even more lifestyle shock. We haven't been in any one place (except maybe Bali) long enough to really immerse ourselves in the culture and environment, but we have developed a lifestyle that has become part of our year. In a sense, we've formed our own culture that capitalizes on wherever we are and whatever we find.
Going home is going to be a big change.
Naturally, we're ready for some of those changes. We have people we miss. There are great times ahead to share. We miss our dogs. In my experience, there's also always something you miss about home that you don't realize until you arrive. No matter where you go and how great it is, there's a feeling of belonging and happiness about things you love - both big and little - that you haven't seen or felt in awhile. For me, it has sometimes felt strange or disorienting to come home after being away a long time, but it's never unhappy or bad. Usually, it's extra special.
Only sitting on the other end of the world at the end of a long, extremely wonderful journey, it's hard not to feel like a typhoon is gathering. We have that anxiety, that electrical twitch you get before a storm - or what our grandmothers and Linda Richman refer to as shpilkes.
As the days pass and we get closer to the East Coast and then home, people have asked us what we miss - often foods we haven't had or perhaps conveniences and creature comforts. To our surprise, there's really nothing.
"People don't realize, we can get anything. Aside from good Mexican food and Q-tips (brand name) which I had my mom bring me in Bali, there's really nothing we're missing," Emily said. I would add Papermate pens - which her mom also brought me in Bali.
Perhaps it's because we're not backpackers this time around. We earn money and have a decent living budget - so we can get afford whatever we would at home. In fact, in some ways money has been easier abroad than it was in LA. We have far fewer bills right now.
However, the greater lesson is that stuff is just stuff. This brand of shampoo or that one - it doesn't really matter nor do dinners at trendy restaurants or thick, plush towels (America has the best towels in the world, hands down). What we miss are the people, moments, connections - the sharing of life and love that comes from being together. You can't hug someone from the other side of the world - and the truth is, it's never as easy to console or celebrate someone through email, over the phone or even through Skype.
Today, we often focus on special moments as being the most meaningful. We remember specifically the births, deaths, sicknesses, triumphs, heartbreaks, celebrations, losses and joys and pains. They stand out like bookmarks in the volume of our lives.
Those are important and they count.
Nonetheless, I believe it's the forgettable time, the mundane, the parts of life we share without trying and without hoopla that matter just as much if not more. Kids don't just remember the events of their childhoods, but the feeling of it - which comes largely from the unquantifiable effect of time spent around the people who raise them. It's knowing mom is in the next room, reading a book with a grandparent, family dinners, the car ride to school, help with homework and being tucked into bed that matter as much as anything. Just like it's the glances, touches, and knowing looks that are as much or more a part of a relationship than any moment or event.
In the end, the Fox and the Little Prince had it right, "It is the time you have wasted for your rose, that makes your rose so important."
Really? A typhoon. Now you have experience it all.
Posted by: Lauree Feigenbaum | 06/22/2011 at 08:43 PM