It would sure be nice to be back home

 It would sure be nice to be back home

It had finally arrived. The day I was flying back to London having been away for some 262 days (and 68 gays). It felt simultaneously as though I had been away for an eternity and an instant. I was really ready to see family and friends again, a feeling that I hoped would be mutual. My flight wasn’t until the evening so I had most of the day to do stuff although I knew I would set off for the airport with more than enough time to spare. I had breakfast once more with Brian and Pavlo. They were headed off for a trip to China and were very excited about that. It had taken a bit of effort to arrange their visas and they planned on making the most of the time there. China was on my list of places to visit, but that would have to be another trip.

I wasn’t really in the mood for doing more touristy things so I decided I would completely empty my suitcase, get rid of anything that I didn’t need to take home and then make use of the space created by going and doing some shopping. I figured it was about time for another full wardrobe change, the previous one having been back in Portland in October. I was hoping the prices in Hong Kong would be a lot more reasonable than the prices back in London.

The shopping trip was proving fairly successful into the last store, Esprit. The rails of clothes were very close together, with not enough room to pass someone if they were coming in the opposite direction down the same aisle as you. I wandered a few of the aisles, picking up a couple of shirts and about a half dozen t-shirts to try. Armed with my prospective purchases I headed towards the changing room. As I got to the end of one aisle there was a woman coming down the one I needed to go up to get to the changing room. I stepped to one side allowing her to pass. As I set off I felt myself being pulled back and could hear a large metallic scraping sound. I had managed to get my bag strap caught round the end of the rail and was dragging it behind me. I could feel myself turning red as people turned to look at me.

Mother, stuck inside the Statue of Liberty

The incident reminded me of the time in New York on a family holiday with my sister and Mother. We had taken a trip over to the Statue of Liberty. It had only recently reopened fully and we had tickets to go inside the statue. Having climbed up to the crown and had some pictures taken we made our way back down the spiral staircase. My sister was in the lead, then Mother with me last. I stopped a couple of times to take some photos of the inside of the statue so a little gap had opened up between us. I heard the unmistakeable voice of Mother echoing up through the hollow metal interior of Lady Liberty, announcing to all that she was stuck. She had managed to get the back of her jumper caught on the handrail of the staircase. Having gone down a couple of steps she was unable to go any further. I made my way down the stairs to unstick her, first pausing to record the moment for posterity with a photo.  

Having untangled myself from my predicament and returned the clothing rail to its original position I continued on to the changing room. My face had just about returned to its normal colour. The shop assistant at the changing room entrance smiled broadly at me. I showed her the items I wished to try on in case there were a limit to the number you could take in in one go. She pointed to one of the t-shirts and said “This for lady. You no lady”. My face once again returned to a hue of deep red as I handed her the t-shirt back. In my defence, the only signs I had been able to read in the store had been the price labels and there was not a clear dividing line between menswear and womenswear. 

Purchases complete I made my way back to Brian and Pavlo’s. I packed my new purchases and soon I was all ready for my return home. I left a thank you card and a bottle of bubbly for my hosts and then headed out, remembering to drop their keys off with the porter. I got a cab to the station and then the train back to the airport. Once my luggage was checked in and I had cleared security I had plenty of time to have a wander round the shops. I picked up a very belated present for my friend Gail, who would be picking me up from Heathrow the following morning. I had set off on my travels a month before a rather large birthday of hers. I also picked up a couple of gifts for my sister and Mother. Part of the reason I was headed home for a couple of weeks was so that I could go see my granddad on his 92nd birthday. I picked up some of his favourite little cigars, one of the few presents we still bought him. I chuckled to myself at the advert on the package, which was warning that smoking could lead to erectile dysfunction. At nearly 92 I didn’t think he would be too bothered.

My attention in Duty Free wandered over to a cute guy in the gin section. Given I like both gin and cute guys I made my way in that direction. He looked up from his gin browsing and we made eye contact. It lingered for slightly longer that it would have done if he were a straight man so I smile. There was a hint of a smile before he looked back at the shelves. The was another moment of eye contact and smiling as he made his way to the till to pay for his shopping. I felt like I had been standing in the shop for a little while so I went and found a seat in towards the direction of my gate, but not that far from Duty Free that I wouldn’t be able to see him leave.

I decided if fate brought him in my direction I would do something that I had rarely done before – I would ask him if he wanted a drink. Fate did bring him my way but it also brought a woman with a clipboard doing some sort of survey. She said hello and then launched into a well-rehearsed monologue about the survey she was doing. I listened, waiting for her to pause for breath so I could interrupt and politely decline her invitation to answer a few questions. In the time it took me to get rid of the survey woman the cute gin guy had walked right by where I had been sat. I looked down the terminal building and could see him not that far ahead, walking away. I reckoned I could catch him up so I grabbed by bag and made off after him. I was nearly caught up with him when he turned off and into the entrance for one of the lounges. I took myself and my economy class ticket back to the gate to wait for my flight back to Heathrow.

“It would sure be nice to be back home” 
Lyrics from Home from the musical The Wiz

No good deed

No good deed goes unpunished, Sure, I meant well

No good deed goes unpunished

I woke early on my second morning and made myself some coffee, returning to my room to do a bit of writing. I finished another blog post then quickly checked my email and Facebook. I had a friend request from someone I didn’t recognise. I flicked back through my journal to see if it was someone I had met recently but the name didn’t ring any bells. I clicked on their profile and noticed we had one mutual friend, N, a guy that I had dated for a few months before I had left on my travels. I dropped N a message to ask if I had ever met the person who was now trying to befriend me. I heard Brian and Pavlo up and about so went to join them for some breakfast.

Over breakfast Brian & Pavlo gave me some suggestions of things I should definitely see and do in my remaining time in Hong Kong.  On their list of suggestions was a trip to see the Big Buddha up at Ngong Ping.  They told me I could get the subway to Tung Chung and from there it was either bus or a cable car. They recommended taking the cable car for the views and the comfort of the ride, assuring me it was worth paying that bit extra compared to the bus. When I arrived at Tung Chung I found out that the cable car was closed for repairs so I was left with no choice but to take a bus. I found the bus stop, noted the sign saying that they only accepted the exact fare in cash and joined the queue.

  

The bus arrived and we slowly filed aboard. I found a seat about halfway down the bus, next to an open window, which was providing a nice breeze. The bus was just about full to capacity when I heard an American woman talking to the driver, her voice getting increasingly louder. It wasn’t hard to hear what the issue was. She didn’t have the exact fare and was trying to get him to accept a large note. It was clear that he wasn’t going to let her on without the exact fare and she wasn’t going to get off the bus to go get some change as that would mean the bus would leave without her. I checked through my wallet. I had enough change to pay her fare. I headed up to the front of the bus and gave her the change for the fare. She thanked me profusely and I politely allowed her in front of me to go find a seat. By the time I turned to go back to my seat I saw that someone had moved into it. I was left having to make do with the seat right in the centre at the back of the bus, which meant no nice window seat, no breeze, no view and a rather uncomfortable journey. Thanks karma.  

The journey up to Ngong Ping was up a windy mountain road and took an age. I could see how a cable car would have been a lot more appealing. The Big Buddha lived up to its name. The place felt eerily remote, surrounded on all sides by wooded hills with little signs of civilisation. The Buddha sat atop a hill with a long set of stairs to climb up to it. Even before I got to the top I knew that this would be another place where I wished I had someone with me to share in the experience. I spent about an hour wandering around the Buddha and the surrounding area, taking in the sights before steeling myself for the bumpy bus ride back down.

Once back in civilisation I found a spot to have some lunch. I still had the pay as you go SIM card from Australia in my phone and so I was able to get online as I used up the last of the credit on it. I had a quick check on Facebook to see what was happening as a distraction whilst lunching alone. I saw a message from Brian inviting me to dinner with some of his friends that evening. My only plans for the rest of the day had been to do a spot of clothes shopping so I ditched that in order to go meet Brian and make some new friends. I made my way back to Brian & Pavlo’s place to freshen up and change into something more suitable for dinner than the shorts and t-shirt I was sporting.

Having showered and changed I checked out where I needed to get to as I wasn’t entirely sure where I was headed. I had a street address and had looked it up on Google maps, taking a photo of the screen as a reference for if I got lost. I headed out, stopping en route to buy a bottle of wine and then took the subway downtown. I was soon in the area I thought I needed to be in but couldn’t see the street or building number I needed. I checked the photo of the map a couple of times, retracing my steps and checking the streets off as I went. I still couldn’t find where I needed to be. I tried to get online to message Brian but I had clearly used up my credit, which meant I was unable to call him either. As I stood thinking what the best thing to do was I spotted Pavlo, looking similarly lost. Thankfully he could call Jack, whose place we were headed to and soon we had the directions we needed.

I was introduced to Jack and the wine was cracked open. Jack was British and had been in Hong Kong with work for a couple of years. We chatted for a while about the things we missed from back home. Brian arrived a little later with another friend, Tina. More introductions were followed by more wine. Over dinner I regaled everyone with tales of my travels, answering the usual questions I would get from strangers – favourite places, strangest moments, best host so far. As my travels got longer it was becoming increasing more difficult to answer the questions. By the end of dinner and a lot of wine I was ready for the taxi home.

Sure, I meant well

Just before I climbed into bed I checked my messages and emails. I had received a reply from N. It turned out that the friend request was from his new boyfriend. I didn’t realise he had even started seeing anyone. Apparently the new boyfriend had looked through N’s Facebook messages and had seen some flirty messages we had shared a few months previously. It turned out that N was already seeing the new boyfriend when we had been messaging. He asked me to ignore the friend request. The old, pre-travel me would have felt bad and apologised for the flirty messages, even though I had no idea the new boyfriend was on the scene. The new, post-travel me figured I had done nothing wrong – the messaging had been mutual, he could have told me he was seeing someone but he didn’t. I didn’t bother responding to him, I just defriended him. I had made so many new friends on my trip that I wouldn’t miss losing one.

“No good deed goes unpunished, Sure, I meant well” 
Lyrics from No Good Deed from the musical Wicked