And so, it happens almost like the well greased clockwork of a mechanical heart. Every Saturday as the sun rises high at noon day, the dormant carefree true self emerges from the mundane cocoon of society and ceaseless work.

Ironically, we cease for the mere 1.5 days before returning to find more has accumulated.
But we no longer live from moment to moment, like a student. We now exist from moment to moment and live for the weekend.

Ahh, shall bike so aimlessly around my neighborhood for starters.
And hum a tune on my ukelele through the evening. And yes, you pseudo life of Facebook shall pale in comparison to the real thing.

posted from Bloggeroid

It was the first time I was in the waiting hall of the Hong Kong International Airport after it had been renovated and newly furnished since I last came 16 years ago. Hong Kong has changed tremedously, and culture shifted inevitably closer to that of the central government in Peking.

The past 3 days have been hectic, but nonethelss enjoyable. Visiting the sights and tasting the local delciacies, with the friends I have not seen for years, it's a rare opportunity. But amidst it all, there was always a lingering feeling - intertwined with appreciation and disappointment - the feeling that I have never left home.

Everything in Hong Kong runs like a clock, the mechanisms of society unendlessly running through the fine-tuned gears of economic prosperity. The traffic comes from the same side of the road just like back at home, and the electric sockets need no additional adaptors to fit my Canon battery pack. The traces of the British have been too deeply rooted in both our societies, it cannot be simply negated at the whimps of political upheaval or the change of governments.Even the distance from the hotel to the Yau Ma Tei MTR station bears an uncanny painful distance from home to the Lakeside MRT station.

I reflect on my past 3 days, how I have skipped meals to make the best out of the trip, how I have forgotten the pangs of hunger to queue up for another ride in Disneyland or to rush to another factory outlet in search of goods I wasnted but never could pay for back in Singapore. Then again, the spooky resemblance to that back at home, where we work never-endingly even through our lunch breaks saying that there is no time sufficient and there is no end to work. Perhaps, it is the atmosphere on the two islands, perhaps its the anxiety that drives us Hong Kong-ers and Singaporeans alike. We never know when to stop,when to eat and when to prioritise physiological needs over psychological over-emphasis on the tasks on hand.

I look at my plate of Popeye's fried chciken, thankful that with globalisation I could have this familiar dish set in front of me, thankful that with economic growth the Hong Kong dollar-less Singaporean could purchase her last meal in Hong Kong with her Visa before boarding the budget airline back home. And I recall the days, where I strongly oppose globalisation and the dilution of the local cultures of the earth. Now I enjoy my meal abashed that it is because of this very dilution of culture and economic growth that I could fit so easily and comfortably in a place miles from home.

I had spent my weekend away from home, doing things I also could have done at home.

except Disneyland which was awesome. Then again, there's the new Legoland now just next door.