Never ignore your dating rules.

I once went on a date - nay - two dates with a man we'll call Dave.

Because that's his real name. 

Dave works for Goldman Sachs. It's a steadfast rule of mine to not date within the banking industry. We're just too culturally different and this holds particular weight in Hong Kong.  However, Dave made me laugh.  And I needed laughter in light of how I came to encounter Dave in the first place. 

I met Dave because a man I agreed to meet for a drink from Tinder was late to our date.  I got on Tinder, because a man I was involved with in real life, suggested I try it out.

Cue the hurt heart, cue the Tinder revenge, cue the fifteen minutes Tinder revenge leaving me waiting, cue the perfect amount of freshly chilled white wine in a bucket, saddled next to...Dave. 

I was relieved. Although Dave drank a bit, he also seemed like a funny, and available guy.

And so what, he fell out of his chair whilst trying to take a selfie the first night we met? For Hong Kong standards, that's any given Wednesday *grimace*

Dave and I had two glorious dates. One, was dinner and a birthday out on the town with my friends. Dave paid for my dinner. He also paid for a few drinks. He also bought a round of shots for my friends and vice versa. 

Dave also took me to lunch around three days later. I was impressed at his interest.

I was raised in the mecca of well bred men who rarely make dates pay for much. It has messed with my expectations towards dating for the rest of the world.  Therefore, when Dave paid for my lunch on our second date, I didn't think it was a reason to write home - it was fairly standard procedure.

This is where Dave and I conflict, because he did want to write about it. He specifically wanted to get dressed up as Santa, have a pint or twelve, and THEN write about it.This is where those dating rules come into play.

Let's break down where our cultural clash takes place, shall we? :

Now, this approach to addressing something that bothers Dave, is textbook corporate HR approach to dealing with a problem employer.  I, like Dave, also like to point out the positives, before directly addressing the point of discomfort.

Note: Dave makes it a priority to let me know, not only do I tick his boxes, but I'm also pretty great. (In most ways.) He goes on to calmly explain that my actions, or rather lack of action in reaching for my wallet, disappointed him.

Unfortunately, these tactics, don't always have the desired result in real time, romance.  Inevitably, the confronting party has a tendency to perform what I call a "hard back pedal" 

It's quite touching really when you think about it.  Dave is so incredibly in to me, that he can't even put it into words. It might be that he used all his words to tell me how disappointed he was that I haven't bought him a drink in the 72 hours we've known each other.  

Sometimes, in the midst of these cultural misunderstandings and discussions, it's best to give the other party and yourself the option to walk away from the conversation.  Cool down.  Take a day to genuinely reflect over things.   

Sometimes, they ignore the offer entirely and verbally vomit all over the situation in hopes of saying that one magical thing that will reel the person on the other line back in. Like, offering a bath and red wine.

In the end, sometimes the cultural clash is too strong and you've both got to accept that there are things no amount of texts will be able to fix.

Your dating rules are there for a reason.  Don't ignore them.

Brunch with HushUp

I’ve never been part of a secret or exclusive society, but that’s the great thing about wielding the power of a credit card in exchange for a ticket stub in Hong Kong – it can always buy you the experience you want for a day, if not for a few hours.

As with their Secret Island Party, Hushup revealed only enough information about the brunch to create buzz, promising luxurious drinks at the meet-up location, surprise guests and performances, free flow Mumm champagne, and as much sushi, antipasto, and pulled pork buns as we could handle. (They had me at luxurious…)

My mind chased quite a few rabbits on this one: are we talking flamethrowers, magicians, sword swallowers, and acrobats? Servers in glittering gold body paint and nipple pasties on roller skates? Male waiters throwing glitter in the air wearing nothing but afros, gold chains, and gym shorts? 300-pound babies wearing Mozart wigs, tinted aviators, and spinning records with their little ravioli hands???

Thankfully, that was just how my mind works and not what Hushup had in store for us.

After getting our pre-brunch buzz on with fancy adult beverages, including a few silky shots at the Observation Wheel in Central, all 100-something of us were bundled away by Hushup’s Laura Morison, known by those in the know as the new goddess of brunch, to our top secret location: Armani Prive.

Being a fan of the more alternative scene, when I hear Armani Prive – I’m immediately bored. Suits and expensive cocktails with a rooftop view of Hon…..zzzzzzz….sorry blacked out for a hot minute. But as promised by Hushup there would be nothing pretentious about this brunch.

A short jaunt later and we waltzed in to an atmosphere filled with friendly faces, chilled glasses of bubbly, transforming body art stations, Romanesque buffet displays. Did I mention the bubbly? The smooth mixes of DJ Melohman and trumpet man Michal Garcia enhanced chill jazzy vibes.

This brunch was anything but stuffy. Over the next few hours we all rode the adult merry-go-round of unlimited Mumm and spirits while we painted our faces with sparkly golden swirls. (Personally, I can say that I killed it in a limbo competition and failed miserably with a few hula-hoops.)

Oh, and there was food – an endless train of raw fish, salty meats, and fluffy pork buns. Belts were loosened a few notches and our dresses hid our mini-brunch bumps.

As the afternoon became a gauzy haze of fun, we came to the realization that all secret brunches must come to an end…before they become the end of us.

We walked away from this premiere Secret Brunch Club with rosy cheeks, new friends, priceless memories, a few extra kilos in our stomachs, and pockets full of nipped table swag.

The next morning I was greeted by a reflection of glitter, flowers, false eyelashes, and smeared lipstick. Never had my face started the day quite so entertaining.

A different kind of Tuesday Night

Hong Kong ex pats’ desire to be entertained rarely goes unsatiated. The multi dimensionality of the landscape and demographics of this city provide motive for capitalists in every sector to get a slice of the pie. From yoga to Cross fit, from fine dining, to street noodles, from cocktails in fancy dress to dancing on bars, from there is something for everyone in the Pearl of the Orient. 

Unless, unfortunately, you are looking for an opportunity to give back to those who can’t afford even the cheapest of entertainment in this city.

"I wish there were something I could do to help those guys" is a shared sentiment amongst my circles when we pass a hunched elderly pushing recyclables up hills that healthy youth take taxis to avoid.  On the one hand, Hong Kong ranks number eleven in the list of cities with the most millionaires per capita.  On the other, 1 in 5 of the 7.24 million residents live in poverty.  In a city with such large economic disparity, there has to be people like us wanting to do something about the homelessness and the hunger we see around us, right?  

So we research various organizations to get ourselves involved with, but then we stop.  Because instead of a time and place to show up and serve, we get bombarded with registration forms, sign up sheets and waitlists.  It’s just too much red tape for something that should be relatively simple.

Yes, I am aware of and occasionally partake in “drinks for charity”. And yes, sometimes I go to dinner for a cause.  What I want more than throwing money at a problem is to be involved in the solution. I’d like to see that my actions have a direct, positive impact on someone else’s existence in this city.

This is how I came to heed the call from instagrammer @kulkimoose to join a purely grassroots movement, ImpactHK, in feeding the homeless.  Started by Jeff Rotmeyer of “the Guest Room”, ImpactHK meets one a month at a Park-N-Shop, buys food, and goes straight into the surrounding area of Nam Cheong to feed the homeless.

Jeff is currently a teacher and has been passionately volunteering throughout his ten years in Hong Kong. Mr. Rotmeyer is very involved with the Down Syndrome and Autistic community in Hong Kong, and along with them he has helped refugees, the homeless, people living in Hong Kong's caged homes and even raised money to help an individual pay for her cleft lip operation.  

Jeff and his friends have been feeding the homeless in monthly events for just over one year now.  It started with only a handful of people, but is now getting groups of over 40 volunteers, like at the most recent August handout.

Like so many of us, he saw the need, but didn't wait around to find another organization to help serve. He took the initiative and just did it.  

"I started writing ImpactHK to expose the concept of doing good deeds for others to more people.  I also wanted to show how easy it is to make a difference.  ImpactHK has no salaries and involves no corporate funding.  It's simply the power of considerate and compassionate people coming together to make a difference."

Currently The Guest Room and impactHK are seeing their numbers continue to rise.  Jeff and his team are considering options for their next step.

"With such impressive turnouts to the events, we are considering many options as to how we can continue to move forward.  The one thing for certain is that we will create only positive change."

There was a diverse crowd of happy people that showed up to help, with the youngest member being 7-year-old Idan Arie, son of local professor Dor Arie.  A smattering of accents and a variety of professionals all came out to give up a few hours of their time for something as simple as reaching into a bag and handing over a piece of food to someone in need.

People Operations

I just got out of a google hang out with a potential employer.

I wasn't offered the job and I'm not even taking a second interview.

The woman I was chatting with was a people operations manager.

She spoke with a barbie doll pitched voice with the weird drag at the end, you know, the Kim Kardashian voice? The one that for some God forsaken reason is sweeping American women off their vocal chords? That's the one.

Since the hangout was on camera, I could see her.  A fact that she did not seem aware of, as she flipped her hair and tussled it an average of 15 times in our 30 minute conversation.

At one point, she grabbed a chunk of hair and wrapped it around her face.  I couldn't tell if she was smelling it or thought I'd be entertained by her Tom Selleck impression, but it was fucking weird.

I was completely over it when she straight up yawned in the middle of me answering the second question she asked me.   Sorry, is the 3.5 minute mark on your attention span already up?  My bad dog.

The whole point of being in "people operations" is that you make people feel more like people....seems you're too much of an asshole to handle that.

WTF America.  WTF. 

Disconnected thoughts on Hanoi

Hanoi is a massive heart.  The city is around the clock pulsating with vibrant streams of life.  It's veins are packed with five million family carting, mattress yeilding, box/lamp/bamboo pole/poodle/bucket/business carrying  motorcycles streaming in and around each other in the most organised of chaos.

The melodies of the raspy exhaust pipe rattles match the harmonies of the humming horns.  They come together with the cat calls of the street vendors to form the symphony of the city.  

Everything about this place is beautiful.   

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Miraculously, I was run over zero numbers of times. I did see an older lady get hit by a car though.  She fell over, but got up and brushed her shoulders off. As you do when such encounters occur.  

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The people in Vietnam radiated warmth and were the best sales people I've experienced in quite sometime.  I was sitting on a curb when an older woman approached me, placed a pound of unripe peaches in my hand and smiled at me like we had shared a lifetime of warm moments together. 

I bought that pound of unripe peaches. 

They were green, hard, and bitter.  

I'd buy another pound if I saw her smile again today.  

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Everything in Vietnam was incredibly cheap.  The Dong just has a way of making you feel like what Kanye West must feel like.  

A very powerful asshole.  

I bought a new wardrobe made purely from silk.  

Buyers remorse only sets in when you realize no one in their 20's wears silk to anything ever.  

That's cool.  I'll be laughing all the way to the bank in about 40 years.  

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Smiley the Vietnamese are!  

And for good reason! 

Their coffee is what I can only imagine taking methamphetamine is like.  Instant face lift.  

The chairs could be bigger though.  Makes a large person such as myself feel like a great dane sitting on a child's lap.

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The pho.  The nims. The fish cooked in dill and spring onions. The vietnamese meat and cilantro shoved into a baguette.  The homemade spices and sauces spilling over plastic pitchers.  The fresh fruit in plastic bags.  The honey spread between wafers and sprinkled with sesame seeds.  

The LOVE I feel for life when I'm eating.

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The stomach flu. The flight delays. The heat. The vacation hangover when sitting in your office chair.

The questioning of everything you do in life and why it doesn't make you as happy as the peach seller in Vietnam.  

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The planning of the trip back...

Nature Calls. #Peng Chau.

The HK island bounce gets old: Cheung Chau, Lantau, Lamma, main island.  Cheng Chau, Lantau, Lamma, main island. Rinse and repeat. Yes, I get how spoiled that makes me sound. What can you do, at some point, everything gets tedious- even paradise.  Which is why, after two years, I finally made the trek out to Peng Chau island. Why did it take me so long? 

The most notable aspect about Peng Chau is how devoid of tourists it is.  While waiting for the ferry, I was amongst a crowd that were fairly relaxed and seemed to have an air of returning home, instead of going out for a day of exploration. IE, I was the only ex pat on the ferry that I could tell. Mind = blown.  

That being said, it became quickly apparent that Peng Chau lacks tourists, because it's entirely residential and nothing of note to see. According to a local friend of mine it's also rumored to be haunted.

There are approximately two little cafes in a square where people are gathered to hang out, one of them being a French resto that boasts a menu of charcuterie, fromage, et le vin.  Unfortunately the day I went the power had been turned off for a few days, rendering all charcuterie services null and void.  The toothless weather worn face informed me all he could offer was hot water with insta coffee.  It was cold, I took it. But I also asked directions to a local noodle house, which he gladly personally escorted me to.  Service!

People are really allowed to enjoy their personal space in Peng Chau, there were zero times when I even came close to bumping elbows with anyone.  I did a few cartwheels to celebrate.

The island itself is so quiet and calm, you can actually hear the sounds of nature.  I took thorough advantage of that while walking its outer perimeter.  Mainly because my phone died and I had not choice.

There was a really quaint trail that takes walkers around and through the island, plopping you right back at the ferry pier, but giving you a pretty good idea of how the island functions in the meantime.  It is covered front to back in small personal gardens, and fairly (for Hong Kong standards) clean beaches.  I made a few mental bookmarks for summer's sun baking reference.


Architecturally, Peng Chau is a bit like stepping back in time.  Things are outdated and run down, but still clean and well maintained.  It's super multicolored, just like Hong Kong back in the day, according to the old school post cards I've seen.