There and Back Again in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

The week is finally over, and I’m dealing with the effects of double jet lag. I’d just started to get my body adjusted to Tokyo then Hong Kong time when I had turn right back around and come home. Not fair.

Sort of feeling the let down. Sure the jet lag has something to do with it, but I’ve been feeling completely out of place since coming back. Wish I could pinpoint this feeling. It’s a mixture of a lot of things, but I feel more and more sure that I’m meandering down an alternate path…not completely wrong, just not on the right one.

Pretty good trip, though. My counterpart, Chelle and I got along smashingly. There are times when we tend to stress each other out through the meetings and whatnot. And the meetings were pretty screwy. There was something of a translation issue with our assigned people. There were a million meetings going on at the same time, and nobody got their times right. But through it all, we were able to laugh at most of it.

I was not Crazy Girl on this trip. No. I actually kept my composure for the most part. That last drunken entry was posted after a HUMUNGO dinner at a Russian place (of all things). This was no ordinary Russian place, however. In the back of the place is this giant walk-in refrigerator where chilled vodkas are served. But first, the staff bundles you up in full-length furs and big fuzzy hats. Maria took a bunch of pix, but by that time I was tired of snapping. Until I get her photos, here’s a shot I found online:

And yes, I had more little glasses of vodka than I could count. But I went home and went to bed as quickly as possible….

Okay, well sort of quickly. After a trip to Felix (next door to the hotel) and then posting the photos.

But the rest of the time was pretty tame. Until my last night in Hong Kong. After a long-ass day in the office, a bunch of us opted out of dinner in favor of going shopping. There was a giant trinket store close to our hotel, and I wanted to get some gifts—they have these great little beaded purses for like $8 that make such great girlfriendy gifts. I got them last time and everyone loved them so much.

For some reason, though, I’d gotten the trinkety place mixed up with the expensive place and then we walked and walked and walked through an insanely huge mall and almost made it to the trinkety place when we decided to go to Aqua to get a cocktail and a couple of pizzas.

Of course, when Chelle and Dan saw a handsome stranger sitting a level below us in the restaurant eating dinner solo, they decided to intervene by throwing martini olives at him. When that didn’t get his attention, Dan resorted to a more direct approach by walking up to him and bringing him over to our table.

Though very confused at first, James, our handsome British stranger became quickly amused by our funny little group. Oh what a cutie, our precious James! So charming that I barely noticed when our little group ditched us one by one…and then it was just James and moi.

And as it was both of our last nights in town, neither one of us wanted to go home. Long story short, we closed Aqua down (after a strange interruption by a boisterous Irish woman who’s living in South Africa…and finding out that James’s girlfriend lives in So. Africa), and ended up walking the quiet streets of Hong Kong at 3am, hand in hand. Yes, I know. He’s taken. It was all very innocent. But so dreamlike and warm and fuzzy. The weather was already hot and humid, and the dark, steamy streets were surreal. We simply couldn’t help ourselves—the hand-holding was a given.

We ended up at what has to be one of the seediest bars in Hong Kong, just talking and talking and talking. There were two other tables full of guys and girls playing some kind of Chinese drinking/word game. They were chanting and laughing and it was fascinating. James and I shared stories and secrets and…what a fun night!

At around 4:30, we decided to call it a night. He walked me back to my hotel, gave me the sweetest hug, a peck on each cheek, and finally the teeniest of kisses.

*sigh*

Left the next day, but it wasn’t easy getting my bootay out of bed and everything packed/shoved into my suitcase. I tossed and turned on the flight back, even though I’d taken an Ambien, and I still don’t feel 100% yet even though I’ve been back all weekend now.

And ugh, the letdown. Why do I have to ever come back? Why can’t I just travel the globe with kitty in tow and have adventures every day and night? Why do I get so sad and lonely when I come back here? Why?