Because the format changed and I can't write Html

All of you who look at this blog from time to time (aren't I feeling optimistic,) will notice that I lost my big picture in the header. I am bereft and may have to spend the holidays learning to write Html. It's not one of the happier prospects on my horizon. I want to write about orchids, the city's night time breath, how Venus doesn't have a magnetic field, the prettiest mall Christmas tree and how one night last week "The Raven" in its entirety came back to my memory. And here I am fighting with formats.

The Diner

Adventuring out on Saturday to Kowloon, we went to the Night Market for the first time. It was a delight! I bought jade, pearls, antiques, knock-off watches, t-shirts, chopsticks, change purses, rocks, toys and lighter fluid. It was enough to make anyone hungry. One of the best things about that market is the whole sections of street that become restaurant as the evening deepens. We saw people eating piles and piles of clams, mussels and crabs, but I was hungry well before they had set up. So we went into a diner advertising Coke and Black and White evaporated milk. We had roast pork over rice, roast duck over rice, and roast duck and chicken over rice. But Kestrel tried the peanut and papaya soup. I stuck with Tsingtsao beer. The old ladies at the booth behind shoveled the rice from their bowls into their mouths with a rhythm of ages past. Next time I'll order the steamed fish that they did. It was the best corner restaurant I've found in Hong Kong. The owner and waitresses were nice. They all but pinched Kestrel's cheek since she ate the soup. It was as satisfying as wandering for hours in Ulus and having nice pide at the end. And actually it was not much more expensive: dinner for four came to $13 US.

The fog creeps in on little cat feet...

Every morning there are views from the ferry that are so inexpressibly beautiful. Some days it is the quietness of the water. Some days it's how every ripple stands alone. A tiny two-person fishing boat away in the mist balances against a container ship whose rust catches the morning sunlight. One of the fast hydrofoils coming in from Macau leaves a trail of white that curves far off into the distance. It cuts the water so deeply that even after it is out of sight, the deep bubbles hold together under the water and there is a cloud of green where it passed.
I take picture after picture. It's so great having a memory card that holds over 500 pictures. I want to sit you down and make you look at all of them. And I would if I could think of some excuse to post them all. (There's a photo album of commuting pictures on my facebook page for anyone who is interested.)
I especially love how the mist colours the light in the early morning and leaches the colour out of the light the rest of the day. It makes everything look like the memory of the colour of water. I've really been enjoying the misty days that are still warm even now in mid-December.
But I've been coughing for three weeks now. And at lunch time the grumbly ones who hang out in the staff room too long pointed out to me that there is no mist in December. This is the dry season. It doesn't make the sunrise any less beautiful to know that it's all smog.

Mission Spotlight on Pitcairn Island

Sunday morning, I ran down to the pier to capture this picture of The Bounty setting sail. Then I ran, camera in one hand, nano in the other up around the point of Lantau that we live on to see it moving quietly through the mist. I don't know if you can see how the light crossed the water and held each ripple still. It looked like the ship was lying in wait and it wouldn't be good to attract its attention.

Recently, Pitcairn Island keeps coming to mind. A couple of weeks ago in the HK Magazine (like The Weekly,) they had an article describing where to go to be alone. It said that HK is the most densely populated city in the world with 16,000 people per square mile, though it doesn't look like that from my window. Pitcairn Island was the first place mentioned with 33 people per square mile. Apparently, to get there from here, you have to fly from here to Japan and then to Tahiti and after that take a 30 hour boat ride which leaves only once every several months. Final line, "But remember that leaving the island is a lot harder than getting there."

The next time it came up was when, in response to seeing The Bounty from my window, a Kiwi friend was talking about the relatively recent news stories that were big in New Zealand. She brought up how, of the 50 inhabitants who are mainly in-bred descendants of the mutineers, six were supposed to be kept in the newly built local jail for rape and incest, though they were still out on appeal because they didn't think British law applied to them. And apparently dancing, public displays of affection and consumption of alcohol are still banned on the island.

That last bit triggered my first memories of Pitcairn Island. I remember watching a slide show in church as a kid. Mission Spotlight came once a quarter with a taped sound tract and "bings" to tell the AV guy to advance to the next slide. It was all about the success of the church on Pitcairn Island where following the arrival of missionaries 100% of the residents had been converted to the three angels messages. Even now the island shuts down for the Sabbath and "everyone lays down their tools for the only day of rest the island knows." If you want, you can even see pictures of Pathfinder Days at the church in the Pitcairn Photo Album at www.lareau.org/pitc.html. What a success story for the gospel.

No Pumpkin!

I spent all day Saturday on a quest for canned pumpkin and stuffing mix. The kids and I went to four grocery stores, pushed our way through the crowds on the busiest pedestrian intersection in the world, wandered through the nine floors of the Japanese department store to find the food court and jumped off the tram on the way home when we saw another store. That was in addition to our local Park 'n Shop (that even has mincemeat mix for your Christmas tarts,) but there was no pumpkin. It made me feel so much happier not being able to find it. Now I have to make do. Now I have to do without. Now it's so much more exotic and so much more of a struggle to have a belated Thanksgiving dinner with no pumpkin.

Sure, I did find the stuffing mix. Yes, there's gravy mix. Yep, and sweet potatoes. And fresh Ocean Spray cranberries in a bag with a recipe on the side. Not to mention spices labeled in jars and brown sugar. But there is no pumpkin and so I can feel like an adventurer again.

The house is clean, the table laid out and the turkey is sizzling. (It's a Butterball from America.) I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving, too.